Cap'n Bill halted long enough to grab the man around his long neck with one hand and around his long leg with the other hand. Then he raised the Blueskin in the air and threw him far over the wall. A moment later they had unfastened the gate and fled into the open country, where they headed toward the low mountain whose outlines were plainly visible in the moonlight. The guard was now howling and crying for help. In the city were answering shouts. A hue and cry came from every direction, reaching as far as the palace. Lights began to twinkle everywhere in the streets and the Blue City hummed like a beehive filled with angry bees. "It won't do for us to get caught now," panted Cap'n Bill, as they ran along. "I'm more afeared o' them Blue citizens ner I am o' the Blue Boolooroo. They'd tear us to pieces, if they could." Sky Island was not a very big place, especially the blue part of it, and our friends were now very close to the low mountain. Presently they paused before a grim archway of blue marble, above which was carved the one word: "Phinis." The interior seemed dark and terrible as they stopped to regard it as a possible place of refuge. "Don't like that place, Cap'n," whispered Trot. "No more do I, mate," he answered. "I think I'd rather take a chance on the Fog Bank," said Button-Bright. Just then they were all startled by a swift flapping of wings, and a voice cried in shrill tones: "Where are you, Trot? As like as not I've been forgot!" Cap'n Bill jumped this way and Button-Bright that, and then there alighted on Trot's shoulder the blue parrot that had been the pet of the Princess Cerulia. Said the bird: "Gee! I've flown Here all alone. It's pretty far, But here we are!" and then he barked like a dog and chuckled with glee at having found his little friend. In escaping from the palace Trot had been obliged to leave all the pets behind her, but it seemed that the parrot had found some way to get free and follow her. They were all astonished to hear the bird talk--and in poetry, too--but Cap'n Bill told Trot that some parrots he had known had possessed a pretty fair gift of language, and he added that this blue one seemed an unusually bright bird. "As fer po'try," said he, "that's as how you look at po'try. Rhymes come from your head, but real po'try from your heart, an' whether the blue parrot has a heart or not he's sure got a head."