Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
sun was powerless to give it back again. The animals of the wild wood
and the beasts of the field, overtaken in their flight, perished as they
ran and stood there stark and stiff, with heads uptossed and muscles
knotted. Them by the thousands and ten times thousands the crushed
crystals of the pursuing floods caught up like moss and leaves in a
mountain torrent and packed in every cave and cavern on the way, tearing
broader and loftier portals into these subterranean chambers, so that
they might do their work the better!
“And these, then, O Bullibrain, are your meat quarries,” I exclaimed,
“whence ye draw your daily food?”
“Even so, little baron,” replied the hot-headed Koltykwerp, “and not
only our food, but the skins which serve us so admirably for clothing in
this cold, under ground world, and the oil, too, which burns in our
beautiful alabaster lamps, besides a hundred other things, such as bone
for helves and handles, horn for needles and buttons and eating
utensils, wool for the weaving of our under-garments, and magnificent
pelts of bear and seal and walrus, which, laid upon our benches and
divans of crystal ice, transform them into beds and couches which even
an inhabitant of thy world might envy.”
“But, O Bullibrain,” I cried out, “have ye not almost exhausted these
supplies? Will not death from starvation soon stare ye all in the face
in these deep and icy caverns of the under world, visited by the sun’s
light yet unwarmed by it?”
“Nay, little baron,” answered Bullibrain with a smile almost as warm as
one of my own; “let not that thought give thee a moment’s alarm, for we
have as yet barely raised the lid of this ice-box of nature’s packing.
We are not large eaters any way,” continued Lord Hot Head, “for while it
is true that we are not indolent people, for his frigid Majesty’s palace
and our dwellings need constant repair, and new hatchets and axes must
be chipped out in the flint quarries and new lamps carved and new
garments woven, yet it is also true that we take life rather easy. We
have no enemies to slay, no quarrels to settle, no gold to fight over,
no land to drive our fellow-creatures from and fence in; nor can we be
ill, if we were willing to be, for in this pure, cold, crisp air disease
would try in vain to sow her poison germs; hence, needing no doctors, we
have none, as we have no lawyers either, or merchants to sell us what
belongs to us already. His frigid Majesty is an excellent king. I never
read of a better one. I doubt that his like exists in the upper world.
Always cool headed, no thought of conquest, no dreams of power, no
longings for empty pomp and show ever enter his mind. Since the day his
father died and we set the great Koltykwerp crown of crystal ice upon
his cool brow, his temperature has never risen but a half a degree, and
that was only for a brief hour or so, and was occasioned by a mad
proposal of one of his councillors, who claimed that he had discovered
an explosive compound, something like the gunpowder of thy world, I
fancy, by which he could shatter the glorious window of rock crystal set
in the mountain dome of our under world and let in the warm sunshine.”
“Did his frigid Majesty Gelidus put this daring Koltykwerp to death?” I
asked.
“Oh, dear, no,” replied Bullibrain; “he merely ordered him to be
refrigerated for so many hours a day until all his feverish projects had
been chilled to death; for no doubt, little baron, a man of thy deep
learning knows full well that all the ills which thy world suffers from
are the children of fevered brains, of minds made restless and visionary
by the high temperature of the blood which gallops through the
approaches to the dome of thought, stirring up wild dreams and visions
as thy sun lifts the poisonous vapor from the stagnant pool.”
The more I listened to Bullibrain the more I liked him. The fact of the
matter is, I preferred to sit in his narrow cell with its plain walls of
ice lighted up by a single alabaster lamp and converse with him to
loitering in the splendid throne-room of his frigid Majesty King
Gelidus; but Bulger had discovered that the pelts of Princess
Schneeboule’s divan were much thicker, softer, and warmer than the
single one allowed Lord Hot Head, and therefore he preferred spending
his time with her; but fearing lest he might get into mischief, I didn’t
dare to leave him alone with the princess too long at a time.
CHAPTER XXIV
SOME FEW THINGS CONCERNING THE DEAR LITTLE PRINCESS SCHNEEBOULE.—HOW
SHE AND I BECAME FAST FRIENDS, AND HOW ONE DAY SHE CONDUCTED
BULGER AND ME INTO HER FAVORITE GROTTO TO SEE THE LITTLE MAN WITH
THE FROZEN SMILE.—SOMETHING ABOUT HIM.—WHAT CAME OF MY HAVING
LOOKED UPON HIM QUITE FULLY DESCRIBED.
At the time of Bulger’s and my arrival in the land of the Koltykwerps
the Princess Schneeboule was about fifteen years of age, and I must say
that rarely had it been my good fortune to make the acquaintance of such
a sweet-tempered, lovable little creature. She flitted about the ice
palace like a beam of sunlight, and there was nothing of the spoiled
child about her, although a bit mischievous at times.
Her voice was as full of music as a skylark’s, and it was not many days
before she and I had become the best friends in the world.
Now, you must know, dear friends, that according to the law of the
Koltykwerps, a princess is left absolutely free to choose her own
husband, and his frigid Majesty was very anxious that Schneeboule should
pick hers out as soon as possible. Moreover, the law of the land gave
her perfect freedom to choose a husband of high or low degree, provided
he was young enough. The way in which a Koltykwerp princess was required
to make known her preference was to press a kiss upon the cheek of the
young man whom she might settle upon. This ennobled him at once, and he
became the heir apparent to the throne of ice, and entitled to sit on
its steps until he should be crowned king.
