fight at the same time,” added the Wizard. “We will get near Jim, so that he can help us, and each one must take some weapon and do the best he can. I’ll use my sword, although it isn’t much account in this affair. Dorothy must take her parasol and open it suddenly when the wooden folks attack her. I haven’t anything for you, Zeb.”
“I’ll use the king,” said the boy, and pulled his prisoner out of the buggy. The bound Gargoyle’s arms extended far out beyond its head, so by grasping its wrists Zeb found the king made a very good club. The boy was strong for one of his years, having always worked upon a farm; so he was likely to prove more dangerous to the enemy than the Wizard.
When the next company of Gargoyles advanced, our adventurers began yelling as if they had gone mad. Even the kitten gave a dreadfully shrill scream and at the same time Jim the cab-horse neighed loudly. This daunted the enemy for a time, but the defenders were soon out of breath. Perceiving this, as well as the fact that there were no more of the awful “bangs” to come from the revolvers, the Gargoyles advanced in a swarm as thick as bees, so that the air was filled with them.
Dorothy squatted upon the ground and put up her parasol, which nearly covered her and proved a great protection. The Wizard’s sword-blade snapped into a dozen pieces at the first blow he struck against the wooden people. Zeb pounded away with the Gargoyle he was using as a club until he had knocked down dozens of foes; but at the last they clustered so thickly about him that he no longer had room in which to swing his arms. The horse performed some wonderful kicking and even Eureka assisted when she leaped bodily upon the Gargoyles and scratched and bit at them like a wild-cat.
But all this bravery amounted to nothing at all. The wooden things wound their long arms around Zeb and the Wizard and held them fast. Dorothy was captured in the same way, and numbers of the Gargoyles clung to Jim’s legs, so weighting him down that the poor beast was helpless. Eureka made a desperate dash to escape and scampered along the ground like a streak; but a grinning Gargoyle flew after her and grabbed her before she had gone very far.
All of them expected nothing less than instant death; but to their surprise the wooden creatures flew into the air with them and bore them far away, over miles and miles of wooden country, until they came to a wooden city. The houses of this city had many corners, being square and six-sided and eight-sided. They were tower-like in shape and the best of them seemed old and weather-worn; yet all were strong and substantial.
To one of these houses which had neither doors nor windows, but only one broad opening far up underneath the roof, the prisoners were brought by their captors. The Gargoyles roughly pushed them into the opening, where there was a platform, and then flew away and left them. As they had no wings the strangers could not fly away, and if they jumped down from such a height they would surely be killed. The creatures had sense enough to reason that way, and the only mistake they made was in supposing the earth people were unable to overcome such ordinary difficulties.
Jim was brought with the others, although it took a good many Gargoyles to carry the big beast through the air and land him on the high platform, and the buggy was thrust in after him because it belonged to the party and the wooden folks had no idea what it was used for or whether it was alive or not. When Eureka’s captor had thrown the kitten after the others the last Gargoyle silently disappeared, leaving our friends to breathe freely once more.
“What an awful fight!” said Dorothy, catching her breath in little gasps.
“Oh, I don’t know,” purred Eureka, smoothing her ruffled fur with her paw; “we didn’t manage to hurt anybody, and nobody managed to hurt us.”
“Thank goodness we are together again, even if we are prisoners,” sighed the little girl.
“I wonder why they didn’t kill us on the spot,” remarked Zeb, who had lost his king in the struggle.
“They are probably keeping us for some ceremony,” the Wizard answered, reflectively; “but there is no doubt they intend to kill us as dead as possible in a short time.”
“As dead as poss’ble would be pretty dead, wouldn’t it?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes, my dear. But we have no need to worry about that just now. Let us examine our prison and see what it is like.”
The space underneath the roof, where they stood, permitted them to see on all sides of the tall building, and they looked with much curiosity at the city spread out beneath them. Everything visible was made of wood, and the scene seemed stiff and extremely unnatural.
From their platform a stair descended into the house, and the children and the Wizard explored it after lighting a lantern to show them the way. Several stories of empty rooms rewarded their search, but nothing more; so after a time they came back to the platform again. Had there been any doors or windows in the lower rooms, or had not the boards of the house been so thick and stout, escape could have been easy; but to remain down below was like being in a cellar or the hold of a ship, and they did not like the darkness or the damp smell.
In this country, as in all others they had visited underneath the earth’s surface, there was no night, a constant and strong light coming from some unknown source. Looking out, they could see into some of the houses near them, where there were open windows in abundance, and were able to mark the forms of the wooden Gargoyles moving about in their dwellings.
“This seems to be their time of rest,” observed the Wizard. “All people need rest, even if they are made of wood, and as there is no night here they select a certain time of the day in which to sleep or doze.”
“I feel sleepy myself,” remarked Zeb, yawning.
“Why, where’s Eureka?” cried Dorothy, suddenly.
They all looked around, but the kitten was no place to be seen.
“She’s gone out for a walk,” said Jim, gruffly.
“Where? On the roof?” asked the girl.
“No; she just dug her claws into the wood and climbed down the sides of this house to the ground.”
“She couldn’t climb DOWN, Jim,” said Dorothy. “To climb means to go up.”
“Who said so?” demanded the horse.
“My school-teacher said so; and she knows a lot, Jim.”
“To ‘climb down’ is sometimes used as a figure of speech,” remarked the Wizard.
“Well, this was a figure of a cat,” said Jim, “and she WENT down, anyhow, whether she climbed or crept.”
“Dear me! how careless Eureka is,” exclaimed the girl, much distressed. “The Gurgles will get her, sure!”
“Ha, ha!” chuckled the old cab-horse; “they’re not ‘Gurgles,’ little maid; they’re Gargoyles.”
“Never mind; they’ll get Eureka, whatever they’re called.”
“No they won’t,” said the voice of the kitten, and Eureka herself crawled over the edge of the platform and sat down quietly upon the floor.
“Wherever have you been, Eureka?” asked Dorothy, sternly.
“Watching the wooden folks. They’re too funny for anything, Dorothy. Just now they are all going to bed, and—what do you think?—they unhook the hinges of their
