THE KNIGHT LOSES HIS CAMEL

They had gone but a few yards when the jester, capering along ahead, turned round and leapt three times into the air.

"Stop!" he called imperiously. "Stop! I've just remembered something."

"How now, and what is it?" demanded the Knight, rushing forward impetuously and hoping it would be something about the golden castle and its owner.

"My name!" exulted the jester, tossing his cap into the air and catching it on his belled stick. "My name is Peter Pun."

"Oh bother your name," fumed Sir Hokus in a disappointed voice. "That's not important."

"Well, it's important to me," insisted the jester, hopping across the stream and back for pure joy:

"Peter Pun gives everyone A taste of jollity and fun."

"I'd rather have a taste of biscuit, or bacon and eggs," sighed the Knight. "Six figs and one date make a poor enough breakfast for a fighting man."

"Date!" chattered the Comfortable Camel, taking several quick steps and resting his head on the Knight's shoulder. "Do you realize you've eaten a magic date, Hokus, and may turn into something else any minute?"

"He's turning! He's turning!" yelled Peter Pun, pointing his finger warningly.

"Turning!" groaned Sir Hokus, clapping his hand to his forehead.

"Turning round," laughed Peter, hopping behind a tree to escape the Knight's long arm.

"You're a fool," hissed the Camel angrily. "Can't you understand that this is serious?"

"How can a fool be serious?" inquired Peter, tickling the Camel on the nose with a long branch.

"There's really no harm in him," whispered Sir Hokus in Camy's ear. "And methinks all the magic in the date rested in the seed I flung at the funnysuckle vine."

"Methinks you're right, Good Knight! Good Knight! We'll solve the riddle later; At any rate, you ate the date, And now are full of dayter!"

"Data," corrected Sir Hokus. "Odds pasties, I would I had the rest of that package!"

"Well I don't," said the Comfortable Camel, compressing his lips severely. "We've trouble enough with this one fellow without disenchanting any more. Much better to have left him a vine. Can't you walk along sensibly and stop climbing every tree you come to?" he snorted fretfully, as Peter swung along from branch to branch more like a monkey than a person.

"If you'd been a vine as long as I, you'd climb trees too," laughed Peter, dropping lightly on the Camel's hump. "I keep thinking I'm a vine," he murmured dreamily, winding both arms around the Comfortable Camel's neck and hugging him vigorously. "And how I do dote on you, old potato!"

"There! There!" cautioned the Camel. "Don't choke me to death." In spite of his sauciness, there was something so lovable about the little jester that Camy did not mind the embrace nearly as much as he pretended. "Get back in the saddle," he grunted gruffly, "and see if you can't keep quiet for five minutes. It's so much more comfortable keeping quiet."

"Who wants to be comfortable?" sniffed Peter, standing on his head in the middle of the high seat. "Who wants to be comfortable? I'd rather be gay! Say:

"A company of four tried to walk through a door, But the door slammed them all on the nose. Can you tell me just why? Or at least have a try? It's easier than you'd suppose!"

"Was it a true door?" asked the Knight, who was foolishly fond of riddles.

"As true a door as you'd find anywhere in your travels," admitted Peter, settling down cozily in the seat on the Camel's hump.

"I don't see how it could slam anyone on the nose unless there was someone back of it," put in the Comfortable Camel, pulling a long wisp from an overhanging vine and munching it thoughtfully.

"Nor do I," agreed the Knight. "Come now, what kind of door was it, Peter?"

"A troubadour!" sang out the jester, kicking up his heels. "And if you were a troubadour, and four tried to walk through you, would you not slam them on the nose?"

"Humph!" grunted Sir Hokus, striding ahead to hide his grin. "One more pun and there'll be a slam on your own nose, odds buttons! A slam and some more things, too!"

"Best save your slams for the monster," yawned Peter, curling up comfortably and pretending to snore. "Heigho, what's that?" Leaping to his feet, he held his hand to his ear. "Methinks I hear a monster now!" Sir Hokus had already stopped and was listening intently. The dip and splash of some great creature churning its way through the water came to them quite distinctly, and as they all peered curiously ahead, it swept round a bend in the stream and bore straight down upon them. Sir Hokus, who had expected to see a ferocious river beast, let his sword fall in bitter disappointment. It was no monster after all, but a boat, a boat rowed by twenty strong slaves, its yellow sails flapping jauntily in the breeze. As the Knight continued to gaze gloomily at the curious craft, a huge fat person heaved himself out of a chair on deck, and after one long look at the Comfortable Camel began barking out orders and directions so fast that the three watchers on the bank could understand nothing of what he said. But the slaves apparently did, for dropping their oars they seized a long, thick rope, and before Sir Hokus had time even to blink, it whirled through the air and settled with a vicious hiss around Camy's long neck. With a choked gurgle the poor Camel slid forward into the water so quickly that Peter circled into the air and fell flat upon the mossy river bank.

"Halt! Yield! What dost thou there?" Brandishing his battle-axe, Sir Hokus scrambled to the edge of the stream in a vain effort to seize hold of the Comfortable Camel or slash the rope that was hauling him away, before it was too late. But it was already too late, and the Knight, slipping into deep water, was forced to watch his old friend dragged ignominiously off by the neck. The slaves, urged on by Tuzzle--for of course it was the very Grand Vizier--were rowing like mad, and Sir Hokus in his heavy armor had no chance at all to swim after them. Indeed, had not Peter jumped up in the nick of time and held out a stout branch, Sir Hokus would have sunk like a stone to the bottom of the stream. Peter, somewhat sobered by the unexpected capture of the Camel, helped the Knight to a nearby tree stump. Hurriedly emptying the water from his helmet and boots, Sir Hokus made ready to pursue the yellow boat.

"Had this been a land battle 'twould not have gone so easy with them," rumbled the Knight, snatching the long slippery stem of a water lily from around his neck.

"Well, they'll land sooner or later and then we can give them what for and what ho! Come on!" cried the jester, dancing with impatience. "If we follow this river we're bound to catch them. Are we going to let those old camelnappers steal our good steed?"

"No, odds thumpeny! A thousand times, no!" roared Sir Hokus, and catching up his battle-axe he began running along the edge of the yellow river. But twenty pair of arms are stronger than two pair of legs, and in less than three minutes the royal barge of the Sultan was out of sight. As the Knight and Peter raced along, the river grew broader and more turbulent. The forest, too, thinned out, and after a stiff twenty minute sprint the two rescuers found themselves in open country. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Sir Hokus squinted inquiringly around. A luxurious orange grove lay ahead of them, but the river branched sharply in two directions. Refreshing himself with an orange and throwing one to Peter, the Knight paused to reflect.

"Toss up your sword," advised the jester. "If the hilt comes down first, we'll follow the left branch; if it comes down point first, we'll take the right!" It seemed as good a way as any to choose, and when the gleaming sword fell point first at the Knight's feet, they both felt relieved.

"When the sword point points the way, Truly one can't go astray!"

chanted Peter Pun.

"And that fat rascal shall have the sword point where it will do him no good," promised Sir Hokus, striding fiercely along the right bank of the stream. "Dost see a sail, Peter?"

"Neither a sail nor a camel's tail," admitted the jester, shaking his head regretfully:

"But round that turn ahead, who knows? We'll find alike our friend and foes!"

"Then come on!" breathed the Knight, breaking into a run. "Come along with you!"

"Coming!" piped Peter, his mouth full of oranges.