His piteous cries were heard by all the Brownies, and they looked at each other in doubt and uncertainty. When the monster whom they had every reason to fear had met with the mishap which now made him powerless it was not to be gainsaid that a feeling of great relief was experienced by one and all. No matter what harm might come to them from other sources, certainly his power to injure them was gone.
“Why should we help him?” said one of the Brownies. “He has harmed us all he could.”
“If he drowns,” said another, “he will never have a chance to do so again.” But King Stanislaus looked very grave.
“No matter how much he has wronged us,” he said decidedly, “he needs our help, so we must give it.”
“But he is our enemy,” objected the Policeman.
“That makes no difference,” said His Majesty. “He will drown if we do not aid him.”
“If we save him,” said Uncle Sam, “he will only make trouble for us again.”
“We must not think of that,” said King Stanislaus. “He’s in distress, and doesn’t need to advertise it. That’s where the Brownies step in.”
He gave his orders, and the Brownies with the realization that there was not a moment to be lost ran with all possible speed for the long rope which they had used in hauling up the mine-sprites in the basket. This they brought to the opening, tripping and sprawling over it in the eagerness and anxiety they displayed.
They stood in a line, and lowered the rope down into the pit.