Читать книгу: «In Camp With A Tin Soldier», страница 7
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESCUE
FOR a moment Jimmieboy could say nothing, so surprised was he at the major's question. Then he simply repeated it, his amazement very evident in the tone of his voice.
"Why did we desert you so cruelly?"
"Yes," returned the major. "I'd like to know. When two of my companions in arms leave me, the way you and old Spriteyboy did, I think you ought to make some explanation. It was mean and cruel."
"But we didn't desert you," said Jimmieboy. "No such idea ever entered our minds. It was you who deserted us."
"I?" roared the major fiercely.
"Certainly," said Jimmieboy calmly. "You. The minute Spritey turned into Bludgeonhead you ran away just about as fast as your tin legs could carry you – frightened to death evidently."
"Jimmieboy," said the major, his voice husky with emotion, "any other person than yourself would have had to fight a duel with me for casting such a doubt as you have just cast upon my courage. The idea of me, of I, of myself, Major Mortimer Carraway Blueface, the hero of a hundred and eighty-seven real sham fights, the most poetic as well as the handsomest man in the 'Jimmieboy Guards' being accused of running away! Oh! It is simply dreadful!
"I've been accused of dreadful things,
Of wearing copper finger-rings,
Of eating green peas with a spoon,
Of wishing that I owned the moon,
Of telling things that weren't the truth,
Of having cut no wisdom tooth,
In times of war of stealing buns,
And fainting at the sound of guns,
Yet never dreamed I'd see the day
When it was thought I'd run away.
Alack – O – well-a-day – alas!
That this should ever come to pass!
Alas – O – well-a-day – alack!
It knocks me flat upon my back.
Alas – alack – O – well-a-day!
It fills me full of sore dismay.
Aday – alas – O – lack-a-well – "
"Are you going to keep that up forever?" asked Jimmieboy. "If you are I'm going to get out. I've heard stupid poetry in this campaign, but that's the worst yet."
"I only wanted to show you what I could do in the way of a lamentation," said the major. "If you've had enough I'll stop of course; but tell me," he added, sitting down upon a cake of ice, and crossing his legs, "how on earth did you ever get hold of the ridiculous notion that I ran away frightened?"
"How?" ejaculated Jimmieboy. "What else was there to think? The minute the sprite was changed into Bludgeonhead I turned to speak to you, and all I could see of you was your coat-tails disappearing around the corner way down the road."
"And just because my coat-tails behaved like that you put me down as a coward?" groaned the major.
"Didn't you run away?" Jimmieboy asked.
"Of course not," replied the major. "That is, not exactly. I hurried off; but not because I was afraid. I was simply going down the road to see if I couldn't find a looking-glass so that Spriteyboy could see how he looked as a giant."
Jimmieboy laughed.
"That's a magnificent excuse," he said.
"I thought you'd think it was," said the major, with a pleased smile. "And when I finally found that there weren't any mirrors to be had along the road I went back, and you two had gone and left me."
"And what did you do then?" asked Jimmieboy.
"I wrote a poem on sleep. It's a great thing, sleep is, and I wrote the lines off in two tenths of a fifth of a second. As I remember it, this is the way they went:
"SLEEP
Deserted by my friends I sit,
And silently I weep,
Until I'm wearied so by it,
I lose my little store of wit;
I nod and fall asleep.
Then in my dreams my friends I spy —
Once more are they my own.
I cease to murmur and to cry,
For then 'tis sure to be that I
Forget I am alone.
'Tis hence I think that sleep's the best
Of friends that man has got —
Not only does it bring him rest
But makes him feel that he is blest
With blessings he has not."
"Why didn't you go to sleep if you felt that way?" said Jimmieboy.
"I wanted to find you and I hadn't time. There was only time for me to scratch that poem off on my mind and start to find you and Bludgeyboy," replied the major.
"His name isn't Bludgeyboy," said Jimmieboy, with a smile. "It's Bludgeonhead."
"Oh, yes, I forgot," said the major. "It's a good name, too, Bludgeonpate is."
"How did you come to be captured by Fortyforefoot?" asked Jimmieboy, after he had decided not to try to correct the major any more as to Bludgeonhead's name.
"There you go again!" cried the major, angrily. "The idea of a miserable ogre like Fortyforefoot capturing me, the most sagacitacious soldier of modern times. I suppose you think I fell into one of his game traps?"
