Dick, Marjorie and Fidge Part 8

Marjorie was enraptured at the sight of the beautifully-arranged gardens, in which brightly-colored anemones took the place of flowers.

On a lawn of the finest short green seaweed, a number of globe-shaped fishes, with striped bodies, were playing football, and the children stopped a few minutes to watch the game.

They were very much surprised to find that the football itself was a fish--a little round chap, just the shape of a football--who, on the players giving him a smart kick with their tail, shot up through the water and over the goal in no time.

"Doesn't he object?" said d.i.c.k, after they had watched this performance for some time; "I know I should."

"Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed their guide, "he enjoys it quite as much as the others do. You see, it's such a delightful sensation to be shot through the water without the effort of swimming; but, come along, we must be off if you are going to start to-day."

"There's one little piece of advice I should like to give you in your search for the Dodo," he continued, kindly, as they swam along. "If you don't succeed in catching him one way, try another. Remember the bear with a cold."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And now he's quite well, thanks."]

"What do you mean?" asked the children.

"Don't you know the story of the bear with a cold?" was the reply.

"No; do tell us!" they cried.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Come on, Marjorie, let's have a race."]

"Why, you see," said the fish, "there was once an old bear, who had a dreadful cold, and his friends all advised him to try different things to cure it. One said one thing, and one another, and although he tried them all, one after the other, he didn't get any better; but still he persevered, and kept trying all the remedies they suggested, and at last he _was_ cured, and what do you think did it?"

"What?" inquired the children.

"Why, some one suggested putting his feet into hot mustard and water and drinking gruel--and he tried it several times with no effect; and at last he fortunately thought of reversing the process, so he put his feet into some thick gruel, and drank a lot of mustard and water, and now he's quite well, thanks. So don't you get discouraged if you don't find the Dodo at once; but, as I said before, if one way doesn't succeed, try another."

"Thanks!" said the children, "we'll remember."

Just then they found themselves before a kind of shed, built of coral, which the fish entered, returning shortly afterwards leading three curious-looking fishes by a simple sort of bridle.

"Here they are!" he announced; "you will find them quite docile. Just mount them and see how you like their pace."

The children needed no second invitation, and were soon astride their strange steeds.

With a whisk of their tails they were soon off, das.h.i.+ng through the water at such a rate that the little thin fish had the greatest difficulty in keeping up with them, even for a short distance.

"Oh! this is jolly!" cried d.i.c.k.

"Come on, Marjorie, let's have a race."

The Dolphins answered to the slightest pull at the reins, and the children hadn't the least fear; so, getting into a line, they waited for their friend the thin fish to come up and give them the signal to start.

CHAPTER VII.

THE HUMAN RACE.

The little thin fish seemed to be a long while catching them up, and, while they were waiting, Marjorie espied a curious figure poking about among the seaweed a short distance away from them.

"I wonder what it is!" she cried, and the children dismounted from the Dolphins, and, tying them by the reins to some coral stumps, so that they could not swim away, they half walked and half swam over to where Marjorie had first noticed the creature, whatever it was.

"Why, it's a man!" cried d.i.c.k, as they drew nearer, and could distinguish him more clearly.

He was a wretched-looking old fellow, with a heavy sack upon his back, and was clothed only in a ragged old garment, which scarcely reached to his knees.

"Poor man," said Marjorie, in a whisper, "how unhappy he looks; perhaps he has lost something."

The man glanced up nervously as the children approached, and, clutching at his bag jealously, he demanded--

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Nothing, thank you, poor old man," began Marjorie; "we were only----"

The old man burst into a peal of hoa.r.s.e laughter.

"_Poor_ old man!" he exclaimed. "Do you know that I am the richest man in the world. Look!" he exclaimed, opening his bag before the children's astonished eyes. "Gold! jewels! riches! wealth! they are all mine--ha--ha--ha--ha!" and he laughed discordantly, and hugged the bag closely to himself again.

"Oh, come away!" cried Marjorie, catching at d.i.c.k's arm. "I'm so frightened."

"I'm the Old Man of the Sea," continued the man, "and all the treasures of the deep are mine. I have stacks of golden crowns and jewels without number, and each day I gather more--they are all mine--mine--mine!"

"But where do they all come from?" asked d.i.c.k.

"The bottom of the sea is strewn with riches," continued the old man, "and there is no one to reap the harvest but myself."

"You must be very happy if you are so rich," said d.i.c.k. "It must be lovely to have all those things."

"No, I am not happy," said the Old Man of the Sea. "I am very old, and very lonely, and there is no one here to admire my treasures but myself.

The fishes will have nothing to do with me--they do not care for gold; it is valueless to them--and I may not go on land, so I am here alone with my riches, and every day I gather more and more. I have piled them high about my cave in a great circle, and some day, when it becomes top-heavy, it will fall over and crush me beneath it, and I shall be buried in a tomb of gold. No king, no emperor, had ever so grand a sepulchre as I shall have, but I am not happy--no--no--not happy, not happy."

And the old man shouldered his bag and moved away, muttering sorrowfully.

"Poor man, poor man," said Marjorie; "for he is poor, although he has so much wealth isn't he, d.i.c.k?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Filling his bag with all kinds of treasure."]

"Yes, jolly poor, and miserable too. I wouldn't be him for something,"

said d.i.c.k. "Come on, it makes me wretched to think about him--let's get back to the Dolphins."

When they reached them, they found that little friend, the thin fish, had arrived at last.

"Hullo!" cried d.i.c.k. "What a jolly long while you have been catching us up. Wherever have you been to all this time?"

"Why," explained the fish, "I thought I heard you saying something about a race, and suddenly I remembered what a splendid opportunity your visit down here would afford us of witnessing a real human race--you are human, aren't you?" he asked, anxiously.