Part 5

"I shall recognize Them," said the Lion confidently. "I shall know Them, the proudest, the mightiest, the bravest, and most fair. Besides, is there not the family tradition? Once, in the far ages before even I was carved, the first knight of our line had an adventure with a lion; hence my figure upon Their crest. I know not the tale complete; but this I know--that from that time on, no one of Them has been able to see a lion, to speak or hear the name, without sneezing thrice. So it was in that day, so it has been ever since."

"That, indeed, is something definite," yawned the Cat, as the Lion stalked out into the sunshine. "Well, I'm glad I have no tradition but one of comfort." And she curled herself up on a piece of ancient gold brocade.

So the Lion went forth to seek his people. He had not gone far before he overtook the Medicine Man, who had sold no Elixir since leaving the Curiosity Shop. The Lion padded up behind him so silently that the man did not hear him until he was quite close; then the Lion gave a gentle roar.

"Abracadabra!" cried the man, turning pale and shaking till his teeth rattled. He was so ignorant that he did not know a Heraldic Device when he saw one. But he had seen pictures in books and knew that this brilliant red beast was no ordinary lion.

"Kind youth," said the Lion grandly, lifting his paw and curving his tail in the old way, "I owe you much. Your Magic Elixir has given me life and motion. If there is aught I can do for you, I shall be glad."

The man's face was full of wonder. "You owe much to the Elixir?" he cried. "Oh, pray explain!"

So the Lion explained. When he had finished the simple story, the Medicine Man's face was illumined with a great idea. "It is magnificent!" he cried. "It is beyond my wildest dreams. For, to tell you the truth--but why tell the truth? This justifies me, certainly. Now, if you would but go with me as a Living Testimonial?"

The Lion bowed. He did not like the idea, for it threatened notoriety; but he felt a sense of duty. "_Noblesse oblige_," he murmured. "It is Our motto. Nothing can hurt my pride, if it has a foundation upon truth. I will go with you until I feel that my debt is paid."

"It is well!" said the man. And they journeyed together. Naturally, the appearance of a warm crimson lion caused considerable excitement in the streets of Kisington. Folk crowded around him and the Medicine Man, and when they heard his story, they bought eagerly of the Elixir. "He is the crest of a noble house come to life!" they whispered among themselves. "What noble house?" The Lion listened eagerly for the answer; but heads were shaken in reply. No one recognized the device.

There was one thing which annoyed the Lion. This was the tendency of the Medicine Man to exaggerate the powers of his Elixir. As time went on, he began to add the oddest stories to the one he told about the Lion. Was that not wonderful enough? The Lion was astonished, shocked, outraged. He protested, but in vain. The habit of exaggeration, once contracted, becomes a terrible master. The Medicine Man seemed unable longer to speak the truth.

One morning when he was telling his wicked lies to a company of trusting women and children, the Lion rose from the center of the eager circle and stalked away from the Medicine Man. "_Noblesse oblige_," he said. And they never saw each other again. I dare say the seller of the Elixir and his descendants have been doing business in the same way ever since.

Now, the Lion journeyed for many months through the Kingdom without finding a trace of his family. He scanned carefully the entrance to every great palace and castle. He caused some confusion in traffic by dashing out to examine the crests emblazoned upon the panels of the chariots which passed him on the road. He even halted foot-passengers to inquire, courteously, if he might look more closely at certain devices upon chain or brooch or bangle which had caught his eye. Especially, he surprised with his attentions several persons who had sneezed violently in his presence. But in vain. He failed to find the clue he sought.

Folk would fain have helped him in his search; for his manners were gentle and gracious, and his bearing unmistakably noble. Folk liked him. Many would have been glad to prove themselves, through him, scions of that great family which he undoubtedly represented. But all their efforts to sneeze at the right time were fruitless. They went away crestfallen before his reproachful gaze. Sometimes, the Lion would spy a lovely face, or a manly figure, which appealed strangely to him. "Surely," he would say to himself, "surely, this noble-looking person is one of Them. Something seems to tell me so!" And he would assume his heraldic pose, with dexter paw lifted and eloquent tail curved high, waiting wistfully for the sneeze of recognition to follow. Sometimes, alas! came, instead, a laugh of scorn, or an unkind word. He learned that noble figures and lovely faces do not always adorn like natures.

