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[Illustration:
ONLY AUTHENTIC PORTRAIT OF
WILHELM HEINRICH SEBASTIAN VON TROOMP
(FROM THE OIL PAINTING).
]
BARON TRUMP’S
MARVELLOUS
UNDERGROUND
JOURNEY
BY
INGERSOLL LOCKWOOD
AUTHOR OF “TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF LITTLE BARON TRUMP AND HIS
WONDERFUL DOG
BULGER” “WONDERFUL DEEDS AND DOINGS OF LITTLE GIANT BOAB AND HIS
TALKING RAVEN TABIB” “EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCES OF LITTLE
CAPTAIN DOPPELKOP ON THE SHORES OF BUBBLELAND” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES HOWARD JOHNSON
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
10 MILK STREET
1893
COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY INGERSOLL LOCKWOOD
_All Rights Reserved_
MARVELLOUS UNDERGROUND JOURNEY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF WILHELM HEINRICH
SEBASTIAN VON TROOMP, COMMONLY
CALLED LITTLE BARON TRUMP
As doubting Thomases seem to take particular pleasure in popping up on
all occasions, Jack-in-the-Box-like, it may be well to head them off in
this particular instance by proving that Baron Trump was a real baron,
and not a mere baron of the mind. The family was originally French
Huguenot—De la Trompe—which, upon the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
in 1685, took refuge in Holland, where its head assumed the name of Van
der Troomp, just as many other of the French Protestants rendered their
names into Dutch. Some years later, upon the invitation of the Elector
of Brandenburg, Niklas Van der Troomp became a subject of that prince,
and purchased a large estate in the province of Pomerania, again
changing his name, this time to Von Troomp.
The “Little Baron,” so called from his diminutive stature, was born some
time in the latter part of the seventeenth century. He was the last of
his race in the direct line, although cousins of his are to-day
well-known Pomeranian gentry. He began his travels at an incredibly
early age, and filled his castle with such strange objects picked up
here and there in the far away corners of the world, that the
simple-minded peasantry came to look upon him as half bigwig and half
magician—hence the growth of the many myths and fanciful stories
concerning this indefatigable globe-trotter. The date of his death
cannot be fixed with any certainty; but this much may be said: Among the
portraits of Pomeranian notables hanging in the Rathhaus at Stettin,
there is one picturing a man of low stature, and with a head much too
large for his body. He is dressed in some outlandish costume, and holds
in his left hand a grotesque image in ivory, most elaborately carved.
The broad face is full of intelligence, and the large gray eyes are
lighted up with a good-natured but quizzical look that invariably
attracts attention. The man’s right hand rests upon the back of a dog
sitting on a table and looking straight out with an air of dignity that
shows that he knew he was sitting for his portrait.
If a visitor asks the guide who this man is, he always gets for answer:—
“Oh, that’s the Little Baron!”
But little Baron who, that’s the question?
Why may it not be the famous Wilhelm Heinrich Sebastian von Troomp,
commonly called “Little Baron Trump,” and his wonderful dog Bulger?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
BULGER IS GREATLY ANNOYED BY THE FAMILIARITY OF THE VILLAGE DOGS
AND THE PRESUMPTION OF THE HOUSE CATS.—HIS HEALTH SUFFERS
THEREBY, AND HE IMPLORES ME TO SET OUT ON MY TRAVELS AGAIN. I
READILY CONSENT, FOR I HAD BEEN READING OF THE WORLD WITHIN A
WORLD IN A MUSTY OLD MS. WRITTEN BY THE LEARNED DON FUM.—PARTING
INTERVIEWS WITH THE ELDER BARON AND THE GRACIOUS BARONESS MY
MOTHER.—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE. 1
CHAPTER II.
