Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
axe-bearer saw my plight and hurried forward to extricate me from the
crowd of angry people.
King Gelidus met me at the portal of his ice palace, and at his heels
came Princess Schneeboule, who could hardly wait for her turn to take a
look at the curious living creature which I unwrapped just enough to let
her see its nose.
The instant Fuffcoojah set eyes upon the sweet face of the Koltykwerpian
princess, he stretched out his little arm as a child might to its
mother. This sudden show of affection caused Schneeboule the liveliest
pleasure, and quickly drawing off one of her gloves she reached out and
stroked the animal’s head, but at the touch of those, to him, icy little
fingers he uttered a low wail and drew back underneath the warm pelt in
which he was snugly wrapped.
Poor Schneeboule! she gave a sigh as she saw him do this, but it didn’t
prevent her from coming every minute or so and lifting one end of the
pelt just enough to take another look at Fuffcoojah, who, while he never
failed to cuddle up closer to me at sight of the princess, yet
invariably thrust out one of his black paws from under the pelt for
Schneeboule to shake. While seated on the divan nearest the throne, I
observed that Phrostyphiz and Glacierbhoy were holding a whispered
conference with his frigid Majesty. At once I guessed the subject of
their conversation.
Rising to my feet, I made a sign that I wished to address the king, and
when he had nodded his head with stern and icy dignity, I began to
speak. You know, dear friends, how eloquent I can be when the mood is
upon me. Well, standing there almost upon the steps of King Gelidus’
throne of ice, I proceeded to defend myself against the charge of being
a master of the black art. I will not tell you all I said, but this was
my ending:
“May it please your frigid Majesty!
“Here beside me stands the only magician in the case, and the only art,
the only trick or charm which was exercised by him was that sweet power
we call love. When first he set eyes upon his four-footed brother locked
in the crystal cell of Schneeboule’s Grotto, he pressed his nose again
and again against its icy wall in vain attempt to know his kinsman, and
turned away with a cry of sorrow to find that his keen scent could not
penetrate to him. I cannot tell you how great was his joy when I laid
Fuffcoojah stiff and stark upon my divan, for I knew not then the scheme
ripening in Bulger’s mind. But later, all was plain enough. The loving
dog leaves his master’s breast and carries his true and tender heart
over to where Fuffcoojah lies, raises the pelt, crawls in beside him,
and presses his warm breast firm and hard against his brother’s
ice-locked heart, and warms him into life again, then wakes me and tells
me what he hath done.
“This, Royal Gelidus and most noble Koltykwerps, is the only art that
hath been used to bring Fuffcoojah back to life again, and to call it
black is to slander the sunshine, rail at the lily, and call the sweet
breath of heaven a vile and detestable thing!”
When I had ended my speech I saw that Schneeboule had been weeping, and
that several of her tears stopped in their course down her cheeks hung
there sparkling like tiny diamonds in the soft light of the alabaster
lamps, where the chill air of Gelidus’ palace had turned them into ice.
And therefore when his frigid Majesty said that my words had touched his
heart, and bade me ask for a gift from his hand, I said,—
“O cold king of this fair icy domain, let those tears that now hang like
tiny jewels on Schneeboule’s cheeks be brushed into an alabaster box and
given to me. I covet no other guerdon!”
“Even if I did not love thee, little baron,” cried King Gelidus with an
icy smile, “I would be persuaded; but loving makes easy believing. Go,
Phrostyphiz, and bid one of the princess’s women brush those tiny jewels
that hang on Schneeboule’s cheek into an alabaster cup and bestow them
upon the little baron.”
Scarcely had this been done when Fuffcoojah thrust his head out from
under the pelt and, fixing his eyes pleadingly upon me, thrust out his
tongue and opened and shut his mouth with a faint, smacking noise. Quick
as a flash it dawned upon me that these signs meant that Fuffcoojah was
hungry!
And then, as I suddenly remembered that the Koltykwerps were strictly a
meat-eating people, that only meat was to be had in their chill domain,
quarried almost like marble itself from nature’s great refrigerators, a
gasp escaped my lips, and I whispered,—
“Oh, he must die! He must die!” My words had not missed the keen ears of
Princess Schneeboule.
“Speak, little baron,” she cried, “why, why, must little Fuffcoojah die?
What dost mean by such a saying?” And when King Gelidus and Schneeboule
had heard me voice my fear that he would die rather than feed on meat,
they both became very heavy-hearted.
“Poor little Fuffcoojah!” moaned the princess, “can it be possible that
he must be carried back so soon to his crystal cell in my grotto?”
“Bid the master of my meat quarries approach the throne,” cried King
Gelidus suddenly, in a voice of icy dignity.
This important functionary soon made his appearance.
Turning to me, the king bade me explain the case to him. This I did in a
few words, when, to the great joy of all present the master of the meat
quarries spoke as follows:—
“Little baron, if that’s the only trouble, give thyself no further
uneasiness, for I shall at once send one of my men to thee with a supply
of most delicious nuts.”
“Delicious nuts?” I repeated in a tone of amazement.
“Why, yes, little baron, I have a goodly supply on hand. Know, then,
that hardly a day goes by that my men don’t come upon some fine specimen
of the family of gnawers, most generally squirrels, in whose
cheek-pouches we invariably find from one to half a dozen dainty nuts
stowed away. It has always been my custom to lay these aside, and so I
have to inform thee that if Fuffcoojah should live to be a hundred years
old I or my successor could guarantee to keep him supplied with food.”
