The Captain took the key and the Magic Umbrella and hastened away to the palace.  Button-Bright had already hooked the ropes to the elephant-trunk handle, so that when the Captain carried away the umbrella, he dragged after him first the double seat, then Cap’n Bill’s seat, which was fastened to it, and finally the lunch-basket, which was attached to the lower seat.  At every few steps some of these would trip up the Captain and cause him to take a tumble, but as he had only five minutes’ time in which to perform his errand, he would scramble to his feet again and dash along the path until a board or the basket tripped him up again.

They all watched him with interest until he had disappeared within the palace, when the King turned to his men and said: 

“Release the prisoners.  They are now quite safe, and cannot escape me.”

So the men unwound the long cords that were twined around the bodies of our three friends, and set them free.  These men seemed to be soldiers, although they bore no arms except the cords.  Each cord had a weight at the end, and when the weight was skillfully thrown by a soldier, it wound the cord around anything in the twinkling of an eye and held fast until it was unwound again.

Trot decided these Blueskins must have stolen into the garden when summoned by the bells the Boolooroo had rung, but they had kept out of sight and crept up behind the bench on which our friends were seated until a signal from the king aroused them to action.

The little girl was greatly surprised by the suddenness of her capture, and so was Button-Bright.  Cap’n Bill shook his head and said he was afeared they’d get into trouble.  “Our mistake,” he added, “was in stoppin’ to eat our lunch.  But it’s too late now to cry over spilt milk.”

“I don’t mind, not much anyhow,” asserted Trot bravely.  “We’re in no hurry to get back, are we, Button-Bright?”

“I’m not,” said the boy.  “If they hadn’t taken the umbrella, I wouldn’t care how long we stopped in this funny island.  Do you think it’s a fairy country, Trot?”

“Can’t say, I’m sure,” she answered.  “I haven’t seen anything here yet that reminds me of fairies, but Cap’n Bill said a floating island in the sky was sure to be a fairyland.”

“I think so yet, mate,” returned the sailor.  “But there’s all sorts o’ fairies, I’ve heard.  Some is good, an’ some is bad, an’ if all the Blueskins are like their Boolooroo, they can’t be called fust-class.”

“Don’t let me hear any more impudence, prisoners!” called the Boolooroo sternly.  “You are already condemned to severe punishment, and if I have any further trouble with you, you are liable to be patched.”

“What’s being patched?” inquired the girl.