THE PRINCE OF THE PIN ELVES

HIS MAJESTY.

THE

PRINCE OF THE PIN ELVES

BY
CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT

Illustrated by
AMY M. SACKER

BOSTON
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
1897

Copyright, 1897
L. C. Page and Company
(INCORPORATED)
Colonial Press:
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S. A.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Prince of the Pin Elves

CHAPTER I.
WHERE THE PINS GO.

“I wonder where all the pins go,” said Harry to himself, as he examined the lapel of his coat, where he was sure he had stuck two or three that very morning.

Of course Harry was not the first boy who had thus wondered, but it was the first time the question had ever occurred to him. If he wanted a pin the only sure place to find one was on his mother’s cushion, because that was kept filled with new ones. But what became of all the old ones? He himself would sometimes lose several in a day, and yet he hardly ever found one, no matter how carefully he might look.

Just now, however, he saw one lying in the path before him, and was about to pick it up, when suddenly it vanished from sight. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but it was certainly gone.

“That’s funny!” he thought; “I’m sure it was there.”

Stooping over, he put out his hand and seemed to touch something soft. He closed his hand and started back, when to his amazement he found in his grasp an object that looked like a small, round, pointed hat.

Now Harry knew a thing or two. He had read all about fairies and elves, and had seen pictures of them, and he concluded at once that this must be an elf’s hat. He put it on his head without delay, and sure enough, just as he expected, there stood an elf before him.

“Please give me back my hat,” said the little creature, in a beseeching tone.

“No, no,” replied Harry. “I’ve read about you elves, and I know you are my servant while I have your hat. I want to see where you live, and all that. And—oh! yes,” he exclaimed as a thought struck him; “what became of that pin that was here in the path? Did you take it?”

The elf nodded, and held out his hand, in which lay the pin.

“‘PLEASE GIVE ME BACK MY HAT.’”

“So that is the reason it disappeared,” said Harry. “Why did you pick it up?”

“That’s my work,” responded the elf. “I belong to the Pin Elves. We have to gather up the pins that you mortals lose or throw away.”

“How funny!” cried Harry. “But what do you do with them?”

“Well,” replied the elf, “a long time ago our king ran a needle in his foot. Now we have a law that whoever injures the King’s person shall be banished. Of course the King could not banish himself, so he had to banish all the needles. No sewing could be done after that, so we gradually took to using pins for fastening our clothes together, and now we need so many that most of our work is pin-gathering. That is the reason we are called the Pin Elves.”

Harry looked at the little fellow curiously and saw that his garments had neither button nor sewed seam. Shoes, stockings, tight breeches, belted coat,—all were fastened together with pins.

“But I thought that you elves worked at night only,” said Harry.

“So we do, usually,” responded the elf, “but some of us occasionally are sent out on a dark, cloudy day like this, when there is little danger of the sun shining upon us. I had bad luck last night, didn’t find a pin, so my master made me come out again to-day.”

“Well, I am your master now,” said Harry, “so you can stop work and go home. Only, you must take me with you.”

Off they started, the elf leading, in the direction of Central Park. The elfin hat which Harry wore made him invisible, and the elf himself of course was visible only to Harry; therefore they attracted no attention as they walked up the Avenue and along Fifty-ninth Street. They entered the Park at the Sixth Avenue gate, and went a little way until they came to a small rock with a rather flat top.

The elf scrambled up on this, and sticking a pin in a little hole in the centre and pressing upon it thrice, sang in a queer, croaking voice the following:

“Pin, pin, let me in.

Needles are banished,

All of them vanished;

I am a trusty Pin.”

Immediately a door in the rock opened, disclosing a flight of stairs, down which the elf conducted Harry. The stairs ended in a small, well-lighted room, with several passageways leading out of it. They entered one of these, and after walking a short distance, came to a long, steep incline, the floor of which shone like polished glass.

“Hold on!” cried Harry in alarm; “that’s too steep and slippery to walk on. It looks like glass.”

“It is glass,” said the elf, “and we are going to slide down. You needn’t be afraid. It’s safe enough, and I’ll go in front.”

He sat down on the brow of the hill, and continued: “You sit down behind me and stick your feet on each side of me, and I’ll steer you straight. All ready? Well, here goes! Hold on to my hat!”

Whiz! away they went, and in about ten seconds reached the bottom, where a short, level space with a gentle rise at the end of it brought them to a gradual standstill.

“Glorious!” exclaimed Harry, springing to his feet. “Beats coasting all hollow! Let’s go back and try it again.”

“No, we must hasten on,” replied the elf; “the King holds a reception this afternoon, and no one is permitted to be absent.”

They hurried along the passage and presently came to a door, before which stood two tall elves, each one armed with a long spear. Harry’s elf whispered a word to these guards, and they instantly opened the door.

