“Now,” said Wamby to his armed followers, “you men remain concealed as before on each side of this entrance, and await further orders. And the rest of you keep where you can’t be seen from the passageway.”
Beckoning to Harry, he entered the passageway and came to the door at the end.
“First let us take a peep,” said he; and opening the door on a crack, they looked out into the Reception Hall.
After the door closed, Harry whispered, “There are only a few of the body-guard there. No doubt the King has heard of our escape from the prison, and sent most of his soldiers to find us. Are you all ready? Be sure to shut the door after I come out, and keep it shut as long as you can. I am ready.”
Wamby pressed upon the pin, and the door swung open. With a yell loud enough to scare a thousand elves, Harry dashed up to the throne, picked the little King up bodily, and rushed back through the doorway before any of the soldiers had a chance to touch him. Without stopping he ran on to the chamber, and laying the King down, called out, “Here, some of you fellows, come and help me!” For by this time the King was struggling, scratching, and biting like a vicious cat.
But not an elf moved. They simply looked on in amazement and fear.
“Afraid, eh?” cried Harry. “Well, perhaps you’d better not have a hand in it.”
Placing one knee on the King’s body, he drew forth the royal hat-pin and stuck it in his own coat. Then he took off the crown and placed it over Wamby’s hat on top of his own head, and loosing the royal mantle, pinned it over his own shoulders.
“Now,” said he, springing up, “I am king. Take that fellow and bind him. Don’t hurt him, though,” he cried, as he saw the vengeful, angry looks with which the elves rushed upon their disrobed tyrant. “Any one that injures him will be sent back to the Gnomes. He’ll be punished in due time. You men that are armed, follow me to relieve Wamby.”
They were just in time; for, notwithstanding Wamby’s efforts, the door was being gradually forced open by the ex-King’s body-guard.