“Are you there?” said the Princess for the twenty-seventh time. And then Ulfin said, “I am here, Princess.”
“We must have connecting links,” she said—“bits of seaweed would do. If you hold a piece of seaweed in your hand I will take hold of the other end of it. We cannot feel the touch of each other’s hands, but we shall feel the seaweed, and you will know, by its being drawn tight that I have hold of the other end. Get some pieces for the children, too. Good stout seaweed, such as you made the nets of with which you captured us.”
“Ah, Princess,” he said, “how can I regret that enough? And yet how can I regret it at all since it has brought you to me.”
“Peace, foolish child,” said the Princess, and Ulfin’s heart leaped for joy because, when a Princess calls a grown-up man “child,” it means that she likes him more than a little, or else, of course, she would not take such a liberty. “But the seaweed,” she added, “there is no time to lose.”
“I have some in my pocket,” said Ulfin, blushing, only she could not see that. “They keep me busy making nets in my spare time—I always have some string in my pocket.”
A piece of stringy seaweed suddenly became visible as Ulfin took it out of his invisible pocket, which, of course, had the property of making its contents invisible too, so long as they remained in it. It floated toward the Princess, who caught the end nearest to her and held it fast.
“Where are you?” said a small voice.
It was Mavis—and almost at once Francis and Bernard were there too. The seaweed chain was explained to them, and they each held fast to their ends of the seaweed links. So that when the soldiers, a little late in the day, owing to the careful management of Ulfin’s friend, reached the front door, there was nothing to be seen but four bits of seaweed floating down the street, which, of course, was the sort of thing that nobody could possibly notice unless they knew.
The bits of seaweed went drifting to the Barracks, and no one noticed that they floated on to the stables and that invisible hands loosed the halters of five Sea Horses. The soldier who ought to have been looking after the horses was deeply engaged in a game of Animal Grab with a comrade. The cards were of narwhal ivory, very fine, indeed, and jeweled on every pip. The invisible hands saddled the Sea Horses and invisible forms sprang to the saddles, and urged the horses forward.
The unfortunate Animal Grabber was roused from his game by the sight of five retreating steeds—saddled and bridled indeed, but, as far as he could see, riderless, and long before other horses could be got out and saddled the fugitives were out of sight and pursuit was vain. Just as before they went across country to the rock cut and then swam up, holding by the linking seaweed.