"That's what he said," said Jimmieboy. "He said you acted in a very curious way, too – promised him all sorts of things if he'd let you go."
"That's just like those big, bragging giants," said the major. "The idea! why he didn't capture me at all. I came here of my own free will and accord."
"What? Down here into this pantry and into the ice-chest? Oh, come now, major. You can't fool me," said Jimmieboy. "That's nonsense. Why should you want to come here?"
"To meet you, of course," retorted the major. "That's why. I knew it was part of your scheme to come here. You and I were to be put into the pantry and then old Bludgeyhat was to come and rescue us. I was the one to make the scheme, wasn't I?"
"No. It was Bludgeonhead," said Jimmieboy, who didn't know whether to believe the major or not.
"That's just the way," said the major, indignantly, "he gets all the credit just because he's big and I don't get any, and yet if you knew of all the wild animals I've killed to get here to you, how I met Fortyforefoot and bound him hand and foot and refused to let him go unless he would permit me to spend a week in his ice-chest, for the sole and only purpose that I wished to meet you again, you'd change your mind mighty quick about me."
"You bound Fortyforefoot? A little two-inch fellow like you?" said Jimmieboy.
"Why not?" asked the major. "Did you ever see me in a real sham battle?"
"No, I never did," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, you'd better never," returned the major, "unless you want to be frightened out of your wits. I have been called the living telescope, sir, because when I begin to fight, in the fiercest manner possible, I sort of lengthen out and sprout up into the air until I am taller than any foe within my reach."
"Really?" queried Jimmieboy, with a puzzled air about him.
"Do you doubt it?" asked the major.
"Well, I should like to see it once," said Jimmieboy. "Then I might believe it."
"Then you will never believe it," returned the major, "because you will never see it. I never fight in the presence of others, sir."
As the major spoke these words a heavy footstep was heard on the stairs.
"What is that?" cried the major, springing to his feet.
"I do not ask you for your gold,
Nor for an old straw hat —
I simply ask that I be told
Oh what, oh what is that?"
"It is a footstep on the stairs," said Jimmieboy.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" moaned the major "If it is Fortyforefoot all is over for us. This is what I feared.
"I was afraid he could not wait,
The miserable sinner,
To serve me up in proper state
At his to-morrow's dinner.
Alas, he comes I greatly fear
In search of Major Me, sir,
And that he'll wash me down with beer
This very night at tea, sir."
"Oh, why did I come here – why – "
"I shall!" roared a voice out in the passage-way.
"You shall not," roared another voice, which Jimmieboy was delighted to recognize as Bludgeonhead's.
"I am hungry," said the first voice, "and what is mine is my own to do with as I please. I shall eat both of them at once. Stand aside!"
"I will toss you into the air, my dear Fortyforefoot," returned Bludgeonhead's voice, "if you advance another step; and with such force, sir, that you will never come down again."
"Tut, tut! I am not so easily tossed. Stand aside," roared the voice of Fortyforefoot.
The two prisoners in the pantry heard a tremendous scuffling, a crash, and a loud laugh.
Then Bludgeonhead's voice was heard again.
"Good-by, Fortyforefoot," it cried.
"I hope he is not going to leave us," whispered Jimmieboy, but the major was too frightened to speak, and he trembled so that half a dozen times he fell off the ice-cake that he had been sitting on.
"Give my love to the moon when you pass her, and when you get up into the milky way turn half a million of the stars there into baked apples and throw 'em down to me," called Bludgeonhead's voice.
"If you'll only lasso me and pull me back I'll do anything you want me to," came the voice of Fortyforefoot from some tremendous height, it seemed to Jimmieboy.
"Not if I know it," replied Bludgeonhead, with a laugh. "I think I'd like to settle down here myself as the owner of Fortyforefoot Valley. Good-bye."
Whatever answer was made to this it was too indistinct for Jimmieboy to hear, and in a minute the key of the pantry door was turned, the door thrown open, and Bludgeonhead stood before them.
"You are free," he said, grasping Jimmieboy's hand and squeezing it affectionately. "But I had to get rid of him. It was the only way to do it. He wanted to eat you right away."
"And did you really throw him off into the air?" asked Jimmieboy, as he walked out into the hall.