DON FUM’s MYSTERIOUS DIRECTIONS.—BULGER AND I SET OUT FOR
PETERSBURG, AND THENCE PROCEED TO ARCHANGEL.—THE STORY OF OUR
JOURNEY AS FAR AS ILITCH ON THE ILITCH.—IVAN THE TEAMSTER.—HOW
WE MADE OUR WAY NORTHWARD IN SEARCH OF THE PORTALS TO THE WORLD
WITHIN A WORLD.—IVAN’S THREAT.—BULGER’S DISTRUST OF THE MAN AND
OTHER THINGS. 7
CHAPTER III.
IVAN MORE AND MORE TROUBLESOME.—BULGER WATCHES HIM CLOSELY.—HIS
COWARDLY ATTACK UPON ME.—MY FAITHFUL BULGER TO THE RESCUE.—A
DRIVER WORTH HAVING.—HOW I WAS CARRIED TO A PLACE OF SAFETY.—IN
THE HANDS OF OLD YULIANA.—THE GIANTS’ WELL. 15
CHAPTER IV.
MY WOUND HEALS.—YULIANA TALKS ABOUT THE GIANTS’
WELL.—I RESOLVE TO VISIT IT.—PREPARATIONS TO ASCEND THE
MOUNTAINS.—WHAT HAPPENED TO YULIANA AND TO ME.—REFLECTION AND
THEN ACTION.—HOW I CONTRIVED TO CONTINUE THE ASCENT WITHOUT
YULIANA FOR A GUIDE. 20
CHAPTER V.
UP AND STILL UP, AND THROUGH THE QUARRIES OF THE DEMONS.—HOW THE
CATTLE KEPT THE TRAIL, AND HOW WE CAME AT LAST UPON THE BRINK OF
THE GIANTS’ WELL.—THE TERRACES ARE SAFELY PASSED.—BEGINNING OF
THE DESCENT INTO THE WELL ITSELF.—ALL DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME.—WE
REACH THE EDGE OF POLYPHEMUS’ FUNNEL. 28
CHAPTER VI.
MY DESPAIR UPON FINDING THE PIPE OF THE FUNNEL TOO SMALL FOR MY
BODY.—A RAY OF HOPE BREAKS IN UPON ME.—FULL ACCOUNT OF HOW I
SUCCEEDED IN ENTERING THE PIPE OF THE FUNNEL.—MY PASSAGE THROUGH
IT.—BULGER’S TIMELY AID.—THE MARBLE HIGHWAY AND SOME CURIOUS
THINGS CONCERNING THE ENTRANCE TO THE WORLD WITHIN A WORLD. 33
CHAPTER VII.
OUR FIRST NIGHT IN THE UNDER WORLD, AND HOW IT WAS FOLLOWED BY THE
FIRST BREAK OF DAY.—BULGER’S WARNING AND WHAT IT MEANT.—WE FALL
IN WITH AN INHABITANT OF THE WORLD WITHIN A WORLD.—HIS NAME AND
CALLING.—MYSTERIOUS RETURN OF NIGHT.—THE LAND OF BEDS, AND HOW
OUR NEW FRIEND PROVIDED ONE FOR US. 42
CHAPTER VIII.
“GOOD-MORNING AS LONG AS IT LASTS.”—PLAIN TALK FROM MASTER COLD
SOUL.—WONDERS OF GOGGLE LAND.—WE ENTER THE CITY OF THE
MIKKAMENKIES.—BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF IT.—OUR APPROACH TO THE ROYAL
PALACE.—QUEEN GALAXA AND HER CRYSTAL THRONE.—MASTER COLD SOUL’S
TEARS. 51
CHAPTER IX.
BULGER AND I ARE PRESENTED TO QUEEN GALAXA, THE LADY OF THE
CRYSTAL THRONE.—HOW SHE RECEIVED US.—HER DELIGHT OVER BULGER,
WHO GIVES PROOF OF HIS WONDERFUL INTELLIGENCE IN MANY WAYS.—HOW
THE QUEEN CREATES HIM LORD BULGER.—ALL ABOUT THE THREE WISE MEN
IN WHOSE CARE WE ARE PLACED BY QUEEN GALAXA. 56
CHAPTER X.
