XV.
IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND.
"We're afloat! We're afloat! In our trim ice-boat; And we row-- Yeave ho!
"I guess I won't sing any more," said the Gas Stove. "It's a hard songto sing, that is, particularly when you've never heard it before, andcan't think of another rhyme for boat."
"That's easy enough to find," returned Jimmieboy, pulling at the oars."Coat rhymes with boat, and so do note and moat and goat and----"
"Very true," assented the Stove, "but it wouldn't do to use coat becausewe take our coats off when we row. Note is good enough but you don'thave time to write one when you are singing a sea-song. Moat isn't anygood, because nobody'd know whether you meant the moat of a castle, asun-moat, or the one in your eye. As for goats, goats don't go well inpoetry. So I guess it's just as well to stop singing right here."
"How fast we go!" said Jimmieboy.
"What did you expect?" asked the Stove. "The bottom of this boat is asslippery as can be, and, of course, going up the river against thecurrent we get over the water faster than if we were going the other waybecause we--er--because we--well because we do."
"Seems to me," said Jimmieboy, "I'd better turn out some of the gas inmy coat. I'm melting right through the seat here."
"So am I," returned the Stove, with an anxious glance at the icy craft."It won't be more than a minute before I melt my end of the boat all topieces. I'm afraid we'll have to take to our arctics after all. Ibrought a pair of your father's along, and it's a good thing for us thathe has big feet, for you'll have to get in one and I in the other."
Just then the stern of the boat melted away, and the Stove, springing upfrom his seat and throwing himself into one of the arctics, with hisammunition and rubber hose, floated off. Jimmieboy had barely time toget into the other arctic when his end of the ice-boat also gave way,and a cross-current in the stream catching the arctic whirled it aboutand carried it and its little passenger far away from the Stove whoshortly disappeared around a turn in the river, so that Jimmieboy wasleft entirely alone in utter ignorance as to where he really was or whathe should do next. Generally Jimmieboy was a very brave little boy, buthe found his present circumstances rather trying. To be floating down astrange river in a large overshoe, with absolutely no knowledge of theway home, and a very dim notion only as to how he had managed to getwhere he was, was terrifying, and when he realized his position, greattears fell from Jimmieboy's eyes, freezing into little pearls of icebefore they landed in the bottom of the golosh, where they piled up sorapidly that the strange craft sank further and further into the waterand would certainty have sunk with their weight had not the voiceJimmieboy had encountered a little while before come to his rescue.
"GOLOSH, AHOY!"]
"Golosh, ahoy!" cried the voice. "Captain! Captain! Lean over the sideand cry in the river or you'll sink your boat."
The sound of the voice was a great relief to the little sailor who atonce tried to obey the order he had received but found it unnecessarysince his tears immediately dried up.
"Come out here in the boat with me!" cried Jimmieboy. "I'm awfullonesome and I don't know what to do."
"Then there is only one thing you can do," said the voice from a pointdirectly over the buckle of the arctic. "And that is to sit still andlet time show you. It's a great thing, Jimmieboy, when you don't knowwhat to do and can't find any one to tell you, to sit down and donothing, because if you did something you'd be likely to find outafterwards that it was the wrong thing. When I was young, in the dayswhen I was what I used to be, I once read a poem that has lingered withme ever since. It was called 'Wait and See' and this is the way it went:
"When you are puzzled what to do, And no one's nigh to help you out; You'll find it for the best that you Should wait until Time gives the clew. And then your business go about-- Of this there is no doubt.
"Just see the cow! She never knows What's going to happen next, so she Contented 'mongst the daises goes, In clover from her head to toes, From care and trouble ever free-- She simply waits, you see!
"The horse, unlike the cow, in fear Jumps to and fro at maddest rate, Tears down the street, doth snort and rear, And knocks the wagon out of gear-- And just because he does not wait, His woes accumulate.
"D. Crockett, famous in the past, The same sage thought hath briefly wed To words that must forever last, Wherever haply they be cast: 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead,' "That's what D. Crockett said.
"Lots in that. If you don't know what to do," continued the voice, "don'tdo it."
"I won't," said Jimmieboy. "But do you know where we are?"
"Yes," said the voice. "I am here and you are there, and I think if westay just as we are forever there is not likely to be any change, so whyrepine? We are happy."
Just then the golosh passed into a huge cavern, whose sides glistenedlike silver, and from the roof of which hung millions of beautiful andat times fantastically shaped icicles.
"This," said the voice, "is the gateway to the Kingdom of Frostland. Atthe far end you will see a troop of ice soldiers standing guard. I doubtvery much if you can get by them, unless you have retained a great dealof that heat you had. How is it? Are you still lit?"
"I am," said Jimmieboy. "Just put your hand on my chest and see how hotit is."
