“I’ve thought of a way to save you,” cried Prince Forge John, fairly crackling with pleasure. “You can just go to Blazes!”
“What?” shouted Grampa, who, being in the army, thought he was insulted.
“Yes,” repeated Forge John calmly. “You must go to Blazes. See that dark house across the waters there? Well, you’ll find him on the other side of that.”
Grampa shaded his eyes and, looking across the green, sulphurous waters surrounding Fire Island, made out a great tower of Darkness. It was quite easy to see, for every other place was lighted with the ruddy glow from the island.
“Fetch the boat,” ordered the Prince briskly, and while Grampa and Tatters were still gazing in stupefaction at the tower, several of the fire men began shoving an iron boat down the beach. Unceremoniously Forge John took them by the arms and helped them in. To tell the truth, he was growing sleepy and anxious to be rid of these singular visitors.
“The flower fairy may stay,” he yawned graciously, but Urtha had no such intention. Gently disengaging herself from a group of the fire maidens, she ran after the boat and sprang lightly in beside Tatters.
“What do you mean? Where are we going? Hold on here!” blustered the old soldier. But Prince Forge John merely waved his firm arms and the two fire men began to row away as fast as they could.
“Good-bye,” called the Prince, with another yawn. “I’m sorry you wouldn’t stay and burn with us.”
“We’re going to blazes, to blazes, to blazes!” crowed Bill, who had flown up into the bow of the boat.
“That’s right,” crackled the flame man nearest to Tatters. “He’ll soon send you up.”