A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF MY CONVERSATIONS WITH DOCTOR NEBULOSUS, SIR
AMBER O’PAKE, AND LORD CORNUCORE, WHO TELL ME MANY THINGS THAT I
NEVER KNEW BEFORE, FOR WHICH I WAS VERY GRATEFUL. 63
CHAPTER XI.
PLEASANT DAYS PASSED AMONG THE MIKKAMENKIES, AND WONDERFUL THINGS
SEEN BY US.—THE SPECTRAL GARDEN, AND A DESCRIPTION OF IT.—OUR
MEETING WITH DAMOZEL GLOW STONE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 67
CHAPTER XII.
THE SAD, SAD TALE OF THE SORROWING PRINCESS WITH A SPECK IN HER
HEART, AND WHAT ALL HAPPENED WHEN SHE HAD ENDED IT, WHICH THE
READER MUST READ FOR HIMSELF IF HE WOULD KNOW. 73
CHAPTER XIII.
HOW I SET TO WORK TO UNDO A WRONG THAT HAD BEEN DONE IN THE
KINGDOM OF THE MIKKAMENKIES, AND HOW BULGER HELPED.—QUEEN
GALAXA’S CONFESSION.—I AM CREATED PRIME MINISTER AS LONG AS SHE
LIVES.—WHAT TOOK PLACE IN THE THRONE-ROOM.—MY SPEECH TO THE MEN
OF GOGGLE LAND, AFTER WHICH I SHOW THEM SOMETHING WORTH
SEEING.—HOW I WAS PULLED IN TWO DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS AND WHAT
CAME OF IT. 79
CHAPTER XIV.
BULGER AND I TURN OUR BACKS ON THE FAIR DOMAIN OF QUEEN
CRYSTALLINA.—NATURE’S WONDERFUL SPEAKING-TUBE.—CRYSTALLINA’S
ATTEMPT TO TURN US BACK.—HOW I KEPT BULGER FROM YIELDING.—SOME
INCIDENTS OF OUR JOURNEY ALONG THE MARBLE HIGHWAY, AND HOW WE
CAME TO THE GLORIOUS GATEWAY OF SOLID SILVER. 86
CHAPTER XV.
THE GUARDS AT THE SILVER GATEWAY.—WHAT THEY WERE LIKE.—OUR
RECEPTION BY THEM.—I MAKE A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.—THE WORLD’S
FIRST TELEPHONE.—BULGER AND I SUCCEED IN MAKING FRIENDS WITH
THESE STRANGERS.—A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THE SOODOPSIES, THAT IS,
MAKE BELIEVE EYES, OR THE FORMIFOLK, THAT IS, ANT PEOPLE.—HOW A
BLIND MAN MAY READ YOUR WRITING. 91
CHAPTER XVI.
IDEAS OF THE FORMIFOLK CONCERNING OUR UPPER WORLD.—THE DANCING
SPECTRE.—THEIR EFFORTS TO LAY HOLD OF HIM.—MY SOLEMN PROMISE
THAT HE SHOULD BEHAVE HIMSELF.—WE SET OUT FOR THE CITY OF THE
MAKE-BELIEVE EYES.—MY AMAZEMENT AT THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THE
APPROACHES TO IT.—WE REACH THE GREAT BRIDGE OF SILVER, AND I GET
MY FIRST GLANCE OF THE CITY OF CANDELABRA.—BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE
WONDERS SPREAD OUT BEFORE MY EYES.—EXCITEMENT OCCASIONED BY OUR
ARRIVAL.—OUR SILVER BED-CHAMBER. 98
CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH YOU READ, DEAR FRIENDS, SOMETHING ABOUT A LIVE ALARM
CLOCK AND A SOODOPSY BATHER AND RUBBER.—OUR FIRST BREAKFAST IN
THE CITY OF SILVER.—A NEW WAY TO CATCH FISH WITHOUT HURTING
THEIR FEELINGS.—HOW THE STREETS AND HOUSES WERE NUMBERED, AND
WHERE THE SIGNBOARDS WERE.—A VERY ORIGINAL LIBRARY IN WHICH
BOOKS NEVER GET DOG-EARED.—HOW VELVET SOLES ENJOYED HER FAVORITE
POETS.—I AM PRESENTED TO THE LEARNED BARREL BROW, WHO PROCEEDS
TO GIVE ME HIS VIEWS OF THE UPPER WORLD.—THEY ENTERTAINED ME
AMAZINGLY AND MAY INTEREST YOU. 104
CHAPTER XVIII.
