Coco Bolo: King of the Floating Islands

"Edward can't come," said Margaret: "he'd get tired too soon and want to go home again."

"No, Edward can't come," Frances agreed. "His legs are too short. We must wait till he goes upstairs for his nap, and then we'll start."

There were three children in the family: Margaret, who was nearly eight; Frances, who was six and a quarter; and Edward, who, being only half way between three and four, was still--as Frances had sagely remarked--too short in the legs for such an enterprise as the two little girls had in mind.

They had been spending the winter on the coast of Southern California, when, one morning in April, Margaret and Frances went out into the road in front of the house, and turning their backs to the sun, amused themselves by running after their shadows, trying to step on their own heads--a feat they had often attempted before, but never yet with any success.

While they were thus occupied, their father, coming out of the house, stood on the edge of the sidewalk watching them, and when the two children, tousled and breathless, presently came back to him, he put an arm round the shoulders of each, saying:

"What are you doing, Chicks? Chasing shadows?"

"Yes, Daddy." It was Margaret who replied. "We were trying to get to the other end--"

"So's we could tread on our own heads," said Frances, who never liked to be left out of the conversation.

"Ah! A difficult thing to do. Nobody ever succeeded yet that I know of except little Tom Titmouse, and very much surprised he was when he got there."

"Why?" asked both children, with eager anticipation, scenting a story.

"Be-cause," replied their father, spreading out the word in order to give himself time to think. "Because--But it's too long a story to tell you now, children, for I must leave in a minute. So the story must wait till this evening--unless you should manage to catch your shadows before I get home again, and then you can tell me whether it is all true or not."

"Whether what is all true, Daddy?" asked Margaret.

"Why, all those things that Tommy Titmouse saw: King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-dragon, and--but I must go, children. I must be off. Good-bye! There's my car coming now."

So saying, Daddy ran to the street corner, and there, with a wave of his hand, he vanished, leaving the two little girls standing before the front gate, thinking.

"We'll try this morning," said Margaret with decision. "We'll start just as soon as Edward goes upstairs for his nap."

Accordingly, the moment Edward's short legs had conveyed him unwillingly to bed, the two little girls went out at the back gate to where a large open stretch of land sloped gently down to the ocean, about half a mile away. A few trees were scattered here and there upon the slope, and between them, far out upon the water, might be seen some bare, rocky islands, with the sight of which the children were familiar--islands where nobody lived and to which nobody ever went.

Margaret was a rather tall little girl, with brown eyes and brown hair and red cheeks, while Frances, who was not quite so tall, had light hair and hazel eyes and pink cheeks, as well as a band of freckles all across her nose. Both of them were wearing that morning their pink dresses and flowered hair-ribbons--a very fortunate circumstance, as it turned out. Margaret also wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, while her sister carried instead a pink-and-white parasol--one of her last birthday presents. She took with her as well another of her birthday presents: a yellow plush puppy with black spots, Periwinkle by name, whose legs were like sausages, whose eyes were glittering black beads, and whose red worsted mouth was set in a perpetual smile.

Thus equipped, the children set forth, and turning their backs to the sun and their faces to the ocean, they walked after their shadows, steadily and briskly, though without haste.

"For," said Frances, "the way to do is not to hurry. That is what Daddy said that day we walked to the old wreck. He said, 'Take it easy and keep going,' and we did and we got there."

"Yes," responded her sister. "Daddy always knows; so we won't hurry; and then we shan't get so hot either."

It was hot enough, though, hurry or no hurry, for the morning was unusually sultry. The sun beat down upon them, the ground was steaming and the air was all in a quiver; and what was worse, though they kept on walking and walking, they seemed to get no nearer to the other end of their shadows. It was rather discouraging.

They were persevering little girls, however, and knowing how pleased Daddy would be to learn whether it really was true about Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-Dragon, they kept on and on, growing more tired and more hot and more discouraged at every step--especially Frances, who had the puppy to carry--when, without their having noticed what had become of them, their shadows suddenly disappeared!

On the brink of a steep little cliff about six feet high, at the foot of which the waters of a small inlet gently lapped the rocks, there stood a grove of ten or twelve trees--short, stubby trees, all leaning landward, as trees growing on the edge of the sea always do. The shadows led the children straight to this grove of trees, and there, lo and behold! they vanished. Where had they got to?

Margaret and Frances looked all about. They looked upon the ground and they looked up into the trees, but look where they might no shadows could they see. Where had they got to?

"I wonder," said Frances, "if this isn't the place where Tommy--Tommy--what was his other name?"

"Little Tom Titmouse," replied her sister. "Perhaps it is. So let us sit down and wait. Perhaps, if we sit still and keep quiet, we may see King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and--Are there such things as tame dragons, Frances?" she asked, suddenly remembering with some misgivings that little Tom Titmouse, besides making the desirable acquaintance of King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop, had also encountered a dragon--which was quite another thing.

"There must be," replied Frances, reflectively. "Daddy told us to try to get to that place, and if the dragon hadn't been a tame dragon he wouldn't--"

"No, of course he wouldn't," interrupted Margaret, reassured. "So we'll sit down and wait, and perhaps--Oh! Look!" pointing out over the shimmering sea. "There are some new islands! One, two, three of them, besides the old ones. Look! Oh! One of them has split in two! Now there are four! Now there are five! What funny islands!"

Sitting in the cool shade of the trees, the children watched the new islands come and go, grow large and larger, break in two, vanish and come again. It was very fascinating and also very mysterious. How did they get there? Where had they come from? And why, Oh, why did they keep shifting about like that? Were they floating islands? It seemed likely, for Daddy had once told them something about floating islands with flower gardens on them, though where they were situated Margaret could not remember.

"I shouldn't be a bit s'prised"--she began, when, turning to her sister, she noticed that an ant was running over the back of Frances' hand. Knowing very well that Frances objected to the tickling of ants and spiders and such things, Margaret glanced quickly at her face, and then smiled a superior smile.

"She's so young," said she, by way of explaining it. "She's only six and a quarter. It isn't as if she was nearly eight. I won't disturb her. I'll let her sleep just as long as she likes."

Observing that the yellow plush puppy was lying on his back with his feet in the air, she went on:

"I may just as well lie down too while I'm waiting. I'll put Periwinkle on this flat stone: he'll make a very good pillow. Ah! How nice it is here under the trees. I wish the branches would keep still, though, so that the sunlight wouldn't keep flicking into my eyes. I'll put my hat over my face, and then--Yes, that's better. Now, I'll just shut my eyes and wait till Frances--"

"_Ting-a-ling-a-ling!_"

Margaret had not had her eyes shut one minute--no, not half a minute, she was sure--when she heard the sound of a little bell somewhere close by. She sat bolt upright and listened, while Periwinkle, who had been uncomplainingly serving her as a pillow, the valiant Periwinkle sprang up on his sausage legs and began to growl fiercely--as fiercely, that is to say, as was to be expected of a yellow plush puppy with a fixed red worsted smile.

"_Ting-a-ling-a-ling!_" went the bell again. The sound seemed to come up from the edge of the water at the foot of the cliff. Margaret jumped up, and followed by Periwinkle she stepped softly to the edge of the rocks and peeped over.