CHAPTER I

THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE


When Cinders began to dig a hole no power on earth, except brute force,
could ever stop him till he sank exhausted. Not even the sight of a crab
could divert his thoughts from this entrancing occupation, much less his
mistress's shrill whistle; and this was strange, for on all other
occasions it was his custom to display the most exemplary obedience.

Of a cheerful disposition was Cinders, deeply interested in all things
living, despising nothing however trivial, constantly seeking, and very
often finding, treasures of supreme value in his own estimation. It was
probably this passion for investigation that induced him to dig with such
energy and perseverance, but he was not an interesting companion when the
digging mood was upon him. It was, in fact, advisable to keep at a
distance, for he created a miniature sand-storm in his immediate vicinity
that spoiled the amusement of all except himself and successfully checked
all intrusive sympathy.

"It really is too bad of him," said Chris, as she sat on a rock at twelve
yards' distance and dried her feet in melancholy preoccupation. "It's the
third day running, and I'm so tired of having nobody to talk to and
nothing to do--not even a crab-hunt."