On they trotted; that is, the elf trotted, but Harry simply walked at a good pace, through several more passageways, until finally they reached another door, guarded like the first, through which they were admitted to the Grand Royal Reception Hall.

It was a room of immense size, brilliantly lighted by what seemed to be strings of precious stones festooned from the lofty ceiling. At the further end, on a raised dais, was the King, seated upon a throne of gold, with his royal body-guard of five hundred picked soldiers stationed near him. On a lower platform at the right of the King were seated a few persons, who, Harry’s elf informed him, were members of the royal family.

The hall was otherwise quite vacant, as the reception was just beginning, so they stood at one side and watched the elves coming in.

“There is my old master, the Lord of the Safety-Pin,” said the elf to Harry, as a surly-looking elf entered, whose clothes were fastened with numerous safety-pins. “See him scowl at us; he knows you are my master now. Those elves behind him are his knights. Each knight has two esquires and twelve retainers; any retainer who finds a good safety-pin becomes an esquire, and if he finds another he is made a knight; but he can’t become a lord until he has found enough to pin all his clothes together. There is only one lord of that order, because you mortals don’t lose many good safety-pins, and a broken one doesn’t count.

“Those two fellows coming now are Knights of the Breast-Pin. Each of them found one breast-pin, and the King made them knights. They are the only members of their order.

“Here come the Black-Pins. There are six lords, seventy-two knights, a hundred and forty-four esquires, and I don’t know how many retainers. They are rather a common lot,” he added contemptuously.

After the Black-Pins had passed, there entered a pompous elf with a large hat-pin hanging like a sword from his belt. At sight of him Harry’s elf bowed very low.

“Who is that?” asked Harry.

“One of the Hat-Pins,” replied the elf in a whisper; “belongs to the royal family, you know. The King’s sceptre is a gold-headed hat-pin, and any one who finds a hat-pin is made a member of the royal family.”

Just then a messenger summoned them to appear before the King.

“There is one rule you must bear in mind, while you are in this hall,” said the elf to Harry, as they followed the messenger; “no one is permitted to turn his back to the King.”

Half-way down the hall they came to the Lord of the Safety-Pin, who looked so ugly and hateful that Harry could not help smiling. Just after they passed him, Hairy felt a sharp pin-prick in his leg, and turning about hastily, discovered that it had been inflicted by the Lord of the Safety-Pin himself.

“Ha! ha!” cried that individual, with a malicious grin, “you have turned your back on the King!”

The King spoke a few words to his body-guard, and instantly a large number of them started towards Harry.

“Quick! you must escape!” cried the elf whose hat he possessed. “Follow me.”

Harry was inclined to stand his ground, but on second thoughts it seemed wiser to run, so he followed his little friend through a side doorway and on through many corridors and up numerous flights of stairs until they arrived at the chamber where they had first entered. The elf ran up the steps, and taking a pin from his coat inserted it in a small hole in the rock overhead, and said:

“Pin, pin,

Trusty and stout,

I am within

And want to get out.”

The door in the rock opened, and they stepped out into the open air.

“We’re safe now,” said the elf, and he slammed the door shut, just as the foremost of the pursuing soldiers began to mount the stairs. “Now, please give me my hat!” he added imploringly.

“Not yet,” said Harry. “You must go home with me; I’m not going to walk the streets bareheaded and visible.”

When they reached the house Harry bade the elf wait a minute, and removing the elfin hat from his head, he went up to his mother’s room, and took an old hat-pin from a closet. Stopping on his way back at the sitting-room door, he obtained his mother’s permission to keep it, and then ran out to the elf.

“You have been a good servant,” said he, “and here is your reward.”

The elf’s little black eyes sparkled with pleasure as he took it, and he drew himself up proudly, saying: “Now I shall become a member of the royal family. And here,” he continued, drawing a pin from his coat, and handing it to Harry, “is a token of my gratitude. If you ever want to see me, go to that rock in the Park; in the centre of the top you will find a small hole; stick this pin in the hole, and while you press upon it thrice, repeat these words:

“Pin, pin, let me in.

Needles are banished,

All of them vanished;

A mortal wants to get in.”

“Thank you,” said Harry. “Good-by, little chap. Here’s your hat,” and he tossed it to the elf, who instantly disappeared.

“Well,” thought Harry, as he entered the house, “I’ve certainly found out where the pins go.”

CHAPTER II.
TAKEN PRISONER.

One Saturday, some months after Harry’s adventure among the Pin Elves, an irresistible desire came over him to pay another visit to the little underground people; so having obtained his mother’s consent to spend the afternoon in the Park, he took the pin given him by his elfin friend, put in his pocket a little gift for him, and started off.

The rock which contained the hidden door was situated close to a footpath and when he reached it he sat down upon it as if to rest, and looked about to see if any one were watching him. No one was in sight but a Park policeman, who had just passed by, and he was disappearing from view among the shrubbery. So Harry hurriedly examined the centre of the rock, and in a few moments found the hole. Inserting the pin, he pressed upon it thrice, and repeated

“Pin, pin, let me in.

