THE CAPTAIN AND THE LAMB
For a few seconds Arnold did not know what to answer. One of the
hard, dried beans had struck him on the nose, and, while it did not
hurt very much, it made his eyes water and he could not see what was
happening.
But the beans kept on falling about the porch, and one struck a Tin
Soldier and knocked him over. This Soldier was a very small chap. He
was, in fact, the drummer boy.
"But who is shooting the beans at us?" cried Mirabell, as she lay
down on the porch behind her Lamb on Wheels.
"I don't know who is pegging beans at us," said Arnold, looking
around and out toward the street. "It isn't my Soldiers, for their
tin guns can only make believe shoot."
Just then some shouts were heard and more beans came rattling across
the porch, some, once more, hitting the Lamb, Arnold, and the Tin
Soldiers.
"Oh, look, Arnold!" suddenly called his sister. "I see who is doing
it!"
"Who?" he asked.
"A lot of rough boys! Look! They, have bean-blowers!"
As she spoke more shouts sounded and more beans came flying swiftly
over the porch.
"Shoot the Tin Soldiers! Shoot the Tin Soldiers!" cried the rough
boys. There were three of them, and, as Mirabell had said, they had
long tin bean, or putty, blowers. They were blowing the beans at the
boy and his sister on the porch.
Rattle and bang went the hard dried beans, but the Bold Tin Soldier
Captain and his men stood bravely up under the shower of bean
bullets. The Red Cross Nurse Doll was brave, too, and did not run
away, while the Lamb on Wheels stood on her wooden platform and
never so much as blinked an eye as bean after bean struck her.
"Shoot the Tin Soldiers! Shoot the woolly Lamb!" cried the bad boys,
as they, blew more beans.
"Here! You stop shooting beans at us!" cried Arnold. "Do you hear
me? You stop it!"
"Ho! Ho! We won't stop for you! You can't make us!" shouted the
boys, and they were going to blow more beans, but just then Patrick,
the gardener next door, came along with some seeds he had been down
to the store to buy.
"Patrick!" called Mirabell.
Patrick saw the bad boys blowing beans at Mirabell and Arnold, and,
with a shout, the gardener chased the unpleasant lads away.
"Be off out of here and let my children alone!" cried Patrick, for
he considered Dorothy and Dick and Arnold and Mirabell as his
special "children," and was always watching to see that no harm came
to them. And once Patrick had saved the Lamb on Wheels, as you may
read in the book written specially about that toy.
"Did they hurt you, Mirabell or Arnold?" asked the gardener, as he
came back from chasing the boys.
"No, thank you, not much," Arnold answered. "One bean struck me on
the nose, but it didn't hurt--hardly any."
"And one bean knocked over one of your Soldiers, Arnold," said
Mirabell.
"He's the drummer boy--I guess he isn't hurt any," returned the boy,
and he set the Tin Drummer on his feet again.
"Well, well! You have a fine regiment of soldiers, there!" said
Patrick. "A fine regiment. What are you going to do with 'em,
Arnold?"
"We're going to have a make-believe battle, now that the boys with
the beans have gone away," Arnold replied.
"And my Wooden Doll is going to be a Bed Cross Nurse," added
Mirabell. "And if any of the Soldiers get hurt I'll give them a ride
on the back of my Lamb."
"Oh, sure and you'll have dandy times!" laughed Patrick.
Then Arnold and Mirabell had fun playing on the porch with the Tin
Soldiers, the wooden cannon, the Doll and the Lamb on Wheels. Back
and forth Arnold marched his two companies of Soldiers, firing the
make-believe guns in regular bang-bang style.
Sometimes he would pretend a Soldier was wounded, though, of course,
none of them really was, and Mirabell would make the Red Cross Nurse
Doll look after the injured. And when the battle was nearly over
Arnold made believe that a dozen or more of his Tin Soldiers were
hurt.
"Oh, my Doll nurse can't look after so many hurt soldiers!" objected
the little girl. "There's too many!"
"Put 'em on the back of your Lamb and make believe it's an
ambulance," said Arnold, and Mirabell did this.
