They made for the mouth of a river. ('I never built a river,' said Philip. 'No,' said the parrot, 'it came out of the poetry book.') And when they were hungry they let down the anchor and went into the cabin for breakfast. And two people sprang to meet them, almost knocking Lucy down with the violence of their welcome. The two people were Max and Brenda. [Illustration: He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold.] 'Oh, you dear dogs,' Lucy cried, and Philip patted them, one with each hand, 'how did you get here?' 'It was a little surprise of Mr. Noah's,' said the parrot. Max and Brenda whined and barked and gushed. 'I wish we could understand what they're saying,' said Lucy. 'If you only knew the magic word that the Hippogriff obeys,' said the parrot, 'you could say it, and then you'd understand all animal talk. Only, of course, I mustn't tell it you. It's one of the eleven mysteries.' 'But I know it,' said Philip, and at once breathed the word in the tiny silky ear of Brenda and then in the longer silkier ear of Max, and instantly-- 'Oh, my dears!' they heard Brenda say in a softly shrill excited voice; 'oh, my dearie dears! We _are_ so pleased to see you. I'm only a poor little faithful doggy; I'm not clever, you know, but my affectionate nature makes me almost mad with joy to see my dear master and mistress again.' 'Very glad to see you, sir,' said Max with heavy politeness. 'I hope you'll be comfortable here. There's no comfort for a dog like being with his master.' And with that he sat down and went to sleep, and the others had breakfast. It is rather fun cooking in yachts. And there was something new and charming in Brenda's delicate way of sitting up and begging and saying at the same time, 'I do _hate_ to bother my darling master and mistress, but if you _could_ spare another _tiny_ bit of bacon--Oh, _thank you_, how good and generous you are!' They sailed the yacht successfully into the river which presently ran into the shadow of a tropical forest. Also out of a book. 'You might go on during the night,' said the parrot, 'if the dogs would steer under my directions. You could tie one end of a rope to their collars and another to the helm. It's easier than turning spits.' 'Delighted!' said Max; 'only, of course, it's understood that we sleep through the day?' 'Of course,' said everybody. So that was settled. And the children went to bed. It was in the middle of the night that the parrot roused Philip with his usual gentle beak-touch. Then-- 'Wake up,' it said; 'this is not the right river. It's not the right direction. Nothing's right. The ship's all wrong. I'm very much afraid some one has been opening a book and this river has got out.'