These words lifted a terrible load off my heart, for now, at least,
Fuffcoojah would not die of starvation.
For a few days everything went well. The Koltykwerps became quite
satisfied in their own minds that I had not been practising the black
art in the chilly kingdom of his frigid Majesty, and each and every one
of them became greatly attached to the curious little creature with the
droll little face and droller manner.
But it seemed as if we were no sooner out of one trouble than we were
plumped into another, for now Fuffcoojah began to object to the
attendant selected to look after him by King Gelidus.
The man was about ten degrees too cold-blooded for him, and ere long it
was only necessary for the Koltykwerp to approach Fuff,—as we called him
for short,—in order to throw him into convulsions of shivering and to
cause him to utter pitiable cries of discontent, which only ceased upon
my appearing and comforting him by my caresses.
I now set to work to devise some way to make Fuff’s life more agreeable
to him, for everybody seemed to hold me responsible for his well being.
Ten times a day came messengers from King Gelidus or from Princess
Schneeboule to ask how he was getting on, and whether we were keeping
him warm enough, whether he had all he wanted to eat, whether he had
pelts enough on his bed. Nor was it an unusual thing to have a score or
more Koltykwerpian mothers call at my quarters during a single day with
advice enough to last a month, and therefore was it that, with a view to
providing him with a warmer room to sleep in, I ordered a divan fitted
up for him in a smaller chamber opening into mine, upon the walls of
which I directed half a dozen of the largest lamps to be hung.
The consequence was that the walls began to melt, hearing of which,
consternation spread throughout the icy domain of his frigid Majesty,
for to the mind of a Koltykwerp heat powerful enough to melt ice was
something terrible. It was like the dread of earthquake shock to us, or
the fear of flood or flame. It was something that filled their hearts
with such terror that in their dreams they saw the solid walls of the
ice palace melt asunder and fall with a crash. They could not bear it,
and so King Gelidus put forth the decree that if there were no other way
to keep Fuffcoojah alive, then must he die.
Hearing this, an awful grief came upon poor Schneeboule’s heart, for she
had learned to love little Fuff very dearly, and it set a knife in her
breast to think of losing him.
“Never, never,” she cried, “shall I be able to set foot within my grotto
if Fuffcoojah is put back into his crystal prison again, with his frozen
smile on his face as once used to be.” And seeking out her royal father
she threw herself at his knees and spoke as follows:—
“O heart of ice! O frigid Majesty, let not thy child die of grief. There
is an easy way out of all our trouble with dear little Fuffcoojah.”
“Speak, beloved Schneeboule,” answered King Gelidus, “let me hear what
it is.”
“Why, cold heart,” said the princess, “the little baron hath plenty of
warmth stored away in his body, he hath enough for both himself and
Fuffcoojah into the bargain. Therefore, frigid father, command that a
deep, warm hood be made to the little baron’s coat, and that Fuffcoojah
be placed therein and be borne about by the little baron wherever he
goeth. He will soon grow accustomed to the slender burden and note it no
more.”
“It shall be as thou wishest,” replied the king of the Koltykwerps; and
calling his trusty councillor, Glacierbhoy, he directed him to summon me
at once to the throne-room. When I heard this terrible order issue from
the icy lips of King Gelidus my heart sank within me, and yet I dared
not disobey, I dared not murmur, for I it was who had cleft asunder the
crystal prison of the Little Man with the Frozen Smile; I who had made
it possible for Bulger to warm him back to life again. Oh, poor, vain,
weak, foolish boy that I had been, what was to become of me now?
CHAPTER XXVIII
HOW A LITTLE BURDEN MAY GROW TO BE A GRIEVOUS ONE.—STORY OF A MAN
WITH A MONKEY IN HIS HOOD.—MY TERRIBLE SUFFERING.—CONCERNING THE
AWFUL PANIC THAT SEIZED UPON THE KOLTYKWERPS.—MY VISIT TO THE
DESERTED ICE-PALACE, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO FUFFCOOJAH.—END OF HIS
BRIEF BUT STRANGE CAREER.—A FROZEN KISS ON A BLADE OF HORN, OR HOW
SCHNEEBOULE CHOSE A HUSBAND.
Ah, little princess, how easy was it for thee to say that I would soon
grow accustomed to the slender burden and note it no more? How prone are
we to call light the burdens which we lay upon the shoulders of others
for our own benefit? True, Fuffcoojah was not as long as a horse, nor as
broad as an ox, and when in accordance with the king’s decree the hood
had been completed and the little animal was stowed away therein, close
against my back so as to get a goodly share of the warmth of my body, it
seemed to me that Schneeboule was right, that I would soon become
accustomed to the load and note it no more. And so it seemed the second
and the third day, but not on the fourth; for on that day the little
load appeared to have gained somewhat in weight, and although I was
quick to feign that it was not so when Princess Schneeboule quizzed me
saying,—
“There, little baron, did I not tell thee that thou wouldst soon forget
that Fuffcoojah slept upon thy shoulders?” yet in my heart I felt that
he really had grown a mite heavier.
On the fifth day Bulger and I were bidden to a merry-making at the
palace of ice, and as I rose from my divan to betake me thither,
methought I was strangely heavy-hearted, and so did Bulger, for he made