LITMIR.BIZ

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can’t get to it,” protested the little girl. “We can’t fly, as you do, you must remember.”

      “No, that’s true,” replied the Ork musingly.

      “Your bodies are built very poorly, it seems to me, since all you can do is crawl upon the earth’s surface. But you may ride upon my back, and in that way T can promise you a safe journey to the tunnel.”

      “Are you strong enough to carry us?” asked Cap’n Bill, doubtfully.

      “Yes, indeed; I’m strong enough to carry a dozen of you, if you could find a place to sit,” was the reply; “but there’s only room between my wings for one at a time, so I’ll have to make two trips.”

      “All right; I’ll go first,” decided Cap’n Bill.

      He lit another candle for Trot to hold while they were gone and to light the Ork on his return to her, and then the old sailor got upon the Ork’s back, where he sat with his wooden leg sticking straight out sidewise.

      “If you start to fall, clasp your arms around my neck,” advised the creature.

      “If I start to fall, it’s good night an’ pleasant dreams,” said Cap’n Bill.

      “All ready?” asked the Ork.

      “Start the buzz-tail,” said Cap’n Bill, with a tremble in his voice. But the Ork flew away so gently that the old man never even tottered in his seat.

      Trot watched the light of Cap’n Bill’s candle till it disappeared in the far distance. She didn’t like to be left alone on this dangerous ledge, with a lake of black water hundreds of feet below her; but she was a brave little girl and waited patiently for the return of the Ork. It came even sooner than she had expected and the creature said to her:

      “Your friend is safe in the tunnel. Now, then, get aboard and I’ll carry you to him in a jiffy.”

      I’m sure not many little girls would have cared to take that awful ride through the huge black cavern on the back of a skinny Ork. Trot didn’t care for it, herself, but it just had to be done and so she did it as courageously as possible. Her heart beat fast and she was so nervous she could scarcely hold the candle in her fingers as the Ork sped swiftly through the darkness.

      It seemed like a long ride to her, yet in reality the Ork covered the distance in a wonderfully brief period of time and soon Trot stood safely beside Cap’n Bill on the level floor of a big arched tunnel. The sailor-man was very glad to greet his little comrade again and both were grateful to the Ork for his assistance.

      “I dunno where this tunnel leads to,” remarked Cap’n Bill, “but it surely looks more promisin’ than that other hole we crept through.”

      “When the Ork is rested,” said Trot, “we’ll travel on and see what happens.”

      “Rested!” cried the Ork, as scornfully as his shrill voice would allow. “That bit of flying didn’t tire me at all. I’m used to flying days at a time, without ever once stopping.”

      “Then let’s move on,” proposed Cap’n Bill. He still held in his hand one lighted candle, so Trot blew out the other flame and placed her candle in the sailor’s big pocket. She knew it was not wise to burn two candles at once.

      The tunnel was straight and smooth and very easy to walk through, so they made good progress. Trot thought that the tunnel began about two miles from the cavern where they had been cast by the whirlpool, but now it was impossible to guess the miles traveled, for they walked steadily for hours and hours without any change in their surroundings.

      Finally Cap’n Bill stopped to rest.

      “There’s somethin’ queer about this ’ere tunnel, I’m certain,” he declared, wagging his head dolefully. “Here’s three candles gone a’ready, an’ only three more left us, yet the tunnel’s the same as it was when we started. An’ how long it’s goin’ to keep up, no one knows.”

      “Couldn’t we walk without a light?” asked Trot. “The way seems safe enough.”

      “It does right now,” was the reply, “but we can’t tell when we are likely to come to another gulf, or somethin’ jes’ as dangerous. In that case we’d be killed afore we knew it.”

      “Suppose I go ahead?” suggested the Ork. “I don’t fear a fall, you know, and if anything happens I’ll call out and warn you.”

      “That’s a good idea,” declared Trot, and Cap’n Bill thought so, too. So the Ork started off ahead, quite in the dark, and hand in hand the two followed him.

      When they had walked in this way for a good long time the Ork halted and demanded food. Cap’n Bill had not mentioned food because there was so little left – only three biscuits and a lump of cheese about as big as his two fingers – but he gave the Ork half of a biscuit, sighing as he did so. The creature didn’t care for the cheese, so the sailor divided it between himself and Trot. They lighted a candle and sat down in the tunnel while they ate.

      “My feet hurt me,” grumbled the Ork. “I’m not used to walking and this rocky passage is so uneven and lumpy that it hurts me to walk upon it.”

      “Can’t you fly along?” asked Trot.

      “No; the roof is too low,” said the Ork.

      After the meal they resumed their journey, which Trot began to fear would never end. When Cap’n Bill noticed how tired the little girl was, he paused and lighted a match and looked at his big silver watch.

      “Why, it’s night!” he exclaimed. “We’ve tramped all day, an’ still we’re in this awful passage, which mebbe goes straight through the middle of the world, an’ mebbe is a circle – in which case we can keep walkin’ till doomsday. Not knowin’ what’s before us so well as we know what’s behind us, I propose we make a stop, now, an’ try to sleep till mornin’.”

      “That will suit me,” asserted the Ork, with a groan. “My feet are hurting me dreadfully and for the last few miles I’ve been limping with pain.”

      “My foot hurts, too,” said the sailor, looking for a smooth place on the rocky floor to sit down.

      “Your foot!” cried the Ork. “Why, you’ve only one to hurt you, while I have four. So I suffer four times as much as you possibly can. Here; hold the candle while I look at the bottoms of my claws. I declare,” he said, examining them by the flickering light, “there are bunches of pain all over them!”

      “P’r’aps,” said Trot, who was very glad to sit down beside her companions, “you’ve got corns.”

      “Corns? Nonsense! Orks never have corns,” protested the creature, rubbing its sore feet tenderly.

      “Then mebbe they’re – they’re – What do you call ’em, Cap’n Bill? Something ’bout the Pilgrim’s Progress, you know.”

      “Bunions,” said Cap’n Bill.

      “Oh, yes; mebbe you’ve got bunions.”

      “It is possible,” moaned the Ork. “But whatever they are, another day of such walking on them would drive me crazy.”

      “I’m sure they’ll feel better by mornin’,” said Cap’n Bill, encouragingly. “Go to sleep an’ try to forget your sore feet.”

      The Ork cast a reproachful look at the sailor-man, who didn’t see it. Then the creature asked plaintively: “Do we eat now, or do we starve?”

      “There’s only half a biscuit left for you,” answered Cap’n Bill. “No one knows how long we’ll have to stay in this dark tunnel, where there’s nothing whatever to eat; so I advise you to save that morsel o’ food till later.”

      “Give it me now!” demanded the Ork. “If I’m going to starve, I’ll do it all at once – not by degrees.”

      Cap’n Bill produced the biscuit and the creature ate it in a trice. Trot was rather hungry and whispered to Cap’n Bill that she’d take part of her share; but the old man

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