CHAPTER III.
MAJOR BLUEFACE TRIES TO ASSIST.
The expedition under Jimmieboy's command had hardly been under way aquarter of an hour when the youthful general realized that the colonelhad not told him where the cherries and peaches and other necessarysupplies were to be found.
"Dear me," he said, stopping short in the road. "I don't know anythingabout this country, and I am sure I sha'n't be able to find all thosegood things--except in my mamma's pantry, and it would never do for meto take 'em from there. I might have to fight cook to get 'em, and thatwould be dreadful."
"Yes, it would," said Major Blueface, riding up as Jimmieboy spoke thesewords. "It would be terribly awful, for if you should fight with hernow, she wouldn't make you a single pancake or pie or custard oranything after you got back."
"I'm glad you've come," said Jimmieboy, with a sigh of relief. "Perhapsyou can tell me what I've got to do to get that ammu--that ammu--oh,that ammuknow, don't you?"
"Ammunition?" suggested the major.
"Yes, that's it," said Jimmieboy. "Could you tell me where to get it?"
"I could; but, really," returned the major, "I'm very much afraid I'dbetter not, unless you'll promise not to pay any attention to what Isay."
"I don't see what good that would do," said Jimmieboy, a littlesurprised at the major's words. "What's the use of your saying anything,if I am not to pay any attention to you?"
"I'll tell you if you'll sit down a moment," was the major's reply, uponwhich he and Jimmieboy sat down on a log at the road-side.
The major then recited his story as follows:
"THE MAJOR'S MISFORTUNE.
When I was born, some years ago, The world was standing upside down; Pekin was off in Mexico, And Paris stood near Germantown.
The moon likewise was out of gear. And shone most brilliantly by day; The while the sun did not appear Until the moon had gone away.
Which was, you see, a very strange, Unhappy way of doing things, And people did not like the change, Save clods who took the rank of kings.
For kings as well were going wrong, And 'stead of crowns wore beaver hats, While those once mean and poor grew strong; The dogs e'en ran from mice and rats.
The Frenchman spoke the Spanish tongue, The Russian's words were Turkestan; And England's nerves were all unstrung By cockneys speaking Aryan.
Schools went to boys, and billie-goats Drove children harnessed up to carts. The rivers flowed up hill, and oats Were fed to babies 'stead of tarts.
With things in this shape was I born. The stars were topsy-turvy all, And hence it is my fate forlorn When things are short to call them tall;
When thing are black to call them white; And if they're good to call them bad; To say 'tis day when it is night; To call an elephant a shad.
And when I say that this is this, That it is that you'll surely know; For truth's a thing I always miss, And what I say is never so."
"Poor fellow!" cried Jimmieboy. "How very unpleasant! Is that really atrue story?"
"No," returned the major, sadly. "It is not true."
And then Jimmieboy knew that it was true, and he felt very sorry for themajor.
"Never mind, major," he said, tapping his companion affectionately onthe shoulder. "I'll believe what you say if nobody else does."
"Oh, don't, don't! I beg of you, don't!" cried the major, anxiously. "Iwouldn't have you do that for all the world. If you did, it would get usinto all sorts of trouble. If I had thought you'd do that, I'd neverhave told you the story."
"Very well," said Jimmieboy, "then I won't. Only I should think you'dwant to have somebody believe in you."
"Oh, you can believe in me all you want," returned the major. "I'm oneof the finest fellows in the world, and worthy of anybody'sfriendship--and if anybody ought to know, Jimmieboy, I'm the one, for Iknow myself intimately. I've known myself ever since I was a little bitof a boy, and I can tell you if there's any man in the world who has anoble character and a good conscience and a heart in the right place,I'm him. It's only what I say you mustn't believe in. Remember that, andwe shall be all right."
"All right," said Jimmieboy. "We'll do it that way. Now tell me what youdon't know about finding preserved cherries and pickled peaches. We'vegot to lay in a very large supply of them, and I haven't the first ideahow to get 'em."
"H'm! What I don't know about 'em would take a long time to tell,"returned the major, with a shake of his head, "because there's so muchof it. In the first place,
"I do not know If cherries grow On trees, or roofs, or rocks; Or if they come In cans--ho-hum!-- Or packed up in a box.
Mayhap you'll find The proper kind Down where they sell red paint; And then, you see, Oh, dear! Ah, me! And then again you mayn't."
"That appears to settle the cherries," said Jimmieboy, somewhatimpatiently, for it did seem to him that the major was wasting a greatdeal of valuable time.
