"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "one thing at a time. What is a bird?"

"Oh, I say! You _must_ know what a bird is," expostulated d.i.c.k.

"I don't," said the Palaeotherium, stubbornly.

"Why--why--the Dodo is a bird," explained d.i.c.k.

"Yes, but nothing like a robin, d.i.c.k, dear," added Marjorie; "a robin is such a sweet, pretty little thing----"

"Well, I never!" exclaimed the Dodo, "do you mean to say _I'm_ not a pretty little thing?"

"Well, you're not _quite_ like a robin, are you?" said Marjorie, getting out of the difficulty very cleverly.

"Not _quite_, perhaps," admitted the Dodo; "but I _am_ pretty," he added decidedly.

"I don't see what all this has to do with my conundrum," said d.i.c.k.

"Well, let's try again," said the Archaeopteryx. "Why is a robin like a waterbut?"

"A robin is a bird that comes in the winter," repeated the Eteraedarium, "and the waterbut--is that also a bird?"

"Oh, no," laughed Marjorie; "a waterbut is a tub for holding water."

"Can it fly?" asked the Eteraedarium.

"Of course not!" said d.i.c.k; "who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Well, _is_ it like a robin? That's the point," said the Palaeotherium.

"Not in appearance," admitted d.i.c.k. "Will you give it up?" he added, looking around the table.

"Give what up?" asked the creatures.

"The conundrum," replied d.i.c.k.

"I haven't got it," declared the Dodo.

"Nor have I." "Nor I." "Nor I," said the others.

"No, no! I mean, will you give the answer up?" said d.i.c.k, losing patience.

"But we haven't it," said the Archaeopteryx.

"Look here, I'll tell you what we'll do," said the Palaeotherium, generously: "I'll give up the robin, and my friend here will give up the waterbut. There!"

"Now _that's_ settled," said the Dodo, conclusively, "_I'll_ ask you a conundrum. 'If your wife's aunt is----'"

"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "I haven't got a wife, you know."

"No," said the Eteraedarium, "he hasn't, and, if he had, she very likely would not have an aunt. Make it my wife's aunt."

"All right," said the Dodo. "If _your_ wife's aunt is my brother's son, what relation is d.i.c.k to Tom?"

"You haven't asked it right," said d.i.c.k, who knew a riddle something like that. "It's 'if this man's father is that man's son, what relation is d.i.c.k to Tom?'"

"I wish you wouldn't interfere," said the Dodo. "I tell you the question is right as I asked it."

"But your wife's aunt couldn't be anybody's son," said Marjorie, who was trying to puzzle it out.

"Who said she _was_?" snapped the Dodo, crossly; "she is as likely to be anybody's son as a robin is to be like a waterbut, and besides, I didn't say she was; I said, if she was, you know."

"Well, let's work it out," said the Eteraedarium, spreading out his fingers. "Let's see, that's my wife's aunt," he continued, pointing to his thumb, "and that's my brother's son," he added, touching the next finger, "and the other two will do for d.i.c.k and Tom. Now--er----"

"Who is the other finger?" interrupted the Dodo, anxiously.

"Me," said the Palaeotherium, solemnly and ungrammatically.

"It isn't," declared the other.

"It is," repeated the Palaeotherium.

"Oh, very well! let it be so," cried the Archaeopteryx, impatiently.

"What's the answer, anyhow?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Who is the other finger?' interrupted the Dodo, anxiously."]

"I don't know," said the Eteraedarium, staring at his fingers stupidly.

"I don't see what relation those two fingers are to the other two. Well, what relation _is_ d.i.c.k to Tom?" he asked, turning to the Dodo.

"The same relation that the robin is to the waterbut," said that bird, conclusively. "Come on, let's get the Skipper to teach us how to dance a hornpipe," and he led the way from the table, quite disregarding the fact that the others had not finished.

The Skipper, who had been quite as puzzled as the others were by these extraordinary conundrums, willingly agreed, and, first of all, danced a hornpipe himself very successfully, and then did his best to teach the others.

The Dodo, with his short legs and big body, very soon gave up trying, and, thoroughly worn out by the exertion, lay panting on the shingle, while the Eteraedarium took his turn. He got along capitally, and the children laughed heartily at the queer capers which he cut.

They were in the midst of the fun, when the Dodo suddenly jumped up, and, pointing excitedly up into the air, cried, "Look! Look! What's that?"

They all looked in the direction which he indicated, and after a time discerned a tiny speck in the sky, which the Skipper declared, after watching some time, to be a balloon.

"It's all red," cried Marjorie, whose eyesight was very keen.

"What!" exclaimed the Dodo, trembling. "Red! Are you sure?" he inquired, anxiously.

"Certain," said Marjorie.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, "I can see it now; it's quite red--a bright scarlet, in fact."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The Eteraedarium took his turn."]