The Dodo tried to follow their example, and for a moment it looked as though the children would lose him after all; but it soon became evident that the creature could not fly, for after wildly beating the air for awhile, with his little apologies for wings, the miserable bird fell squalling into the water, while his companions disappeared in the distance. "Help! Help!" he screamed, as he struggled with the waves. "Don't you see that I'm drowning? Oh! Oh! Help! Help!" "Swim ashore," cried the children. "I can't," was the reply, in a faint voice. "I can't swim. Oh!--oh! there go my poor, dear gloves." This last as his wings, which he had been holding up out of the water, sank exhausted to his side. Dick plunged in, and soon brought the bird to shore, where he stood for a moment or two, ruefully regarding his white kid gloves, which the salt water had completely ruined, while the bow of his necktie had slipped around to the back of his neck. "A pretty figure I shall cut now at the Ichthyosaurus' At Home," he grumbled. "It's all your fault, too," he declared, ungratefully disregarding the fact that Dick had just rescued him from a watery grave. "What do you want with me, anyhow?" "Why, you see," hastily explained Dick, "the Ambassador to the Little Panjandrum sent us in search of you, and if we don't take you back in less than a week we're to be--er--er--something with an awfully long name----" "I know--Subtransexdistricated, that's it, isn't it?" said the Dodo. "They always threaten to do that to people. Ough! its perfectly horrible" he cried, shuddering. "What's it like?" asked the children, in an awe-stricken whisper. "Why," explained the Dodo, "you are mygrylaled in pslmsms till you saukle, and then you are taken out and gopheled on both sides for a fortnight. Ough! it's dreadful to think about, and I wouldn't dream of putting you to the risk of having it done to you. So I suppose I shall have to go back," he added, with a sigh. "It's jolly awkward, though! Oh, I _hate_ him!" he said, stamping his claw violently. "Who?" inquired the children. "The Little Panjandrum," was the reply. "Nasty, consequential little prig! And who is he, I should like to know? Panjandrums are not to be mentioned in the same breath as Dodos--we are a much more ancient family than they are, and, besides, _we_ are extinct," he said, proudly. "Oh, yes, of course," agreed Dick, who did not care to go into the Dodo private grievances, and who certainly did not care to run the risk of being "gopheled on both sides," whatever that might mean; "but don't you think we had better be going now?" "How are we going to get back?" demanded the Dodo, abruptly. "I can't swim and I can't fly. You'll have to carry me." "Good gracious!" exclaimed Marjorie, in dismay. "I'm sure we can't do that! Why, you are as big as we are!" "Well, I'm sure I don't know what is to be done," said the Dodo. "I won't get into the water again for _any one_, so there."