Well, many months passed by. Footsore and weary, the Lion still traveled upon his quest. He felt very old and lonesome, homesick for his marble halls, hopeless of finding them. He came, one noon, to an inn on the outskirts of Derrydown Village. Over the door of the inn a signboard creaked and flapped in the wind. The Lion looked up. He beheld upon the sign the picture of a red lion! The traveler was greatly moved. "Surely," he thought, "this must be the arms of some great family in the neighborhood--perhaps my ancestral castle is hereabout!" But when he explained things to the Landlord, that worthy dashed his hopes once more. No family with such a device was known in those parts.

"However," said the Landlord, eyeing the Lion appraisingly, "I have an idea! If you will remain with me for some hours, I will show you something. The Prince and his train are to pass here on their way to the Ancient Wood, where they will hunt. In the company will be all the grandest nobles of the Kingdom. Surely, some of your family will be among them. Here is a splendid viewpoint! Do you remain beside my door in your grand attitude. You will see and be seen. If your folks are there, you will be sneezed at; which is what you want. It will be, beside, a grand advertisement for me--a real red lion guarding the Red Lion Inn!"

The Lion agreed. That night, when the Prince's cavalcade passed through Derrydown, huge and red, with lifted paw and curved tail, the beast stood at the door of the Red Lion Inn. Many stared in wonder. Many paused to inquire. Many entered and partook of the dainties which Mine Host had prepared against this very happening. The Prince himself paused, pointed, and asked a question. The Lion's heart leaped wildly! There was a curious expression on the Prince's face; it seemed drawn and twisted--was he about to sneeze? Alas! No. With a harsh laugh, the Prince gave the Lion a cut with his whip and bounded past; after him, the last of his followers. The Lion's skin smarted and his heart writhed. He kept his temper with difficulty; but--it was the Prince. _Noblesse oblige_.

When they were out of sight, his head drooped. There was no one in all that gallant company who belonged to him. But the Landlord had reaped a rich harvest from the Lion's presence. When once more the village was empty of nobility, he came to the Lion, rubbing his hands, contentedly. "Old fellow," he said, "I have had profit from you. Now, I will give you supper and a bed in my stable for the night. And why should we not make this arrangement permanent? You see, your folks are gone. The family has run out and no one any longer bears or recognizes the crest. You are an orphan; but you can still be of use to me. Why not become the supporter of my inn?"

"Gramercy!" quoth the Lion, with dignity. "I will accept the supper, for I am very hungry. But as for sleeping in the stable, that I cannot do! I prefer a bed on one of the fragrant haycocks in your meadow."

"To that you are welcome, if you please," said the Landlord graciously. "And, to-morrow, we will talk again of the other matter."

So the Lion had his supper, and then went wearily to sleep on a haycock in the thymy meadow. He was sad and disillusioned, and the Landlord's words had taken away his last hope. He began to wish that he had never come alive. "To-morrow," he said, "I will go back to the Old Curiosity Shop, and see if the old man can un-medicine me. For a crest without a family is even a more forlorn thing than a family without a crest!"

The Lion wakened with a start. "_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_" sounded in his ear. He sprang to his feet and looked around. Opposite him stood a little girl in a ragged gown, with a basket on her arm, staring at him with big, round eyes. She did not seem in the least afraid. The Lion was annoyed. He had been dreaming of his noble family, and it was very disappointing to be wakened by this beggar with her mocking "_Ker-chew_!"

"Away with you, child!" he said. "I am weary and peevish. Do you not know better than to awaken a sleeping lion?"

"_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_" The child sneezed again so violently that she nearly fell into the haycock.

The Lion was agitated. "What can this mean?" he thought. "It must be an accident which has caused her to sneeze at the word. I will try again." He began firmly, "When a lion--" But again he was interrupted by the violent sneezing of the little maid as soon as the word had passed his teeth.

The Lion shivered. Could this really be? Was it possible that this vagrant was an offshoot of the noble family which he had been seeking? If so, he must be in no hurry to claim relationship! The child put her hand into her basket, smiling.

