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The Magic Island
Chapter V.
Prisoners!

(By Nellie E. Donovan.)

Michael gripped his sister's arm, “Don't be frightened, Barbara,” he said, “I will look after you.”

The goblins stopped before them in line. There must have been fully a dozen of them.

Tiny Toes found his voice, “What do you want?” he asked shakily.

A goblin with a long, white beard reaching almost to the ground, stepped forward. “We saw you coming along the track. You have no permission to come to this island, so the Most Highest One, our King, told us to take you prisoners and bring you before him,” he said.

“But—but,” put in Barbara, “We'll go away if you'll only give us Peter back.”

“Peter? Who is he?” asked the goblin.

“You know—our friend—the little boy you took prisoner,” answered Barbara.

“We know nothing about a little boy,” said the goblin.

Barbara turned to Tiny Toes. “Oh, Tiny Toes, did you hear what he said? They know nothing about Peter!”

“Don't you believe him,” said Tiny Toes, “We know for certain that Peter is on this island.”

“Come on,” said the goblin, “We can't waste time. “Take their arms, brother goblins.”

But before the goblins could make a move, Michael shouted, “Run for it!” and, pulling Barbara, he made a dart through the line of goblins. He knocked two goblins over. But he did not get far. Barbara and he were gripped tightly by strong arms and jerked back. Tiny Toes and Dimples were also securely held.

“March!” said the goblin, with the long, white beard.

They marched forward along the track, until they came to a large green field. Goblins of all sizes and shapes were standing in line at the far end, like a contingent of soldiers waiting inspection. Sitting on a chair made of branches and rushes was a great, ugly fat goblin with a laurel crown on his head. The children were pushed roughly forward until they were standing in front of him.

The goblin with the white beard stepped forward, quickly. But in his haste he quite forgot that when he walked, he had to use caution with a long beard, and the consequence was that it became tangled round his short legs and he tumbled to the ground in a very undignified position.

He really was a funny sight trying to untangle the beard from his legs that Barbara giggled aloud. A goblin who was standing by the King goblin's chair and holding a long pointed stick, gave Barbara a poke with it, while Michael nudged her. “Better be quiet, Barbara,” he whispered.

By this time the goblin had untangled his beard and had struggled to his feet. He glared angrily at Barbara, then bowed low to the King goblin.

“The only way to see that it does not happen again,” said the King goblin in a deep voice, “is to cut that beard off. Chief Cutter step forward.” Out of the ranks of the goblins stepped a goblin holding an outsize in clippers. He advanced over to the now trembling goblin.

“Your Majesty cannot mean it!” he cried, “My beautiful beard! I'll do anything else your Majesty wants, but let me have my beard!”

“Cut it off!” commanded the King.

Snip! Snip! went the clippers, and the beautiful white beard lay on the grass in small pieces.

Tears rolled down the goblin's cheeks, “I'll never be able to grow another like it!” he sobbed, “It'll take years and years!”

The King goblin was becoming angry. “Enough of this nonsense!” he thundered, “I give orders that no beards are to be worn longer than six inches in length and any goblin seen with a longer beard will be banished from the Kingdom. Spread that message through the island. And now proceed.”

The goblin who had lost his beard, at the King's angry words, wiped the tears from his eyes and said, “Yes, your Majesty. We have done as your Majesty ordered and brought before you the mortal children and two of our hateful enemeis, the elves.”

“Ah!” The King leant forward in his chair and his ugly face with its small beady eyes, peered down at Barbara and Michael. “You are very small for a mortal boy and girl, aren't you?”

“Yes,” answered Barbara, “That's so we would fit in the Fair—”

“Shs!” said Michael in a whisper, “Don't say a word about the boat. You see, King Goblin,” Michael said loudly, “Tiny Toes and Dimples thought it would be ever so much better if we were small like them so that we could talk together more easily.”

(Continued on page 60.)