"Yes, as you have commanded," said the boy.

"Then you may allow the prisoners to roam at will throughout the
castle. Now, go!"

The prisoners followed Sacho from the room, glad to get away. The
presence of this evil being had grown oppressive to them, and Zog
had himself seemed ill at ease during the last few minutes. The robe
so closely wound around his body moved jerkily, as if something
beneath disturbed it, and at such times Zog shifted nervously in his
seat.

Sacho's thin little legs trotted through the water and led the way
into a different passage from the one by which they had entered.
They swam slowly after him and breathed easier when they had left
the golden domed chamber where their wicked enemy sat enthroned.
"Well, how do you like him?" asked Sacho with a laugh.

"We hate him!" declared Trot emphatically.

"Of course you do," replied Sacho. "But you're wasting time hating
anything. It doesn't do you any good, or him any harm. Can you
sing?"

"A little," said Trot, "but I don't feel like singing now."

"You're wrong about that," the boy asserted. "Anything that keeps
you from singing is foolishness, unless it's laughter. Laughter, joy
and song are the only good things in the world."