EARLY HISTORY OF THE SOODOPSIES AS RELATED BY BARREL BROW.—HOW
THEY WERE DRIVEN TO TAKE REFUGE IN THE UNDER WORLD, AND HOW THEY
CAME UPON THE MARBLE HIGHWAY.—THEIR DISCOVERY OF NATURAL GAS
WHICH YIELDS THEM LIGHT AND WARMTH, AND OF NATURE’S MAGNIFICENT
TREASURE HOUSE.—HOW THEY REPLACED THEIR TATTERED GARMENTS AND
BEGAN TO BUILD THE CITY OF SILVER.—THE STRANGE MISFORTUNES THAT
CAME UPON THEM, AND HOW THEY ROSE SUPERIOR TO THEM, TERRIBLE AS
THEY WERE. 114
CHAPTER XIX.
BEGINS WITH SOMETHING ABOUT THE LITTLE SOODOPSIES, BUT BRANCHES
OFF ON ANOTHER SUBJECT; TO WIT.—THE SILENT SONG OF SINGING
FINGERS, THE FAIR MAID OF THE CITY OF SILVER.—BARREL BROW IS
KIND ENOUGH TO ENLIGHTEN ME ON A CERTAIN POINT, AND HE TAKES
OCCASION TO PAY BULGER A VERY HIGH COMPLIMENT, WHICH, OF COURSE,
HE DESERVED. 123
CHAPTER XX.
THIS IS A LONG AND A SAD CHAPTER.—IT TELLS HOW DEAR, GENTLE,
POUTING-LIP WAS LOST, AND HOW THE SOODOPSIES GRIEVED FOR HIM AND
WHOM THEY SUSPECTED.—BULGER GIVES A STRIKING PROOF OF HIS
WONDERFUL INTELLIGENCE WHICH ENABLES ME TO CONVINCE THE
SOODOPSIES THAT MY “DANCING SPECTRE” DID NOT CAUSE POUTING-LIP’S
DEATH.—THE TRUE TALE OF HIS TERRIBLE FATE.—WHAT FOLLOWS MY
DISCOVERY.—HOW A BEAUTIFUL BOAT IS BUILT FOR ME BY THE GRATEFUL
SOODOPSIES, AND HOW BULGER AND I BID ADIEU TO THE LAND OF THE
MAKE-BELIEVE EYES. 129
CHAPTER XXI.
HOW WE WERE LIGHTED ON OUR WAY DOWN THE DARK AND SILENT
RIVER.—SUDDEN AND FIERCE ONSLAUGHT UPON OUR BEAUTIFUL BOAT OF
SHELL.—A FIGHT FOR LIFE AGAINST TERRIBLE ODDS, AND HOW BULGER
STOOD BY ME THROUGH IT ALL.—COLD AIR AND LUMPS OF ICE.—OUR ENTRY
INTO THE CAVERN WHENCE THEY CAME.—THE BOAT OF SHELL COMES TO THE
END OF ITS VOYAGE.—SUNLIGHT IN THE WORLD WITHIN A WORLD, AND ALL
ABOUT THE WONDERFUL WINDOW THROUGH WHICH IT POURED, AND THE
MYSTERIOUS LAND IT LIGHTED. 140
CHAPTER XXII.
THE PALACE OF ICE IN THE GOLDEN SUNLIGHT, AND WHAT I IMAGINED IT
MIGHT CONTAIN.—HOW WE WERE HALTED BY A COUPLE OF QUAINTLY CLAD
SENTINELS.—THE KOLTYKWERPS.—HIS FRIGID MAJESTY KING
GELIDUS.—MORE ABOUT THE ICE PALACE, TOGETHER WITH A DESCRIPTION
OF THE THRONE-ROOM.—OUR RECEPTION BY THE KING AND HIS DAUGHTER
SCHNEEBOULE.—BRIEF MENTION OF BULLIBRAIN, OR LORD HOT HEAD. 150
CHAPTER XXIII.
