Taken by surprise at the goat’s attack, a dozen big warriors tumbled in a heap, yelling with fear, and their comrades, not knowing what had happened but imagining that their foes were attacking them, turned about and ran to the city as hard as they could go. Bilbil, still angry, had just time to catch the big captain as he turned to follow his men, and Buzzub first sprawled headlong upon the ground, then rolled over two or three times, and finally jumped up and ran yelling after his defeated warriors. This butting on the part of the goat was very hard upon King Rinkitink, who nearly fell off Bilbil’s back at the shock of encounter; but the little fat King wound his arms around the goat’s neck and shut his eyes and clung on with all his might. It was not until he heard Inga say triumphantly, “We have won the fight without striking a blow!” that Rinkitink dared open his eyes again. Then he saw the warriors rushing into the City of Regos and barring the heavy gates, and he was very much relieved at the sight.

  “Without striking a blow!” said Bilbil indignantly. “That is not quite true, Prince Inga. You did not fight, I admit, but I struck a couple of times to good purpose, and I claim to have conquered the cowardly warriors unaided.”

  “You and I together, Bilbil,” said Rinkitink mildly. “But the next time you make a charge, please warn me in time, so that I may dismount and give you all the credit for the attack.”

  There being no one now to oppose their advance, the three walked to the gates of the city, which had been closed against them. The gates were of iron and heavily barred, and upon the top of the high walls of the city a host of the warriors now appeared armed with arrows and spears and other weapons. For Buzzub had gone straight to the palace of King Gos and reported his defeat, relating the powerful magic of the boy, the fat King and the goat, and had asked what to do next.

  The big captain still trembled with fear, but King Gos did not believe in magic, and called Buzzub a coward and a weakling. At once the King took command of his men personally, and he ordered the walls manned with warriors and instructed them to shoot to kill if any of the three strangers approached the gates.

  Of course, neither Rinkitink nor Bilbil knew how they had been protected from harm and so at first they were inclined to resent the boy’s command that the three must always keep together and touch one another at all times. But when Inga explained that his magic would not otherwise save them from injury, they agreed to obey, for they had now seen enough to convince them that the Prince was really protected by some invisible power.

  As they came before the gates another shower of arrows and spears descended upon them, and as before not a single missile touched their bodies. King Gos, who was upon the wall, was greatly amazed and somewhat worried, but he depended upon the strength of his gates and commanded his men to continue shooting until all their weapons were gone.

  Inga let them shoot as much as they wished, while he stood before the great gates and examined them carefully.

  “Perhaps Bilbil can batter down the gates,” suggested Rinkitink.

  “No,” replied the goat; “my head is hard, but not harder than iron.”

  “Then,” returned the King, “let us stay outside; especially as we can’t get in.”

  But Inga was not at all sure they could not get in. The gates opened inward, and three heavy bars were held in place by means of stout staples riveted to the sheets of steel. The boy had been told that the power of the Blue Pearl would enable him to accomplish any feat of strength, and he believed that this was true.

  The warriors, under the direction of King Gos, continued to hurl arrows and darts and spears and axes and huge stones upon the invaders, all without avail. The ground below was thickly covered with weapons, yet not one of the three before the gates had been injured in the slightest manner. When everything had been cast that was available and not a single weapon of any sort remained at hand, the amazed warriors saw the boy put his shoulder against the gates and burst asunder the huge staples that held the bars in place. A thousand of their men could not have accomplished this feat, yet the small, slight boy did it with seeming ease. The gates burst open, and Inga advanced into the city street and called upon King Gos to surrender.

  But Gos was now as badly frightened as were his warriors. He and his men were accustomed to war and pillage and they had carried terror into many countries, but here was a small boy, a fat man and a goat who could not be injured by all his skill in warfare, his numerous army and thousands of death-dealing weapons. Moreover, they not only defied King Gos’s entire army but they had broken in the huge gates of the city—as easily as if they had been made of paper—and such an exhibition of enormous strength made the wicked King fear for his life. Like all bullies and marauders, Gos was a coward at heart, and now a panic seized him and he turned and fled before the calm advance of Prince Inga of Pingaree. The warriors were like their master, and having thrown all their weapons over the wall and being helpless to oppose the strangers, they all swarmed after Gos, who abandoned his city and crossed the bridge of boats to the Island of Coregos. There was a desperate struggle among these cowardly warriors to get over the bridge, and many were pushed into the water and obliged to swim; but finally every fighting man of Regos had gained the shore of Coregos and then they tore away the bridge of boats and drew them up on their own side, hoping the stretch of open water would prevent the magic invaders from following them.

  The humble citizens and serving people of Regos, who had been terrified and abused by the rough warriors all their lives, were not only greatly astonished by this sudden conquest of their masters but greatly delighted. As the King and his army fled to Coregos, the people embraced one another and danced for very joy, and then they turned to see what the conquerors of Regos were like.

  CHAPTER 8

  The fat King rode his goat through the streets of the conquered city and the boy Prince walked proudly beside him, while all the people bent their heads humbly to their new masters, whom they were prepared to serve in the same manner they had King Gos.