Needles are banished,

All of them vanished;

A mortal wants to get in.”

Instantly the door in the top of the rock opened, and Harry found himself lying on the grass beside the rock. In his excitement he had forgotten just where the door was, and, as he was resting exactly on top of it, when it sprang open it naturally threw him off the rock. Fortunately he was not hurt, though he was very much surprised.

It took but a moment, however, to pick himself up, snatch the elfin pin from the hole, and spring down the stone steps through the open doorway. As his foot touched the bottom, the trap-door in the rock above shut noiselessly.

The chamber in which he found himself was empty, so he entered the passageway which he had traversed with the elf on his former visit, slid down the glassy incline, and walked onwards until he came to the first door. As no one was there, and as there seemed to be no way for him to open the door, he knocked upon it as loudly as possible, and stepping back a little waited for a response.

Suddenly the door opened about half-way, but closed again just as suddenly without any one appearing. After waiting awhile longer, Harry knocked again till his knuckles were sore, and when no answer came, he kicked vigorously against the rocky barrier.

Finally he grew tired, and sat down. What to do next he hardly knew. It was impossible to go back the way he came, as he could not walk up the glassy incline. He had seen no passageway opening out of the one in which he was, and there seemed to be no other door than the one just ahead. Evidently, there was nothing to do but to wait until some of the elves happened along that way.

The silence at first was painful; but after a little while he fancied he heard mysterious sounds around him, like the rustling of garments, and soft footfalls, and once or twice what seemed to be a faint whispering. No one was visible, and he had almost concluded that he had merely imagined the sounds, when there came a sharp click just beside him, as if a piece of metal had struck the rocky side of the passageway.

He sprang to his feet, much startled and frightened, but there was nothing to be seen, and as he listened intently, he could not hear the slightest sound.

“Pshaw! I’m simply nervous!” he exclaimed, seating himself again.

But scarcely had he become quiet, when he felt something like a rope drawn tightly about his arms and feet, and then he was pulled over on his back upon the ground. He made a desperate effort to free himself, but both arms and legs were so strongly bound that all struggling was in vain; so he lay there perfectly quiet, half frightened out of his wits.

In a few moments, he was dragged on his back upon what seemed to be a long, wide board, and then the board, with him upon it, was lifted up and carried through a number of passageways, and finally set down again on the ground. The board was then gently pulled from under him, there was a confused rustling sound, the bonds on his limbs suddenly loosened, and all became quiet.

Harry sprang to his feet and found himself in a small chamber about twelve feet square, with apparently neither door nor window. Of course he knew there must be a doorway somewhere, as he had just been brought through one; but he was unable to discover any sign of it now. The room was well lighted in some way from the lofty ceiling, and contained a long, low couch along one of the walls.

Harry carefully examined his prison, and then sat down on the edge of the couch, and gave a long whistle.

“Well!” he cried, “this is a lark and no mistake! I wish I could get out of this hole.”

But it needed only a glance at those bare stone walls to show him the uselessness of such a wish. Finally he gave up thinking about his strange situation, and being thoroughly tired out, threw himself back on the couch, and was soon fast asleep.

On awakening, the first object that met his gaze was a low table beside him, covered with a tempting display of food.

“Well!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes in amazement, “if it isn’t just like magic!”

The food smelled good, and also tasted good, as he soon discovered; and when he had finished eating there was little of it left. After that, he walked around the room a number of times, and then lay down and slept again.

When he awoke the second time, the little table had disappeared. While he lay there, half dozing, he saw a door in the opposite side of the room noiselessly open and immediately close again. A moment later, something soft touched his head, and he beheld his old elfin friend standing beside him, nodding and grinning.

“Hallo!” cried Harry, sitting upright, “how did you get here?”

“Sh—sh!” said the elf, “don’t talk so loud! I came in at the door just now.”

“How’s that? I didn’t see you,” said Harry.

“No, of course not,” was the reply; “we elves are invisible to any mortal who hasn’t one of our hats on. You see me now because I just put my hat on your head.”

“Well, say, old fellow, or whatever your name may be—what is your name, by the way?”

“Wamby,” answered the elf.

“Well, Wamby,” continued Harry, “why am I shut up here, and what is going to be done with me?”

The elf answered: “You are shut up because at your former visit you turned your back on the King. When to-day you came to that door near the foot of the hill of glass, you could see no one because you hadn’t one of our hats on; but the two guards were there, and while one remained to watch you, the other carried the news to the King. Instantly, a body of soldiers was sent to seize you, and carry you to this prison. I was unable to prevent it, but I made up my mind to see you, and so I deliberately turned my back on the King and, of course, was at once arrested and brought here as a prisoner too. As to what is to be done with us, I believe they intend to send us down to work with the Gnomes.”

