en the final minute is up, we
die; but we're obliged to live all of the six hundred years whether we
want to or not. So you needn't think of trying to kill anybody on Sky
Island. It can't be done."

"Never mind," said Cap'n Bill. "I'm no murderer, thank goodness, and I
wouldn't kill you if I could, much as you deserve it."

"But isn't six hundred years an awful long time to live?" questioned
Trot.

"It seems like it at first," replied the King, "but I notice that
whenever any of my subjects get near the end of their six hundred, they
grow nervous and say the life is altogether too short."

"How long have you lived?" asked Button-Bright.

The King coughed again and turned a bit bluer. "That is considered an
impertinent question in Sky Island," he answered, "but I will say that
every Boolooroo is elected to reign three hundred years, and I've
reigned not quite--ahem!--two hundred."

"Are your kings elected, then?" asked Cap'n Bill.

"Yes, of course. This is a Republic, you know. The people elect all
their officers from the King down. Every man and every woman is a
voter. The Boolooroo tells them whom to vote for, and if they don't
obey, they are severely punished. It's a fine system of government, and
the only thing I object to is electing the Boolooroo for only three
hundred years. It ought to be for life. My successor has already been
elected, but he can't reign for a hundred years to come."

"I think three hundred years is plenty long enough," said Trot. "It
gives someone else a chance to rule, an' I wouldn't be s'prised if the
next king is a better one. Seems to me you're not much of a Boolooroo."

"That," replied the King indignantly, "is a matter of opinion. I like
myself very much, but I can't expect you to like me, because you're
deformed and ignorant."

"I'm not!" cried Trot.

"Yes, you are. Your legs are too short and your neck is nothing at all.
Your color is most peculiar, but there isn't a shade of blue about any
of you, except the deep-blue color of the clothes the old ape that
choked me wears. Also, you are ignorant because you know nothing of Sky
Island, which is the Center of the Universe and the only place anyone
would care to live."

"Don't listen to him, Trot," said Button-Bright. "He's an ignorant
himself."

Cap'n Bill packed up the lunch basket. One end of the rope was still
tied to the handle of the basket, and the other end to his swing seat,
which lay on the ground before them.