Prince Vance Part 8

"Nothing that meant anything," replied the Prince. "He said 'Flubaloo'

as he left me."

"No!" exclaimed the Funny Man, turning rather pale. "Did he really, though? If he did, that puts matters in a very different light, a very serious light. Come home with me, and in the morning I'll set you off on the right road. Hurry! for we have a good distance to go, and 'tis a roundabout way."

Following the lead of the Funny Man, the Prince found himself once more upon the high-road, along which they journeyed until late in the afternoon, when their path suddenly plunged deep into the forest.

"Wait a minute!" said the Funny Man; "I must light my nose."

"Do what?" asked the astonished Prince.

"Light my nose, Stupid!" replied his guide.

The Prince said no more, but looked on in silent amazement while the Funny Man untwisted the figure eight at the point of his nose, and removed a small copper cap which covered the end. He then struck a match and applied it to the bottom of this macaroni-like tube. A light like a large star at once appeared, and shed its yellow beams about so widely as to make the gloomy forest-road as light as day.

"Excuse me for speaking of it," said the Prince, politely, "but that's a strange sort of nose you have."

"Not at all," answered the Funny Man, carelessly; "very common in these parts,--very common, indeed. Simply a sort of slow-match; grows in the daytime as much as it burns away at night. Come on! I'm going to run, and you must catch me. Hurrah! Now you see me and now you don't!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Alas for the poor Prince! it was mostly "don't." The light flickered and danced ahead of him like a will-o'-the-wisp, and was often lost entirely; while the tired boy, burdened with his c.u.mbersome box, hastened after as best he might, stumbling and tumbling over stones and tough roots, splas.h.i.+ng through miry places and running violently against tree-trunks, till just as he was ready to sink down in despair and let his unpleasant companion go where he would, he came suddenly upon the Funny Man resting upon the gate of a curious little house, and laughing with great glee at the race he had led the Prince.

"Here we are," said the Funny Man; "come in! My wife's at home, and I've no doubt supper's all ready except the seasoning. I always season things myself, because I'm something of an epicure."

As he spoke, he led the way into the house, having put out his light and once more wound his nose up into its figure eight.

XIV

The room in which the Prince found himself was bright and cheery, and the table was laid for supper. The wife of the Funny Man was rather a mournful-looking woman, which the Prince privately thought was by no means to be wondered at. She had a somewhat peculiar and startling appearance, from the fact that her head was twisted completely round on her body, so that she faced the wrong way.

"Curious effect, isn't it?" asked the Funny Man, as he observed that the Prince was staring at his wife. "I did it one day for a joke, and the best part of it all is that I have forgotten the charm to bring her round right again."

"Does she think it is a joke?" asked the Prince.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"As to that," replied the Funny Man, indifferently, "I don't know, because I never asked her, and I certainly do not care one way or another."

"?reppus ot nwod tis ot uoy esaelp ti lliW" said the woman, after the Funny Man had busied himself a few moments with the dishes.

Vance stared in confusion, but the Funny Man seemed quite used to this odd way of speaking.

"Her talk is all hind-side before," he explained, chuckling, "since I turned her head about. Sit down! Supper is ready."

They all sat down. The unfortunate woman faced the wall behind her, and therefore she was a little awkward in ladling the soup. However, that was a slight affair, and Vance was far too famished to be particular.

The pottage gave forth a most appetizing odor, and the Prince hastily plunged in his spoon and began to eat. He had not taken a fair taste before he stopped eating with a terribly wry face. The soup was bitterer than gall.

"Don't you like the seasoning?" snickered the Funny Man. "Now, come, that's too bad, when I thought 'twould be just to your liking!"

Too angry to speak, the Prince s.n.a.t.c.hed a gla.s.s of water and drank, only to find it scalding hot and full of salt.

"Try a bit of venison pasty," urged his host, pleasantly. "No more fooling, on my word!"

"?opiH, enola dlihc roop eht tel uoy t'nac yhW" asked the wife, who seemed to be as kind-hearted as could be expected of one so twisted.

The Prince, however, had already tasted of the pasty, which proved hotter than fire with red pepper. So it was with everything on the table. Nothing was fit to eat. The ragout was full of pins and needles, the wine was drugged with nauseous herbs, the cakes were stuffed with cotton; and the Prince cracked his teeth instead of the almonds, which were cleverly made out of stone.

All this nonsense was very bitter to the hungry Prince, as you may suppose; but as for the Funny Man, he was quite wild with delight. He rolled over and over on the floor, and the tears of joy streamed down his cheeks at the success of his jokes.

"This is the best fun I've had for months," he cried. "This is joy! This is true happiness!"

"A very poor sort of happiness," the Prince said ruefully. "I think I will go to bed."

Alas! here things were just as bad. As the Prince entered his chamber a bucket of ice-cold water, balanced above, fell down and drenched him to the skin. His bed was full of eels and frogs; and when the poor boy tried to get a nap in a chair a tame owl and a pair of pet bats flapped their wings in his face and tweaked his nose and ears. At the earliest peep of dawn the tortured Prince shouldered his box and left his chamber.

Sitting on the bal.u.s.trade, whittling, was the host.

XV

"Good-morning!" said the Funny Man, politely. "I hope you slept well."

"I did not sleep at all," replied the Prince, hotly; "and of course you knew I wouldn't."

"That was the joke, you know," the Funny Man chuckled, pocketing his knife and preparing to lead the way to the breakfast-table.

The Prince, however, had no mind for another feast like that of the night before; so he resisted all urging and started forth.

"Don't miss the way!" said the Funny Man, who seemed to be much cast down because the Prince would not stay to breakfast. "Cross the stream, you know, than climb a red stile, and there you are on the straight road. If ever I come your way I'll make you a visit. I've taken a fancy to you."

"That's more than I've done to you," muttered Vance, as he trudged away.

He was very angry indeed with the Funny Man, and yet he had an unpleasant remembrance of a time, not so very far away, when he himself was the terror of the entire palace on account of his fondness for playing cruel jokes upon others.

The road was rough, the sun was hot, and the Prince was so famished that he was glad to devour a couple of apples which had fallen from the cart of a peasant bound for market. Still Vance cheered himself with the thought that his troubles were about to end. He was now near the home of the Crushed Strawberry Wizard; so he pressed on till mid-afternoon, only stopping once when he came upon some pears growing upon a stunted tree by the roadside. They were small, crabbed, and stony; but the hungry Prince was glad enough to gather a number and eat them seated in the pear-tree's scanty shade. As to the Court, it was quite a relief to Vance to remember that the peasants at the fair had provided the baby-house with cakes and bonbons enough to last for many days.

"After all," the Prince said to himself, as he once more trudged along,--"after all, they have a far easier time of it than I. I don't think I should much mind being little myself if I could have as good a time as they do."

Toward the middle of the afternoon the Prince reached a dark wood into which his road seemed to lead him. He had not walked far before he heard a sound as of somebody sobbing, and also a curious clas.h.i.+ng noise as of cymbals striking together. These sounds became more and more distinct as the Prince kept on; and at last he came to a small monkey who was seated in a low juniper-tree, weeping most bitterly and now and then smiting its hands together in sorrow. The hands of the monkey, being of metal (as indeed was the creature's entire body), produced, as they beat together, the cymbal-like sounds which the Prince had heard.

"What is the matter?" asked the Prince, as the monkey continued to weep without paying any attention whatever to him.