Now, his frigid Majesty was delighted to see this friendship spring up
between Schneeboule and me, for he hoped to make use of my influence to
bring her to set the necessary kiss on some youth’s cheek before I took
my departure from the cold Kingdom of the Koltykwerps. I gave him the
word of a nobleman that I would do my best to carry out his wishes.
With Schneeboule for a guide, Bulger and I often went for walks through
the splendid ice grottos of her father’s kingdom, selecting days when
the sunlight of the outer world poured strongest through the mighty lens
set in the side of the mountain. Then these grottos took on a splendor
that my poor tongue is powerless to describe. Their crystal mazes
glittered as if their walls were set with massive jewels most
wonderfully cut and polished, and as if their ceilings were fretted with
gems so peerless that all the gold of the upper world would fall far
short of paying for them. Here, there, and everywhere the skill of the
Koltykwerps had carved and chiselled graceful flights of steps, broad
landings with majestic columns, and winding corridors lined with long
rows of statues, single and group-wise; and ever and anon the visitor
came upon a terrace where, seated upon a fur-covered divan, he might
look out upon the bewildering beauty of King Gelidus’ icy domains, arch
touching arch and dome springing from dome, while over and above all,
through the gigantic lens in its granite setting, a mile above our
heads, streamed a flood of glorious sunlight, lighting up this World
within a World with a radiance so grand and so complete as to seem to be
a sun of a far greater splendor than the one that warmed the upper world
and bathed it in so many gorgeous hues at morn and eve. Hardly a day
went by now that the princess of the Koltykwerps did not surprise either
Bulger or me with some gift or other.
To tell the truth, dear friends, although my Russian coat was
fur-trimmed, yet I began to feel the need of warmer garments after a
week’s sojourn in the icy domain of King Gelidus, and I think
Schneeboule must have heard my teeth chattering, for one morning, upon
entering the Palace of Ice, I was delighted to be presented with a full
suit of fur precisely similar to the one worn by King Gelidus himself.
Nor was Bulger forgotten by the loving little Princess, for with her own
hands she had knitted him a blanket of the softest wool, which she
belted so snugly around his body and tied so tightly around his neck
that henceforth he felt perfectly comfortable in the chill air of the
home of the Koltykwerps.
One day the Princess Schneeboule said to me,—
“Oh, come, little baron, come to my favorite grotto, now that the sun’s
rays are bright within it; there shalt thou see a wonder.”
“A wonder, Princess Schneeboule?”
“Yes, little baron, a wonder,” she repeated: “the Little Man with the
Frozen Smile.”
“Little Man with the Frozen Smile?” I echoed.
“Come and see, come and see, little baron!” cried Schneeboule, hurrying
on ahead.
In a few moments we had reached the grotto and bounded into it with the
Princess leading the way.
Suddenly she halted in front of a magnificent block of crystal ice,
clear as polished glass, and cried out,—
“There, look! There is the Little Man with the Frozen Smile!”
Even now, as the thought of that moment comes over me, I feel something
of the thrill of half fear, half joy, as my eyes fell upon the little
creature shut in that superb block of ice, himself a part of it, himself
its heart, its contents, its mystery. There, in its centre, in easy
posture, with wide opened eyes, and with what might be called a smile
upon its face—that is a glint of kindliness and affection in its strange
eyes with their overhanging brows, sat a small animal of the chimpanzee
race. He had possibly been asleep when the icy flood struck him,
dreaming of beautiful trees bending beneath purple fruit, of cloudless
skies above and a coral beach below, and death had come to him so
quickly that he had become a brother to this block of ice while the
happy dream was still in his thoughts.
It was wonderful, it was more than wonderful! Spellbound by the strange
spectacle, I stood there, I know not how long, with my eyes looking into
his. At last Schneeboule’s voice aroused me:
“Ha! ha!” she laughed; “look, little baron, Bulger is trying to kiss his
poor dead brother.”
In truth, Bulger did have his nose pressed firmly against the block of
ice in his effort to scent the strange animal imprisoned in that crystal
cell—so near, and yet so far beyond the reach of his keen scent.
“Well, little baron,” cried Schneeboule, “did I not speak truly? Have I
not shown thee the Little Man with the Frozen Smile?”
“Indeed thou hast, fair princess,” was my reply; “and I cannot tell thee
how grateful I am to thee for having done so.”
Then, as she plucked me by the sleeve, I pleaded, “Nay, gentle
Schneeboule, not yet, not yet, let me bide a bit longer. The Little Man
with the Frozen Smile seems to beg me not to go. I can almost imagine
that I hear him whisper: ‘O little baron, break open the crystal cell of
my prison and take me with thee back to the world of sunshine, back to
the land of the orange-tree, where the soft warm winds used to rock me
to sleep in the cradle of the swaying boughs, while the wise and
watchful patriarch of our flock stood guard over us all.’”
Schneeboule’s big, round, gray eyes filled with tears at these words.
“Would that he were alive, little baron,” she murmured, “and that I
could give him some of my happiness to pay him back for all the long
years he has been spending in his icy prison.”
In a few moments Schneeboule took me by the hand and led me away from