"Not on your life," protested Roger in a sulky voice. "The basket would grow red hot and burn my bill. Besides, I'm no stork. Tell you what we could do, though, and we'd better be quick before they start throwing things." "What?" inquired the Captain, gazing uneasily at the infuriated Islanders. "Why, simply shoot it back," Roger said calmly. "Stuff it in the port cannon and blaze away. You never miss your mark, Master Salt, and if you can't shoot that baby back into its mother's arms, I'll walk on my wings and be done with it." "Why, Roger, how clever! The very thing!" rejoiced Ato. "I'll go fetch it with the fire tongs and you'll have to hurry, Sammy, or we'll be out of range." "But it might injure the young one," objected the Captain of the _Crescent Moon_, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "Nonsense, it'll be just like a ride in a baby carriage for that little rascal. Prime your gun, Sammy, while I get the child." By this time the clamor from the Island had become so alarming that even Samuel realized something would have to be decided. So, somewhat mollified by Roger's compliment on his aim, he made ready to fire the port cannon. The baby, hissing lustily, was brought without accident from the galley. Ato held it gingerly before him, using the fire tongs, Roger following along to hold a lighted candle under the little fellow to keep him from going out before he was shot. The baby fitted nicely into the cannon's mouth and stopped crying instantly. At the last moment Samuel almost lost his courage, but urged on to action by both Ato and Roger, he carefully made his calculations and then shutting both eyes pulled the cord that set off the gun. The terrible explosion shocked the Lavalanders into silence, and almost afraid to look, Samuel opened his eyes. "Yo, ho, ho! Three cheers for the Skipper!" squealed Ato, snatching the towel from his head and waving it like a banner. "The neatest shot you ever made, Mate, and a lucky shot, too." The baby and the cannon ball which would have shattered a less durable lady had struck the Lava Queen amidships. Dropping the cannon ball carelessly into the crater, the giantess clasped her child in her arms, smiling and screaming her thanks across the tumbling waters. "Well, was I right, or was I right?" chuckled Roger, teetering backward and forward on the rail and preening his feathers self-consciously. "And I've another idea just as good in case you should be interested." "Oh, keep it till tomorrow," grumbled Samuel Salt, who felt terribly depressed at the loss of his rare specimen. "But tomorrow will be too late," persisted Roger, settling on the Captain's shoulder. "Now, while these savages are in a good humor, let me fly over and drop another Oz flag on the Island. Maybe this time they'll let it stand and once it flies over the crater the Island is Ozma's."