“Where is that?” asked Harry. “And who are the Gnomes?”

“Why, the Gnomes are the elves who work in the mines far down in the earth, way down below where we are. They are bad fellows, those Gnomes, black and ugly, and awfully old. They dig gold and silver and iron, and have big forges where they make lots of things. It’s very hot down there, and they have to stay there all the time. One of the worst punishments that can befall a Pin Elf is to be sent to work with the Gnomes. No one ever is permitted to return, and there is no chance to escape from the mines.”

“Well, can’t we escape from this place before they carry us down to the Gnomes?” asked Harry.

Wamby shook his head dolefully. “No,” he replied; “they’ve taken away the pin with which I opened doors, and we can’t get out any other way.”

“Here is the pin you gave me,” said Harry. “Won’t that do just as well?”

Wamby eagerly took the pin, but his countenance soon fell again. “I’m afraid it’s no use for us to try,” he said; “come over here and look. Don’t speak a word.”

Going across to the opposite side of the room, he waited till Harry was close beside him, and then sticking the pin in a hole in the wall, he pressed upon it thrice, and whispered:

“Pin, pin,

Trusty and stout,

I am within,

And want to look out.”

The door opened a crack, and Wamby stepped aside and motioned Harry to take a peep. Harry did so, and saw that the passageway was fairly filled with elves of the largest size, each one armed with a long spear. He counted them, and found there were fifty keeping careful guard. Then the door closed quietly.

Wamby turned around and threw himself hopelessly upon the couch. “Take that pin out of the hole,” he said; “it may be of use to us some time.”

Harry snatched it out impatiently, and dropped it on the floor. “Pshaw!” he exclaimed.

“What’s the matter?” inquired the elf.

“I dropped the pin and can’t find it again,” said Harry. “Oh! here it is, sticking in a hole in the floor.”

“What! in a hole?” cried Wamby, springing up excitedly. “Don’t touch it! Let me see! If there’s a hole, there must be a trap-door; and if there is, it will give us a chance of escape.”

He kneeled down and rapped softly upon the floor, and listened intently.

“Yes, there’s a door here. Stand aside, and I’ll show you.”

He pressed upon the pin and repeated the usual words, and a trap-door opened in the floor, revealing a narrow passage, with stone steps descending.

“Where does it lead to?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know,” Wamby replied; “but we can soon find out.” He considered a moment, and then continued, “We’d better wait awhile, though. They’ll bring in our food before long, and if they find us gone they will start at once in pursuit and catch us. But if we wait until after the food is brought, it will give us time to get away a good distance before our flight is discovered.”

It was well they took that precaution, for hardly was the trap-door closed when the other door opened, and four elves appeared, bearing a table laden with eatables. After the meal was despatched, Harry put in his pockets the food that remained, as it might be some time before they could obtain any more. Then, waiting until the four elves had returned and removed the empty table, they opened the trap-door and descended a few steps, when the door above them silently closed, and they were in total darkness.

CHAPTER III.
PURSUED.

“What shall we do now?” asked Harry in dismay, catching Wamby by the arm. “We can never go on in this darkness.”

“Wait a minute, and I’ll show you,” replied the elf.

He seemed to search about his person for something, and presently held out his hand, in which was a box containing a little round object that shone like an electric light, and lighted up the passageway brilliantly.

“What is it?” inquired Harry in wonder.

“A kind of gem that the gnomes make. We use them to light up all our rooms, and when one is put in a box like this it is like a dark lantern, only better, being so small and bright. But, come on! we are wasting precious time.”

The stone stairs seemed interminable, but at last they reached the bottom, and hurried along a corridor that still slanted slightly downward. After a long walk they came to the brow of a steep incline.

“What’s this?” asked Harry, “another hill of glass?”

“Yes,” Wamby replied, sitting down. “Sit down behind me and we’ll slide.”

“Look here!” exclaimed Harry, “we’ve been going down for an hour or more, and if we don’t stop I’m afraid we’ll come to the centre of the earth. Where does this road lead to, I’d like to know?”

“Well,” answered Wamby calmly, “I think, from the way it keeps going down hill, that it must lead to the Gnomes; in fact, I am quite sure that this is the way they take prisoners there.”

“If that’s the case,” said Harry, “please excuse me from going any further. I may be carried down, but I’m not such a fool as to go down of my own free will.”

“Oh, come on!” said Wamby; “don’t be afraid! If we go down of our own accord we can come back at any time. You’ll understand later. Although I have never been to the Gnomes, I have often heard the soldiers, who have taken prisoners there, tell stories about the trip, and I think I know pretty well what the remainder of the road is like. Sit down close behind me and take hold of my belt, and keep your mouth tightly shut.”

“All right, go ahead,” said Harry.

Away they went, faster and faster, until Harry felt as if his breath were gone. Would the hill never end?

