THE LITTLE BLUE PEOPLE.

Down, and down, and down we flew, quicker and quicker each moment. The shute was as smooth as glass, and grew steeper than ever as we descended. His Majesty was a little way behind me, but the terrific rate at which we were traveling made it impossible for us to hold any conversation. Once or twice I shouted out something to him, but receiving no reply I soon gave that up. The attitude in which I was slipping down the shute was a most uncomfortable one, but after a considerable time I managed to turn over on to my back, and eventually to twist around, till, at any rate, I was traveling feet foremost, which was some slight consolation, although naturally I was dreadfully concerned as to what was to be our fate at the other end of our journey. “Slipping along at this rate,” I thought, “we shall probably be smashed to a jelly when we do arrive at the bottom. At any rate I shall, for the Wallypug and the carpet-bag are bound to descend upon my devoted head.”

By and by I began to grow very hungry, and then came another dismal thought. Supposing this extraordinary trip continued for any length of time, how should we get on for food?

We seemed to be traveling through a kind of tunnel, with very smooth walls on either side. The Wallypug had said that we were bound for China, and that that country was on the other side of the world. If so, then we were in for a pretty long journey. I twisted my head around, and tried to get a glimpse of his Majesty, who was only a few yards above me. I could see that he was struggling to get something out of the carpet-bag, and a few minutes afterwards a little packet of sandwiches came whizzing past my head. I managed to catch it as it fell upon the highly-polished boards by stretching out one leg just in time to prevent it from slipping too far.

The sandwiches were very good, and I enjoyed them immensely, and for a few moments almost forgot our strange surroundings. I was soon, however, recalled to a sense of our condition by the fact that we suddenly emerged from the tunnel into broad daylight, the shute apparently descending the steep sides of a high mountain. As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the light I noticed, to my great surprise, that everything in this new country was of a deep rich blue color. The rocks on the mountain side, the strange-looking trees, and even the birds—of which I could see several flying about—were all of the same unusual tint.

I had hardly noticed this fact, as we flew down the side of the mountain, when I felt myself suddenly pulled up with a jerk, and lifted high into the air in a most unaccountable manner, and when, after a moment or two, I recovered from the shock, I found that both the Wallypug and myself were suspended from a line at the end of two long fishing-rods which were fastened into a quaint little bridge crossing the shute.

There we hung, dangling and bobbing about in front of each other in the most ridiculous way, the dear Wallypug still clinging to his carpet-bag with one hand, while in the other he clutched a half-eaten sandwich. I shall never forget his Majesty’s surprised expression when he found himself hanging up the air in this unexpected way.

“Like being a bird, isn’t it?” he remarked when at last he found a voice.

“H’m, not much,” I replied. “I feel more like a fish at the end of this line. I wish some one would come and help us off. There’s a hook, or something, sticking into my shoulder, and it hurts no end.” You see there was evidently something at the end of the lines which had caught into our clothes, and the hook, or whatever it was, just touched my shoulder. It did not hurt very much, but just enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

“I wonder where we are,” said the Wallypug, looking about him. “What a funny color everything is, to be sure.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” I replied. And truly it was a most remarkable scene. There was a curious little kind of temple in the distance and a number of most extraordinary-looking trees; and these, and the grass, and, in fact, everything that could be seen, were of a bright blue tint.

“I know what those trees are called,” said the Wallypug, pointing to some remarkable looking ones, with a lot of large blue globes on the branches instead of leaves.

“What?” I asked.

“Gombobble trees,” said his Majesty. “I’ve seen pictures of them before.”

“Where?” I asked, more for the sake of something to say than for anything else.

“On our willow-pattern plates at home,” said his Majesty. “There were those and the wiggle-woggely trees, you know.”

“I wonder,” he continued speculatively, “if by any chance we are there.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I wonder if this is the place which is shown on the willow-pattern plates,” said his Majesty.

Before I could reply we heard an excited exclamation from the bank, and turning around as well as we could we saw two curious little blue people dressed in flowing blue costumes.

“Oh!” they exclaimed, when they saw us, throwing up their hands in a comical little way, “we’ve caught something. What funny things! What are they?”

“I wonder if they bite,” cried the shorter of the two.

“Do you bite, you funny things, you?” cried the other, shaking her head at us.

“No, of course not,” said the Wallypug. “Help us to get down, will you, please?”

“Not yet,” said both of the little blue creatures, shaking their heads simultaneously. “What are your names?”

“I’m the Wallypug,” explained his Majesty graciously, “and this gentleman is——”

“He, he, he! He, he, he! He, he, he!” giggled the little blue people. “They’re Wallypugs. Two great big fat Wallypugs. Oh, oh! what funny things. Let’s go and fetch Ho-lor.” And they ran off as fast as their little blue legs would carry them.