"I've been considering that all night," said
Rinkitink, "and I believe the best plan will be for you
to let down the bucket to me, and I'll hold fast to it
while you wind up the chain and so draw me to the top."
"I will try to do that," replied Inga, and he let the
bucket down very carefully until he heard the King call
out:
"I've got it! Now pull me up -- slowly, my boy,
slowly -- so I won't rub against the rough sides."
Inga began winding up the chain, but King Rinkitink
was so fat that he was very heavy and by the time the
boy had managed to pull him halfway up the well his
strength was gone. He clung to the crank as long as
possible, but suddenly it slipped from his grasp and
the next minute he heard Rinkitink fall "plump!" into
the water again.
"That's too bad!" called Inga, in real distress; "but
you were so heavy I couldn't help it."
"Dear me!" gasped the King, from the darkness below,
as he spluttered and coughed to get the water out of
his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to
let go?"
"I hadn't time," said Inga, sorrowfully.
"Well, I'm not suffering from thirst," declared the
King, "for there's enough water inside me to float all
the boats of Regos and Coregos or at least it feels
that way. But never mind! So long as I'm not actually
drowned, what does it matter?"
"What shall we do next?" asked the boy anxiously.
"Call someone to help you," was the reply.
"There is no one on the island but myself," said the
boy; "-- excepting you," he added, as an afterthought.
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