“Where is the golden ship? Where are the diamonds?” insisted the weather cock, slipping out of Urtha’s embrace. “Oh, go crack yourself some icicles,” muttered the old soldier crossly. He did not like to be reminded of his cheerful prophecy. “Go crack yourself some icicles, Bill, that’s all the diamonds you’ll get.” “There isn’t any ship—nor any diamonds—nor anything!” said Tatters, wrapping the skin of the old thread bear more tightly about him and staring drearily over the tossing waters of the Nonestic Ocean. “But you don’t have to marry the Princess,” Urtha reminded him softly, “and even if this isn’t a golden ship couldn’t we dance and be happy?” “Well, if we don’t dance, we’ll freeze,” fumed Grampa, beginning to stamp up and down. “We’ll freeze anyway,” he predicted gloomily. “Look pleasant, my boy. We might as well freeze as attractively as possible. They’ll carve us a monument on a block of ice, no doubt: ‘Frozen in the line of duty!’” Tatters coughed plaintively and began to tramp sadly up and down after Grampa. “Don’t freeze,” begged the little flower fairy, clasping her hands in distress and keeping step with the down-hearted adventurers. “Why, where’s that funny bottle?” she asked suddenly. “The medicine! What have you done with the wizard’s medicine?” crowed the weather cock, flapping his wings. Now so much had happened to the old soldier since the eruption that he had entirely forgotten Gorba’s cure for everything. But at Urtha’s words he snatched it out and, there, listed under colds, chills, frost bites and exposure, Grampa found a remedy for their troubles. “You’ve saved our lives, my dear,” sighed the old soldier, measuring out four drops for Tatters on a spoonful of snow. And everything was better after that, for as soon as Grampa and the Prince swallowed the marvelous mixture they began to tingle with warmth and even an iceberg could not long be cheerless with a little fairy like Urtha aboard. Everywhere she stepped gay posies blossomed and soon there were circles and circles of them bobbing in the bright sunshine. Urtha and Bill did not feel the cold, and as Grampa and Tatters were now frost proof, their whole outlook changed. The huge iceberg was sliding along through the choppy waves at high speed and the sensation was not only pleasant but highly exhilarating. “Which way are we going?” asked the old soldier, sitting down recklessly on a cake of ice. “East,” announced the weather cock, after twirling around three times like a top. “That’s good,” sighed Grampa, “for East of us lies Oz and the nearer we come to Oz, the farther we get from Isa Poso.” “I never want to see it again! And if that is a sample of your Princesses, I’ll be like you, Grampa, and never marry,” said the Prince, taking a seat beside the old soldier. “I think, myself, that if we can find my father’s head, we’d better just go home anyway. We could work hard in the gingham gardens, raise bigger crops and—”