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"I think it would be best for us to go back to our own country as soon as possible," suggested Rosalie the Witch, "for if we stay here very long, the Blueskins may rise against us and cause the Pinkies much trouble." "Jus' as soon as we find that umbrel," promised Trot, "we'll dive into the Fog Bank an' make tracks for the Land of Sunrise an' Sunset."

Still, no definite plans took shape in her head regarding it, and it is quite possible that none might ever have done so had not something occurred within a short time which seemed to be the hinge upon which her whole after-life swung. As the girls were in the midst of their chatter about the new gowns a tap came at the door, and Fraulein Palme looked in to ask: "Haf anyone seen my umbrel?

"He sailed down with the umbrel!" she cried. "He used his umbrel as a para para " "Shoot," said Cap'n Bill. "They're called parashoots, mate; but why, I can't say. Did you drop down in that way, my lad?" he asked the boy. "Yes," said Button-Bright. "That was the way." "But how did you get up there?" asked Trot. "You had to get up in the air before you could drop down, an' oh, Cap'n Bill!

"I'm so glad you're going to let me fly with you way to town and back tomorrow. Won't it be fine, Cap'n Bill?" "Dunno, Trot," said he. "I can't figger how both of you can hold on to the handle o' that umbrel." Trot's face fell. "I'll hold on to the handle," said Button-Bright, "and she can hold on to me. It doesn't pull hard at all.

"I believe ev'ry word of it!" declared Trot earnestly. "As fer me," said Cap'n Bill slowly, "I'm goin' to believe it, too, by'm'by, when I've seen the umbrel fly once." "You'll see me fly away with it," asserted the boy. "But at present it's pretty late in the day, and Philadelphia is a good way off. Do you s'pose, Trot, your mother would let me stay here all night?"

Button-Bright took to his heels and ran along the passages until he came to Cap'n Bill's room, where the sailorman and Trot were anxiously awaiting him. "Quick!" cried the boy. "We must escape from here at once, or we will be caught and patched." "Where's the umbrel?" asked Cap'n Bill. "I don't know. I can't find it. But all the palace is aroused, and the Boolooroo is furious.

"It's no use, sir," said Button-Bright to the sailor. "If I once tell it to go to a certain place, the umbrella will go there, and nowhere else. I've found that out before this. You simply CAN'T stop it." "Won't let you change your mind, eh?" replied Cap'n Bill. "Well, that has its advantidges, an' its disadvantiges. If your ol' umbrel hadn't been so obstinate, we could have saved that boat."

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their oversoul, mahamahatma. The faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship, ringroundabout him. Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their pineal glands aglow. Filled with his god, he thrones, Buddh under plantain. Gulfer of souls, engulfer.

"He knows a lot, I expect," soberly answered the boy, finishing the last slice of bread-and-butter and then looking at the empty plate with a sigh. "But if he really knows ever'thing, he knows about the Magic Umbrella, so I won't have to tell you anything about it." "Magic!" cried Trot with big, eager eyes. "Did you say MAGIC Umbrel, Button-Bright?"

"Where do you s'pose the real Sky Island can be?" asked Trot presently. "We can't tell anything about it until we get there," Button-Bright answered. "Seems to me I've heard of the Isle of Skye, but that's over in Great Britain, somewhere the other side of the world, and it isn't Sky Island, anyhow." "This miser'ble ol' umbrel is too pertic'ler," growled Cap'n Bill.