he Polar Bear. "If I land on my
feet I'll be all right, for they're big and soft, like sofa cushions, but
if I land on my head--"

"That's softer yet, Poley," laughed the Flamingo, who appeared to be less
concerned than anybody. "If you land on your head it will be just as if
you fell into a great bowl of oatmeal, so you're all right."

"I'm not afraid for myself," said the Poker. "I can drop any distance
without serious injury, being made of iron, and my friends, the Andirons,
are equally fortunate. The Bellows, too, is comparatively safe. The worst
that can happen to him is to have the wind knocked out of him. But--"

"It's Tom we're bothered about," said the Righthandiron, with an anxious
glance at Lefty. "You see, we invited him to come off here with us, and--"

"Who is he, anyhow?" demanded the Flamingo, glancing at Tom in such a way
that the youngster began to feel very uncomfortable.

"I'm a Dormouse," said Tom, remembering the agreement.

"Not for this occasion," put in the Poker. "This time you're a boy, and
we've got to save you somehow or other and we'll do it, Tom, so don't be
afraid."

"What kind of boy is he?" demanded the Flamingo. "One of these
bean-snapping boys that go around shooting robins and hooking birds' eggs
when they haven't anything else to do?"

"Not a bit of it," said Righty. "He never snapped a bean at a bird in all
his life."

"Humph!" said the Flamingo. "I suppose he's been too busy pulling feathers
out of peacocks' tails to decorate his room with to be bothering with
robins and eggs."

"Never did such a thing in all my born days," retorted Tom indignantly.

"Probably not," sneered the Flamingo. "And why? Because you were so well
satisfied keeping a canary locked up in a cage for your own pleasure that
you hadn't any time to chase peacocks."

"I've lived in the family forty years," said the Righthandiron, "and to my
knowledge there was never a caged bird in the house."

"Really?" said the Flamingo, looking at Tom with interest. "Rather a new
kind of boy this. Very few boys have a good record where birds are
concerned."

"Tom's no enemy to birds," observed the Bellows. "I know that because I've
been in his family longer than he has, and I've watched him."

"Well," said the Flamingo, "if that's the case, maybe I can help him. One
good turn deserves another. If he is good to birds I may be able at this
time to do good to him. This trouble ahead of us doesn't bother me,
beca