<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i038.png" width-obs="192" height-obs="216" alt="A" title="A" /></div>
<p class="st1">THE HUMAN OCTOPUS STARTS<br/>
UPON A MISSION</p>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper1">Across</span> the minor sea whose blue, sparkling
waters kissed the fair shores
of Queen Titania’s fairy kingdom,
about a hundred leagues as flies the
crow, there was another country
where lived the notorious enchanter
Dragonfel.</p>
<p>A fairy messenger on a winged
steed had conveyed information that Dragonfel intended to
make trouble. But this was nothing new for Dragonfel.</p>
<p>As a matter of fact, he was always trying to make trouble for
everybody. Trouble was his specialty.</p>
<p>Dragonfel was not a nice man, and, if you had known him,
you would not have liked him. He cheated when he played
croquet, and he was always claiming wickets that he never
made. He did not go to Sunday School, either. If he had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span>
gone, he would not have put a penny in the plate for the heathen.
That was the kind of man he was.</p>
<p>Yet he was the possessor of fabulous riches, and he never
would have missed what he might have given away had he been
charitably inclined, which he was not in the least.</p>
<p>No one else in the whole world was as wealthy as he. He
owned a combination mine in which were diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, and other precious gems galore, some of
them as big as cobblestones.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i039.png" width-obs="344" height-obs="220" alt="Burning Bank Bonds" title="" /></div>
<p>It may be said with safety that Dragonfel was inclined to
have his own way, and carry out his own ideas. He was very
rich, and had money to burn. When in the mood of celebrating
some great event, such as the Burial of Good Intentions,
or the Failure in Eden, instead of climbing on some rock to
set off firecrackers, burn Roman candles, or discharge toy cannon,
he delighted in burning Bank Bonds, Legal Tenders, or
Government Securities of large denominations, until the ashes
of them were declared a nuisance by his Board of Health, and
with reluctance he would discontinue his celebration.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>As is usual in all such great operations there were panics at
times, through alarms of fire, explosions, or escaping gas, when
everybody tried to get out at once and but few could escape.</p>
<p>One day it would be the danger of being smothered, the next
of being roasted, the third of a cave-in where all would be
buried alive, and so from hour to hour fear was in the way.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i040.png" width-obs="357" height-obs="291" alt="Distress in the mine" title="Distress in the MINE" /></div>
<p>There were mine-sprites whom he kept steadily at work,
without regard for Union hours, digging the gems out with
their fingers.</p>
<p>The poor mine-sprites were greatly over-worked, and not the
least regard was paid to life or limb. The hours were long as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
they struggled at the wheelbarrows or mine-carts, either pushing
or pulling, with their unreasonable loads piled high in the
air, and with gems that in the market would have brought
enough to pay the debt of a Principality slipping off, and rolling
in the dust.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i041.png" width-obs="393" height-obs="307" alt="Pulling" title="" /></div>
<p>The palace of Dragonfel was a sight, and it would have made
your eyes blink to see it. It was constructed entirely of diamonds,
rubies, and emeralds all stuck together with cement.
There were no opals, because Dragonfel thought they were unlucky.
If you could have pried off any one of them you would
have had enough to keep you in the greatest luxury all your
life. The famous Kohinoor was but a grain of sand compared
to any of them.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Back of the palace, and casting a frowning shadow over it,
was a single towering mountain whose top was an extinct volcano.
No one could recall the exact date of its last eruption,
for Dragonfel stubbornly insisted upon running his business
without an almanac. There were those scientifically inclined
who leaned to the theory that the volcano had been the cause of
all the gems in Dragonfel’s mine.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i042.png" width-obs="399" height-obs="394" alt="Hammering" title="" /></div>
<p>Though it must have been a very long time since the volcano
had celebrated with home-made fireworks, the enchanter had
always anticipated a further display, so he had taken the precaution<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
to buy an old-fashioned fire-engine which was installed
conveniently at hand in a building over whose doors was the
caption: <span class="lower">NEPTUNE HOOK AND LADDER CO. NO 1.</span> In the building
were plenty of rubber coats, boots, and red helmets. Everything
was ready for an emergency.</p>
<p>There were some who declared that Dragonfel had some
business connection with Beelzebub, but, whether this was true
or not, he had the bad taste to get himself up after the authentic
portraits of that disreputable person. He was very tall indeed,
with almost a scarlet countenance, and he wore a long, flowing
cloak that was a perfect match for his complexion. He kept
his hair rather long, and brushed it stiffly up, to convey the impression
that he had a natural horn.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i043.png" width-obs="301" height-obs="248" alt="Guard" title="" /></div>
<p>He boasted a
host of followers,
all big, hulking
black-guards of
giant-like stature,
with repulsive
names such as
Boundingbore,
Mandrake, Wolfinger,
Grouthead,
Snoutpimple, and
the like, and whenever
they did something
mean he rewarded
them. The consequence was that they were trying to
do mean things all the time.</p>
<p>They were in charge of the mine, and the way they treated the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span>
poor mine-sprites was awful. It was a good thing for them
that the officers of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Children were unable to get around.</p>
<p>So on a certain day, following his usual custom, Dragonfel
was making an inspection of the mine. He had descended
