For though the Crew was presumably a grown up sailor-man, he was so small and so neat and so bright-colored and so merry-looking that it was quite impossible to take him seriously. At this moment the boat started. CHAPTER IV THE KING'S HOUNDS The boat started so suddenly that the Crew, stooping to peep through the wheel, was taken by surprise and lost his balance. Down he sat upon the deck, his heels went up into the air, and he would certainly have gone over backwards into the water had it not been for Frances, who, very quickly and very cleverly hooked the handle of her parasol in one leg of his trousers and tilted him back to a sitting position. "Thank you, Miss," said the Crew, touching his cap. "Very much obliged," remarked the Admiral. "It might have spoilt his complexion to have fallen into the water." "You are very welcome," said Frances, cordially. "But why did the boat start so suddenly? What made it start?" "I did," replied the Admiral. "You did? How?" "I'll show you," said the Admiral, evidently much pleased by the interest the little girls took in the working of the yacht. "Look!" He was seated in the front end of the boat in one of those whirligig office chairs which grow taller and taller if you wind them one way and shorter and shorter if you wind them the other. When he said, "Look," he gave a kick off with his left foot, round spun the chair and stopped. Immediately the boat began to slow down. "See?" asked the Admiral. "Yes, I see," replied Margaret, who happened to be the one to catch his eye. "I see, but I don't understand. The boat has no sail and it has no oars and it has no engine: what is the--the--?" "What makes it go?" asked Frances. "What is the motive power, you were going to say, weren't you?" asked the Admiral. "Ha, ha!" he cried, rubbing his hands. "You'd never guess. Never. Look here!" jumping out of his chair and patting the cushion--a very fat air-cushion blown up extremely tight. "This contains the motive power. All you have to do is to sit on the cushion, give a twist to the chair, and away you go." "I see," said Margaret again. "Very simple. But what is the motive power? Gasoline?" [Illustration: _His heels went up in the air_] "Oh, dear, no!" cried the Admiral, holding up his hands as though horrified at the suggestion. "Nothing so barbarous as gasoline. Unpleasant smells and unnecessary noises are not allowed on the floating Islands. The cushion is filled with snap-dragon's breath." "Snap-dragon's breath!" cried both little girls, sitting up very straight and opening their eyes very widely. "Yes; the King's pet snap-dragon. He blows up the cushion for us every morning." "So there _is_ a dragon on the island, then, is there?" "Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-Dragon," replied the Admiral, proudly, making himself as tall as he possibly could and puffing out his cheeks so tightly that his whiskers stood on end.