"Good Lion," she said, "_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_ I like you. Will you have a bit of bread?" And she held out to him a fragment of her luncheon.

The Lion was touched. He did not like bread, but he could not refuse a child, and he ate it painfully. "What is your name?" he asked at length.

"Claribel," she answered.

"Your other name?" he persisted.

"Claribel," she repeated. "Just Claribel--that is all."

"Where do you live?" asked the Lion.

The child pointed over her shoulder. "Near the Ancient Wood, yonder," she said. "I came to Derrydown to the market. I have sold my dolls; now I am going home with the money."

"Dolls?" queried the Lion, interested in spite of himself. "You make dolls?"

Claribel nodded. "Rag dolls," she said. "My mother made dresses for the villagers. Now I make dolls out of the pieces in the old rag-bag. It buys me bread."

The Lion's heart was softened. "You are so little, Claribel!" he exclaimed. "Have you no one to take care of you?"

The child shook her head. "My mother is dead. I am alone in the world," she said.

"But have you no relatives--no one of noble kin in some palace, some castle?" the Lion cried eagerly.

The child laughed. "I know of no castles," she said; "no kindred at all. I never had any, I think."

The Lion gave a groan. "I will go back to the Curiosity Shop!" he said whimsically. "Good-bye, child!" He started away. But, turning for a last look, he saw Claribel, with her eyes full of tears.

"Do not go!" cried the child. "I like you so much, dear Lion--_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_"

The Lion's heart melted. "You are so little!" he said, "too little to be going on these roads alone. I will see you home." So they took the long road together, the child skipping happily beside the Lion, with her hand in his red mane. And the farther they walked together, the more the Lion liked Claribel, who sneezed whenever she spoke his name, but looked at him with kindly eyes.

They came at last to the hut where Claribel lived alone. It was a tiny cottage on the edge of the wood. The Lion looked at it long and hard. It was so different from the castle he had hoped to find! The child pulled him by the mane, and he went in. The hut was very poor, but spotlessly neat and clean.

Claribel led the Lion to the fireplace and began to blow meager sparks with the bellows. "I will keep you warm and give you bread to eat. You shall stay and live with me and be my dear big watch-dog!" she said.

The Lion sighed. But he could say nothing; he was so tender-hearted. "I will run away in the night," he promised himself. And then, on the mantel-stone above the tire, he spied a roughly-scratched shield. On the shield was the small figure of a lion passant, with dexter paw raised and curved tail. Below it was scrawled the motto, "_Noblesse oblige_."

Claribel saw him staring at it with big eyes, and began to laugh and sneeze. "Yes, my mother loved it," she said, "and I love it, though it always makes me sneeze just as you do. That was why I liked you from the beginning. Some day I shall learn what the words mean; then I shall be rich and happy."

The Lion did not run away that night. He slept with his nose on his paws beside the fire and dreamed grand dreams of castles and fair ladies; of gold-broidered banners on which _he_ was emblazoned in crimson glory, and of the battle-cry, "_Noblesse oblige_!" echoing all about him.

But in the morning he was awakened, for the second time, by the sound of three soft little sneezes. "Excuse me!" said Claribel's dear little voice; "I tried not to, but I could not help it. I was so afraid you would not be here when I woke up. It might all have been a dream. But as soon as I saw you, I had to sneeze;--it is very odd!" She laughed and laughed, and the Lion roared in sympathy.

"I shall not go away," he said. "I want to be a real Supporter, not a heraldic one. I shall stay and try to help you learn the meaning of the motto over the fireplace."

"Oh, I am so happy!" cried Claribel, clapping her hands. "Already, I have thought of a way you can help me very much. I have always wanted to make a lion doll--_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_ But I never before had any lion--_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_--to copy, except that flat one over the fireplace. Now I can shape them after you and sell them in the market, and we shall grow rich, oh, so rich!"

And so it befell in the days that came thereafter. For Claribel's clever fingers snipped and pieced and seamed together the bits of cloth, until she had a lion so like her new friend that she almost sneezed her head off when he was finished. And, lo! She had invented a new kind of toy, which was speedily the rage over the whole kingdom.