LORD HOT HEAD AGAIN, AND THIS TIME A FULLER ACCOUNT OF HIM.—HIS
WONDROUS TALES CONCERNING THE KOLTYKWERPS: WHERE THEY CAME FROM,
WHO THEY WERE, AND HOW THEY MANAGED TO LIVE IN THIS WORLD OF
ETERNAL FROST.—THE MANY QUESTIONS I PUT TO HIM, AND HIS ANSWERS
IN FULL. 159
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. 164
CHAPTER XXV.
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT FOR BULGER AND ME AND WHAT FOLLOWED
IT.—INTERVIEW WITH KING GELIDUS.—MY REQUEST AND HIS REPLY.—WHAT
ALL TOOK PLACE WHEN I LEARNED THAT THE KING AND HIS COUNCILLORS
HAD DECIDED NOT TO GRANT MY REQUEST.—STRANGE TUMULT AMONG THE
KOLTYKWERPS, AND HOW HIS FRIGID MAJESTY STILLED IT, AND SOME
OTHER THINGS. 171
CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW THE QUARRY MEN OF KING GELIDUS CLEFT ASUNDER THE CRYSTAL
PRISON OF THE LITTLE MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE.—MY BITTER
DISAPPOINTMENT, AND HOW I BORE IT.—WONDERFUL HAPPENINGS OF THE
NIGHT THAT FOLLOWED.—BULGER AGAIN PROVES HIMSELF TO BE AN ANIMAL
OF EXTRAORDINARY SAGACITY. 176
CHAPTER XXVII.
EXCITEMENT OVER FUFFCOOJAH.—I CARRY HIM TO THE COURT OF KING
GELIDUS.—HIS INSTANT AFFECTION FOR PRINCESS SCHNEEBOULE.—I AM
ACCUSED OF EXERCISING THE BLACK ART.—MY DEFENCE AND MY
REWARD.—ANXIETY OF THE KOLTYKWERPS LEST FUFFCOOJAH PERISH OF
HUNGER.—THIS CALAMITY AVERTED, ANOTHER STARES US IN THE FACE:
HOW TO KEEP HIM FROM FREEZING TO DEATH.—I SOLVE THE PROBLEM, BUT
DRAW UPON ME A STRANGE MISFORTUNE. 183
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. 190
CHAPTER XXIX.
SOMETHING CONCERNING THE MANY PORTALS TO THE ICY DOMAIN OF KING
GELIDUS AND THE DIFFICULT TASK OF CHOOSING THE RIGHT ONE.—HOW
BULGER SOLVED IT.—OUR FAREWELL TO THE COLD-BLOODED
KOLTYKWERPS.—SCHNEEBOULE’S SORROW AT LOSING US. 200
CHAPTER XXX.
ALL ABOUT THE MOST TERRIBLE BUT MAGNIFICENT RIDE I EVER TOOK IN MY
LIFE.—NINETY MILES ON THE BACK OF A FLYING MASS OF ICE, AND HOW
BULGER AND I WERE LANDED AT LAST ON THE BANKS OF A MOST
WONDERFUL RIVER.—HOW THE DAY BROKE IN THIS UNDER WORLD. 209
CHAPTER XXXI.
IN WHICH YOU READ OF THE GLORIOUS CAVERNS OF WHITE MARBLE FRONTING
ON THE WONDERFUL RIVER.—IN THE TROPICS OF THE UNDER WORLD.—HOW
WE CAME UPON A SOLITARY WANDERER ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER.—MY
CONVERSATION WITH HIM, AND MY JOY AT FINDING MYSELF IN THE LAND
OF THE RATTLEBRAINS, OR HAPPY FORGETTERS.—BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF
THEM. 217
CHAPTER XXXII.
