You can guess the sort of books at which they knocked—Kingsley and Shakespeare and Marryat and Dickens, Miss Alcott and Mrs. Ewing, Hans Andersen and Stevenson, and Mayne Reid—and when they had knocked they called the name of the hero whose help they desired, and “Will you help us,” they asked, “to conquer the horrid Book People, and drive them back to cover?”
And not a hero but said, “Yes, indeed we will, with all our hearts.”
And they climbed down out of the books, and swam up to the golden gate and waited, talking with courage and dignity among themselves, while the children went on knocking at the backs of books—which are books’ front doors—and calling out more and more heroes to help in the fight.
Quentin Durward and Laurie were the first to come out, then Hereward and Amyas and Will Cary, David Copperfield, Rob Roy, Ivanhoe, Caesar and Anthony, Coriolanus and Othello; but you can make the list for yourselves. They came forth, all alive and splendid, with valor and the longing to strike once more a blow for the good cause, as they had been used to do in their old lives.
“These are enough,” said Francis, at last. “We ought to leave some, in case we want more help later.”
You see for yourselves what a splendid company it was that swam to the golden gate—there was no other way than swimming, except for Perseus—and awaited the children. And when the children joined them—rather nervous at the thought of the speeches they would have to make to their newly recruited regiment—they found that there was no need of speeches. The faithful Porpoises had not been too stupid to explain the simple facts of danger and rescue.
It was a proud moment for the children when they marched toward the Palace at the head of the band of heroes whom they had pressed into the service of the Merland. Between the clipped seaweed hedges they went, and along the paths paved with pearl and marble, and so, at last, drew near the Palace. They gave the watchword “Glory.”
“Or Death,” said the sentry. And they passed on to the Queen.
“We’ve brought a reinforcement,” said Francis, who had learned the word from Quentin Durward as they came along. And the Queen gave one look at her reinforcement’s faces and said simply: