"But you must!" cried the Blunderer. "It's the only way you can escape accident in this awful Island."
"That's true enough," agreed the big-headed man. "I advise you to wear the armor, my gingerbread friend."
So John submitted to being dressed in the armor, and no sooner had the plates been strapped upon him than the wisdom of the act was apparent. For there came a rush and whirl of sound, and suddenly a great monster swept over the sands at the very spot where they stood. It sent the Brotherhood of Failings sprawling in every direction, while the Incubator Baby flew to the water's edge, and John Dough's armor-clad body was knocked down and pressed into the soft sand until it was level with the surface.
But presently Chick came back and made the others dig him out and set him upon his feet again, and then it was seen that no one had been seriously injured.
"What was it?" asked John, gazing in amazement at the place where the monster had disappeared in the distance.
"It's the one-wheeled automobile," answered the Sorrowful, "and unless it gets smashed mighty soon the Isle of Phreex will be an Isle of Cripples. I don't understand why they license the thing."
"Why, to make room for new arrivals, of course," declared the Disagreeable. "But it was lucky for the Pudding Man that he happened to be dressed in steel."
"I am not pudding, if you please," said John, indignantly. "I beg you to remember that I am gingerbread."