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.
[Illustration: BLUDGEONHEAD COMES TO THE RESCUE. PAGE 187.]
[Blank Page]
"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?"