When the final minute is up,
we die; but we're obliged to live all of the six hundred years
whether we want to or not. So you needn't think of trying to kill
anybody on Sky Island. It can't be done."
"Never mind," said Cap'n Bill. "I'm no murderer, thank goodness, and
I wouldn't kill you if I could, much as you deserve it."
"But isn't six hundred years an awful long time to live?" questioned
Trot.
"It seems like it at first," replied the King, "but I notice that
whenever any of my subjects get near the end of their six hundred,
they grow nervous and say the life is altogether too short."
"How long have you lived?" asked Button-Bright.
The King coughed again and turned a bit bluer. "That is considered
an impertinent question in Sky Island," he answered, "but I will say
that every Boolooroo is elected to reign three hundred years, and
I've reigned not quite--ahem!--two hundred."
"Are your kings elected, then?" asked Cap'n Bill.
"Yes, of course. This is a Republic, you know. The people elect all
their officers from the King down. Every man and every woman is a
voter. The Boolooroo tells them whom to vote for, and if they don't
obey, they are severely punished. It's a fine system of government,
and the only thing I object to is electing the Boolooroo for only
three hundred years. It ought to be for life. My successor has
already been elected, but he can't reign for a hundred years to
come.
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