"Yes," said Bludgeonhead. "See that hole in the roof?" he added, pointing upward.
"My!" ejaculated Jimmieboy, as he glanced upward and saw a huge rent in the ceiling, through which, gradually rising and getting smaller and smaller the further he rose, was to be seen the unfortunate Fortyforefoot. "Did he go through there?"
"Yes," replied Bludgeonhead. "I simply picked him up and tossed him over my head. He'll never come back. I shall turn myself into Fortyforefoot and settle down here forever, only instead of being a bad giant I shall be a good one – but hallo! Who is this?"
The major had crawled out of the ice-chest and was now trying to appear calm, although his terrible fright still left him trembling so that he could hardly speak.
"It is Major Blueface," said Jimmieboy, with a smile.
"Oh!" cried Bludgeonhead. "He was Fortyforefoot's other prisoner."
"N – nun – not at – t – at – at all," stammered the major. "I def – fuf – feated him in sus – single combat."
"But what are you trembling so for now?" demanded Bludgeonhead.
"I – I am – m not tut – trembling," retorted the major. "I – I am o – only sh – shivering with – th – the – c – c – c – cold. I – I – I've bub – been in th – that i – i – i – ice bu – box sus – so long."
Jimmieboy and Bludgeonhead roared with laughter at this. Then giving the major a warm coat to put on they sent him up stairs to lie down and recover his nerves.
After the major had been attended to, Bludgeonhead changed himself back into the sprite again, and he and Jimmieboy sauntered in and out among the gardens for an hour or more and were about returning to the castle for supper when they heard sounds of music. There was evidently a brass band coming up the road. In an instant they hid themselves behind a tree, from which place of concealment they were delighted two or three minutes later to perceive that the band was none other than that of the "Jimmieboy Guards," and that behind it, in splendid military form, appeared Colonel Zinc followed by the tin soldiers themselves.
"Hurrah!" cried Jimmieboy, throwing his cap into the air.
"Ditto!" roared the sprite.
"The same!" shrieked the colonel, waving his sword with delight, and commanding his regiment to halt, as he caught sight of Jimmieboy.
"Us likewise!" cheered the soldiers: following which came a trembling voice from one of the castle windows which said:
"I also wish to add my cheer
Upon this happy day;
And if you'll kindly come up here
You'll hear me cry 'Hooray.'"
"It's Major Blueface's voice!" cried the colonel. "Is the major ill?"
"No," said the sprite, motioning to Jimmieboy not to betray the major. "Only a little worn-out by the fight we have had with Fortyforefoot."
"With Fortyforefoot?" echoed the colonel.
"Yes," said the sprite, modestly. "We three have got rid of him at last."
"Then the victory is won!" cried the colonel. "Do you know who Fortyforefoot really was?"
"No; who?" asked Jimmieboy, his curiosity aroused.
"The Parallelopipedon himself," said the colonel. "We found that out last night, and fearing that he might have captured our general and our major we came here to besiege him in his castle and rescue our officers."
"But I don't see how Fortyforefoot could have been the Parallelopipedon," said Jimmieboy. "What would he want to be him for, when, all he had to do to get anything he wanted was to take sand and turn it into it?"
"Ah, but don't you see," explained the colonel, "there was one thing he never could do as Fortyforefoot. The law prevented him from leaving this valley here in any other form than that of the Parallelopipedon. He didn't mind his confinement to the valley very much at first, but after a while he began to feel cooped up here, and then he took an old packing box and made it look as much like a living Parallelopipedon as he could. Then he got into it whenever he wanted to roam about the world. Probably if you will search the castle you will find the cast-off shell he used to wear, and if you do I hope you will destroy it, because it is said to be a most horrible spectacle – frightening animals to death and causing every flower within a mile to wither and shrink up at the mere sight of it."
"It's all true, Jimmieboy," said the sprite. "I knew it all along. Why, he only gave us those cherries and peaches there in exchange for yourself because he expected to get them all back again, you know."
"It was a glorious victory," said the colonel. "I will now announce it to the soldiers."
This he did and the soldiers were wild with joy when they heard the news, and the band played a hymn of victory in which the soldiers joined, singing so vigorously that they nearly cracked their voices. When they had quite finished the colonel said he guessed it was time to return to the barracks in the nursery.
