The Treasure of the Isle of Mist Part 13

"I have made a most terrible mistake," she said, in a low voice. "I have spoilt everything. I see that you are kind; can you help us?"

"Should have come me first," said the creature, quite gently. "Tried attract attention. Never neglect anyone merely because odd and ugly.

May have good heart. Sad mess now; but think see daylight. Any influence that boy?"

"Oh, yes," said Fiona eagerly.

"Right," said the creature. "Make boy wish. Now follow my argument."

And he turned to the King.

"Please Majesty submit good point. Majesty just ruled nothing counts here but intention. Younger prisoner no intention hurt sh.o.r.e lark; therefore on Majesty's ruling same as if did not hurt it. Therefore never was guilty. Human prisoner adjudged not guilty is just same as if came here own free will; so held Majesty's father"; and by some extraordinary trick he got the top book open and flopped down among the leaves, from which position he read out bits of an ancient judgment. "Consequently younger prisoner both ent.i.tled and bound wish."

The King consulted Whitecap.

"It seems a sound chain of reasoning," he said. Then he turned to the Public Prosecutor. "Have you anything to urge against it?"

"Only that, if he wishes wrong, we can't detain him, because of the young lady's wish," said that official.

"Daniel come judgment," cried the Chancellor triumphantly. "Heads win, tails can't lose. Younger prisoner wish."

He turned to Fiona and whispered to her, "Mind he wishes right."

Fiona started to go over to the Urchin; instantly the guard crossed their spears before her.

"No interference allowed with anyone who is going to wish," said the officer.

Then she tried to call to him, and found that she could not speak. It was like a nightmare. She looked helplessly at the Chancellor; he nodded, and spelt on his fingers the word "think."

Then Fiona understood what he had meant by asking her if she had any influence over the Urchin. She knew that she had a good deal; and bits of conversations with her father came back into her mind. She had made one bad blunder, and she had to correct it as best she could; and without more ado she concentrated her whole mind on taking possession of the mind of the Urchin. Could it be done at all? And if so could it be done in time?

The King stretched out his sceptre, and there was silence.

"The younger prisoner is going to wish," said the King. "Officer!"

And immediately there appeared in the middle of the ring six great boxes, old sea chests made of Spanish chestnut, battered and stained and clamped with bands of iron; and on each was the picture, half obliterated by time and salt water, of the Madonna of the Holy Cross.

The officer flung back the lids, and showed each chest full to the brim of glittering golden doubloons.

"That is the treasure from the Venetian galleon which you were seeking," said the King. "We removed it long ago into our safe custody, lest it should tempt men; but it would seem that it tempts them none the less. Now wish."

The Urchin, his eyes bulging out of his head, stared at the shining gold. He murmured "gun," but fortunately so low that the King did not hear him.

Fiona kept her eyes fixed hard on the boy, and bent every effort of mind and will to the one thought, that he must wish as she wished. If only he would turn round. She had already lost sight of the fairies; she now lost sight of the King; she was conscious only of the abject wretched creature that was Jeconiah, and of the back of the Urchin's head. He was still staring at the gold, but he had not yet spoken; that was to the good, and--no, it was not fancy--his ears were turning pink, as they always did when he was in a difficulty. Then he began to shuffle his feet uneasily. Fiona felt that every atom of life and force in her was being concentrated on that one act of will; she did not think she could go through with it many seconds longer, or she would collapse. And then the Urchin turned his head toward her; his face was scarlet, and his eyes were wavering before the fixed gaze of her own; he _must_ do as she wished. She flung everything into one supreme effort--the last reserves which no one thinks they possess till utter necessity teaches them the contrary; and then the Urchin spoke, in a strange voice and all in one breath:

"I want my uncle to go free."

Fiona's will let go with a snap; she felt so dizzy that she had to lean against one of the great toadstools or she would have fallen.

Round the a.s.semblage ran a sound like the wind through the tree tops, the noise of thousands drawing in breath at once; and the Chancellor started a war dance on his stack of books, and nearly fell off on his head. The King rose from his throne, but he took no notice of the Urchin; he turned straight to Fiona and bowed to her.

"My compliments, young lady," he said; "the prettiest piece of thought-transference it has ever been our privilege to see. Where did you learn to do it?"

"I never learnt," stammered Fiona. "I made a great mistake, as your Majesty saw, and something had to be done, and your friend suggested this way."

