Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
touch was most tender to her own child, yet no little hand stretched out
to her went without its caress. She was mother to them all; to her they
were all beautiful, and as their little frocks were all woven in the
same loom, there never could come into her mind a temptation to feel
whether a rich neighbor’s child was playing with hers, and that
therefore it ought to receive a more loving caress. In that portion of
the city where the children had their playgrounds the silver pavement
was in some places marked off with raised lines and letters, something
after the manner of our hop scotch, for the purpose of a game which was
very popular with the little Soodopsies. Its name is hard to translate,
but it meant something like “Little Bogyman,” and many an hour had
Bulger and I stood there watching these silent little gnomes at play,
fascinated by the wonderful skill which they would display in feigning
the drawing near of the Little Bogyman, their hiding from him, his
stealthy approach, the increasing danger, the attack, the escape, the
new dangers, wild flight, and mad pursuit. Fancy, therefore, my
astonishment one morning to note that Bulger was coaxing me thither,
although the place was quite deserted, the children being all at their
lessons.
But, as it was a rule of mine always to humor Bulger’s whims, I went
patiently along.
In a moment, as we came to the spot where the pavement was marked off
and inscribed as I have explained, he halted and with an anxious whine
began to play the game of “The Little Bogyman,” turning every now and
then to see what effect his actions had upon me.
He made no mistakes. As he entered each compartment, he rested his paw
upon the raised letters as he had so often seen the children do with
their little bare feet, and then mimicked with wonderful fidelity their
actions, beginning with the first scent of danger and ending with mad
terror at the close pursuit of the bogyman.
I was more than surprised; I was bewildered by this piece of mimicry on
Bulger’s part. To my mind it boded some terrible accident to him, for I
have a superstitious notion that great danger to an animal’s life gives
him for the moment an almost human intelligence. It is nature caring for
her own.
But all of a sudden the real truth in this case burst upon me: it was
not my dear little brother giving me to understand that some peril was
threatening him, but that some danger was hanging over my head, the more
real in that it was unseen and unsuspected by me.
I called him to me and rewarded him with a caress. He was overjoyed to
note that I had apparently understood him. I now made haste to seek out
Barrel Brow. He was surprised to feel my salutation. In a moment or so I
had told him all. Nor was he slow in detecting my excitement. He, no
doubt, felt that in the changed character of my handwriting.
“Calm thyself, little baron,” he wrote. “The wise Bulger has told thee
the truth. Thy life is in danger. I had resolved to send for thee this
very day to warn thee of it: to bid thee quit the land of the Formifolk
in all haste, for the notion has spread among our people that it was the
dancing spectre at thy heels which caused the death of the gentle
Pouting Lip, who disappeared so mysteriously the other day. I therefore
counsel thee that thou make ready at once and quit our city to-morrow
before the clocks rouse the people from their sleep.”
I thanked Barrel Brow, and promised that I would heed his advice,
although I confessed to him that I would fain have bided a few weeks
longer, there were so many things in and about the wonderful City of
Silver that I had not seen. But I owed it to the dear hearts of my own
world to take the best care of my life, insignificant though it might
appear to me.
Then, again, I felt that it would be madness to attempt to reason with
the Soodopsies. To them the dancing spectre at my heels was a real being
of flesh and blood, although they had not been able to seize him, and it
was really natural for them to suspect that we had made away with
Pouting Lip.
Calling out to Bulger to follow me, I left Barrel Brow’s home, resolved
to make one more round of the wonderful city, and then pack up some food
and clothing and be all ready for a start before the clocks began their
tapping.
I should explain, dear friends, that, as happens in all cities, the
people of this one imagined at times that they hadn’t quite elbow room
enough, and hence they surveyed other chambers, and set up new
candelabra within them, in order to chase the cold and dampness away,
and make them fit for human habitations.
In the last one which they had in this way annexed to their fair city,
fitting it with a silver doorway and tiling the floor with polished
plates of the same beautiful metal, they had discovered a hard mound
apparently of rock in one corner, and had resolved that they would come
some day with their drills and picks and begin the task of removing this
mound.
A strange inclination came upon me to visit this new chamber in order to
inspect the work of these eyeless workmen, and see how far they had
proceeded with their task of transforming a cold and rocky vault into a
bright, warm, healthy habitation.
Imagine my surprise to hear Bulger utter a low growl as we reached the
entrance, and I put out my hand to swing the door open, for the
Soodopsies were not at work there that day, and the place was as silent
as a tomb.
Glancing through the grating, a sight met my gaze which caused my flesh
to creep and my hair to stiffen. What think ye was it? Why, the mound in
the corner was rocking and swaying, and from underneath one end issued a
loud and angry hissing. I’m no coward, if I do say it myself, but this
was just a little too much for ordinary or even extraordinary flesh to
bear without flinching. I staggered back with a suppressed cry of
horror, and was upon the point of breaking into a mad flight, when the
thought flashed through my mind that the door was securely fastened, and
that there would be no danger in my taking another look at the terrible
monster thus caged in this chamber.
