paused before a grim archway of blue marble, above which was carved the
one word, "Phinis." The interior seemed dark and terrible as they
stopped to regard it as a possible place of refuge.

"Don't like that place, Cap'n," whispered Trot.

"No more do I, mate," he answered.

"I think I'd rather take a chance on the Fog Bank," said Button-Bright.

Just then they were all startled by a swift flapping of wings, and a
voice cried in shrill tones,

"Where are you, Trot? As like as not I've been forgot!"

Cap'n Bill jumped this way and Button-Bright that, and then there
alighted on Trot's shoulder the blue parrot that had been the pet of
the Princess Cerulia. Said the bird,

"Gee! I've flown
Here all alone.
It's pretty far,
But here we are!"

and then he barked like a dog and chuckled with glee at having found
his little friend.

In escaping the palace, Trot had been obliged to leave all the pets
behind her, but it seemed that the parrot had found some way to get
free and follow her. They were all astonished to hear the bird
talk--and in poetry, too--but Cap'n Bill told Trot that some parrots he
had known had possessed a pretty fair gift of language, and he added
that this blue one seemed an unusually bright bird. "As fer po'try,"
said he, "that's as how you look at po'try. Rhymes come from your head,
but real po'try from your heart, an' whether the blue parrot has a
heart or not, he's sure got a head."

Having decided not to venture into the Arch of Phinis, they again
started on, this time across the country straight toward the Fog Bank,
which hung like a blue-grey cloud directly across the center of the
island. They knew they were being followed by bands of the Blueskins,
for they could hear the shouts of their pursuers growing louder and
louder every minute, since their long legs covered the ground more
quickly than our friends could possibly go. Had the journey been much
farther, the fugitives would have been overtaken, but when the leaders
of the pursuing Blueskins were only a few yards behind them, they
reached the edge of the Fog Bank and without hesitation plunged into
its thick mist, which instantly hid them from view.

The Blueskins fell back, horrified at the mad act of the strangers. To
them the Fog Bank was the most dreadful thing in existence, and no
Blueskin had ever ventured within it even for a moment.

"That's the end of those short-necked Yellowskins," said one, shaking
his head. "