HOW WE ENTERED THE LAND OF THE HAPPY FORGETTERS.—SOMETHING MORE
ABOUT THESE CURIOUS FOLK.—THEIR DREAD OF BULGER AND ME.—ONLY A
STAY OF ONE DAY ACCORDED US.—DESCRIPTION OF THE PLEASANT HOMES
OF THE HAPPY FORGETTERS.—THE REVOLVING DOOR THROUGH WHICH BULGER
AND I ARE UNCEREMONIOUSLY SET OUTSIDE OF THE DOMAIN OF THE
RATTLEBRAINS.—ALL ABOUT THE EXTRAORDINARY THINGS WHICH HAPPENED
TO BULGER AND ME THEREAFTER.—ONCE MORE IN THE OPEN AIR OF THE
UPPER WORLD, AND THEN HOMEWARD BOUND. 224
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Only Authentic Portrait of Wilhelm Heinrich Sebastian
von Troomp (from the oil painting) _Frontispiece_
Departure from Castle Trump 9
Along a Highway of the Under World 23
Before her Majesty Galaxa, Queen of the Mikkamenkies 35
A Dinner easily provided for 47
Princess Crystallina uncovers her Heart 59
Crystallina’s Heart on a Screen 71
Bulger parts his Master from Princess Crystallina 83
The Formifolk try the Beat of the Baron’s Heart by
Telephone 95
Barrel Brow engaged in reading Four Books at once 107
A Soodopsy Maiden reading her Favorite Poet 119
The Gigantic Tortoise that devoured Pouting Lip 131
Sailing away from the Land of the Soodopsies 143
The Battle for Life with the White Crabs 155
The Little Man with the Frozen Smile 167
Bulger shows the Baron Something Wonderful 179
The Baron’s Flight to the Ice Palace 191
Death of Fuffcoojah 197
Koltykwerpian Quarrymen hewing a Passage through the
Wall of Ice 203
The Wonderful Ride on the Block of Ice 207
The Tropics of the Under World 213
Through the Revolving Door 219
Caught up in the Arms of the Torrent 225
Hurled out in the Sunshine 231
A MARVELLOUS UNDERGROUND
JOURNEY
CHAPTER I
BULGER IS GREATLY ANNOYED BY THE FAMILIARITY OF THE VILLAGE DOGS AND
THE PRESUMPTION OF THE HOUSE CATS.—HIS HEALTH SUFFERS THEREBY, AND
HE IMPLORES ME TO SET OUT ON MY TRAVELS AGAIN. I READILY CONSENT,
FOR I HAD BEEN READING OF THE WORLD WITHIN A WORLD IN A MUSTY OLD
MS. WRITTEN BY THE LEARNED DON FUM.—PARTING INTERVIEWS WITH THE
ELDER BARON AND THE GRACIOUS BARONESS MY MOTHER.—PREPARATIONS FOR
DEPARTURE.
Bulger was not himself at all, dear friends. There was a lack-lustre
look in his eyes, and his tail responded with only a half-hearted wag
when I spoke to him. I say half-hearted, for I always had a notion that
the other end of Bulger’s tail was fastened to his heart. His appetite,
too, had gone down with his spirits; and he rarely did anything more
than sniff at the dainty food which I set before him, although I tried
to tempt him with fried chickens’ livers and toasted cocks’ combs—two of
his favorite dishes.
There was evidently something on his mind, and yet it never occurred to
me what that something was; for to be honest about it, it was something
which of all things I never should have dreamed of finding there.
Possibly I might have discovered at an earlier day what it was all
about, had it not been that just at this time I was very busy, too busy,
in fact, to pay much attention to any one, even to my dear four-footed
foster brother. As you may remember, dear friends, my brain is a very
active one; and when once I become interested in a subject, Castle Trump
itself might take fire and burn until the legs of my chair had become
charred before I would hear the noise and confusion, or even smell the
smoke.