A great snake-like head was now lifted from beneath one edge of the
mound, on the end of a long, swaying neck. Its great round eyes, big as
an ox’s, stared with a dull, cold, glassy look from wall to wall, and
then, with an awful outburst of hissing, the whole mound was suddenly
raised upon four great legs, thick as posts, and ending in terrible
claws, and borne rocking and swaying into the centre of the chamber.
What was this terrible monster, and where had it come from?
Why, I saw through it all now at a glance. It was a gigantic tortoise,
eight feet long by five wide, at least, and once an inhabitant of the
upper world. Thousands and thousands of years ago, by the coming of the
awful fields of ice, it had been forced to fly from certain death by
crawling down into these underground caverns. Here, chilled and numbed
by the dampness and cold, it had fallen asleep, and would have continued
to sleep on for other ages to come, had not the industrious Formifolk
lighted the clusters of burning jets of gas in the monster’s bedroom.
Gradually the warmth had penetrated the roof of shell made thicker by
earth and layers of broken rock, which the tooth of time had dropped
upon it, and reached his great heart, and set it beating again slowly,
very slowly, but faster and faster, until he really felt that he had
awakened from his long sleep.
By a terrible misfortune, Pouting Lip, the gentle Soodopsy, had happened
to be left behind when his brother laborers quit work, and the new
silver doors of the chamber had been closed upon him.
Oh, it was terrible to think of, but true it must have been—the poor
little Soodopsy, shut in by his own eyeless folk in this chamber, which
he was helping to beautify by his patient skill, had served to satisfy
the hunger of this awful monster, after his long ages of fasting.
But why, you ask, dear friends, was all this not discovered when the
Great Circle had been formed, and the search was made for him? Simply
because the monster, after devouring the lost Soodopsy, retreated to his
nest and drew the dirt and crumbled rock up around him with his gigantic
flippers, and went to sleep again, as all gorged reptiles do, so that
when the searchers entered the new chamber all was as they had left it,
the mound of rock, as they had supposed it to be, in the corner
undisturbed.
With Bulger at my heels I now turned and ran with such mad haste to
Barrel Brow’s, that the whole city was thrown into the wildest disorder,
for, of course, they had felt me fly past them.
With all the quickness I could command, I wrote an account of what I had
witnessed, and when Barrel Brow communicated it to the assembled
Soodopsies, a thousand hands flew into the air, in token of mingled
fright and wonder, and a wild rush was made for Bulger and me, and we
were well-nigh smothered with kisses and caresses.
The moment the excitement had quieted down a little, a Great Circle was
immediately formed, and I was honored with a place in it, and when my
tablet was passed about, a thousand hands made signs of assent.
My plan was a simple one: it was to make a pipe connection between
Uphaslok and the new chamber, and to turn the deadly vapor into the
sleeping apartment of the gigantic monster. In this manner his despatch
would be a happy one, merely a beginning of another one of his long
naps, so far as he would know any thing about it.
This was done at once, care first being taken to make the doors of the
new chamber perfectly air tight. I was the first to enter the cavern
after the execution of the monster, and found, to my delight, that my
estimate of his length and width was correct almost to an inch.
I always had a wonderful eye for dimension and distances.
Seeing Bulger raising himself upon his hind legs, and make an effort to
dislodge something from the wall, I drew near to assist him.
Alas! it was dear, gentle, Pouting Lip’s tablet. He had been writing
upon it, and as the terrible monster advanced upon him, he had reached
up and hung it upon a silver pin on the wall. When the Soodopsies read
what their poor brother had written, there they all sat down and wrung
their hands in silent but awful grief: it ran as follows:—
“O my people! why have ye abandoned me? The air trembles; the whole
place is filled with suffocating odor. Must I die? Alas, I fear it! and
yet I would so love to feel my dear ones’ touches once more! The ground
trembles; a stifling breath is puffed into my face; I am wearied, almost
fainting, by trying to escape it. I can write no more. Don’t grieve too
long over me. It was my fault. I stayed behind, when I should have
followed. Oh, horrible, horrible! Farewell! I’m going now. A loving
touch to all—farewell!”
After waiting a few days for the grief of the Formifolk to lighten a
little, I asked them to send a number of their most skilful workmen to
assist me in removing the magnificent shell from the dead monster whose
body was fed to the fishes. They not only did this, but they also
offered to transform the shell into a beautiful boat for me, so that
when I resolved to bid them adieu, I might sail away from the City of
Silver and not be obliged to trudge along the Marble Highway. The work
went on apace. At first the polishers began their task, and in a few
days the mighty carapace glowed like a lady’s comb. Then the dainty and
cunning craftsmen in silver began their part of the work, and ere many
days the shell was fitted with a silver prow curiously wrought, like a
swan’s neck and head, while quaintly carved trimmings ran here and
there, and a dainty pair of silver sculls with a silver rudder,
beautifully chased, from which ran two little silken ropes, were added