"Oh, dear me, no!" ejaculated the major. "I could go on like thatforever about cherries. For instance:
"You might perchance Get some in France, And some in Germany; A crate or two In far Barboo, And some in Labradee."
"Where's Labradee?" asked Jimmieboy.
"It's Labrador," said the major, with a smile; "but Labradee rhymesbetter with Germany, and as long as you know I'm not telling the truth,and are not likely to go there, it doesn't make any difference if Ichange it a little."
"That's so," said Jimmieboy, with a snicker. "But how about thosepeaches? Do you know anything that isn't so about them?"
"Oh, yes, lots," said the major.
"I know that when the peach is green, And growing on the tree, It's harder than a common bean, And yellow as can be.
I know that if you eat a peach That's just a bit too young, A lesson strong the act will teach, And leave your nerves unstrung.
And, furthermore, I know this fact: The crop, however hale In every year before 'tis packed, Doth never fail to fail."
"That's very interesting," said Jimmieboy, when the major had recitedthese lines, "but it doesn't help me a bit. What I want to know is howthe pickled peaches are to be found, and where."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the major. "Well, it's easy enough to tellyou that. First as to how you are to find them--this applies tohuckleberries and daisies and fire-engines and everything else, just aswell as it does to peaches, so you'd better listen. It's a very valuablething to know.
"The way to find a pickled peach, A cow, or piece of pumpkin pie, A simple lesson is to teach, As can be seen with half an eye.
Look up the road and down the road, Look North and South and East and West. Let not a single episode Come in betwixt you and your quest.
Search morning, night, and afternoon, From Monday until Saturday; By light of sun and that of moon, Nor mind the troubles in your way.
And keep this up until you get The thing that you are looking for, And then, of course, you need not fret About the matter any more."
"You are a great help," said Jimmieboy.
"Don't mention it, my dear boy," replied the major, so pleased that hesmiled and cracked some of the red enamel on his lips. "I like to beuseful. It's almost as good as being youthful. In fact, to people wholisp and pronounce their esses as though they were teeaitches, it'squite the same. It was very easy to tell you how to find a pickledpeach, but it's much harder to tell you where. In fact, I don't knowthat I can tell you where, but if I were not compelled to ignore thetruth I should inform you at once that I haven't the slightest idea.But, of course, I can tell you where you might find them if they werethere--which, of course, they aren't
. For instance:
"Pickled peaches might be found In the gold mines underground;
Pickled peaches might be seen Rolling down the Bowling Green;
Pickled peaches might spring up In a bed of custard cup;
Pickled peaches might sprout forth From an ice-cake in the North;
I have seen them in the South In a pickaninny's mouth;
I have seen them in the West Hid inside a cowboy's vest;
I have seen them in the East At a small boy's birthday feast;
Maybe, too, a few you'd see In the land of the Chinee;
And this statement broad I'll dare: You might find them anywhere."
"Thank you," said Jimmieboy. "I feel easier now that I know all this. Idon't know what I should have done if I hadn't met you, major."
"It's very unkind of you to say so," said the major, very much pleasedby Jimmieboy's appreciation. "Of course you know what I mean."
"Yes," answered Jimmieboy, "I do. Now I'll tell you what I think. Ithink pickled peaches come in cans and bottles."
"Bottles and cans, Bottles and cans, When a man marries it ruins his plans,"
quoted the major. "I got married once," he added, "but I became abachelor again right off. My wife wrote better poetry than I could, andI couldn't stand that, you know. That's how I came to be a soldier."
"That hasn't anything to do with the pickled peaches," said Jimmieboy,impatiently. "Now, unless I am very much mistaken, we can go to thegrocery store and buy a few bottles."
"Ho!" jeered the major. "What's the use of buying bottles when you'reafter pickled peaches?
'Of all the futile, futile things-- Remarked the Apogee-- That is as truly futilest As futilest can be.'
You never heard my poem on the Apogee, did you, Jimmieboy?"
"No. I never even heard of an Apogee. What is an Apogee, anyhow?" askedthe boy.
"To give definitions isn't a part of my bargain," answered the major. "Ihaven't the slightest idea what an Apogee is. He may be a bird with awhole file of unpaid bills, for all I know, but I wrote a poem about himonce that made another poet so jealous that he purposely caught a badcold and sneezed his head off; and I don't blame him either, because itwas a magnificent thing in its way. I'll tell it to you. Listen:
"THE APOGEE.
