"Poor fellow!" quoth the King. "Did he own a talking goat?"
"He did," answered Bilbil.
"Then he was wrong to have been born at all. Cheek-eek-eek-eek, oo, hoo!" chuckled Rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. "But it's hard to prevent oneself from being born; there's no chance for protest, eh, Bilbil?"
"Who is telling this story, I'd like to know," demanded the goat, with anger.
"Ask someone with brains, my boy; I'm sure I can't tell," replied the King, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter.
Bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving Rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal's face.
"Oh, Bilbil, you'll be the death of me, some day-- I'm sure you will!" gasped the King, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes; for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came.
Bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his master. To escape from Rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the palace, where he came upon Prince Inga.
"Good morning, Bilbil," said the boy. "I was just going to find you, that I might consult you upon an important matter. If you will kindly turn back with me I am sure your good judgment will be of great assistance."
The angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he was addressed, but he immediately asked:
"Are you also going to consult that empty-headed King over yonder?"
"I am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way," said the boy gravely. "All men are deserving of respect, being the highest of living creatures, and Kings deserve respect more than others, for they are set to rule over many people."
"Nevertheless," said Bilbil with conviction, "Rinkitink's head is certainly empty of brains."
"That I am unwilling to believe," insisted Inga. "But anyway his heart is kind and gentle and that is better than being wise. He is merry in spite of misfortunes that would cause others to weep and he never speaks harsh words that wound the feelings of his friends."
"Still," growled Bilbil, "he is --"
"Let us forget everything but his good nature, which puts new heart into us when we are sad," advised the boy."
"But he is --"
"Come with me, please," interrupted Inga, "for the matter of which I wish to speak is very important."
Bilbil followed him, although the boy still heard the goat muttering that the King had no brains. Rinkitink, seeing them turn into the ruins, also followed, and upon joining them asked for his breakfast.
Inga opened the sack of food and while he and the King ate of it the boy said:
"If I could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which have fallen in the banquet hall, I think I could find means for us to escape from this barren island."
"Then," mumbled Rinkitink, with his mouth full, "let us move the blocks of marble."
"But how?" inquired Prince Inga. "They are very heavy."
"Ah, how, indeed?" returned the King, smacking his lips contentedly. "That is a serious question. But -- I have it! Let us see what my famous parchment says about it." He wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then, taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he unrolled it and read the following words:
'Never step on another man's toes.'
The goat gave a snort of contempt; Inga was silent; the King looked from one to the other inquiringly.
"That's the idea, exactly!" declared Rinkitink.
"To be sure," said Bilbil scornfully, "it tells us exactly how to move the blocks of marble."
"Oh, does it?" responded the King, and then for a moment he rubbed the top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. The next moment he burst into a peal of joyous laughter. The goat looked at Inga and sighed.
"What did I tell you?" asked the creature. "Was I right, or was I wrong?"
"This scroll," said Rinkitink, "is indeed a masterpiece. Its advice is of tremendous value. 'Never step on another man's toes.' Let us think this over.
The inference is that we should step upon our own toes, which were given us for that purpose. Therefore, if I stepped upon another man's toes, I would be the other man. Hoo, hoo, hoo! -- the other man -- hee, hee, heek-keek-eek! Funny, isn't it?"
"Didn't I say --" began Bilbil.
"No matter what you said, my boy," roared the King.
"No fool could have figured that out as nicely as I did."
"We have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble," suggested Inga anxiously.
"Fasten a rope to them, and pull," said Bilbil.
"Don't pay any more attention to Rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the man who wrote that brainless scroll.
Just get the rope, and we'll fasten Rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and I'll help you pull."
"Thank you, Bilbil," replied the boy. "I'll get the rope at once.
Bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it makes the attempt, so Bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little Rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath.
Inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then made a loop at the other end to go over Bilbil's head. When all was ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place.
Seeing this, King Rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where it had lain.
But it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before undertaking the removal of the next block.
"Admit, Bilbil," said the King, "that I am of some use in the world."
"Your weight was of considerable help," acknowledged the goat, "but if your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still easier."
When Inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the tile with the secret spring. So the three pulled with renewed energy and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving Inga free to remove the treasure when he pleased.
