On they went, softly sailing along through the mist, expecting every moment to come out on the other side. But the cloud-wall must have been ever so much thicker than it was when they arrived, for they kept sailing on and on and on, long after the last of the dog-fish had ceased to bark and long after the dragon had given up bellowing. It was easy, slow, drowsy sort of travelling, and presently Frances, stifling a yawn with difficulty, remarked: "I feel rather tired. I think I'll sit down a bit and rest." "I think I will, too," responded Margaret, covering her mouth with both hands. "So will I," added the Archbishop, with a yawn so tremendous that he had to hold his mitre in front of his face to hide it. Down they sat, therefore, with their backs against the mast, and as was to be expected, in two seconds they were all sound asleep--Periwinkle and Thomas A'Becket as well. How long they had been sailing, the children never could tell, when suddenly, "_Clink-clank!_" went the Court Crier's bell, somewhere close by. Margaret woke up with a start, clutching her sister by the arm, and then for several seconds she stared about her, wondering where she was. Nor was it surprising that she should sit and stare, for, when at length she did recognize her surroundings, she found herself beneath the trees by the sea-shore where she and Frances had lain down to rest after their vain pursuit of their shadows that morning. [Illustration: _Nor was it surprising that she should sit and stare_] There, too, sat Frances, bolt upright, blinking and gazing about her in a bewildered manner; and there too, lay Periwinkle, flat on his side, his beady black eyes wide open and his red worsted smile fixed and immovable--a yellow plush puppy once more. Again the bell sounded. Margaret looked hastily behind her, and there was old Daphne, the milk-cow, quietly feeding, the bell about her neck going "_Clink-clank_," at every motion. At the same moment, from far across the ocean came a melancholy "Hoo-oo! Hoo-oo!" "Hark, Frances! Hark!" cried Margaret. "Did you hear it? There's the poor old dragon bellowing. Somebody else must have arrived. Oh, what an adventure we've had! Come along! Let's run home and tell Daddy! Won't he be glad to hear that there _is_ a King Coco Bolo and a Great American Snap-Dragon and an Archbishop and a Floating Island and everything!" "Won't he!" said Frances, as they set off homeward hand in hand. Transcriber's note Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected. Hyphenation has been used inconsistently. The text here matches the original. Blank pages adjacent to illustrations and their page numbers have been removed. Emphasised text is marked thus: _italics_ =bold= End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Coco Bolo: King of the Floating Islands, by Sidford Frederick Hamp