So the two children continued to play together with Arnold's new
soldier toys. And then, just as the last bang-bang gun was fired,
Susan, the jolly, good-natured cook, called:
"Come, children! I have a little pie I baked especially for you two.
It is just out of the oven! Come and get some while it is hot!"
And you may well believe that Mirabell and Arnold did not wait--they
ran at once, leaving their toys on the porch.
"Well, now we have a chance to rest," said the Bold Tin Soldier
Captain to his men. "Whew! that battle was surely as lively as the
one we had in the store the other night."
"I should say so!" agreed the Sergeant. "The bayonet on my gun is
bent."
"Well, that shows you have been to war," said the Captain. "And now
we must thank the Red Cross Doll and the Lamb on Wheels for what
they did for us during the make-believe fight."
"Oh, I didn't do much," cried the Wooden Doll, with a laugh. "None
of you was really hurt, you know."
"That is true," agreed the Captain. "But if we had really been
wounded you would have helped us, I am sure."
"Yes," admitted the Doll, "I surely would."
"And I was only too glad to have you ride on my back," said the Lamb
on Wheels. "It is so good to meet you again, Captain," she went on.
"Quite like old times. We have a few minutes now, while the children
are away, getting their pie. Do tell me what happened to the Calico
Clown."
"His trousers were burned," said the Captain. "And because Arnold
bought me and my men I had to leave the store before I could see the
new trousers the girl was going to make. But I'll tell you all about
it," and the Bold Tin Soldier did.
"Did he ever tell the answer to that riddle of what it is that makes
more noise than a pig under a gate?" asked the Lamb.
"No, he never did," said the Captain. "I meant to ask him, but I
came away in a hurry, you see."
"Yes, we toys don't generally have much say as to what we shall or
shall not do," bleated the Lamb. "I have been puzzling over that
riddle myself."
"The next time I see the Calico Clown I will ask him the answer,"
declared the Captain. "There is no need of making such a secret
about it. But, speaking of the store, it was lonesome there after
you and the Sawdust Doll and the White Rocking Horse came away."
"Really? Did you miss me?" asked the Lamb.
"Indeed we did," declared the Captain. "And, in a way, I am glad I
was bought and brought away. One reason is that now I may have some
adventures, and another reason is that I have seen you again."
"It is very nice of you to say that," said the Lamb.
"Is there any chance of seeing the Sawdust Doll or the White Rocking
Horse again?" asked the Captain.
"Yes, indeed! Every chance in the world," was the Lamb's answer.
"Why, they only live next door. The Sawdust Doll belongs to a little
girl named Dorothy, and the White Rocking Horse to a boy named
Dick."
Then the Wooden Doll, who was a Red Cross Nurse, the Lamb on Wheels
and the Bold Tin Soldier and his Tin Men talked together for some
little time longer, while Arnold and Mirabell were in the kitchen
eating the pie Susan had so kindly baked for them.
All of a sudden, as the Lamb was telling the Soldier some of her
adventures, and how she had floated downstream on a raft, something
fluttered down out of a tree near the porch, and the Lamb cried:
"Ouch!"
"What is the matter?" asked the Bold Tin Soldier. "Did a bee sting
you?"
"No, that was a bird!" bleated the Lamb on Wheels. "And did you see
what he did?"
"No! what?" asked the Soldier.
"Why, that bird flew right down out of a tree and grabbed a beak
full of wool off my back," went on the Lamb. "Gracious, how he
pulled!"
And while the Captain was getting ready to say something, down flew
the bird again, and he plucked another beak full of loose, soft
wool, pulling it from the Lamb's back.
"Ouch! Oh, how you pull! Please stop!" bleated the Lamb.
The Bold Tin Soldier drew his sword.
"Look here, Mr. Bird!" cried the Captain. "I do not want to hurt
you, but I can not allow you to pull wool from the back of my
friend, Miss Lamb. You must stop it, or I will drive you away with
my shiny, tin sword, as I drove away the bad rat that wanted to
nibble the ears of the Candy Rabbit! Stop it, Mr. Bird!"
"Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!" chirped the Bird. "Please let me pull some
more wool from your back, Miss Lamb," and he fluttered in the air
with his beak wide open, while the Bold Tin Soldier, with drawn
sword, took a step forward.
What was going to happen?