“Can’t—you—put on—the brakes—Wamby?” he gasped.

“Keep your mouth shut, and hold on!” shrieked the elf.

“Hold on!” thought Harry, “I wish I could hold on!”

But they reached the foot of the hill safely after awhile. Harry sat still until he had recovered his breath, and then, slowly arising, ruefully rubbed his benumbed legs, and said:

“I tell you what, old chap, if you ever want me to slide down that place again, you’ll have to provide a cushion for me.”

Wamby chuckled, and trotted onward. After another long walk through a level corridor they came to the entrance of an immense chamber or cave, so large that they could see neither the roof, nor opposite sides. The floor was smooth and glistening, and reflected the light which Wamby held aloft.

“What is the floor—glass?” asked Harry.

“No,” replied the elf, “it’s water. We shall have to go the rest of the way in a boat. Let me show you something,” he continued, catching Harry by the sleeve, and shutting the lid of his lantern-box. “Look way over there, a little to the left, and tell me what you see.”

“Why, it looks like a little red star. It flickers a good deal. Sometimes it blazes up brightly, and then it gets so faint that I can scarcely see it. What is it?”

“It is where the Gnomes live. That star, as you call it, is the light from their furnace fires; and when I tell you it is as bright as day over there, you can see how far away it must be from us.”

“But how can we ever get there?” demanded Harry.

“You’ll see presently,” was the answer. “First, let us eat some of that food you brought. I’m hungry.”

They hastily swallowed a few mouthfuls, and quenched their thirst with a draught of cool, clear water from the lake.

“Now, give me that pin,” said Wamby. Opening a large door at one side, he disclosed a room with the floor covered with water, on which floated a sail-boat with its sails all set. “Here,” he continued, “take hold of that bowline, and while I shove, you pull the boat around alongside of the landing-place there. Now, fasten the stern-line over that stone post, and get in the boat, and shove the bow out a little.”

Meanwhile Wamby had taken a piece of hose from the room, and fastening one end on the wall, he placed the other end on the edge of the landing-place with the nozzle pointing straight at the red star. Then he turned a stop-cock, and instantly there came a strange, rushing sound from the nozzle of the hose.

“What’s that?” cried Harry, much alarmed.

“Oh! that is only the wind that I just turned on,” said Wamby. “All we have to do is to push the boat in front of this hose, and the wind will blow us across the lake.”

“But how can we get back again if it blows so hard from this side?” inquired Harry.

“Easy enough,” responded Wamby. “This wind only blows long enough to carry us across, and then stops of itself. Now I’ll put my lantern-box on this shelf, so that when we come back we’ll know where to steer. We won’t need it till we get back again. And now we’re all ready.”

He cast off the stern-line and was just about to step aboard, when he suddenly stopped, and cried, “Listen!”

Harry listened, but could hear nothing. The elf’s ears were sharper, though, and he exclaimed, “I hear the sound of rapid footsteps up the passageway. Push off from shore—quick!”

Springing into the boat, he grasped a pole and shoved off a few feet from the edge. No sooner had he done so, when the fifty elves who had been guarding them came running up, waving their spears and shouting to them to return. Of course they refused, whereupon the leader of the soldiers ran to the hose and turned off the wind. Then he held aloft his spear, and cried, “In the King’s name, surrender!”

At the sound of that, Wamby fairly trembled, and seemed disposed to obey. But Harry pushed him aside, and called out boldly, “What do you want?”

“We want you to give yourselves up as prisoners. If you refuse, we shall have to swim out and capture you.”

Harry turned to Wamby: “What do you say? Shall we fight them?”

Poor little Wamby shook his head hopelessly.

“I’ll fight if you command me to; I am your servant; but it will do no good. There are too many of them.”

“What can we do, then?” inquired Harry.

“Nothing, except go back,” said Wamby. “Dear me! I wish I had my hat-pin now!”

“What good would that do?”

“Why, then we could control them. But they took away my hat-pin, of course, when they arrested me.”

Harry thrust his hand in his pocket and drew forth a package. “See here, Wamby,” said he, “here’s a hat-pin that I brought down as a present for you, but I forgot all about it till this moment. Would this be any good?” He opened the package and showed a large, gold-headed hat-pin, much like the one belonging to the King, only handsomer.

“Just the thing!” cried Wamby. And grasping the pin in his hand he held it up before him, and sprang upon the seat in the boat’s stern, shouting: “Behold the royal emblem!”

At the sight, every soldier dropped his spear, and bowed low to the ground.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Wamby. “You have made a mistake, my brave men, but we’ll overlook it this time. You, Smithkin, go and turn on the wind!”

The leader of the soldiers, thus commanded, immediately obeyed.

“Rise!” said Wamby. “Have you food with you?”

Smithkin bowed low, and replied: “We have, most noble possessor of the royal hat-pin.”

