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"Drums," wheezed the bear, "or something like
drums."
"No, horses!" corrected Ojo, and remembering that
he was a brave adventurer, he let go of Snuffer~
picked up his rod.
"Now, then, shall we stand still and keep quiet, or
let them know we are here?" debated Realbad anx-
iously. "If we stand still we may be run down, if we
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go forward we may find ourselves in the hands of an
army, for where there are horses there are usually
men." One thing seemed as bad as the other, and
trying in vain to pierce the grim blanket of fog
Realbad involuntarily stepped forward. To his dis-
may and consternation the pointed end of his rod
immediately imbedded itself in a soft, yielding body.
"Oh! Oh! I'm stabbed! Destroyed! Punctured!"
shrieked an agonized voice that was drowned out
almost instantly by a deeper and more threatening
blast of the horn they had first heard.
"Halt! Stop! Didn't you hear my horn?" demand-
ed an imperious being, and the air became so fraught
with angry snorts, trumpets and whinnyings that
Ojo turned pale beneath his freckles and Snuffer
shook in his shoes.
"Horses! Wild horses! What'll we do?" shivered
Ojo. As Realbad hastily snatched back his rod, a
silver pike bristled through the mist, so close to the
nose of the bandit that he sprang back to keep from
being impaled on the point.
"Who dares defy Roganda? Roganda, the fleet,
the silver-footed, the magnificent," snorted the same
imperious voice. "Who dares?" Ojo and Snuffer ex-
changed uneasy glances, but Realbad, lowering his
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rod, called out boldly:
"A thousand pardons, fair and invisible Queen.
If by reason of this mischievous fog, I have injured
you or one of your subjects, I stand not only ready
but willing to make immediate and adequate
amends." A long silence followed Realbad's offer,
and as the three began to move noiselessly backward
with arms interlocked, a crooked little hand pushed
aside the pike and a dwarf with a long blue beard
sprang up before them. He was about the same size
as Ojo and over one shoulder he carried a red lantern
on a pole. Letting the lantern slide to the ground he
quickly lit it and holding it aloft peered earnestly up
into their faces.
"Only three, your Majesty," he piped in an impor-
tant little squeak. "Shall I bring them in?"
"Ye-a!" The answer quivered like a silver whis-
tle through the fog.
"Her 'Yea' is 'Yea,' but her 'Neigh' is terrible.
Better come along," advised the dwarf. Picking up
his lantern he motioned for them to follow. Ojo could
distinctly hear the hammer and pound of countless
hoofs clattering along ahead.
"They must be horses," he whispered, looking up
to see whether Realbad was going to do as the dwarf
suggested. The lantern had decided Realbad. Any-
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thing he concluded, was better than blundering help-
less about in the fog, so seizing Ojo by one arm
and Snuffer by the other, he stepped thankfully after
the twinkling light. It made but a small pool of red
in the gloom and not enough to enable them to see
the strange horde they were following.
"Is it an army?" questioned Ojo, peering curiously
at the little dwarf. "I wonder whether there are
many more like him? You know, he reminds me of
the old Gnome King, only he's much pleasanter."
"Thanks!" The dwarf grinned cheerfully over his
shoulder. Ojo had spoken so low he was astonished
to find that the dwarf had heard him. "I'm Pat, the
Prime Patter of her Majesty, Queen Roganda, the
fleet." He held up his right hand.
Fastened to the wrist by a leather band was a big
silver-backed brush. "I lay it on soft or hard, just
as her Highness commands," chuckled the Prime
Patter, trotting along contentedly. "If you please
the queen you'll be patted. If you displease her you
will also be patted-but hard."
"Well, it's not safe to pat a bear, remember that,"
growled Snuffer warningly.
"He couldn't hurt you," whispered Ojo. "He's too
little."
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