“I am very well, I thank you,” he replied. Hearing her old playfellow answer in a deep bass voice came almost as a shock to Ione even though she had just been told that all animals on this island talked. “Why are you so astonished to hear me speak?” he cried. “You used constantly to say to me ‘Speak, Hero, speak, I know you can talk if you try!’” “Yes; I know, Hero, but now that you do talk, it seems strange and you must give me time to get used to it. Did you always understand everything I said to you?” “Indeed I did, and it nearly broke my heart when you asked me to speak and I could not. If you will come with me I will show you around and you can see other pets you used to have on Earth.” When they turned to go they saw her Indian pony that had been her almost constant companion while with the Indians. “And here is Whistle!” she exclaimed, patting her pony, so named because he made the wind whistle by as he ran, he was so fleet-footed. “You dear, dear pony. I am too rejoiced for words to see you again, for I never expected to lay eyes on you again.” “All I can say, Sweet-Face, is that I am delighted to know that you escaped from the Indians, for I heard that they were going to force you to marry Mud Face when he returned from his hunting trip, the trip on which Mr. Harold killed him. I had made up my mind to run away with you and try to reach the nearest settlement before I would see you married to that cruel fiend, even if you thought I was going crazy for not obeying the pull on my reins. We ponies as well as other animals are often misunderstood when we try in our own dumb way to help our masters and mistresses, for they cannot always interpret our actions and signals, so often think us disobedient when we are really trying to serve them.” “You dearest darling!” exclaimed Ione, “to think that you were trying to plan a way to save me and I did not even know that they intended marrying me.” “I knew you did not, but I overheard it by chance, as I grazed peacefully about while listening to Mud Face and Old Heron Feather talk, wrapped in their blankets near the camp-fire.” “Oh! here come my pet doves,” she cried, as a flock of white pigeons alighted on her head, shoulders and outstretched hands. “You beauties! Where did you come from and how do you like it up here where you never need to have a fear of being stoned or shot?” Looking up, she saw Harold riding off on a pet horse he used to own, while the Prince was petting an elephant he used to ride in processions in Siam. The Princess had her arms around the neck of a gazelle and all this time Mercury stood near smiling to see them all so happy. “Oh mercy! here comes a bear out of the woods,” cried the Princess as she ran toward the Prince for protection. But Mercury quieted her fears by telling her that it was perfectly harmless as were all the rest of the animals here, even to the usually ferocious Bengal tigers.