O'FUDGE
The next time Billy alighted he examined his suit with great care, for
fear his adventures with the Bug Bears had strained the patch over the
puncture, but to his great delight he found that it held as tightly as
ever.
As it happened, he had stopped on a dusty highway just outside the
gates of a city. We will call it a city because Billy later learned
that its inhabitants did so, but to Billy's gaze it seemed but a
collection of the poorest huts.
[Illustration: _The Herald._]
And as he stood punching and pulling and examining his suit a party of
horsemen and horsewomen rode up. A few feet in advance of the rest of
the party rode a tattered and torn individual on a lame horse. In his
hand he carried a battered old fish horn on which he occasionally blew
a feeble blast; this he followed by calling in a voice loud enough to
make up for the wheeziness of his horn,
"Out of the way, out of the way O--the King rides."
"What if he does?" said Billy to himself. "I do too when I can catch
behind a street car."
"Out of the way," cried the man, pulling up his horse, "out of the way,
boy."
"I'm not in the way, there's plenty of room for you to pass, and I
don't want to climb down into the ditch," said Billy.
"But the King passes--out of the way."
"Well, I'll be in that town by the time he comes along."
"He is here, varlet."
"Where?"
"That noble looking gentleman in rich raiment--true, a trifle
faded--but rich--he that rides alone."
"Do you mean the one on the blind mare?"
"True, the mare is blind, but that is her misfortune not her fault--she
comes of fine stock. Yes, that is our great and noble Comic Paper Irish
King O'Fudge."
"A Comic Paper Irish King," said Billy. "Is he Irish?"
"No," said the Horn Man, "not really Irish, he's the kind of Irish they
have in Comic Papers."
[Illustration: _O'Fudge, the Comic Paper Irish King._]
Billy was bewildered--he looked from the King to his company, from the
company to the Horn Man and then back again to the King. Such a faded,
worn, torn, uncut, unshaven and unkempt crowd he had never seen outside
of a company of beggars. And such nags as they bestrode. The lame, the
halt, and the blind were all represented among their horses, while
donkeys and mules in all states of decrepitude carried others.
"So that is the King?" said Billy.
"Ay! the King and his retinue of noble ladies and gentlemen--out of the
way."
Here the King spoke, "Phwat detains our noble silf Herald?"
"And so this crazy quilt is the Herald, is it?" said Billy to himself
and true enough when he examined the man's tattered clothes more
closely he saw that he wore a much dilapidated Herald's Tabard.
"A base born fat boy, your serene Highness, who refuses to out of the
way, though I have outed him several times."
"I can't, your Honor--" began Billy.
"Treason," cried a voice, "he called his Highness your Honor."
"That's Lèse Majesty," whispered the Herald to Billy.
"Oh! is that his name?"--then turning to the King he bowed low and
said, "I beg your pardon, Your Lazy Majesty."
"Treason!" cried the company of men, spurring their horses into a rapid
walk. "He called his Majesty lazy."
"I thought that was his name," said Billy. "Mr. Herald here told me it
was."
"I didn't," cried the Herald in consternation.
"Silence," said the King, riding up. "I will hear this case, and bye,
if it is true that you hov miscalled me, it's to de lowest dongin wid
yez!"
"Indeed your Serene, Contented, Happy, Highness, Majesty O'Fudge," said
Billy, giving him all the titles he could remember and a few extra by
way of good measure. "I meant no disrespect."
"Hold," interrupted the King; "before we go further we must call out
the gyard to gyard this bye--General Swash Buckler, do your dooty, no
matter how pleasant it may be."
"Ay! Ay! also I salute your Majesty," said a fierce looking old man,
saluting and riding a few paces to the rear. Then saluting the air, he
gravely said:
"Colonel Swash Buckler--you have heard the orders, execute them." Then
turning his horse around, he saluted the spot where he had just been
sitting. "Very good, General, I will do so at once." Again turning his
horse, he saluted the air, saying, "Captain Swash Buckler, you have
heard the orders--execute them." Again he turned his horse and saluted
the spot where he had just been sitting, saying, "Very good, Colonel, I
will do so at once." This time he looked down at the ground and said,
"Lieutenant Swash Buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them."
