A DIFFICULTY WITH THE ROUNDABOUT.
While the Dodo and his friends were enjoying themselves on the lake, the children and the others were wandering about the grounds, and continually discovering fresh attractions. What puzzled them not a little, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no other visitors about, and even the attendants had disappeared in a most mysterious manner.
At the roundabout the steam was up, but there was apparently nobody in charge.
“What a pity,” said Dick, “I should have liked very much to have gone around on the horses, wouldn’t you, Marjorie?”
“I should,” chimed in Fidge.
“Yes, it would have been rather jolly,” said Marjorie. “Don’t you think perhaps the Prehistoric Doctor could manage to set it going? Let’s ask him.”
“Well, my dear,” said the Doctor, when consulted on the subject, “I don’t know much about machinery, but I’ll try, if you like.”
“What’s that?” inquired the Dodo, just then coming up, he having failed to get on with the rowing to his own or anybody else’s satisfaction.
“Why, we are just discussing the question of setting this roundabout going,” explained the Doctor.
“Pooh! the easiest thing in the world,” said the Dodo. “You just get on, and I’ll soon start you off.”
“All right,” cried the Doctor, getting astride one of the horses.
“Hold on!” cried the Palæotherium; “let us get on, too.”
And he and several of the others clambered up to their places.
“I think,” whispered Marjorie, nervously, “that we had better wait and see how they get on, before trying ourselves.”
“That’s just like a girl,” cried Dick—“afraid of everything.”
“I’m not,” replied Marjorie, indignantly; “I’m quite ready to go on, if you want to—only I thought——”
“All aboard!” interrupted the Dodo, pulling the lever.
“Stop! Stop!” shouted Dick; “we want to get on.”
“Too late!” cried the Dodo. “You shall go on the next journey.” And with a shriek from the steam-whistle the horses began to go around.
“There you are, you see,” said the Dodo, complacently regarding the result of his efforts. “I said it was an easy matter to set them going.”
Faster and faster grew the pace, till the Doctor, who at first seemed to be enjoying his ride immensely, suddenly threw his arms around his horse’s neck, and gasped out, breathlessly—
“Oh! Oh! Stop them! They’re running away?”
“Pooh! Nonsense!” cried the Dodo; “don’t be a baby.”
“Stop them! Stop them! Help! Help!” screamed the other poor creatures, as the horses whirled around faster and faster.
The Dodo went to the engine and tried to push the lever back again, but, to his great consternation, he found that he could not do so, and the only result of pulling another lever which he discovered was to make the machinery work more rapidly than before.
“Gracious!” cried Marjorie, wringing her hands, “whatever is to be done?” While even Dick turned a little pale, for the poor creatures were by this time whirling around so quickly that one could scarcely be distinguished from the other.
Every now and then the poor Palæotherium might be heard screaming above the others, who were all calling out in their fright and alarm.
The Dodo left the engine, and came and stared at them.
“H’m!” he ejaculated. “I don’t know what’s to be done. If they don’t stop soon, I suppose we shall have to shoot them. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Shoot them!” exclaimed Dick, in a horrified voice.
“Well, what else is to be done, I should like to know? We can’t leave them here whirling around like that forever.”
“I should think,” suggested Dick, after vainly trying to push the lever back into its place himself, “that if we raked all the fuel out of the engine, it would probably stop of its own accord.”
“Ah! happy thought,” said the Dodo, and with all possible speed they set to work to carry out Dick’s suggestion.
They were delighted to find that after a time their project was successful, and the machinery gradually ceased to work, and at last stopped altogether.
The poor creatures looked more dead than alive as with pale faces they clung limply to the upright supports attached to each of the horses.
The Doctor, weak though he was, was furious.
“Wretched, ungrateful creature!” he cried, getting painfully off his horse and going up to the Dodo. “This is how you reward me for having saved your life.”
“I couldn’t help it,” whimpered the Dodo. “I couldn’t, really.”
"'Not any higher, please,' gasped the Dodo."
“Bah! I’ve a great mind never to speak to you again,” said the Doctor, disgustedly.
The other creatures now came up, and began to abuse the Dodo, too.
Fortunately, just in time to prevent a general squabble, the Eterædarium, who had not been one of the number to patronize the roundabout, returned with the information that there were some swings a little way off.
Despite their unfortunate experience on the roundabout, there was a general rush on the part of the creatures for this new attraction, and the Dodo and the Eterædarium had hard work to secure a swing for themselves.
“Shall I give you a push?” asked the Doctor, kindly, though with a curious gleam in his eye.
“Yes, please,” said the Dodo, gratefully.
“All right,” said the Doctor. “Hold tight!” And he gave a mighty shove, sending the swing high above all the others.
“It’s very—very nice,” gasped the Dodo, “but don’t push any higher, please.”
“Hold tight,” said the Doctor, relentlessly, giving another shove, harder than before.
“Oh! please—please d—don’t, or we shall be upset,” implored the Dodo, nervously, as the swing shot up into the air.
“I’ll teach you to twizzle me on the roundabout,” cried the Doctor, vindictively. “Will you ever do it again?”
"Fidge was delighted."
“Oh! no, n—no, never!” promised the Dodo.
“Well, one good one for the last, then,” cried the Doctor, giving a final push, and then leaving the poor Dodo to his fate.
I don’t think that it could have been a very dreadful one, however, for a few minutes later he had joined the three children and the Palæotherium in a journey on the switchback.
Fidge, who had never been on one before, was delighted with the experience, and shouted, “Hooray! This is jolly!” as the car dashed down the steep incline.
The poor Palæotherium, however, his nerves evidently greatly unstrung by his unfortunate experience on the roundabout, was dreadfully upset, and alarmed, and, hiding his eyes, he crouched at the bottom of the car till it reached the other end, when he at once got out, and no amount of persuasion would induce him to undertake the return journey.
He had scarcely got out into the grounds again, when he met the Archæopteryx, who was carrying a strange-looking object, which he held up for the Palæotherium’s inspection.
“Your tail, I believe,” he said.
The Palæotherium gave a hasty glance at his back, and then said, in rather a shamefaced way—
"Does this belong to you?"
“Thank you! Yes, it is. You see, I have been obliged to wear a false one for some time; I had no idea, however, that it had become detached.” And he carefully adjusted it again, tying it on with a couple of tapes, and artfully concealing the ends.
“Our family,” he whispered, “have no tails to speak of, and, as we look rather remarkable without them, most of us wear artificial ones; but please don’t tell the others, they are sure to make fun of me, if you do.”
“All right,” promised the Archæopteryx, kindly; “I won’t, if you don’t wish me to; but I——”
“Hist! hist!” interrupted a voice, and the Dodo, with a very scared face, peeped from behind a tree. “Who do you think is here?” he gasped.
“Who?” inquired the others, curiously.
“The Little Panjandrum himself,” declared the Dodo. “I have just caught sight of him up by the Palace, and he looks so angry about something.”