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magic belt I'd turn you to a potato and mash you for supper. Don't you know I'm a King?" he squealed,
thumping himself three times upon the chest.
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"Well, you don't act like one," answered Peter, in disgust. "If you are the King of this island I
wish you'd give me some supper and a place to sleep."
"King of this island!" screamed the angry little man. "I'm Ruggedo, the Rough, the one and only
Metal Monarch and ruler over five hundred thousand gnomes besides."
"Gnomes!" murmured Peter, pushing back his cap. He had read about these underground
elves, who mine all the precious stones in and out of the world, but he had never really believed in them.
"Yes, gnomes!" boasted the little gray gentle-man, marching proudly up and down.
"Where are they?" inquired Peter, a little anxiously. For, thought Peter to himself, if they are all
as cross and tempery as this one, life on the island is going to be very unpleasant and dangerous.
"You stand there and ask me that," howled the Gnome King furiously. "Don't you know I've
been banished from my Kingdom for years and made a prisoner on this ridiculous little island, just
because I tried to get back my magic belt from Ozma of Oz? Don't you know it was a miserable child
who stole it in the first place. I hate children," repeated the Gnome King, clutching his hair with both
hands and snapping his wicked little eyes at Peter.
"If you've been here all that time by yourself I should think you'd be glad to have someone to
talk to," ventured the little boy, seating himself carefully on a rock. "I read a book about Oz once, he
went on in an interested voice, "but I didn't know it was really true. Is Ozma still Queen and does
Dorothy still live in the Emerald City?"
"Dorothy's the girl who stole my belt," sputtered Ruggedo, for it was the Gnome King. "If you
have read about Dorothy, you must know about me.
"You weren't in the book I read," explained Peter patiently, "but if you know Dorothy and
Ozma, they must be real and if we are near Oz, maybe you can tell me how to get there?"
"If I knew do you suppose I'd be here?" yelled Ruggedo. Picking up a rock, he flung it at
Peter's head and rushed violently into his cavern. Peter dodged the rock and, almost wishing he had
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stuck with the balloon bird, stared dejectedly out to sea. The sun was sinking in the west and the
prospect of a long stay on the barren island with the dreadful little Gnome King was not at all cheering.
"I'll probably starve to death," sighed Peter, kicking gloomily at a stone. Then, remembering
some string in his pocket, he pulled it out and, fastening a small piece of wire on the string, started toward
the beach with the intention of catching a few fish for his dinner. Halfway there, he came to a small
sluggish stream and, casting his line into its muddy waters, sat down to wait for a bite. He had no matches
but thought maybe if he caught a few fish and offered Ruggedo one he might allow him to cook over his
fire.
Now Ruggedo had fully intended to stay in his cave and not speak another word to Peter, but
finally his curiosity got the best of him. After you have been all alone for five years, even a creature you
despise is better than no one at all, so presently he came stalking out again. Peter had in the meantime
decided to be as polite as possible to the old gnome, for no one could help him. Therefore, as Ruggedo
approached, puffing away at a short clay pipe, he waved to him quite cheerfully.
"Don't wave at me," wheezed Ruggedo, taking his pipe out of his mouth and frowning darkly.
"I'm a King, I am!"
"Oh, what difference does that make?" said Peter impatiently. "We're both stranded, aren't
we? Let's stop quarreling and try to find a way off the island. Don't boats ever stop here and how far
away is this land of Oz, anyway?"
"Boats!" scoffed the Gnome King, "I've been here five years and not one boat has passed. As
for Oz, you are in the very middle of the Nonestic Ocean and about as far from Oz as you could possibly
be."
"You mean to say you've been here five years?" gasped Peter incredulously, "and nothing has
happened in all that time?"
"Nothing - but you," answered the Gnome King.
"Well, you needn't think I'm going to stay that long," blustered Peter, jerking at his fish line in
great agitation. "I'll build a boat, or a raft or something."
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Taking his pipe from his mouth, the old gnome looked at Peter almost respectfully. He had
often thought of building a raft himself but, being a King and naturally quite unskillful and lazy, he had
never really gotten down to it.
"If you help me off this island," he puffed
after a short pause, "I'll make you the richest boy in the world."
"Humph!" grunted Peter, not much impressed by the old gnome's promises.
Just then, his line gave a tug and he was pulling it up quite joyfully when Ruggedo seized his arm. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]