Then climbing down to the ground he saluted the saddle, "Very good,
Captain, I will do so at once." He quickly turned on his heel and
called, "Sergeant Swash Buckler, you have heard the orders--execute
them," and saluting he said respectfully, "Very good, Lieutenant, I
will do so at once." Then in a hoarse commanding voice he called,
"Private Swash Buckler, you have heard the orders--execute them." This
time he saluted cringingly. "Very good, Sergeant, I will do so at
once," and marched solemnly to Billy's side, halted and saluted, "It is
done."
"How's that for quick work, me bye, and what do ye think of me ar-rmy?"
said King O'Fudge proudly.
"Oh! is that your army--your _entire_ army?" asked Billy, who had
watched the proceedings with surprise and amusement.
"It is," said the King. "Sometimes it's me sitting ar-my, but
now it's me standing ar-m-y. There has never yet been mutiny or
insubordination--it stands as wan man by its King. It can move rapidly
and without much noise, and above all things it is most economical to
maintain."
"I'm sure it's very fine, sir--I mean Your Majesty," said Billy.
"And now, bye, why did ye call me, the Irish King O'Fudge, a Lazy
Majesty?"
"I meant nothing wrong, sir, but when I said, your Honor, Mr. Herald
here whispered to me that's Lèse Majesty."
"So that's the way the wind blows--Herald, explain."
The Herald bent one knee, "Your Highness, I but explained to the
fat boy that he had committed Lèse Majesty, which means that he had
insulted you--it's Latin."
"It's Latin, is it?" cried the King. "Latin, you say? How dare you talk
Latin before me when Brogue is the court language? I fine you a month's
pay."
"But, your Majesty's pardon, I have received no pay for two years."
"Sure," said the King, "and your salary is $3.75 a month."
"Yes, sire," said the Herald, smiling, because he thought the King
was going to give him all his back pay. "Yes, sire, forgive me for
reminding you."
"You are forgiven," said the King, "and now, Gyard, search him and take
from his pockets $3.75."
"But your Majesty," began the Herald.
"Enough, I can't remit the fine, and if you have the money you must pay
it."
In a jiffy Private Swash Buckler had fished $3.75 in nickels and dimes
from the Herald's pockets and handed it to the King.
"And now me vartuous subjects, give three cheers for your noble and
generous king, and we will enter the City."
"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried the people--even the Herald gave three feeble
toots on his horn.
"Good-bye," said Billy, hoping that by this gentle hint they would
understand that he did not desire their company any further. Indeed he
felt uneasy about the few coppers in his own pockets in the presence of
such a free handed King.
"Not so fast, me young friend," said the King; "you must come with us."
"Truly, your Majesty, I haven't the time," said Billy.
"I didn't ask you for the time," said the King, "so whether you have it
or haven't it you'll have to take it--forward!"
And Billy found himself in the grasp of Private Swash Buckler, and
being led in the direction of the City.
They hadn't far to go, and in spite of their naturally slow progress
with such sorry steeds, Billy soon found himself within the gates.
And oh! what a place. Dirty, miry streets, pigs every place,
tumbledown, leaky roofed houses and ragged people. And the
palace--well, Billy would never in the world have known it for a palace
if the King hadn't told him it was. It was simply a larger, dirtier,
more tumbledown house than any of the others, with more and fatter pigs
in the front yard.
"Bring in the prisoner, Gyard," said the King, dismounting and picking
his way up the tottering steps.
"Prisoner," cried Billy, "what have I done to be made a prisoner?"
"I don't know yet," said the King, "but I will find something. We
haven't had a prisoner for years, and now that I've got one I'm not
going to let him go again for such a simple reason as his having done
nothing wrong--am I right, ladies and gentlemen?"
"Always right--never left," cried the retinue, who were now entering
the palace.
