LITMIR.BIZ

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entirely of nut trees – walnuts, filberts, almonds and chestnuts – so there would be plenty of wholesome food for them while they remained there.

      Cap’n Bill and Trot decided to walk through the forest, to discover what was on the other side of it, but the Ork’s feet were still so sore and “lumpy” from walking on the rocks that the creature said he preferred to fly over the tree-tops and meet them on the other side. The forest was not large, so by walking briskly for fifteen minutes they reached its farthest edge and saw before them the shore of the ocean.

      “It’s an island, all right,” said Trot, with a sigh.

      “Yes, and a pretty island, too,” said Cap’n Bill, trying to conceal his disappointment on Trot’s account. "I guess, partner, if the wuss comes to the wuss, I could build a raft – or even a boat – from those trees, so’s we could sail away in it."

      The little girl brightened at this suggestion.

      “I don’t see the Ork anywhere,” she remarked, looking around. Then her eyes lighted upon something and she exclaimed: “Oh, Cap’n Bill! Isn’t that a house, over there to the left?”

      Cap’n Bill, looking closely, saw a shed-like structure built at one edge of the forest.

      “Seems like it, Trot. Not that I’d call it much of a house, but it’s a buildin’, all right. Let’s go over an’ see if it’s occypied.”

      CHAPTER 5

      The Little Old Man of the Island

      A few steps brought them to the shed, which was merely a roof of boughs built over a square space, with some branches of trees fastened to the sides to keep off the wind. The front was quite open and faced the sea, and as our friends came nearer they observed a little man, with a long pointed beard, sitting motionless on a stool and staring thoughtfully out over the water.

      “Get out of the way, please,” he called in a fretful voice. “Can’t you see you are obstructing my view?”

      “Good morning,” said Cap’n Bill, politely.

      “It isn’t a good morning!” snapped the little man. “I’ve seen plenty of mornings better than this. Do you call it a good morning when I’m pestered with such a crowd as you?”

      Trot was astonished to hear such words from a stranger whom they had greeted quite properly, and Cap’n Bill grew red at the little man’s rudeness. But the sailor said, in a quiet tone of voice:

      “Are you the only one as lives on this ’ere island?”

      “Your grammar’s bad,” was the reply. “But this is my own exclusive island, and I’ll thank you to get off it as soon as possible.”

      “We’d like to do that,” said Trot, and then she and Cap’n Bill turned away and walked down to the shore, to see if any other land was in sight.

      The little man rose and followed them, although both were now too provoked to pay any attention to him.

      “Nothin’ in sight, partner,” reported Cap’n Bill, shading his eyes with his hand; “so we’ll have to stay here for a time, anyhow. It isn’t a bad place, Trot, by any means.”

      “That’s all you know about it!” broke in the little man. "The trees are altogether too green and the rocks are harder than they ought to be. I find the sand very grainy and the water dreadfully wet. Every breeze makes a draught and the sun shines in the daytime, when there’s no need of it, and disappears just as soon as it begins to get dark. If you remain here you’ll find the island very unsatisfactory."

      Trot turned to look at him, and her sweet face was grave and curious.

      “I wonder who you are,” she said.

      “My name is Pessim,” said he, with an air of pride. “I’m called the Observer.”

      “Oh. What do you observe?” asked the little girl.

      “Everything I see,” was the reply, in a more surly tone. Then Pessim drew back with a startled exclamation and looked at some footprints in the sand. "Why, good gracious me!’ he cried in distress.

      "What’s the matter now?’ asked Cap’n Bill.

      “Someone has pushed the earth in! Don’t you see it?”

      “It isn’t pushed in far enough to hurt anything,” said Trot, examining the footprints.

      “Everything hurts that isn’t right,” insisted the man. “If the earth were pushed in a mile, it would be a great calamity, wouldn’t it?”

      “I s’pose so,” admitted the little girl.

      "Well, here it is pushed in a full inch! That’s a twelfth of a foot, or a little more than a millionth part of a mile. Therefore it is one-millionth part of a calamity – Oh, dear! How dreadful!" said Pessim in a wailing voice.

      “Try to forget it, sir,” advised Cap’n Bill, soothingly. “It’s beginning to rain. Let’s get under your shed and keep dry.”

      "Raining! Is it really raining?’ asked Pessim, beginning to weep.

      “It is,” answered Cap’n Bill, as the drops began to descend, “and I don’t see any way to stop it – although I’m some observer myself.”

      “No; we can’t stop it, I fear,” said the man. “Are you very busy just now?”

      “I won’t be after I get to the shed,” replied the sailor-man.

      “Then do me a favor, please,” begged Pessim, walking briskly along behind them, for they were hastening to the shed.

      “Depends on what it is,” said Cap’n Bill.

      “I wish you would take my umbrella down to the shore and hold it over the poor fishes till it stops raining. I’m afraid they’ll get wet,” said Pessim.

      Trot laughed, but Cap’n Bill thought the little man was poking fun at him and so he scowled upon Pessim in a way that showed he was angry.

      They reached the shed before getting very wet, although the rain was now coming down in big drops. The roof of the shed protected them and while they stood watching the rainstorm something buzzed in and circled around Pessim’s head. At once the Observer began beating it away with his hands, crying out:

      “A bumblebee! A bumblebee! The queerest bumblebee I ever saw!”

      Cap’n Bill and Trot both looked at it and the little girl said in surprise:

      “Dear me! It’s a wee little Ork!”

      “That’s what it is, sure enough,” exclaimed Cap’n Bill.

      Really, it wasn’t much bigger than a big bumblebee, and when it came toward Trot she allowed it to alight on her shoulder.

      “It’s me, all right,” said a very small voice in her ear; “but I’m in an awful pickle, just the same!”

      “What, are you our Ork, then?” demanded the girl, much amazed.

      “No, I’m my own Ork. But I’m the only Ork you know,” replied the tiny creature.

      “What’s happened to you?” asked the sailor, putting his head close to Trot’s shoulder in order to hear the reply better. Pessim also put his head close, and the Ork said:

      "You will remember that when I left you I started to fly over the trees, and just as I got to this side of the forest I saw a bush that was loaded down with the most luscious fruit you can imagine. The fruit was about the size of a gooseberry and of a lovely lavender color. So I swooped down and picked off one in my bill and ate it. At once I began to grow small. I could feel myself shrinking, shrinking away, and it frightened me terribly, so that I alighted on the ground to think over what was happening. In a few seconds I had shrunk to the size you now see me; but there I remained, getting no smaller, indeed, but no larger. It is certainly a dreadful affliction! After I had recovered somewhat from the shock I began to search for you. It is not so easy to find one’s way when a creature is so small, but fortunately

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