“Then hearken,” continued Wamby. “Sit down where you are, and remain seated until we return.” Then, turning to Harry, he grinned and said, “Shove the boat over into the wind.”

“Will they stay here?” whispered Harry.

“Oh! yes; never fear. They wouldn’t dare leave,” answered Wamby, sticking the hat-pin in his belt, and pushing the boat along.

Presently the wind struck the sails, the boat started rapidly forward into the gloom, and Wamby, sitting down in the stern, took the tiller and steered for the little red spot that showed where the Gnomes lived.

CHAPTER IV.
A TRIP TO THE GNOMES.

“Wamby,” said Harry, after they had sailed for some time in silence, “what are we going to the Gnomes for?”

“I have some friends there that I want to see,” replied Wamby.

“Are there many of the Pin Elves there?”

“A great many. I once counted up over five hundred that I knew of, and there are a large number of others who have been sent there.”

“What are they sent for, breaking the laws?”

“Oh! no. I myself am the only one I ever knew of who deliberately broke a law. The others were banished for displeasing the King. For instance, twelve friends of mine were sent to the Gnomes at one time, simply because they contradicted the King. He declared that the katydids had more beautiful voices than the crickets, and because they refused to agree with him they were banished. Then there was Kitey, a dear friend of mine, but an awful big fool in one way. He was so afraid of turning his back on the King that he never took his eyes off the King’s face when in the royal presence. One day at a banquet Kitey sat next to me, and I told him a funny story and made him laugh. Of course he was looking at the King all the time, and just then the King unluckily spilt some soup on his royal mantle, and seeing Kitey looking at him and laughing, he thought he was laughing at him; so away Kitey went to the Gnomes.”

“It’s shameful!” exclaimed Harry, indignantly. “Why do you stand it? I should think all of you would hate such a wicked King.”

“Well, everybody does hate him,” said Wamby, “except a few persons, like the Lord of the Safety-Pin, who are the King’s favorites. But what can you do?”

“Do!” cried Harry, “why, elect another King.”

“Elect another King!” repeated Wamby, as if bewildered at the very idea.

“Yes,” said Harry. “He’s the wickedest old tyrant I ever heard of. If most of you dislike him, the best thing to do is to choose some good elf as King, and send the old one off.”

“But that would be rebellion,” said Wamby, faintly. The project was so bold that it fairly took his breath away.

“No,” answered Harry, “it would be a revolution, and that is perfectly right in a case like this.”

“But the King has all the soldiers under his command,” said Wamby.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Harry, “what do they amount to! There must be thousands of you Pin Elves, and you could easily conquer five hundred soldiers.”

“It’s all well enough to talk,” returned Wamby, “but you forget another very serious fact, and that is the effect of the royal hat-pin, and the awe and terror it always inspires. You yourself have seen how easily I controlled those soldiers with the hat-pin; but imagine how much greater would be the effect if it were in the King’s hands.”

“That’s so,” said Harry, “I never thought of that.”

After a long silence he crawled back to the stern of the boat, and sat down beside Wamby.

“Look here, Wamby,” he said, “I have an idea.” And then he began a long whispered conversation with the elf, as if afraid to let even the darkness around them hear what he had to say.

Finally Wamby said, “Well, I am doubtful about it; but you are my master, and if you command me to do it, I shall have to obey.”

“That’s so. I forgot I had your hat on my head,” said Harry, feeling to make sure that the hat was still there. “Well, then, I command you to do it. Does that settle the matter?”

“Yes, that settles it,” replied the elf.

Meanwhile, they had been drawing near the other shore. The little red star had been gradually growing larger and brighter, and they began now to see clearly the brilliant, ruddy, furnace fires, and to distinguish the forms of Gnomes moving about at their work. The heat had become so intense that Harry took off his coat and vest, and wet his head a number of times with the cool water.

As they drew close to the shore, Wamby steered the boat aside out of the direct current of wind, and it gradually slowed up and stopped alongside of a landing-place. They both stepped out, and Wamby made the boat fast.

“You’d better take a good drink,” said he to Harry, “and wet your handkerchief and tie it around your head. It’s awfully hot here.”

“How do they stand it?” asked Harry.

“Oh! the Gnomes are used to it. But you notice there are no Pin Elves here. It is too hot for them. They work in the mines, digging out the metal. Of course it’s warm enough there, but not nearly so bad as this.”

He drew forth the hat-pin from his belt, and held it up before some soldiers standing near, “Here, you!” he said to one of them, “keep guard over that boat!” Then addressing another soldier: “And you, go ahead and lead us straight to your King. Trot along lively! We haven’t any time to spare, and even if we had, it’s too hot to loiter here.”

