They quieted down at last and again began to make signs that I should prepare to follow them.
When at last I succeeded in making them understand that I was not a jumper, and could no more leap across the stream in front of us than I could hop over the moon, their mirth now gave place to disgust. Such pleasant phrases as:—
“Lead legs!”
“Two-legged snail!”
“Little man stuck-in-the-ground!”
“Little man tied-to-his-head!” etc., etc., were fired at me.
After a consultation, it was determined to dispatch two of their number for a sort of porte-chaise in use among the Umi-Lobas in which to transport Bulger and me to the King’s palace.
Away went the messengers like the wind, in leaps of twenty feet seeming scarcely to touch the ground, bounding along in the distance like pith balls. After a short delay they reappeared bearing, slung on a sort of yoke resting upon their shoulders, a stout wicker basket.
Bulger and I were invited to step into it; the cover was closed and securely fastened by a stout leathern thong. Then with a bumpety bump sort of motion away we went across land and water.
Bulger whined piteously and fixed his lustrous eyes upon me, as if to say: