"Gracious!" cried Marjorie, wringing her hands, "whatever _is_ to be done?" While even d.i.c.k turned a little pale, for the poor creatures were by this time whirling around so quickly that one could scarcely be distinguished from the other.

Every now and then the poor Palaeotherium might be heard screaming above the others, who were all calling out in their fright and alarm.

The Dodo left the engine, and came and stared at them.

"H'm!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "_I_ don't know what's to be done. If they don't stop soon, I suppose we shall have to shoot them. It's the only thing I can think of."

"Shoot them!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, in a horrified voice.

"Well, what else is to be done, I should like to know? We can't leave them here whirling around like that forever."

"I should think," suggested d.i.c.k, after vainly trying to push the lever back into its place himself, "that if we raked all the fuel out of the engine, it would probably stop of its own accord."

"Ah! happy thought," said the Dodo, and with all possible speed they set to work to carry out d.i.c.k's suggestion.

They were delighted to find that after a time their project was successful, and the machinery gradually ceased to work, and at last stopped altogether.

The poor creatures looked more dead than alive as with pale faces they clung limply to the upright supports attached to each of the horses.

The Doctor, weak though he was, was furious.

"Wretched, ungrateful creature!" he cried, getting painfully off his horse and going up to the Dodo. "This is how you reward me for having saved your life."

"I couldn't help it," whimpered the Dodo. "I couldn't, really."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Not any higher, please,' gasped the Dodo."]

"Bah! I've a great mind never to speak to you again," said the Doctor, disgustedly.

The other creatures now came up, and began to abuse the Dodo, too.

Fortunately, just in time to prevent a general squabble, the Eteraedarium, who had not been one of the number to patronize the roundabout, returned with the information that there were some swings a little way off.

Despite their unfortunate experience on the roundabout, there was a general rush on the part of the creatures for this new attraction, and the Dodo and the Eteraedarium had hard work to secure a swing for themselves.

"Shall I give you a push?" asked the Doctor, kindly, though with a curious gleam in his eye.

"Yes, please," said the Dodo, gratefully.

"All right," said the Doctor. "Hold tight!" And he gave a mighty shove, sending the swing high above all the others.

"It's very--very nice," gasped the Dodo, "but don't push any higher, please."

"Hold tight," said the Doctor, relentlessly, giving another shove, harder than before.

"Oh! please--please d--don't, or we shall be upset," implored the Dodo, nervously, as the swing shot up into the air.

"I'll teach you to twizzle me on the roundabout," cried the Doctor, vindictively. "Will you ever do it again?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Fidge was delighted."]

"Oh! no, n--no, never!" promised the Dodo.

"Well, one good one for the last, then," cried the Doctor, giving a final push, and then leaving the poor Dodo to his fate.

I don't think that it could have been a very dreadful one, however, for a few minutes later he had joined the three children and the Palaeotherium in a journey on the switchback.

Fidge, who had never been on one before, was delighted with the experience, and shouted, "Hooray! This is jolly!" as the car dashed down the steep incline.

The poor Palaeotherium, however, his nerves evidently greatly unstrung by his unfortunate experience on the roundabout, was dreadfully upset, and alarmed, and, hiding his eyes, he crouched at the bottom of the car till it reached the other end, when he at once got out, and no amount of persuasion would induce him to undertake the return journey.

He had scarcely got out into the grounds again, when he met the Archaeopteryx, who was carrying a strange-looking object, which he held up for the Palaeotherium's inspection.

"Your tail, I believe," he said.

The Palaeotherium gave a hasty glance at his back, and then said, in rather a shamefaced way--

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Does this belong to you?"]

"Thank you! Yes, it is. You see, I have been obliged to wear a false one for some time; I had no idea, however, that it had become detached." And he carefully adjusted it again, tying it on with a couple of tapes, and artfully concealing the ends.

"Our family," he whispered, "have no tails to speak of, and, as we look rather remarkable without them, most of us wear artificial ones; but please don't tell the others, they are sure to make fun of me, if you do."

"All right," promised the Archaeopteryx, kindly; "I won't, if you don't wish me to; but I----"

"Hist! hist!" interrupted a voice, and the Dodo, with a very scared face, peeped from behind a tree. "Who _do_ you think is here?" he gasped.

"Who?" inquired the others, curiously.

"The Little Panjandrum himself," declared the Dodo. "I have just caught sight of him up by the Palace, and he looks _so_ angry about something."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LITTLE PANJANDRUM AT LAST.

"The Little Panjandrum!" exclaimed Marjorie, "I _shall_ be glad to see him at last. What is he like?"

"Oh! don't bother me about him," cried the Dodo, impatiently; "he's all right as Panjandrums go, I suppose, but I don't want to get into his clutches again, I can tell you."

"Don't you, indeed?" remarked a voice, sarcastically. "Well, His Importance is particularly anxious to see _you_ again, anyhow."

The Dodo gasped, and the children turning around beheld the Little Panjandrum's Amba.s.sador.

"Hullo! you here, too?" he continued, when he recognized them. "Well, I must say, you have been long enough bringing this wretched bird along."