<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i085.png" width-obs="250" height-obs="348" alt="O" title="O" /></div>
<h2 class="left4">CHAPTER IX</h2>
<p class="st">THE COMPACT WITH<br/>
VULCAN</p>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Over</span> the sea Dragonfel the
enchanter waited with
increasing impatience for
the Human Octopus to
return with whatever information
he might glean
in his prowling, sneaking
manner. When his
grotesque emissary did
not put in a prompt appearance
he grew more
surly and ill-humored than ever. He vented his rage upon
the poor little mine-sprites by increasing their working-hours
and decreasing their allowance of carrot-tops and potato-skins.</p>
<p>Whenever he spoke to his followers their knees knocked
together with fright. At no time was he gentle, but when he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span>
was particularly violent, which was nearly always, he was a
very bad person who could be well avoided.</p>
<p>So he became even crankier and crosser-grained than ever,
till all around him quaked with fear. He wondered why the
Human Octopus did not come back, and his inexplicable delay
filled him with ungovernable fury.</p>
<p>“He’s not attending to business,” he said, grinding his teeth
with rage. “Instead of snooping he’s just going around, and
having a good time. But wait till he gets back, and I’ll show
him!” As he spoke these words he happened to be in his
throne room, and he went to the open window to look out.</p>
<p>It was a wild, terrible night, but the worse the weather was
the more Dragonfel
liked it.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i086.png" width-obs="306" height-obs="270" alt="Messages" title="" /></div>
<p>The lightning
zig-zagged all
over the inky
black sky, the
thunder roared,
the wind howled,
and the rain beat
down in slanting
torrents.</p>
<p>“Vulcan must
have some little
job on hand,”
Dragonfel pondered,
as he returned to his throne.</p>
<p>Scarcely had he done so when there came a sudden fierce
gust of wind that blew the Red Spirit through the window<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span>
right to his very feet where he cringed and grovelled and
fawned in the most abject manner.</p>
<p>“How now, you rogue?” roared Dragonfel above the storm.
“Where have you been, and what has kept you? Why have you
not returned as you went? Answer, villain, or it will go hard
with you! I will have you strung up by the finger-tips till your
toes barely touch the ground and beaten by a thousand and one
whips!”</p>
<p>“Oh, master, kind master,” gasped the Red Spirit, trying to
catch his breath, “wonderful things have I seen, and wonderful
things have I to tell you. So incredible are they that you
may not believe me, yet I do assure you most positively that
what I am about to relate is the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. I would never have believed them
myself had I not seen them with my own eyes.”</p>
<p>“Omit all this long, unnecessary preamble,” growled Dragonfel,
in great disgust, “and get down to hard facts. What
have you discovered?”</p>
<p>“The Brownie prince is to wed the fairy queen!”</p>
<p>Dragonfel’s face went from scarlet to white, then from
white to scarlet, then back to white, and then to scarlet again,
just like the flashing of a vari-colored electric sign.</p>
<p>“How do you know?” he asked, trying to control his temper.
“Who told you?”</p>
<p>“No one,” said the trembling Red Spirit. “I saw him place
an engagement-ring on her finger.”</p>
<p>“Well,” declared Dragonfel, in a tone of the utmost brutality,
“if they are planning to get married all I’ve got to say
is they’ve got another guess coming!”</p>
<p>“Who will prevent the marriage, kind master?”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I will prevent it!” irascibly shouted the enchanter, and he
clapped his hands together in an imperious way. “What ho,
without there! Here’s a pretty kettle of fish! Come hither
instantly!”</p>
<p>Grouthead, Mandrake, Boundingbore, Wolfinger, Snoutpimple,
and others were out in an ante-room, and they almost
tumbled over each other in their frantic haste to answer the
peremptory summons.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i087.png" width-obs="382" height-obs="391" alt="Vulcan’s door" title="" /></div>
<p>“Put on your storm-cloaks immediately,” ordered Dragonfel.
