"He isn't much good as he is." "I am King of this Island, allow me to say, and you're intruding on my property," declared the little man, scowling upon them.

"If you don't like me--and I'm sure you don't, for no one else does--why don't you go away and leave me to myself ?" "Well, the Ork can fly, but we can't," explained Trot, in answer.

"We don't want to stay here a bit, but I don't see how we can get away." "You can go back into the hole you came from." Cap'n Bill shook his head; Trot shuddered at the thought; the Ork laughed aloud.
"You may be King here," the creature said to Pessim, "but we intend to run this island to suit ourselves, for we are three and you are one, and the balance of power lies with us." The little man made no reply to this, although as they walked back to the shed his face wore its fiercest scowl.

Cap'n Bill gathered a lot of leaves and, assisted by Trot, prepared two nice beds in opposite corners of the shed.

Pessim slept in a hammock which he swung between two trees.
They required no dishes, as all their food consisted of fruits and nuts picked from the trees; they made no fire, for the weather was warm and there was nothing to cook; the shed had no furniture other than the rude stool which the little man was accustomed to sit upon.