The Apogee wept saline tears Into the saline sea, To overhear two mutineers Discuss their pedigree. Said he: Of all the futile, futile things That ever I did see. That is as truly futilest As futilest can be.
He hied him thence to his hotel, And there it made him ill To hear a pretty damosel A bass song try to trill. Said he: Of all the futile, futile things-- To say it I am free-- That is about the futilest That ever I did see.
He went from sea to mountain height, And there he heard a lad Of sixty-eight compare the sight To other views he'd had; And he Remarked: Of all the futile things That ever came to me, This is as futily futile As futile well can be.
Then in disgust he went back home, His door-bell rang all day, But no one to the door did come: The butler'd gone away. Said he: This is the strangest, queerest world That ever I did see. It's two per cent. of earth, and nine- Ty-eight futility."
"Isn't that elegant?" added the major, when he had finished.
"It sounds well," said Jimmieboy. "But what does it mean? What'sfutile?"
"Futile? What does futile mean?" said the major, slowly. "Why,it's--it's a word, you know, and sort of stands for 'what's the use.'"
"Oh," replied Jimmieboy. "I see. To be futile means that you are wastingtime, eh?"
"That's it," said the major. "I'm glad you said it and not I, becausethat makes it true. If I'd said it, it wouldn't have been so."
"Well, all I've got to say," said Jimmieboy, "is that if anybody evercame to me and asked me where he could find a futile person, I'd sendhim over to you. Here we've wasted nearly the whole afternoon and wehaven't got a single thing. We haven't even talked of anything butpeaches and cherries, and we've got to get jam and sugar and almondsyet."
Here the major smiled.
"It isn't any laughing matter," said Jimmieboy. "It's a very seriouspiece of business, in fact. Here's this Parawelopipedon going aroundruining everything he can lay his claws on, and instead of helping meout of the fix I'm in, and starting the expedition off, you sit here andtell me about Apogees and other things I haven't time to hear about."
"I was only smiling to show how sorry I was," said the major,apologetically.
"I always smile when I am sad, And when I'm filled with glee A solitary tear-drop trick- Les down the cheek of me."
"Oh, that's it," said Jimmieboy. "Well, let's stop fooling now and getthose supplies."
"All right," assented the major. "Where are the soldiers who accompaniedyou? We'll give 'em their orders, and you'll have the supplies in notime."
"How's that?" queried Jimmieboy.
"Why, don't you see," said the major, "that's the nice thing about beinga general. If you have to do something you don't know how to do, youcommand your men to go and do it. That lifts the responsibility fromyour shoulders to theirs. They don't dare disobey, and there you are."
"Good enough!" cried Jimmieboy, delighted to find so easy a way out ofhis troubles. "I'll give them their orders at once. I'll tell them toget the supplies. Will they surely do it?"
"They'll have to, or be put in the guard-house," returned the major."And they don't like that, you know, because the guard-house hasn't anywalls, and it's awfully draughty. But, as I said before, where are thesoldiers?"
"Why!" said Jimmieboy, starting up and looking anxiously about him."They've gone, haven't they?"
"They seem to have," said the major, putting his hand over his eyes andgazing up and down the road, upon which no sign of Jimmieboy's commandwas visible. "You ordered them to halt when you sat down here, didn'tyou?"
"No," said Jimmieboy, "I didn't."
"Then that accounts for it," returned the major, with a scornful glanceat Jimmieboy. "They've gone on. They couldn't halt without orders, andthey must be eight miles from here by this time."
"What'll happen?" asked the boy, anxiously.
"What'll happen?" echoed the major. "Why, they'll march on foreverunless you get word to them to halt. You are a gay general, you are."
"But what's to be done?" asked Jimmieboy, growing tearful.
"There are only two things you can do. The earth is round, and in a fewyears they'll pass this way again, and then you can tell them to stop.That's one thing you can do. The second is to despatch me on horsebackto overtake and tell them to keep right on. They'll know what you mean,and they'll halt and wait until you come up."
"That's the best plan," cried Jimmieboy, with a sigh of relief. "Youhurry ahead and make them wait for me, and I'll come along as fast as Ican."
So the major mounted his horse and galloped away, leaving Jimmieboyalone in the road, trudging manfully ahead as fast as his small legscould carry him.
THE PARALLELOPIPEDON AND THE MIRROR. PAGE 54.]
In Camp With A Tin Soldier Page 3