In time, the making of lion-dolls became the great industry of Derrydown, whereof the people had much profit, especially Claribel, whose idea it was. And the folk of the town loved her dearly, because she had brought prosperity to them all. And they were devoted to the Lion, who went to and fro among them with gracious dignity, serving Claribel and serving them, so busy that he had no time to worry about escutcheons.

No family so poor but it had its little lion of carefully pieced rags, which it fondly prized; not merely because it was a quaint toy and indestructible, but because it was to them a token of their noble, friendly beast and of the motto which he had taught them. (But they had taught him many things, also.) And in latter days a crimson lion became the seal of the Guild of Toy-Makers in that shire. And a new tradition began to grow about the Lion Passant, concerned entirely with his service to the people.

So, in seeking Them, the Lion found himself. And he lived happy ever after.

XI. HOPE

"Dear me!" said Red Rex, when Harold had finished this story. "I never saw one of those lion-dolls which your tale mentions. I would that I had one to present to my little girl."

"Have you a little girl?" exclaimed Harold in surprise. "Why, I had no idea that you were the father of little children."

"Well, why not?" asked the Red King crossly. "I have a dear little girl of seven, and her name is Hope."

"Oh, if you have a dear little girl of your own, how can you make war on a city where other dear little girls live?" cried Harold. "I cannot understand!"

"No, you cannot understand, because you are only a child yourself," said the Red King. "When you are grown up you will feel differently."

"Your Majesty, I do not think so," declared Harold, shaking his head decidedly. "When I have learned all the books in our library, and seen all the countries there are to see, and done all the interesting things there are to do, there may be time to think about war. But these other matters will keep me busy all my life, I should think."

"Rubbish!--Can one purchase a lion-doll in your city?" asked Red Rex, changing the subject uneasily.

"Yes," said Harold. "Every child in the city owns a lion-doll. Your Majesty ought to visit the great factory at Derrydown, near where Claribel lived,--where the dolls are still made. It is close by the Ancient Wood, where there was such good hunting, and where David had his adventure with the Old Gnome, you know."

"No, I do not know the Old Gnome," retorted the Red King peevishly. "How do you expect me to know all the legends of your precious country? We know nothing about this Kingdom in my own warlike land."

"Then why should you want to fight us?" asked Harold. "If you had taken the trouble to know us better, you could then judge whether we deserve to be fought. But I think you would like our people if you knew them."

Again Red Rex changed the subject. "What of the hunting in this Ancient Wood?" he asked. "When I have taken your city, and after it the rest of your Kingdom, I will go there to hunt."

"There was good hunting," said Harold, "once upon a time. In those days one had to beware the wicked Gnomes of the Great Fear. That was why the Old One fled."

"What about this 'Old One,' and this 'Great Fear'?" asked the Red King. "I suppose that is another story which you want to read to me."

"Nay; I do not care to read the tale unless Your Majesty wishes it," said Harold with dignity. "But if Your Majesty desires a lion-doll for your little Princess, I can get one for you and return with it and the story at the same time. There is a dear little girl in the story. I think your daughter must be very like her."

The Red King gnawed his red mustache and frowned forbiddingly at Harold. At last he slapped his knee and gave a grunt of assent. "Well," said he, "fetch me the doll and the book. I may as well give my soldiers another day's holiday. But in sooth, this has gone on too long! To-morrow's tale must positively be the last. I hope there will be much fighting in it. Your tales are something too peaceful for my taste. Look, now! Your city must be destroyed in short order, because I have set my heart on it."

"Will Your Majesty promise me one other thing, beside the truce, till my return?" begged Harold, looking up in his face with a winning smile.

Red Rex frowned and tried to look very wicked and cruel.

"Well, what is it now?" he growled.

"Promise me, Your Majesty, for the sake of your little dear daughter, whose name is Hope, that when you fight again you will spare that part of the city where the schoolhouse stands. Robert and Richard and all my friends are there."

"What part of the city is that?" asked Red Rex sullenly.