"You needn't mind having made a mistake," said the King. "If you don't make mistakes sometimes you'll never make anything else. And you have made something else this time with a vengeance. As for you, sirrah . . ." and he shook his fist at the Chancellor.

The creature snapped all its fingers in reply.

"Majesty pleases," it began triumphantly. "Duty younger client submit new point arising young lady's action. Client ent.i.tled wish. Did not wish himself; young lady wished. Therefore client still ent.i.tled wish.

Propose develop point considerable length with authorities."

The King raised his hand.

"I think I shall have to intervene," he said. "I believe you would submit points till c.o.c.kcrow."

"Submit points till next year, if Majesty pleases," said the creature, gleefully.

"If these proceedings don't end soon," said the King, "there will be no time to dance; and if we didn't dance no one knows what would happen to the world above. Even I don't know that. So as we do not generally have three human beings here at once, and as substantial justice has been done, I propose now to exercise the royal prerogative of generosity. Jeconiah P. Johnson, you will, as requested, go free, so far as we can set you free. We cannot set you free from your own worthless character. In order, however, to do the best for you that can be done, before you leave us the State hypnotizer will take you in hand and instil into you a few decent feelings. He won't hurt you, and you won't remember. The effect, I fear, will not be permanent, but it will ease our conscience. And as a sign to the world above that we have treated you liberally, you will find that you will be unable to attend to business until you have told your nephew a fairy tale.

Urchin! A doubt exists as to whether you have had your wish or not.

You shall have the benefit of the doubt, so far as is good for you.

You will find that you will get your gun."

And then the King turned to Fiona.

"Young lady," he said, "you have given us a display of courage which we are not likely to forget. You have rescued your friend; you have, which is much more to the point, rescued your enemy. You have got _two_ wishes out of us, which no one ever did before; and you have asked nothing for yourself. And now what are we to do for you?"

"I think I have everything I want, now, thank your Majesty," said Fiona.

"Did we not hear talk of a treasure?" said the King.

"Yes," said Fiona; "but--I was not thinking about a treasure, your Majesty."

"I know," said the King. "But I was; all the time."

"I must leave it all in your Majesty's hands," said Fiona.

"It is not here," said the King. "What you saw was only a pretence.

And we cannot send for it to-night. But if you will honor us sometime by returning to our kingdom, we will see what can be done in memory of your visit. Any time you like. And by the front door, please. You will run no risks that way."

"And now," said the King, stretching out his sceptre over the great throng, "we will dance." He turned to Fiona and the Urchin. "It will be a little while before Mr. Johnson is ready to accompany you home,"

he said. "Perhaps you will honor us meanwhile by attending the dance also."

So the fairies danced before the King; and the fairy ring whirled and blazed with the color of them, till it was gayer than a gorse-bank in blossom, and brighter than a swarm of dragon-flies on a June gra.s.s-field, and more vivid than a fall of shooting stars; and the music that they made was wilder than the wind in the strings of a harp, and sweeter than the blackbird's song, and dearer than all the burns on the moor murmuring in unison. And the two children sat at the King's feet on the steps of the beryl throne and watched the dancers; and the Chancellor sat between them, and held Fiona's hand, and told them such stories as they had never heard before, till between laughter and tears they nearly fell off the steps of the throne, and the Chancellor laughed and cried with them for sheer joy in his own story-telling; and if there were three happier people in the world that night I do not know where they were. And the night itself pa.s.sed away as a dream that men dream, and its hours seemed to them but as a few minutes--and then across the music and the dance cut the shrill harsh scream of a peac.o.c.k as he greeted the day. The children saw the King rise from his throne and stretch his sceptre out over the ring; and the ring and the dancers were shrouded in a white mist which rose from the ground and wreathed its arms about them; and the beryl throne dissolved in mist, and the figure of the King above them, pointing, grew dim and huge, and spread and grew, a purple shadow that hung over them, . . . and they were standing alone in the fairy ring on Glenollisdal, under the purple sky, with the white mist wreathing itself about their feet, and the pale November dawn coming slowly up out of the sea.

Did the Urchin fling himself on the gra.s.s at Fiona's feet and thank her in broken accents for all she had done for him? I regret to state that the first thing which the Urchin did was to feel in his pocket and draw out the doubloon which he had found in the cave.

"I've got this one, anyhow, Fiona," he said. "But I wonder how I'm going to get that gun."

Then something seemed to p.r.i.c.k him; he began to look uncomfortable and shuffle his feet, while his ears turned pink; and at last he managed to blurt out:

"I say, Fiona, it was jolly decent of you, you know."