"I thought you would agree with me," said the King, "but sometimes I'm
left--it's a poor ruler that doesn't work both ways--come in."
Billy was hustled into the palace, which he found hung with torn and
faded tapestry. The floor had not been swept or scrubbed for years, and
there did not seem to be a solid four legged chair in the room with
the exception perhaps of the throne, which was built entirely of Irish
potatoes.
"And now," said the King, putting his crown rakishly on one side of
his head, "now I'm prepared to open court. First, has any one here any
petitions--in writing?"
When he said this an old man hobbled up, and kneeling with many
crackings of joints before the King, laid a paper at his feet.
"What is it?" asked the King.
"A request, sire, that my daughter----"
"Refused," said O'Fudge. "Who's next, please--leave the papers."
"But, sire----"
"I positively must refuse, but I thank you for the petition; me crown
is a bit too large for comfort," and folding the paper into a strip he
placed it in his crown, which he put on with much satisfaction.
"So that's over with--bring the bye before me."
"He is here, sire," said Private Swash Buckler, leading Billy before
the throne. "Kneel, boy."
"What's your name?" said the King.
"Billy Bounce," said Billy.
And what a shout and roar went up from the company--even the King
jumped to his feet in his excitement and threw his crown into the air.
"Billy Bounce!" they cried, "Billy Bounce--we've caught Billy Bounce!"
"What a good day's work!" cried the King--"$3.75 from the Herald and
$5.99 from Bumbus for catching Billy Bounce."
"But, your Majesty--" began Billy.
"Don't talk to me," interrupted the King, "unless you can offer $6.00
to be set free."
"Alas! I haven't that much," said Billy.
"Too bad--too bad," said O'Fudge; "and now I suppose I'll have to off
with your head."
"Oh! sir--please, please don't!" cried Billy, struggling with Swash
Buckler.
"Don't lose your head," said the King, "because I want to have it
chopped off."
"But, sir--" began Billy.
"Sire," and a gray-bearded man, wearing a tall pointed cap and a long,
flowing gown covered with the signs of the Zodiac, walked to the King's
side and whispered in his ear.
"Are ye sure?" whispered O'Fudge.
"Certain, your Majesty," answered the man.
"The Court Astrologer," announced the King to the people, "tells me
that Billy Bounce's star predicts that anyone who kills him will
himself be hanged."
"Then I'll be hanged if I do!" cried the executioner, throwing down his
meat cleaver.
[Illustration: _The Astrologer._]
"What are we to do with him then?" said the King, scratching his head.
"I don't want to keep him here, or he will eat me out of house and
home--I know what boys are."
"Let me go, your Majesty!" cried Billy hopefully.
"And lose $5.99--twice the national debt--oh! no. Has anyone else any
suggestions to make?"
"Let me cast his horoscope again, sire--maybe the stars will show us a
way out," said the Astrologer.
"Good," said O'Fudge, "begin at once."
"By daylight?"
"Why, of course, you can see better by day--do not argue but away."
And off the Astrologer trotted, shaking his head in perplexity.
Billy felt Barker stirring uneasily in his pocket, and in order to
shift his position took him out into his arms.
As soon as O'Fudge saw him he said: "Ho! a dog--this changes things.
Astrologer, include the Dog star in your calculations."
Billy had been idly scraping his foot on the dirty floor, so that he
really had made a little hole there, when, greatly to his surprise,
Barker wriggled out of his arms and barked into the hole. Up sprang the
Singing Tree and at once began to sing in a soft, dreamy voice a sleep
song.
A strange and sudden silence fell over the room. O'Fudge sank back onto
his throne and closed his eyes, while a contented smile came over his
face.
Swash Buckler's hand dropped from Billy's arm, his head nodded and he
fell in a heap.
So it was throughout the Palace--slumber overpowered all who heard the
song excepting Billy and Barker. In a moment all that Billy heard was
the Singing Tree and a loud chorus of snores.
You can imagine that it didn't take him long to run out of the door
with Barker in his arms and jump away from the land of O'Fudge, the
Comic Paper Irish King.