"It is the west part," answered Harold, pointing in the opposite direction from that in which he had declared the Wonder-Garden to have been.

"Very well; I promise," said the Red King. "_Noblesse oblige_."

Harold had no difficulty in getting a lion-doll for the Red King. Indeed, when they knew for what purpose it was intended, and what Harold had gained by his clever winning of the promise from Red Rex, every child in town wanted to send his or her lion-doll to the little princess, whose name was Hope.

They came to Harold's home from all parts of the city, bringing their dolls, until the High Street was crowded. But the Librarian and the Lord Mayor were unwilling to accept any of these, for none of them was quite fresh and new. Most of them had an arm or a leg dislocated, or bald spots on their yellow fur; which proved how fond the children were of these noble pets, how much they hugged and fondled and frayed them.

The Lord Mayor himself went to the largest shop in Kisington and in the name of the children of Kisington purchased a royal lion-doll, nearly as big as a real baby lion, with a patent voice inside which made it cry "_Gr-r! Gr-r!_" when you twisted its luxuriant tail. And this was to be the toy of the little Princess Hope.

With this wonderful toy under one arm and a basket under the other, which contained among other things a green-and-gold volume from the library, Harold kissed his mother and went once more to the camp of Red Rex. He found the monarch there alone, save for his bodyguard. His soldiers had gone to enjoy themselves in the neighboring woods, glad indeed of their continued holiday.

When Red Rex saw the great lion-doll he clapped his hands on his knees and roared with laughter. And it was the first time Harold had heard the War-Lord laugh,--a terrible sound! But when Harold showed how to make the lion itself roar, by screwing its tail, the Red King fell over on his back and nearly died of laughing.

"Oh! Oh!" he cried, wiping the tears from his bronze cheeks. "How the little Princess will squeal when I twist that lion's tail! How she will laugh when she hears the creature roar!" And he went off in another fit.

Harold stood by grinning and saying nothing.

The Red King took out a huge purse from his girdle. "And now, what shall I pay you for this wonderful toy?" he asked. "I suppose it is worth many golden crowns?"

"It is worth your promise to the children of Kisington, Your Majesty," said Harold. "It is a gift from them to your little Princess whose name is Hope. The children hope you will remember your promise to them."

"I am a King. I do not forget," said Red Rex haughtily.

"Nevertheless, Kings do forget sometimes," murmured Harold. "But this lion will remind you of your kingly crest, and of the Lion Passant whose motto you know so well."

"True," said Red Rex, and he looked at the lion-doll earnestly.

"And now, shall I read to Your Majesty the story of which we spoke?" asked Harold, opening his basket and taking out the green-and-gold-volume.

"Begin," commanded the Red King, settling himself cozily on his back, with his head lying on the soft fur of the new lion-doll. "But unless there is a deal of fighting in it I shall go to sleep. I am very weary."

Thereupon Harold began to read in his best manner the gentle tale of _The Hermit Gnome_.

XII: THE HERMIT GNOME

Long, long ago, in the farthest corner of the Kingdom, was a mountain covered with a pathless forest. Human folk never came this way. The shadows of the forest were gloomy, and the sounds of the forest were strange, and the name of the forest was full of dread. Men called it the Great Fear. For it was here that the Gnomes lived and did their wicked dealings.

The Gnomes were ugly and deformed and black; no larger than the Elf-People, but instead of Fairy kindness their minds plotted evil. They lived in the hollows and cracks of the mountain. Some of them camped out under the great, poisonous toadstools which they loved, as they loved everything dangerous to man. And all day long they dreamed, all night long they wrought mischief. They were at the bottom of many of the evil happenings in Kisington and elsewhere. For they could wreak their evil magic from a long distance.

Now, of the race of Gnomes there was one apart. He was a queer little fellow, the oldest, the ugliest, and the crookedest of them all. His face was wrinkled like a brown walnut; and his little misshapen body was bent under a hump which was the biggest part of him. But his mind was not evil. He was quite harmless and mild and lazy, and he hated the dire doings of his fellows who would neither mind their own business nor leave him to his.

For centuries things went on from bad to worse in the Great Fear. At last the Old Gnome could bear it no longer.