In Camp With A Tin Soldier Part 14

"In the sun!" cried the major, in horror.

"No. Nowhere!" returned the sprite. "He's jumping yet. He didn't come anywhere near Twinkleville, although he supposed that he was aimed in the right direction."

"Will you tell me how you know he's falling yet?" asked the major, who didn't seem to believe this part of the sprite's story.

"Certainly. I saw him yesterday through a telescope," replied the sprite.

The major began to whistle.

"And he looked very tired, too," said the sprite. "Though as a matter of fact he doesn't have to exert himself any. All he has to do is fall, and, once you get started, falling is the easiest thing in the world.

But of course with the remembrance of my cousin's mistake in our minds, we didn't care so much about making the jump, and we kept putting it off and putting it off until finally some wretched people had a law made abolis.h.i.+ng us from the moon entirely, which meant that we had to leave inside of twenty-four hours; so we packed up our trunks with the few possessions we had left and threw them off toward the dog-star; then mother and father took hold of hands and jumped and I was to come along after them with some of the baggage that we hadn't got ready in time.

"According to my father's instructions I watched him carefully as he sped through s.p.a.ce to see whether he had started right, and to my great joy I observed that he had--that very shortly both he and mother would arrive safely on the dog-star--but alas! My joy was soon turned to grief, for a terrible thing happened. Our great heavy family trunk that had been dispatched first, and with truest aim, landed on the head of the King of the dog-star, stove his crown in and nearly killed him.

Hardly had the king risen up from the ground when he was again knocked down by my poor father, who, utterly powerless to slow up or switch himself to one side, landed precisely as the trunk had landed on the monarch's head, doing quite as much more damage as the trunk had done in the beginning. When added to these mishaps a shower of hat-boxes and hand-bags, marked with our family name, fell upon the Lord Chief Justice, the Prime Minister and the Heir Apparent, my parents were arrested and thrown into prison and I decided that the dog-star was no place for me. Wild with grief, and without looking to see where I was going, nor in fact caring much, I gave a running leap out into s.p.a.ce and finally through some good fortune landed here on this earth which I have found quite good enough for me ever since."

Here the sprite paused and looked at Jimmieboy as much as to say, "How is that for a tale of adventure?"

"Is that all?" queried Jimmieboy.

"Mercy!" cried the major, "Isn't it enough?"

"No," said Jimmieboy. "Not quite. I don't see how he could have jumped so many years before the world was made and yet land on the world."

"I was five thousand years on the jump," explained the sprite.

"It was leap-year when you started, wasn't it?" asked the major, with a sarcastic smile.

"And your parents? What finally became of them?" asked Jimmieboy, signaling the major to be quiet.

"I hadn't the heart to inquire. I am afraid they got into serious trouble. It's a very serious thing to knock a king down with a trunk and land on his head yourself the minute he gets up again," sighed the sprite.

"But didn't you tell me your parents were unfairies?" put in Jimmieboy, eying the sprite distrustfully.

"Yes; but they were only my adopted parents," explained the sprite.

"They were a very rich old couple with lots of money and no children, so I adopted them not knowing that they were unfairies. When they died they left me all their bad habits, and their money went to found a storeroom for worn out lawn-mowers. That was a sample of their meanness."

"Well that's a pretty good story," said Jimmieboy.

"Yes," said the sprite, with a pleased smile. "And the best part of it is it's all true."

"Tut!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the major, scornfully. "Wait until you hear mine."

CHAPTER X.

THE MAJOR'S TALE.

"A great many years ago when I was a souvenir spoon," said the major, "I belonged to a very handsome and very powerful potentate."

"I didn't quite understand what it was you said you were," said the sprite, bending forward as if to hear better.

"At the beginning of my story I was a souvenir spoon," returned the major.

"Did you begin your career as a spoon?" asked the sprite.

"I did not, sir," replied the major. "I began my career as a nugget in a lead mine where I was found by the king of whom I have just spoken, and on his return home with me he gave me to his wife who sent me out to a lead smith's and had me made over into a souvenir spoon--and a mighty handsome spoon I was too. I had a poem engraved on me that said:

'Aka majo te roo li sah, Pe mink y rali mis tebah.'

Rather pretty thought, don't you think so?" added the major as he completed the couplet.

"Very!" said the sprite, with a knowing shake of his head.

"Well, I don't understand it at all," said Jimmieboy.

"Ask this native of Twinkleville what it means," observed the major with a snicker. "He says it's a pretty thought, so of course he understands it--though I a.s.sure you I don't, for it doesn't mean anything. I made it up, this very minute."

The sprite colored deeply. It was quite evident that he had fallen into the trap the major had set for him.

"I was only fooling," he said, with a sickly attempt at a smile. "Go on with your story."

"I think perhaps the happiest time of my life was during the hundreds of years that I existed in the royal museum as a spoon," resumed the major.

"I was brought into use only on state occasions. When the King of Mangapore gave a state banquet to other kings in the neighborhood I was the spoon that was used to ladle out the royal broth."

Here the major paused to smack his lips, and then a small tear appeared in one corner of his eye and trickled slowly down the side of his nose.

"I always weep," he said, as soon as he could speak, "when I think of that broth. Here is what it was made of:

'Seven pies of sweetest mince, Then a ripe and mellow quince, Then a quart of tea.

Then a pint of cinnamon, Next a roasted apple, done Brown as brown can be.

Add of orange juice, a gill, And a sugared daffodil, Then a yellow yam.

Sixty-seven strawberries Should be added then to these, And a pot of jam.

Mix with maple syrup and Let it in the ice-box stand Till it's good and cold-- Throw a box of raisins in, Stir it well--just make it spin-- Till it looks like gold.'

Oh, my!" cried the major. "What a dish it was, and I, I used to be dipped into a tureen full of it sixteen times at every royal feast, and before the war we had royal feasts on an average of three times a day."

"Three royal banquets a day?" cried Jimmieboy, his mouth watering to think of it.

"Yes," returned the major. "Three a day until the unhappy war broke out which destroyed all my happiness, and resulted in the downfall of sixty-four kings."

"How on earth did such a war as that ever happen to be fought?" asked the sprite.

"I am sorry to say," replied the major, sadly, "that I was the innocent cause of it all. It was on the king's birthday that war was declared. He used to have magnificent birthday parties, quite like those that boys like Jimmieboy here have, only instead of having a cake with a candle in it for each year, King Fuzzywuz used to have one guest for each year, and one whole cake for each guest. On his twenty-first birthday he had twenty-one guests; on his thirtieth, thirty, and so on; and at every one of these parties I used to be pa.s.sed around to be admired, I was so very handsome and valuable."