"Can't do it," returned the voice, "for two reasons. First, I haven't ahand to do it with, and secondly, if I had, I couldn't see with it.People don't see with their hands any more than they sing with theirtoes; but say, Jimmieboy, wouldn't it be funny if we could do all thosethings--eh? What a fine poem this would be if it were only sensible:
"A singular song having greeted my toes, I stared till I weakened the sight of my nose To see what it was, and observed a sweet voice Come forth from the ears of Lucinda, so choice.
"I cast a cough-drop in the lovely one's eyes, Who opened her hands in a tone of surprise, And remarked, in a way that startled my wife, 'I never was treated so ill in my life.'
"Then tears in a torrent coursed over her arms, And the blush on her teeth much heightened her charms. As, tossing the cough-drop straight back, with a sneeze, She smashed the green goggles I wear on my knees."
Jimmieboy laughed so long and so loudly at this poetical effusion thathe attracted the attention of the guards, who immediately loaded theirguns and began to pepper the invaders with snow-balls.
"Throw yourself down on your stomach in the toe of the golosh,"whispered the voice, "and they'll never know you are there. Keepperfectly quiet, and when any questions are asked, even if you arediscovered, let me answer them. I can disguise myself so that they won'trecognize me, and they'll think I'm your voice. In this way I think Ican get you through in safety."
So Jimmieboy threw himself down in the golosh, and the voice began tosing.
"No, no, my dear, I do not fear The devastating snow-ball; When it strikes me, I shriek with glee, And eat it like a dough-ball."
"HALT!" CRIED THE ICE-GUARDS.]
"Halt!" cried the ice-guards. "Who are you?"
"I am a haunted overshoe," replied the voice. "I am on the foot of aphantom which only appears at uncertain hours, and is consequently nowinvisible to you.
"And, so I say, Oh, fire away, I fear ye not, icicles; Howe'er ye shoot, I can't but hoot, Your act so greatly tickles."
"Shall we let it through?" asked the Captain of the guards.
"I move we do," said one High Private.
"I move we don't," said another.
"All in favor of doing one thing or the other say aye," cried theCaptain.
"Aye!" roared the company.
"Contrary-minded, no," added the Captain.
"No!" roared the company.
"Both motions are carried," said the Captain. "We will now adjourn forluncheon."
The overshoe, meanwhile, had floated on down through the gates and wasnow out of the guards' sight and Jimmieboy spran
g to his feet and lookedabout him once more, and what he saw was so beautiful that he satspeechless with delight. He was now in the heart of Frostland, andbefore him loomed the Palace, a marvelously massive pile of richlycarven ice-blocks transparent as glass; and within, seated upon a throneof surpassing brilliance and beauty, sat King Jack surrounded by hiscourtiers, who were singing songs the like of which Jimmieboy neverbefore had heard.
"Now remember, Jimmieboy," said the voice, as the overshoe with itspassengers floated softly up to the huge snow-pier that ran out into theriver at this point where they disembarked--"remember I am to do all thetalking. Otherwise you might get into trouble."
"All right, Voicy," began Jimmieboy, and then there came a terrificshout from within.
"WHO COMES HERE?"]
"Who comes here?" cried King Jack, rising from his throne and pointinghis finger at Jimmieboy.
"I am a traveling minstrel," Jimmieboy seemed to reply though in realityit was the kind-hearted voice that said it. "And I have come a thousandand six miles, eight blocks, fourteen feet, six inches to recite to yourMajesty a poem I have written in honor of your approaching Jubilee."
"Have I a Jubilee approaching?" roared Jack, turning to his Secretary ofState, who was so startled that his right arm melted.
"Y--yes, your Majesty," stammered the Secretary, with a low bow. "It iscoming along at the rate of sixty seconds a minute."
"Why have I not been informed of this before?" roared Jack, casting aglance at the cowering Secretary that withered the nose straight offhis face. "Don't you know that Jubilees are useful to a man only becauseother people give him presents in honor of the event? And here you'vekept me in ignorance of the fact all this time, and the chances are Iwon't get a thing;--for I've neglected my relatives dreadfully."
"Sire," pleaded the Secretary, "all that you say is true, but I haveattended to all that. I have informed your friends that the Jubilee iscoming, and they are all preparing pleasant little surprises for you. Weare going to give your Majesty a surprise party, which is the finestkind of a party, because you don't have to go home after it is over, andthe guests bring their own fried oysters, and pay all the bills."
"Ah!" said Jack, melting a little. "You are a good man, after all. Iwill raise your salary, and send your children a skating-pond onChristmas day; but when is this Jubilee to take place?"
"In eight hundred and forty-seven years," returned the voice, who didnot like the Secretary of State, and wanted to get him in trouble. "Onthe eighty-second day of July."