  Not a warrior remained in all Regos to oppose the triumphant three; the bridge of boats had been destroyed; Inga and his companions were free from danger—for a time, at least.

  The jolly little King appreciated this fact and rejoiced that he had escaped all injury during the battle. How it had all happened he could not tell, nor even guess, but he was content in being safe and free to take possession of the enemy’s city. So, as they passed through the lines of respectful civilians on their way to the palace, the King tipped his crown back on his bald head and folded his arms and sang in his best voice the following lines:

  “Oh, here comes the army of King Rinkitink!

  It isn’t a big one, perhaps you may think,

  But it scattered the warriors quicker than wink—

  Rink-i-tink, tink-i-tink, tink!

  Our Bilbil’s a hero and so is his King;

  Our foemen have vanished like birds on the wing;

  I guess that as fighters we’re quite the real thing—

  Rink-i-tink, tink-i-tink, tink!”

  “Why don’t you give a little credit to Inga?” inquired the goat. “If I remember aright, he did a little of the conquering himself.”

  “So he did,” responded the King, “and that’s the reason I’m sounding our own praise, Bilbil. Those who do the least, often shout the loudest and so get the most glory. Inga did so much that there is danger of his becoming more important than we are, and so we’d best say nothing about him.”

  When they reached the palace, which was an immense building, furnished throughout in regal splendor, Inga took formal possession and ordered the majordomo to show them the finest rooms the building contained. There were many pleasant apartments, but Rinkitink proposed to Inga that they share one of the largest bedrooms together.

  “For,” said he, “we are not sure that old Gos will not return and try to recapture his city, and you must remember that I have no magic to protect me. In any danger, were I alone, I might be easily killed or captured, while if you are by my side you can save me from injury.”

  The boy realized the wisdom of this plan, and selected a fine big bedroom on the second floor of the palace, in which he ordered two golden beds placed and prepared for King Rinkitink and himself. Bilbil was given a suite of rooms on the other side of the palace, where servants brought the goat fresh-cut grass to eat and made him a soft bed to lie upon.

  That evening the boy Prince and the fat King dined in great state in the lofty-domed dining-hall of the palace, where forty servants waited upon them. The royal chef, anxious to win the favor of the conquerors of Regos, prepared his finest and most savory dishes for them, which Rinkitink ate with much appetite and found so delicious that he ordered the royal chef brought into the banquet hall and presented him with a gilt button which the King cut from his own jacket.

  “You are welcome to it,” said he to the chef, “because I have eaten so much that I cannot use that lower button at all.”

  Rinkitink was mightily pleased to live in a comfortable palace again and to dine at a well-spread table. His joy grew every moment, so that he came in time to be as merry and cheery as before Pingaree was despoiled. And, although he had been much frightened during Inga’s defiance of the army of King Gos, he now began to turn the matter into a joke.

  “Why, my boy,” said he, “you whipped the big black-bearded King exactly as if he were a schoolboy, even though you used no warlike weapon at all upon him. He was cowed through fear of your magic, and that reminds me to demand from you an explanation. How did you do it, Inga? And where did the wonderful magic come from?”

  Perhaps it would have been wise for the Prince to have explained about the magic pearls, but at that moment he was not inclined to do so. Instead, he replied:

  “Be patient, Your Majesty. The secret is not my own, so please do not ask me to divulge it. Is it not enough, for the present, that the magic saved you from death to-day?”

  “Do not think me ungrateful,” answered the King earnestly. “A million spears fell on me from the wall, and several stones as big as mountains, yet none of them hurt me!”

  “The stones were not as big as mountains, sire,” said the Prince with a smile. “They were, indeed, no larger than your head.”

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Rinkitink.

  “Quite sure, Your Majesty.”

  “How deceptive those things are!” sighed the King. “This argument reminds me of the story of Tom Tick, which my father used to tell.”

  “I have never heard that story,” Inga answered.

  “Well, as he told it, it ran like this:

  “When Tom walked out, the sky to spy,

  A naughty gnat flew in his eye;

  But Tom knew not it was a gnat—

  He thought, at first, it was a cat.

  “And then, it felt so very big,

  He thought it surely was a pig

  Till, standing still to hear it grunt,

  He cried: ‘Why, it’s an elephunt!’

  “But—when the gnat flew out again

  And Tom was free from all his pain,

  He said: ‘There flew into my eye

  A leetle, teenty-tiny fly.’”

  “Indeed,” said Inga, laughing, “the gnat was much like your stones that seemed as big as mountains.”

  After their dinner they inspected the palace, which was filled with valuable goods stolen by King Gos from many nations. But the day’s events had tired them and they retired early to their big sleeping apartment.

  “In the morning,” said the boy to Rinkitink, as he was undressing for bed, “I shall begin the search for my father and mother and the people of Pingaree. And, when they are found and rescued, we will all go home again, and be as happy as we were before.”

