The only inhabitants of Pingaree now consisted of a fat little King, a boy and a goat.
Even Rinkitink, merry hearted as he was, found it hard to laugh in the face of this mighty disaster.

Even the goat, contrary to its usual habit, refrained from saying anything disagreeable.

As for the poor boy whose home was now a wilderness, the tears came often to his eyes as he marked the ruin of his dearly loved island.
When, at nightfall, they reached the lower end of Pingaree and found it swept as bare as the rest, Inga's grief was almost more than he could bear.

Everything had been swept from him--parents, home and country--in so brief a time that his bewilderment was equal to his sorrow.
Since no house remained standing, in which they might sleep, the three wanderers crept beneath the overhanging branches of a cassa tree and curled themselves up as comfortably as possible.

So tired and exhausted were they by the day's anxieties and griefs that their troubles soon faded into the mists of dreamland.