through a secret passage, and walked about the dark chambers
lit here and there by gloomy flares of light.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i044.png" width-obs="357" height-obs="326" alt="Basket" title="" /></div>
<p>Guarded by the enchanter’s cruel followers, the mine-sprites,
poor little, emaciated, witch-like creatures in tattered clothes,
were digging away with their raw, bruised fingers at the sides
of earth and exhuming precious stones. They were not allowed
to use picks, for that would have made the work easy.</p>
<p>Diamonds, rubies, pearls, amethysts, emeralds, and other<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
gems, every one of them worth a king’s ransom, lay piled about
carelessly in heaps. The opals when they were discovered were
thrown away. Sprites kept staggering off with heavy loads in
wheelbarrows.</p>
<p>Dragonfel surveyed the work with great satisfaction, and
asked Grouthead who was in general charge:</p>
<p>“When were they fed last?”</p>
<p>“Three days ago, kind master!”</p>
<p>Everyone called him “kind master,” though whether this was
in sarcasm or not no one knew.</p>
<p>“See that they don’t get anything to eat before the full week
is up,” ordered Dragonfel. “And that reminds me of my own
dinner. Boundingbore, tell the cook I want turtle soup, spiced
venison pastries, apple dumplings, strawberry shortcake, and
iced lemonade with plenty of crushed raspberries in it.”</p>
<p>The mouths of the poor little mine-sprites watered, and they
smacked their lips, but Grouthead snapped his long snake-whip
so that it sounded like a pistol-shot, and they frantically continued
digging away in the earth with their fingers.</p>
<p>Boundingbore flew to do Dragonfel’s bidding, and Snoutpimple
observed, rather timidly:</p>
<p>“The air down here is very bad, kind master!”</p>
<p>“That’s good,” said Dragonfel, with hearty unction. “It
might make me ill if I were obliged to remain, so as I have a
proper regard for my health I think I will get right out into the
open.”</p>
<p>Attended by Mandrake, Snoutpimple, Wolfinger, and some
of the rest, he went on his way, while Grouthead snapped his
whip to incite the frightened, gasping, exhausted mine-sprites
to further effort.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span></p>
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<p>When he came up out of the shaft Dragonfel gave a deep
breath of relief as his nostrils sucked
in the bracing air that had a salt tang
of the sea in it. Out in the harbor
there tossed a galleon on the lazy
swell—a craft built low amid-ship,
and with both bow and stern curving
high into the air.</p>
<p>Dragonfel gazed off at it with interest, and remarked:</p>
<p>“It may come in handy soon if these Brownies and fairies
continue longer. They are getting altogether too good, and
must be stopped. But let us go back to the palace to see if anything
has happened in our absence.”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Nothing else was to be seen on the wide water to draw his attention,
except some mermaids who were above the waves, engaged
in combing their hair, who, to most people, are very interesting.</p>
</div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i046.png" width-obs="324" height-obs="208" alt="Mermaids" title="" /></div>
<p>A little bird with very acute hearing listened intently to his
words as it lightly balanced on the twig of a gumdrop tree, and
then flew straight across the sea to tell a fairy, who told the
other fairies. Dragonfel with his big, clumsy, lumbering cohorts
strode on to the palace that was guarded by a Demon
Usher—a queer,
comical-looking
chap who with
his wings much
resembled a human
grasshopper,
and who
half flew, half
walked.</p>
<p>He had thin
little wisps of
hair sticking out
from each side of his nose, like the scanty whiskers of a cat.</p>
<p>The Demon Usher with hops and jumps escorted him to a
magnificent throne, and grovelled with smirks before him, while
Dragonfel with what he thought to be the quintessence of grace
sank upon it, and then arranged himself in what he imagined
was a kingly posture.</p>
<p>“Well,” he gruffly said, “has anyone been here since I’ve been
gone?”</p>
<p>“No, kind master!” the Demon Usher hastened to assure him.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span>
“No one has been here since the band and you remember them.”</p>
<p>“Ah, that band!” repeated Dragonfel, with a shudder. “I
can’t get their notes out of my ears yet. But what have we
here?”</p>
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<p>A huge creature resembling an octopus, with great, staring
eyes popping from his head, and hundreds of fuzzy tentacles
protruding in all directions from his grotesque body, came
crawling toward him. Straightway Dragonfel sprang up
from the throne, while
Wolfinger, Mandrake,
Boundingbore, and
Snoutpimple, who had
assumed respectful positions at
his sides, drew back in alarm.</p>
<p>But the Demon Usher gave a cackle of a laugh, and gleefully<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span>
rubbed his hands together as though he were washing them
with invisible soap.</p>
<p>“Have no fear, kind master!” said a thin, piping voice from
somewhere within the horrid creature’s hulk. “Is not this a
pretty disguise?”</p>
<p>“The Red Spirit, as I live!” cried Dragonfel, in a tone of
admiration not unmixed with relief. “You rascal, why have
you chosen this masquerade?”</p>
<p>“But is it not a clever one?” persisted the Red Spirit. “See,
kind master, I can either compress or expand myself at will.”</p>
<p>As he spoke he shrank to practical insignificance, and then
almost immediately afterward swelled out until it seemed that
he would burst.</p>
<p>“Capital!” said Dragonfel encouragingly. “You can be of
great assistance to me. I have a mean task for you to do.”</p>
<p>“The meaner the better, kind master!”</p>
<p>Dragonfel raised his arm, and pointed toward a window that
gave a vista of the far-off, smiling sea.</p>
<p>“Go, Human Octopus,” he commanded, “and spy upon the
Brownies and fairies!” Without another word the hideous object
started to crawl off by means of his myriad tentacles, and all
who were present watched his convulsive, eccentric movements
with malicious satisfaction.</p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i048.png" width-obs="327" height-obs="109" alt="Human Octopus" title="" /></div>
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