"What--a--at?" roared the King, glaring at the Secretary.
"I didn't say a word, sire," cried the unfortunate Secretary.
"No?" sneered Jack. "I suppose it was I that answered my own question,eh? That settles you. The idea of my waiting eight hundred andforty-seven years for a Jubilee that is to take place on an impossibledate! Executioner, take the Secretary of State out to the furnace-room,and compel him to sit before the fire until there's only enough of himleft to make one snow-ball. Then take that and throw it at the mostdecrepit hack-driver in my domain. The humiliation of this delayer ofJubilees must be complete."
The Secretary of State was then led weeping away, and Jack, turning tothe awed Jimmieboy, shouted out:
"Now for the minstrel. If the poem pleaseth our Royal Coolness, thesinger shall have the position made vacant by that unfortunatesnow-drift I have just degraded. Step right up, young fellow, and turnon the poem."
"Step up to the foot of the throne and make a bow, and leave the rest tome," whispered the voice to Jimmieboy. "All you've got to do is to moveyour lips and wave your arms. I'll do the talking."
Jimmieboy did as he was bade. He took up his stand before the throne,bowed, and the voice began to declaim as Jimmieboy's lips moved, and hisarms began to shoot out, first to the left and then to the right.
"This poem," said the voice, "is in the language of the Snortuguese, andhas been prepared at great expense for this occasion, fourteen gallonsof ink having been consumed on the first stanza alone, which runs asfollows:
"Jack Frigidos, Jack Frigidos, Oh, what a trope you are! How you do shine And ghibeline, And conjugate afar!"
"It begins very well, oh, minstrel!" said Jack, with an approving nod."The ink was well expended. Mount thee yon table, and from thencedeliver thyself of the remnant of thy rhyme."
"Thanks," returned the voice; "I will."
"Get up on the table, Jimmieboy," the voice added, "and we'll finish 'emoff there. Be a little slow about it, for I've got to have time tocompose the rest of the poem."
So Jimmieboy clambered up the leg of the table, and in a few moments wasready for the voice to begin, which the voice proceeded to do.
"I will repeat the first verse, your Majesty, for the sake ofcompleteness. And here goes:
"Jack Frigidos, Jack Frigidos, Oh, what a trope you are! How you do shine, And ghibeline, And conjugate afar!
"How debonair Is thy back hair; Thy smile how contraband! Would I could ape Thy shapely shape, And arrogate thy hand!
"That nose of thine, How superfine! How pertinent thy chin. How manifest The palimpsest And contour of thy shin!
"How ormolu Thy revenue! How dusk thy silhouette! How myrtilly Thy pedigree Doth grace thine amulet!
"What man is there, Ay, anywhere, What mortal chanticleer, Can fail to find Unto his mind Thy buxom bandolier!
"Ah, Frigidos! Jack Frigidos, In parcel or in keg, Another like Thee none can strike From Dan to Winnipeg."
Here the voice paused.
"Is that all?" queried Jack Frost.
"It is all I have written up to this moment," the voice answered. "Ofcourse there are seventy or eighty more miles of it, because, as yourMajesty is well aware, it would take many a league of poetry fitly tocommemorate your virtues."
"Your answer is pleasing unto me," replied the monarch of Frostland,when the voice had thus spoken. "The office of the Secretary of State isyours. The salary is not large, but the duties are. They are to consistmainly of----"
Here the King was interrupted by a tremendous noise without. Evidentlysome one was creating a disturbance, and as Jimmieboy turned to see whatit was, he saw the great ice mountain looming up over the far-distanthorizon melt slowly away and dwindle out of sight; and then messengers,breathless with haste, rushed in and cried out to the King:
THE GAS-STOVE DESTROYING FROSTLAND.]
"We are attacked! we are attacked! A tribe from a far country, commandedby the Gas Stove, is even now within our boundaries, armed with adevastating hose, breathing forth fire, by which already has beendestroyed the whole western frontier."
"What is to be done?" cried Jack, in alarm, and springing to his feet."Can we not send a regiment of cold winds out against them, and freezethem to their very marrows and blow out the gas?"
"We cannot, sire," returned the messenger, "for the heat is so deadlythat the winds themselves thaw into balmy zephyrs before they reach theenemy."
"Not so!" cried the voice from Jimmieboy's lips. "For I will save you ifyou will place the matter in my hands."
"Noble creature!" sobbed Jack, grasping Jimmieboy by the hand. "Save mykingdom from destruction, and all that you ask of me in the future isyours."
And Jimmieboy, promising to help Jack, started out, clad with all theauthority of his high office, to meet the Gas Stove.
Half-Hours with Jimmieboy Page 15