It so happened at the time of Bulger’s low spirits that the elder baron
had, through the kindness of an old school friend, come into possession
of a fifteenth-century manuscript from the pen of a no less celebrated
thinker and philosopher than the learned Spaniard, Don Constantino
Bartolomeo Strepholofidgeguaneriusfum, commonly known among scholars as
Don Fum, entitled “A World within a World.” In this work Don Fum
advanced the wonderful theory that there is every reason to believe that
the interior of our world is inhabited; that, as is well known, this
vast earth ball is not solid, on the contrary, being in many places
quite hollow; that ages and ages ago terrible disturbances had taken
place on its surface and had driven the inhabitants to seek refuge in
these vast underground chambers, so vast, in fact, as well to merit the
name of “World within a World.”
This book, with its crumpled, torn, and time-stained leaves exhaling the
odors of vaulted crypt and worm-eaten chest, exercised a peculiar
fascination upon me. All day long, and often far into the night, I sat
poring over its musty and mildewed pages, quite forgetful of this
surface world, and with the plummet of thought sounding these
subterranean depths, and with the eye and ear of fancy visiting them,
and gazing upon and listening to the dwellers therein.
While I would be thus engaged, Bulger’s favorite position was on a
quaintly embroidered leather cushion brought from the Orient by me on
one of my journeys, and now placed on the end of my work-table nearest
the window. From this point of vantage Bulger commanded a full view of
the park and the terrace and of the drive leading up to the
_porte-cochère_. Nothing escaped his watchful eye. Here he sat hour by
hour, amusing himself by noting the comings and goings of all sorts of
folk, from the hawkers of gewgaws to the noblest people in the shire.
One day my attention was attracted by his suddenly leaping down from his
cushion and giving a low growl of displeasure. I paid little heed to it,
but to my surprise the next day about the same hour it occurred again.
My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused; and laying down Don Fum’s musty
manuscript, I hastened to the window to learn the cause of Bulger’s
irritation.
Lo, the secret was out! There stood half a dozen mongrel curs belonging
to the tenantry of the baronial lands, looking up to the window, and by
their barking and antics endeavoring to entice Bulger out for a romp.
Dear friends, need I assure you that such familiarity was extremely
distasteful to Bulger? Their impudence was just a little more than he
could stand. Ringing my bell, I directed my servant to hunt them away.
Whereupon Bulger consented to resume his seat by the window.
The next morning, just as I had settled myself down for a good long
read, I was almost startled by Bulger bounding into the room with eyes
flashing fire and teeth laid bare in anger. Laying hold of the skirt of
my dressing-gown, he gave it quite a savage tug, which meant, “Put thy
book aside, little master, and follow me.”
I did so. He led me down-stairs across the hallway and into the
dining-room, and then this new cause of discontent on his part became
very apparent to me. There grouped around his silver breakfast plate sat
an ancient tabby cat and four kittens, all calmly licking or lapping
away at his breakfast. Looking up into my face, he uttered a sharp,
complaining howl, as much as to say, “There, little master, look at
that. Isn’t that enough to roil the patience of a saint? Canst thou
wonder that I am not happy with all these disagreeable things happening
to me? I tell thee, little master, it is too much for flesh and blood to
put up with.”
And I thought so too, and did all in my power to comfort my unhappy
little friend; but judge of my surprise upon reaching my room and
directing him to take his place on his cushion, to see him refuse to
obey.