  They carefully bolted the door of their room, that no one might enter, and then got into their beds, where Rinkitink fell asleep in an instant. The boy lay awake for a while thinking over the day’s adventures, but presently he fell sound asleep also, and so weary was he that nothing disturbed his slumber until he awakened next morning with a ray of sunshine in his eyes, which had crept into the room through the open window by King Rinkitink’s bed.

  Resolving to begin the search for his parents without any unnecessary delay, Inga at once got out of bed and began to dress himself, while Rinkitink, in the other bed, was still sleeping peacefully. But when the boy had put on both his stockings and began looking for his shoes, he could find but one of them. The left shoe, that containing the Pink Pearl, was missing.

  Filled with anxiety at this discovery, Inga searched through the entire room, looking underneath the beds and divans and chairs and behind the draperies and in the corners and every other possible place a shoe might be. He tried the door, and found it still bolted; so, with growing uneasiness, the boy was forced to admit that the precious shoe was not in the room.

  With a throbbing heart he aroused his companion.

  “King Rinkitink,” said he, “do you know what has become of my left shoe?”

  “Your shoe!” exclaimed the King, giving a wide yawn and rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “Have you lost a shoe?”

  “Yes,” said Inga. “I have searched everywhere in the room, and cannot find it.”

  “But why bother me about such a small thing?” inquired Rinkitink. “A shoe is only a shoe, and you can easily get another one. But, stay! Perhaps it was your shoe which I threw at the cat last night.”

  “The cat!” cried Inga. “What do you mean?”

  “Why, in the night,” explained Rinkitink, sitting up and beginning to dress himself, “I was wakened by the mewing of a cat that sat upon a wall of the palace, just outside my window. As the noise disturbed me, I reached out in the dark and caught up something and threw it at the cat, to frighten the creature away. I did not know what it was that I threw, and I was too sleepy to care; but probably it was your shoe, since it is now missing.”

  “Then,” said the boy, in a despairing tone of voice, “your carelessness has ruined me, as well as yourself, King Rinkitink, for in that shoe was concealed the magic power which protected us from danger.”

  The King’s face became very serious when he heard this and he uttered a low whistle of surprise and regret.

  “Why on earth did you not warn me of this?” he demanded. “And why did you keep such a precious power in an old shoe? And why didn’t you put the shoe under a pillow? You were very wrong, my lad, in not confiding to me, your faithful friend, the secret, for in that case the shoe would not now be lost.”

  To all this Inga had no answer. He sat on the side of his bed, with hanging head, utterly disconsolate, and seeing this, Rinkitink had pity for his sorrow.

  “Come!” cried the King; “let us go out at once and look for the shoe which I threw at the cat. It must even now be lying in the yard of the palace.”

  This suggestion roused the boy to action. He at once threw open the door and in his stocking feet rushed down the staircase, closely followed by Rinkitink. But although they looked on both sides of the palace wall and in every possible crack and corner where a shoe might lodge, they failed to find it.

  After a half hour’s careful search the boy said sorrowfully:

  “Someone must have passed by, as we slept, and taken the precious shoe, not knowing its value. To us, King Rinkitink, this will be a dreadful misfortune, for we are surrounded by dangers from which we have now no protection. Luckily I have the other shoe left, within which is the magic power that gives me strength; so all is not lost.”

  Then he told Rinkitink, in a few words, the secret of the wonderful pearls, and how he had recovered them from the ruins and hidden them in his shoes, and how they had enabled him to drive King Gos and his men from Regos and to capture the city. The King was much astonished, and when the story was concluded he said to Inga:

  “What did you do with the other shoe?”

  “Why, I left it in our bedroom,” replied the boy.

  “Then I advise you to get it at once,” continued Rinkitink, “for we can ill afford to lose the second shoe, as well as the one I threw at the cat.”

  “You are right!” cried Inga, and they hastened back to their bedchamber.

  On entering the room they found an old woman sweeping and raising a great deal of dust.

  “Where is my shoe?” asked the Prince, anxiously.

  The old woman stopped sweeping and looked at him in a stupid way, for she was not very intelligent.

  “Do you mean the one odd shoe that was lying on the floor when I came in?” she finally asked.

  “Yes—yes!” answered the boy. “Where is it? Tell me where it is!”

  “Why, I threw it on the dust-heap, outside the back gate,” said she, “for, it being but a single shoe, with no mate, it can be of no use to anyone.”

  “Show us the way to the dust-heap—at once!” commanded the boy, sternly, for he was greatly frightened by this new misfortune which threatened him.

  The old woman hobbled away and they followed her, constantly urging her to hasten; but when they reached the dust-heap no shoe was to be seen.

  “This is terrible!” wailed the young Prince, ready to weep at his loss. “We are now absolutely ruined, and at the mercy of our enemies. Nor shall I be able to liberate my dear father and mother.”

  “Well,” replied Rinkitink, leaning against an old barrel and looking quite solemn, “the thing is certainly unlucky, any way we look at it. I suppose someone has passed along here and, seeing the shoe upon the dust-heap, has carried it away. But no one could know the magic power the shoe contains and so will not use it against us. I believe, Inga, we must now depend upon our wits to get us out of the scrape we are in.”