The others looked on in silence, longing to help her, but knowing that no one could help her now but herself. “It was me,” said Kathleen suddenly, and let go a deep breath of relief. “It was me that touched the sky and let in the water; and I am most frightfully sorry, and I know you’ll never forgive me. But—” “Quick,” said the Princess, picking up the coat, “get into your armor; it’ll prevent your crying.” She hustled Kathleen into the coat and kept her arms around her. “Brave girl,” she whispered. “I’m glad you did it without the coat.” The other three thought it polite to turn away. “Of course,” the Princess added, “I knew—but you didn’t know I knew.” “How did you know?” said Kathleen. “By your eyes,” said the Princess, with one last hug; “they’re quite different now. Come, let us go to the gate and see if any of our Scouts are signaling.” The two Lobster sentries presented claws as the Princess passed with her Staff through the narrow arch and onto the sandy plain of the sea bottom. The children were astonished to find that they could see quite plain a long way through the water—as far as they could have seen in air, and the view was very like one kind of land view. First, the smooth flat sand dotted with copses of branching seaweed—then woods of taller treelike weeds with rocks shelving up and up to a tall, rocky mountain. This mountain sent out a spur, then ran along beside the Merkingdom and joined the rock behind it; and it was along the narrow gorge so formed that the Under Folk were expected to advance. There were balls of seaweed floating in the air—at least, it really now had grown to seem like air, though, of course, it was water—but no signs of Scouts. Suddenly the balls of seaweed drew together and the Princess murmured, “I thought so,” as they formed into orderly lines, sank to the ground, and remained motionless for a moment, while one ball of seaweed stood in front of them. “It’s the Boy Scouts,” she said. “Your Reuben is giving them their orders.” It seemed that she was right, for next moment the balls of seaweed drifted away in different directions, and the one who had stood before them drifted straight to the arch where the Princess and the children stood. It drifted in, pulled off its seaweed disguise, and was, in effect, Reuben. “We’ve found out something more, your Highness,” he said, saluting the Princess. “The vanguard are to be Sea Horses; you know, not the little ones, but the great things they have in the depths.” “No use our attacking the horses,” said the Princess. “They’re as hard as ice. Who rides them?” “The First Dipsys,” said Reuben. “They’re the young Under Folk who want to cut a dash. They call them the Forlorn Hopers, for short.” “Have they got armor?” “No—that’s their swank. They’ve no armor but their natural scales. Those look thick enough, though. I say, Princess, I suppose we Sea Urchins are free to do exactly as we choose?” “Yes,” said the Princess, “unless orders are given.”