It was something extraordinary, and set me to thinking. He noticed this
and gave a joyful bark, then dashed into my sleeping apartment. He was
gone for several moments, and then returned bearing in his mouth a pair
of Oriental shoes which he laid at my feet. Again and again he
disappeared, coming back each time with some article of clothing in his
mouth. In a few moments he had laid a complete Oriental costume on the
floor before my eyes; and would you believe me, dear friends, it was the
identical suit which I had worn on my last travels in far-away lands,
when he and I had been wrecked on the Island of Gogulah, the land of the
Round Bodies. What did it all mean? Why, this, to be sure:—
“Little master, canst thou not understand thy dear Bulger? He is weary
of this dull and spiritless existence. He is tired of this increasing
familiarity on the part of these mongrel curs of the neighborhood and of
the audacity of these kitchen tabbies and their families. He implores
thee to break away from this life of revery and inaction, and for the
honor of the Trumps to be up and away again.” Stooping down and winding
my arms around my dear Bulger, I cried out,—
“Yes, I understand thee now, faithful companion; and I promise thee that
before this moon has filled her horns we shall once more turn our backs
on Castle Trump, up and away in search of the portals to Don Fum’s World
within a World.” Upon hearing these words, Bulger broke out into the
wildest, maddest barking, bounding hither and thither as if the very
spirit of mischief had suddenly nestled in his heart. In the midst of
these mad gambols a low rap on my chamber door caused me to call out,—
“Peace, peace, good Bulger, some one knocks. Peace, I say.”
It was the elder baron. With sombre mien and stately tread he advanced
and took a seat beside me on the canopy.
“Welcome, honored father!” I exclaimed as I took his hand and raised it
to my lips. “I was upon the very point of seeking thee out.”
He smiled and then said,—
“Well, little baron, what thinkest thou of Don Fum’s World within a
World?”
“I think, my lord,” was my reply, “that Don Fum is right: that such a
world must exist; and with thy consent it is my intention to set out in
search of its portals with all safe haste and as soon as my dear mother,
the gracious baroness, may be able to bring her heart to part with me.”
The elder baron was silent for a moment, and then added: “Little baron,
much as thy mother and I shall dread to think of thy being again out
from under the safe protection of this venerable roof, the moss-grown
tiles of which have sheltered so many generations of the Trumps, yet
must we not be selfish in this matter. Heaven forbid that such a thought
should move our souls to stay thee! The honor of our family, thy fame as
an explorer of strange lands in far-away corners of the globe, call unto
us to be strong hearted. Therefore, my dear boy, make ready and go forth
once more in search of new marvels. The learned Don Fum’s chart will
stand thee by like a safe and trusty counsellor. Remember, little baron,
the motto of the Trumps, Per Ardua ad Astra—the pathway to glory is
strewn with pitfalls and dangers—but the comforting thought shall ever
be mine, that when thy keen intelligence fails, Bulger’s unerring
instinct will be there to guide thee.”
As I stooped to kiss the elder baron’s hand, the gracious baroness
entered the room.
Bulger hastened to raise himself upon his hind legs and lick her hand in
token of respectful greeting. The tears were pressing hard against her
eyelids, but she kept them back, and encircling my neck with her loving
arms, she pressed many and many a kiss upon my cheeks and brow.
“I know what it all means, my dear son,” she murmured with the saddest
of smiles; “but it never shall be said that Gertrude Baroness von Trump
stood in the way of her son adding new glories to the family ’scutcheon.
Go, go, little baron, and Heaven bring thee safely back to our arms and
to our hearts in its own good time.”
At these words Bulger, who had been listening to the conversation with
pricked-up ears and glistening eyes, gave one long howl of joy, and then
springing into my lap, covered my face with kisses. This done, he vented
his happiness in a string of earsplitting barks and a series of the
maddest gambols. It was one of the happiest and proudest days of his
life, for he felt that he had exerted considerable influence in screwing
to the sticking-point my resolution to set out on my travels once again.
And now the patter of hurrying feet and the loud murmur of anxious
voices resounded through the castle corridors, while inside and out ever
and anon I could hear the cry now whispered and now outspoken,—
“The little baron is making ready to leave home again.”
Bulger ran hither and thither, surveying everything, taking note of all
the preparations, and I could hear his joyous bark ring out as some
familiar article used by me on my former journeys was dragged from its
hiding-place.
Twenty times a day my gentle mother came to my room to repeat some good
counsel or reiterate some valuable caution. It seemed to me that I had
never seen her so calm, so stately, so lovable.
She was very proud of my great name and so, in fact, were every man,
woman, and child in the castle. Had I not gotten off as I did, I should
have been literally killed with kindness and Bulger slain with
sweet-cake.