And no less astounded than he was were a band of little people who had caught a glimpse of that rounded human arm sticking from an eagles’ nest with consequent and complete mystification to all.
In a ring and with characteristic postures they stood gabbling among themselves and pointing up—a queer, very queer race, all males, with round fat little pot-bellies, thin, spindling shanks, long, tapering feet, and babyish-looking heads set on their shoulders apparently without connecting necks. And these heads had large ears, wide mouths, and pop eyes—a combination that ordinarily would make the possessor of them ugly, but which in their case contributed general results that made them unusually winning and attractive.
As Florimel looked down he could note that there were many of one type—tiny fellows who wore the same kinds of caps and jackets. But there were others too—one of each kind—a Policeman with a club, a Sailor with a spy-glass, an Indian, a Cowboy, and a single representative from every country of importance in the world. England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Russia, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, Turkey, Greece, Spain, Portugal, China, Japan, the United States, Canada, and other lands had their delegates whom Florimel could distinguish by means of a strange human picture-book in the museum of the kingdom from which he had flown, and which often he had been permitted to see. And, while he marveled and wondered thereat, his keen eye alighted on another too—a tiny chap with high-topped, bell-crowned hat, black clothes with swallow-tail, a wide expanse of spotless white shirt-bosom, spats, and glistening patent-leather shoes—a pompous, vain, conceited, immaculate-looking little fellow who carried a cane that seemed a part of him, and who wore a round piece of glass over one of his eyes.
In order to obtain a better view Florimel leaned further over, and so disturbed the architecture of the nest, from which the sticks began to fall, until he felt the whole foundation going. But so suddenly did this occur that he did not have a chance to grasp a saving branch, and in a trice plunged through the bottomless structure down—down—down—
He closed his dizzy frightened eyes, struck the waters of the lake, then disappeared from sight.
The curious band watching him were quick to realize his predicament. Without loss of time they ran to a shelf of rock that over-hung the lake, and one and all jumped in after him.
Ker-splash! ker-splash! resounded on all sides until the water was dotted with bobbing heads.
As Florimel came to the surface, blinded and choking, someone quickly grasped him, and, while the rest formed a living chain, he was passed on from one to another, until the last dragged him safely to shore.
Soon they were all gathered about in a ring, with Florimel in the centre, and, while the soft wind dried their dripping clothes, they looked at him, and he at them, with wonder and surprise on all their faces.