As Sham-Sham made his appearance, with Davy at his heels, there was a sudden commotion among the birds, and they all cried out together, "Here's the doctor!" but before Davy could reply the Hole-keeper suddenly made his appearance, with his great book, and, hurriedly turning over the leaves, said, pointing to Davy, "_He_ isn't a doctor.

His name is Gloopitch." At these words there arose a long, wailing cry, the lights disappeared, and Davy found himself on a broad path in the forest, with the Hole-keeper walking quietly beside him.

CHAPTER VIII.

SINDBAD THE SAILOR'S HOUSE.

"You had no right to tell those birds my name was Gloopitch!" said Davy, angrily. "That's the second time you've got it wrong."

"Well, it's of no consequence," said the Hole-keeper, complacently.

"I'll make it something else the next time. I suppose you know they've caught Gobobbles?"

"I'm glad of it!" said Davy, heartily. "He's worse than the c.o.c.kalorum, ten times over. What did they do with him?"

"Cooked him," said the Hole-keeper,--"roasted him, fried him, pickled him, and boiled him."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Davy; "I shouldn't think he'd be good for much after all that."

"He isn't," replied the Hole-keeper, calmly. "They're going to keep him to rub out pencil-marks with."

This was such a ridiculous idea that Davy threw back his head, and laughed long and loud.

"Do that again," said the Hole-keeper, stopping short in his walk and gazing at him earnestly; and Davy burst into another fit of laughter.

"Do it again," persisted the Hole-keeper, staring at him still more solemnly.

This was somewhat tiresome; and, after a rather feeble attempt at a third laugh, Davy said, "I don't feel like it any more."

"If _I_ could do that," said the Hole-keeper, earnestly, "I'd never stop. The fact is," he continued, gravely shaking his head, "I've never laughed in my life. Does it hurt much?"

"It doesn't hurt at all," said Davy, beginning to laugh again.

"Well, there, there!" said the Hole-keeper, peevishly, resuming his walk again; "don't keep it up _forever._ By the way, you're not the postman, are you?"

"Of course I'm not," said Davy.

"I'm glad of that," said the Hole-keeper; "postmen are always so dreadfully busy. Would you mind delivering a letter for me?" he added, lowering his voice confidentially.

"Oh, no," answered Davy, rather reluctantly; "not if it will be in my way."

"It's sure to be in your way, because it's so big," said the Hole-keeper; and, taking the letter out of his pocket, he handed it to Davy. It certainly was a very large letter, curiously folded, like a dinner-napkin, and sealed in a great many places with red and white peppermint drops, and Davy was much pleased to see that it was addressed:--

+------------------------------+

_Captain Robinson Crusoe,

Jeran Feranderperandamam,

B.G._

+------------------------------+

"What does B.G. stand for?" said Davy.

"Baldergong's Geography, of course," said the Hole-keeper.

"But why do you put _that_ on the letter?" inquired Davy.

"Because you can't find Jeran Feranderperandamam anywhere else, stupid,"

said the Hole-keeper, impatiently. "But I can't stop to argue about it now;" and, saying this, he turned into a side path, and disappeared in the wood.

As Davy walked mournfully along, turning the big letter over and over in his hands, and feeling very confused by the Hole-keeper's last remark, he presently saw, lying on the walk before him, a small book, beautifully bound in crimson morocco, and, picking it up, he saw that it was marked on the cover:--

+---------------------------------------+

BALDERGONG'S STUFFING FOR THE STUPID.

+---------------------------------------+

"Perhaps this will tell me where to go," he thought as he opened it; but it proved to be far more confusing than the Hole-keeper himself had been. In fact it was altogether the most ridiculous and provoking book Davy had ever seen.

The first page was headed, in large capital letters:--

HOW TO FRILL GRIDDLEPIGS.

And it seemed to Davy that this _ought_ to be something about cooking sausages; but all he found below the heading was:--

_Never frill 'em: snuggle 'em always._

And this seemed so perfectly silly that he merely said, "Oh, bosh!" and turned impatiently to the next page. This, however, was no better. The heading was:--

TWO WAYS OF FRUMPLING CRUMBLES.

And under this was--

_One way:-- Frumple your crumbles with rumbles._

_The other way:-- Frumple your crumbles: then add two grumbles of tumbles and stir rapidly._

Davy read this over two or three times, in the greatest perplexity, and then gave it up in despair.

"It's nothing at all except a jumbly way of cooking something tumbly,"

he said to himself, and then turned sadly to the third page. Alas! this was a great deal worse, being headed:--

THE BEST SNUB FOR FEASTIE SPRALLS;

and poor Davy began to feel as if he were taking leave of his senses. He was just about to throw the book down in disgust, when it was suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed out of his hands; and, turning hastily, he saw a savage glaring at him from the bushes.

Now Davy knew perfectly well, as all little boys should know, that when you meet a savage in the woods you must get behind a tree as quickly as possible; but he did this in such haste that he found, to his dismay, that he and the savage had chosen the same tree, and in the next instant the savage was after him. The tree was a very large one, and Davy, in his fright, went around it a number of times, so rapidly that he presently caught sight of the back of the savage, and he was surprised to see that he was no bigger than a large monkey; and, moreover, that he was gorgeously dressed, in a beautiful blue coat, with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on the tail of it, and pink striped trousers. He had hardly made this discovery when the savage vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, and the next moment Davy came suddenly upon a high paling of logs, that began at the tree and extended in a straight line far out into the forest.

It was very puzzling to Davy when it occurred to him that, although he had been around the tree at least a dozen times, he had never seen this paling before, and a door that was in it also bothered him; for, though it was quite an ordinary-looking door, it had no k.n.o.b nor latch, nor, indeed, any way of being opened that he could perceive. On one side of it, in the paling, was a row of bell-pulls, marked:--

_Family_; _Police_; _Butcher_; _Baker_; _Candlestick-maker_;

and on the door itself was a large knocker, marked:--

+-------------+

_Postman._

+-------------+