“I want you to come with me to Vulcan’s.”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It’s a terrible night to be out, kind master,” ventured
Grouthead, with a shudder.</p>
<p>There came a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder
more terrifying than any that had gone before.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter with the night?” snapped Dragonfel.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it. I call this particularly
pleasant weather.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it’s all right now,” Grouthead hastened to say.</p>
<p>So in their long, flowing cloaks they all sloshed out in the
wind and rain, while the hearts of those who followed after
the enchanter quaked and quailed as they plunged on through
the pitch-black darkness of the night.</p>
<p>The wind howled and shrieked with increasing fury, the
lightning grew sharper, and the peals of thunder more deafening,
so that their eyes were nearly blinded, and their ear-drums
rang.</p>
<p>Now not so very far from Dragonfel’s palace Vulcan whom
they had set forth to see had his cavern.</p>
<p>It was a very modest establishment indeed, considering the
prodigious results that he achieved, and the wonder was that
in such cramped quarters, and with so few to aid him in his
work, he could do as much as he did.</p>
<p>The cavern was down by the sea, in among huge rocks and
boulders, and over the door, in very modest lettering, was the
business sign: <span class="smcap">Vulcan God of Fire</span>.</p>
<p>Inside was a forge with bellows such as any country blacksmith
has, and here Vulcan manufactured earthquakes and
volcanos at will.</p>
<p>He could create seismic disturbances all over the world, in a
trice throw Vesuvius into hysterical contraptions, or make<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</SPAN></span>
things suddenly red-hot in Mexico or the British Honduras.
His wares were known in every quarter of the globe, and he
didn’t even so much as advertise.</p>
<p>On this particular night he stood as usual at his forge—a
great big, husky, bearded fellow in a red flannel undershirt
bared at his brawny, hairy chest, and with sleeves rolled almost
up to his shoulders to give the tremendous muscles of
his arms full play.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i088.png" width-obs="459" height-obs="402" alt="Vulcan threatening his imps with a hot poker" title="" /></div>
<p>He wore a round leather cap and had on a leather apron<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</SPAN></span>
tied to his burly waist by leather thongs. Things needed
touching up a bit, and he was getting busy.</p>
<p>“Where are those lazy ’prentices of mine?” he roared, in
rumbling tones, as he pumped the bellows, while the flames in
the forge leaped higher and higher. “Spry, Flash, Nimble,
Twist, and the rest of you—where are you, I say? Has my
voice grown so weak, you rogues, that you cannot hear me?
Come hither this instant!”</p>
<p>From all directions in response to the angry summons came
imps in red attire that fitted their lithe, supple bodies as snugly
as the skins of eels.</p>
<p>They somersaulted down the chimney, popped up like jack-in-th’-boxes
from the earthen floor, and described parabolas
through the air from the cavern’s ceiling, grouping themselves
humbly on their knees before their irate master, with their
arms supplicatingly extended.</p>
<p>“Here at last, are you?” again roared Vulcan. “And none
too soon, either! Where have you been, imps? Idling your
time away? Quick! heap coals on, all of you, or the fire will
be out!”</p>
<p>Forthwith they flung balls of living fire into the forge, and,
as Vulcan pumped away at the bellows, he burst out in lusty
song:</p>
<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i3a">“When the flames leap high<br/></span>
<span class="i3">From the crater to the sky<br/></span>
<span class="i0">I roll up my sleeves with delight;<br/></span>
<span class="i3">When the strongest buildings rock<br/></span>
<span class="i3">To the awful earthquake’s shock<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The trembling millions all confess my might!”<br/></span></div>
</div></div>
<p>The lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, and over all the
storm was heard a voice calling: “Vul-can! Vul-can!”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Vulcan stopped work while his imps crept stealthily toward
the door to listen.</p>
<p>“Is Vulcan at his forge?” was shouted in the wind and rain
outside, with the accompaniment of a terrific knock on the
door.</p>
<div class="i089">
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<p>“Who dares disturb me on
my busy night?” cried Vulcan,
in a towering passion.</p>
<p>“It is I, Dragonfel, the enchanter,” said the voice placatingly.</p>
<p>“What brings you here?” asked Vulcan.</p>
<p>“I come on business of great import, mighty Vulcan!”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Enter, then, and be brief,” said Vulcan, with scant hospitality.