"Not before the feast," said the sprite. "We have here all the provisions the general set out to get, and before you return home, colonel, you and your men should divide them among you."
So the table was spread and all went happily. In the midst of the feast the major appeared, determination written upon every line of his face. The soldiers cheered him loudly as he walked down the length of the table, which he acknowledged as gracefully as he could with a stiff bow, and then he spoke:
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have always been a good deal of a favorite with you, and I know that what I am about to do will fill you with deep grief. I am going to stop being a man of war. The tremendous victory we have won to-day is the result entirely of the efforts of myself, General Jimmieboy and Major Sprite – for to the latter I now give the title I have borne so honorably for so many years. Our present victory is one of such brilliantly brilliant brilliance that I feel that I may now retire with lustre enough attached to my name to last for millions and millions of years. I need rest, and here I shall take it, in this beautiful valley, which by virtue of our victory belongs wholly and in equal parts to General Jimmieboy, Major Sprite and myself. Hereafter I shall be known only as Mortimer Carraway Blueface, Poet Laureate of Fortyforefoot Hall, Fortyforefoot Valley, Pictureland. As Governor-General of the country we have decided to appoint our illustrious friend, Major Benjamin Bludgeonhead Sprite. General Jimmieboy will remain commander of the forces, and the rest of you may divide amongst yourselves, as a reward for your gallant services, all the provisions that may now be left upon this table. It is all yours. I demand but one condition. That is that you do not take the table. It is of solid mahogany and must be worth a very considerable sum.
Now let the saddest word be said,
Now bend in sorrow deep the head.
Let tears flow forth and drench the dell:
Farewell, brave soldier boys, farewell."
Here the major wiped his eyes sadly and sat down by the sprite who shook his hand kindly and thanked him for giving him his title of major.
"We'll have fine times living here together," said the sprite.
"Well, rather!" ejaculated the major. "I'm going to see if I can't have myself made over again, too, Spritey. I'll be pleasanter for you to look at. What's the use of being a tin soldier in a place where even the cobblestones are of gold and silver."
"You can be plated any how," said Jimmieboy.
"Yes, and maybe I can have a platinum sword put in, and a real solid gold head – but just at present that isn't what I want," said the major. "What I am after now is a piece of birthday cake with real fruit raisins in it and strips of citron two inches long, the whole concealed beneath a one inch frosting. Is there any?"
CHAPTER XIV.
HOME AGAIN
"I DON'T think we have any here," said Jimmieboy, who was much pleased to see the sprite and the major, both of whom he dearly loved, on such good terms. "But I'll run home and see if I can get some."
"Well, we'll all go with you," said the colonel, starting up and ordering the trumpeters to sound the call to arms.
"All except Blueface and myself," said the sprite. "We will stay here and put everything in readiness for your return."
"That is a good idea," said Jimmieboy. "And you'll have to hurry for we shall be back very soon."
This, as it turned out, was a very rash promise for Jimmieboy to make, for after he and the tin soldiers had got the birthday cake and were ready to enter Pictureland once more, they found that not one of them could do it, the frame was so high up and the picture itself so hard and impenetrable. Jimmieboy felt so badly to be unable to return to his friends, that, following the major's hint about sleep bringing forgetfulness of trouble, he threw himself down on the nursery couch, and closing his brimming eyes dozed off into a dreamless sleep.
It was quite dark when he opened them again and found himself still on the couch with a piece of his papa's birthday cake in his hand, his sorrows all gone and contentment in their place. His papa was sitting at his side, and his mamma was standing over by the window smiling.
"You've had a good long nap, Jimmieboy," said she, "and I rather think, from several things I've heard you say in your sleep, you've been dreaming about your tin soldiers."
"I don't believe it was a dream, mamma," he said, "it was all too real." And then he told his papa all that had happened.
"Well, it is very singular," said his papa, when Jimmieboy had finished, "and if you want to believe it all happened you may; but you say all the soldiers came back with you except Major Blueface?"
"Yes, every one," said Jimmieboy.
"Then we can tell whether it was true or not by looking in the tin soldier's box. If the major isn't there he may be up in Fortyforefoot castle as you say."
Jimmieboy climbed eagerly down from the couch and rushing to the toy closet got out the box of soldiers and searched it from top to bottom. The major was not to be seen anywhere, nor to this day has Jimmieboy ever again set eyes upon him.
