Saying this, the wooden Indian bowed to the kinglet, gave a furious war-whoop, and stalked stiffly from the room.
"Bring on the next prisoner!" shouted the kinglet, and both Chick and John gave a gasp of surprise as Imar was brought into the room. The inventor of the flying-machine, however, did not seem the least bit frightened, and bowed calmly before the throne.
"What's the charge against this man?" inquired the kinglet.
"He's accused of being a successful inventor," said one of the guards. "The other inventors claim no one who succeeds has a right to live in the Isle of Phreex."
"Quite correct," replied his Majesty. "Cut off his head, Maria."
"Alas, Sire! my sword is broken!" she exclaimed.
"Then get another."
"But I have no other sword that is sharpened," she protested.
"Then sharpen one!" retorted the kinglet, frowning.