“Remember I have work to do.”</p>
<p>Dragonfel and his followers thereupon appeared in the doorway,
and came forward escorted by the imps who evinced the
greatest curiosity in the strange, rain-soaked visitors.</p>
<p>When they were within respectful distance of Vulcan the
enchanter sank on one knee before him, and the rest immediately
followed his example.</p>
<p>“Why have you sought me out?” demanded Vulcan, with
distrust and suspicion on his seamed, rugged face as he sharply
eyed them.</p>
<p>“Oh, Vulcan,” spoke Dragonfel, in smooth, oily tones, “powerful
as I am, I acknowledge you my master. Who else can
match you in your wondrous strength?”</p>
<p>“You’ve come for a favor!” grunted the other. “Well, out
with it!”</p>
<p>“I wish to tell you about the Brownies.”</p>
<p>“What about the Brownies?”</p>
<p>“There is to be a marriage in Fairyland. The Brownie
prince is to wed the fairy queen!”</p>
<p>“Bah! How does this concern me?”</p>
<p>“It should concern you. Listen, Vulcan! There is no authority
for such a marriage in all the annals of mythology.”</p>
<p>The words created a deep impression upon Vulcan.</p>
<p>“No authority?” he repeated slowly, as though he were mentally
digesting what he had just heard. “Are you sure of
this?”</p>
</div>
<div class="i090">
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<p>“There is none, I tell you,” insisted Dragonfel emphatically.
“It is enough to arouse the anger of the high and mighty gods.
My own power will be diminished, if not lost, should this union<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</SPAN></span>
take place.” “Are you using any measures to prevent it?”
asked Vulcan thoughtfully. “Aye!” was Dragonfel’s decided
response. “I am going across the sea with these followers
of mine to interfere. Can I rely upon your powerful aid
should I need it?” “How can I help you?”
“If I call upon you will
you convulse
the earth, and
rouse to fury
the slumbering
volcano?”</p>
<p>“Trust me for that!” cried Vulcan, beginning to pump the
bellows. “The element of fire is still my own, to use at will.”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>A lightning-bolt hurled itself right in their very midst, and
the resultant thunder-clap brought Dragonfel and his followers
to their feet in sudden alarm. “Enough!” cried Dragonfel
exultingly. “It is a compact, then!”</p>
<p>“Here is my hand on it!” said Vulcan, and he crushed that
of the enchanter in his grimy fist. “Spry, Flash, Nimble, and
Twist, my crafty imps, shall go with you. Through them
appeal to me. But what do you propose to do?”</p>
<p>“I have a plan, and a good one too!” said Dragonfel, in a
confidential manner. “You can depend upon it, rats will eat
the wedding-cake!” Vulcan’s
fancy was so tickled
that he laughed hilariously,
and Dragonfel made bold
to slap him in a familiar
way upon the back. “Ho!
ho!” Vulcan chuckled. “So
rats will eat the wedding-cake,
eh?”</p>
</div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i091.png" width-obs="240" height-obs="192" alt="“Who knocked?”" title="" /></div>
<p>“Yes,” Dragonfel went
on. “We’re going to the
wedding, gain their confidence
with fine presents, and then—”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Vulcan, very much interested. “And then—?”</p>
<p>Dragonfel leaned over and whispered something in Vulcan’s
ear which caused him to start back in surprise. “No!” he
involuntarily exclaimed. “Do you think you can do it?” If
Florimel and Titania could have heard the diabolical plan of
the enchanter all the happiness would have vanished from their
hearts.</p>
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