"Don't you see? If he has a clear week to get thoroughy interested in his natural history again—marine stuff, his dream of seeing the floor of the ocean and all that—there may be some chance of his consenting to leave this pesky place. But while he is here on duty as king he never gets a moment to think of anything outside of the business of government."
"Yes, that's true. He's far too consententious," Bumpo agreed.
"And besides," Polynesia went on, "his only hope of ever getting away from here would be to escape secretly. He's got to leave while he is holiday-making, incognito—when no one knows where he is or what he's doing, but us. If he built a ship big enough to cross the sea in, all the Indians would see it, and hear it, being built; and they'd ask what it was for. They would interfere. They'd sooner have anything happen than lose the Doctor. Why, I believe if they thought he had any idea of escaping they would put chains on him."
"Yes, I really think they would," I agreed. "Yet without a ship of some kind I don't see how the Doctor is going to get away, even secretly."
"Well, I'll tell you," said Polynesia. "If we do succeed in making him take this holiday, our next step will be to get the sea-snail to promise to take us all in his shell and carry us to the mouth of Puddleby River. If we can once get the snail will-
