“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: