But all thought of the grave problem to be discussed was forgotten, for at this moment there entered many more victims of the travelling prison. (Smaly, who up to now had not been so very, very astonished at anything he had seen or heard since he had passed through the chocolate door, really was a little surprised when he saw these victims.)
The chief sufferers seemed to have been the Rats, whose business it was to keep the sugar-cane forest well watered. Nearly all had one leg which was much longer than the other, or a very long arm, or an elongated nose, or a tail that went on for ever.
"They must have been walking upon hot Soy," whispered a Wig to Smaly.
This Wig was a Dwarf with a very large head, and he carried a watering-can, out of which he perpetually drank a few drops.
Smaly and Redy, their eyes round with curiosity, questioned him eagerly.
"The Prisoner wanted to cripple us all for the rest of our days," said the Dwarf, drinking a little more water, for he suffered from a continual thirst.
"If you know what a match is," observed the Crow, settling his spectacles, "you will very soon understand what has happened."
"Yes," continued the Dwarf, looking anxiously into the bottom of his watering-can. "When the prison had crossed the square the Architect made an attempt to save the plans."
"By the Architect he means the Confectioner," whispered Redy to Smaly.