They hastened away as fast as possible, but although they were running briskly, and although Harry himself was most anxious to escape from the terrible heat, he could not refrain from casting several curious glances about him. It was indeed a strange and weird scene. Long rows of fiercely glowing furnaces, with scores of misshapen, hideous-looking Gnomes busily at work; some bringing loads of freshly-dug ore in funny little wheelbarrows; some tending the fires and stirring the redhot coals with long pokers; some with big ladles skimming the refuse from the top of the molten metal, or pouring it from the crucibles into moulds; some trotting away with barrows full of new-made gold and silver bars. Then, further along, were hundreds of forges, with Gnomes still more ugly working the metals into all sorts of beautiful and curious forms.

Had it not been so terribly hot, Harry would gladly have stopped and watched them; but as it was, he was very willing to hurry by as fast as his legs could carry him, and was thankful when they entered a corridor and shut a stone door behind them. It was still warm, of course, being so far down in the earth, but the temperature was comfortable, as compared with the intense heat from the fires.

Presently they reached a large hall, with the floor covered with pure gold, the sides covered with silver, and the ceiling inlaid with countless precious stones. The light was so brilliant and dazzling that Harry was half blinded, and had to shade his eyes for some moments before he could see anything.

At the further end of the hall was the King of the Gnomes on his throne. On each side of him sat the Grand Prime Minister and the Grand Recorder, and beside them were ranged a double row of armed soldiers.

It seemed to Harry that the Gnomes had picked out the oldest and ugliest one of their number for King, and then the next two ugliest ones for Prime Minister and Recorder. The King had an immense gray beard, so long and bushy that the ends of it were spread out on the floor in front of him like a rug. In his right hand he held, as a sceptre, a small golden pickax, to show that all the wealth of his kingdom came from the mines.

As Harry and Wamby drew near the throne, the King growled forth, “What do you want?”

Wamby held forth the hat-pin, and replied, “We are come to demand of you to deliver to us every Pin Elf now in Your Majesty’s dominions.”

“Hum! hah!” growled the King, frowning terribly. He looked first at the Grand Prime Minister, and then at the Grand Recorder, as much as to say, “What do you think of that?”

Those two worthies of course knew better than to make any reply. They simply bowed very low, as if to say, “We think whatever Your Majesty is pleased to think.”

Then the King stared at his golden pickax with his right eye, which, by the way, was much larger than the other eye, and had a most horrible glare.

“Hum! hah!” he muttered again, and turned that awful eye of his upon Harry.

The poor boy was shaking in his shoes from fright, but he returned the King’s gaze with a bold countenance.

“Shall we run, Wamby?” he whispered.

“No, keep still, or we’re lost!” replied the elf.

Finally the King summoned an officer, and said, in a snarling tone, “Take a hundred soldiers, and bring hither all of the Pin Elves in my dominions. Begone!”

Presently the officer returned with the elves. They looked astonished and bewildered when they saw Harry and Wamby, and bowed low to the King of the Gnomes and then to the royal hat-pin, but of course were afraid to say a word.

“There they are,” growled the King, with a rather menacing wave of his pickax. “Take them, and begone!”

Nothing loth, they all retired from the room as fast as they could back out.

“Now I’ll run ahead and get the boats ready,” said Wamby, “and the rest of you hurry after me before the King has a chance to change his mind and stop us.”

By the time they reached the lake, Wamby had a fleet of boats in waiting, and had adjusted a piece of hose and turned on the wind. It took but a moment for them to tumble aboard and push the boats into the wind, and they were soon sailing rapidly towards home.

CHAPTER V.
CAUGHT IN A TRAP.

When they arrived at the opposite side of the lake they found the fifty soldiers seated on the exact spot where they had left them.

A number of Gnomes had been brought over in order that they might take their own vessels back, and the first thing Wamby did was to order the wind turned on, and start the fleet of the Gnomes on their homeward way. Next, he commanded the soldiers to arise, proceed a little distance up the passageway, and take their station at the entrance of another passageway leading off towards the right, which Harry had not noticed before.

“It leads up to the Grand Royal Reception Hall,” explained Wamby, in answer to an inquiry from Harry. “Of course you know it is impossible to go back the way we came down.”

Then Wamby led Kitey aside from the other elves, and whispered to him long and earnestly. As Kitey listened he looked first amazed and then delighted, and finally a broad grin overspread his face, and with a knowing nod he ran off and began in a low voice to address the various groups of elves scattered about.

“Did you tell Kitey everything?” inquired Harry.

“Yes,” replied Wamby, “and he is telling the others. We can trust them all.”

“How about the soldiers? do they know?” asked Harry.

Wamby shook his head. “I am doubtful about that Smithkin. I don’t know whether to trust him or not.”

“Do you think he smells a rat?” queried Harry.

“Think he does what?”

“Suspects—mistrusts something,” explained Harry.

“Oh!” said Wamby. “Yes, I do. You see, he knows well enough that the King would never release all these elves from the mines, and ever since we came back he has been casting suspicious glances at us, as if he were trying to find out what we were about. He’s a treacherous fellow. I’m afraid of him.”

“Then,” said Harry, “don’t tell him anything. Wait until we get arms for all these fellows, and we can defy those fifty soldiers.”

“But the trouble is,” observed Wamby, “that Smithkin is the only one who knows the way back, and where the armory is.”

Harry pondered a moment. “It seems to me the best plan is this,” said he. “You order Smithkin to lead us to the King. You, Kitey, and I will go ahead with Smithkin, the released elves will come next, and the soldiers bring up the rear. Then Smithkin can’t communicate with his men, and we can watch him closely, and easily disarm and bind him at the least sign of treachery.”

The plan impressed Wamby favorably. He gave orders to that effect, and they were soon hastening on the way to the Grand Royal Reception Hall. They traversed a number of passages, and climbed many long flights of steps. All went well for a time. Although Smithkin was glum and sullen, he certainly was leading them in the right direction, and they saw no reason to suspect him.

At length they came to a place where the passageway expanded into a long and rather narrow room. When they reached the further end of the room, Smithkin examined the wall closely, and then a disconcerted look came into his face.

“I can’t find any door here,” said he. “One of my men knows where it is, though; I’ll go back and ask him.”

Harry followed him through the throng to the other end of the room. All of the released elves were in the room, but the soldiers had halted in the passageway. Calling one of them to him, Smithkin asked, “Where is the lower door?”

“There is the place,” replied the soldier, pointing to the wall on one side of the passageway behind where Harry was standing.

Smithkin drew forth a pin, and said to Harry, “Will your honor please step aside a moment?”

Harry drew back a few steps into the room; thus there was no one in the passageway but the soldiers. As soon as Harry was well in the room, Smithkin inserted the pin in a hole, pressed upon it thrice, and said:

“Pin, pin,

Let them in;

Open the door,

Open the floor!”

Instantly the whole floor of the room swung downwards, like an immense trap-door, and dumped all but the soldiers upon a slippery incline below. Away they went, sliding and rolling and tumbling over one another, until they landed in a confused heap at the bottom. Then the trap-door swung shut, and left them in darkness.

Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, though a number of them were bruised and scratched considerably. After order was restored Harry and Wamby talked over the situation, and came to the conclusion that this room and trap-door were mainly intended to prevent the Gnomes from ever invading the domains of the Pin Elves; and that Smithkin, suspecting all was not right, made up his mind it would be a good plan to imprison them until he could find out from the King the real state of affairs.

“We are literally caught in a trap,” said Harry.

Just then one of the elves exclaimed, “I’ve found a little box on the floor.”

“Bring it here!” shouted Wamby. “It’s my lantern-box. It flew out of my hands when I fell.”

The light thus found cheered their spirits not a little. They could see that they were in a large chamber, with apparently no other mode of exit than the way by which they had entered.

“There must be some way to get out,” said Wamby. “You fellows sound the floor and walls, and see if you cannot discover a door somewhere.”

But their search proved vain. Not a sign of a door was to be found, though they examined carefully every square inch of the floor and of the walls, as high up as they could reach.

“There’s nothing for us to do, then,” said Wamby, “but wait and see what will happen.”

And wait they did, for some time, and then what happened was the most unlooked-for thing that could possibly occur. The trap-door above opened an instant; there was a sound of mocking laughter, the door closed again, and a moment after Smithkin himself came sliding and rolling down the hill of glass, and landed in a heap in the centre of the room.

Such a crushed and crestfallen Smithkin as he was! They gathered about him and asked what was the matter.

“Matter!” growled the discomfited soldier, rising and stamping his foot in a rage, “mutiny is the matter! Rebellion is the matter! My soldiers have defied me. The King shall know of it, and every one of them shall be sent to the Gnomes!”

“Here, leave him to me,” said Wamby, taking Smithkin by the arm and drawing him aside.

After a long talk with him, Wamby returned to the others, and said, “He has had some trouble with his men, and they dumped him down here out of revenge. But it will turn out to our advantage, for he knows where the door is that leads out of this hole. Give me your pin, Harry. Smithkin’s is in possession of the soldiers above.”

Harry drew a pin from the lapel of his coat and handed it to him. “Now show me the place,” said Wamby. Smithkin led him to the foot of the hill of glass, and pointed to a little pin-hole in the incline, about a foot from the bottom.

“Well!” muttered Wamby, “no wonder we couldn’t find it! Who would ever think of looking for a door there?”

He inserted the pin, and pressing upon it thrice, repeated:

“Pin, pin,

Trusty and stout,

We are within

And want to get out.”

But no door opened. Again he pressed the pin and repeated the words, and again there was no response.

“Are those the right words for this door, Smithkin?” he asked of the soldier.

“Yes,” said Smithkin; “try again.”

He did so a number of times, but all in vain. At last he turned to Smithkin with a suspicious look, and cried, “You are deceiving us, you villain!”