“Can’t say as to that, partner,” answered Cap’n Bill, “but I’m mighty certain we’ve come a long way since we struck that whirlpool.”
“Yes,” she agreed, with a sigh, “it must be miles and miles!”
“Distance means nothing,” said the Ork. “I have flown pretty much all over the world, trying to find my home, and it is astonishing how many little countries there are, hidden away in the cracks and corners of this big globe of Earth. If one travels, he may find some new country at every turn, and a good many of them have never yet been put upon the maps.”
“P’raps this is one of them,” suggested Trot.
They reached the house after a brisk walk and Cap’n Bill knocked upon the door. It was at once opened by a rugged looking man who had “bumps all over him,” as Trot afterward declared. There were bumps on his head, bumps on his body and bumps on his arms and legs and hands. Even his fingers had bumps on the ends of them. For dress he wore an old gray suit of fantastic design, which fitted him very badly because of the bumps it covered but could not conceal.
But the Bumpy Man’s eyes were kind and twinkling in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice:
“Happy day! Come in and shut the door, for it grows cool when the sun goes down. Winter is now upon us.”
“Why, it isn’t cold a bit, outside,” said Trot, “so it can’t be winter yet.”
“You will change your mind about that in a little while,” declared the Bumpy Man. “My bumps always tell me the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a snowstorm was coming this way. But make yourselves at home, strangers. Supper is nearly ready and there is food enough for all.”
Inside the house there was but one large room, simply but comfortably furnished. It had benches, a table and a fireplace, all made of stone. On the hearth a pot was bubbling and steaming, and Trot thought it had a rather nice smell. The visitors seated themselves upon the benches—except the Ork. which squatted by the fireplace—and the Bumpy Man began stirring the kettle briskly.
“May I ask what country this is, sir?” inquired Cap’n Bill.
“Goodness me—fruit-cake and apple-sauce!—don’t you know where you are?” asked the Bumpy Man, as he stopped stirring and looked at the speaker in surprise.
“No,” admitted Cap’n Bill. “We’ve just arrived.”
“Lost your way?” questioned the Bumpy Man.
“Not exactly,” said Cap’n Bill. “We didn’t have any way to lose.”
“Ah!” said the Bumpy Man, nodding his bumpy head. “This,” he announced, in a solemn, impressive voice, “is the famous Land of Mo.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the sailor and the girl, both in one breath. But, never having heard of the Land of Mo, they were no wiser than before.
“I thought that would startle you,” remarked the Bumpy Man, well pleased, as he resumed his stirring. The Ork watched him a while in silence and then asked:
“Who may you be?”
“Me?” answered the Bumpy Man. “Haven’t you heard of me? Gingerbread and lemon-juice! I’m known, far and wide, as the Mountain Ear.”
They all received this information in silence at first, for they were trying to think what he could mean. Finally Trot mustered up courage to ask:
“What is a Mountain Ear, please?”
For answer the man turned around and faced them, waving the spoon with which he had been stirring the kettle, as he recited the following verses in a singsong tone of voice:
“Here’s a mountain, hard of hearing,
That’s sad-hearted and needs cheering,
So my duty is to listen to all sounds that Nature makes,
So the hill won’t get uneasy—
Get to coughing, or get sneezy—
For this monster bump, when frightened, is quite liable to quakes.
“You can hear a bell that’s ringing;
I can feel some people’s singing;
But a mountain isn’t sensible of what goes on, and so
When I hear a blizzard blowing
Or it’s raining hard, or snowing,
I tell it to the mountain and the mountain seems to know.
“Thus I benefit all people
While I’m living on this steeple,
For I keep the mountain steady so my neighbors all may thrive.
With my list’ning and my shouting
I prevent this mount from spouting,
And that makes me so important that I’m glad that I’m alive.”
When he had finished these lines of verse the Bumpy Man turned again to resume his stirring. The Ork laughed softly and Cap’n Bill whistled to himself and Trot made up her mind that the Mountain Ear must be a little crazy. But the Bumpy Man seemed satisfied that he had explained his position fully and presently he placed four stone plates upon the table and then lifted the kettle from the fire and poured some of its contents on each of the plates. Cap’n Bill and Trot at once approached the table, for they were hungry, but when she examined her plate the little girl exclaimed:
“Why, it’s molasses candy!”
“To be sure,” returned the Bumpy Man, with a pleasant smile. “Eat it quick, while it’s hot, for it cools very quickly this winter weather.”
With this he seized a stone spoon and began putting the hot molasses candy into his mouth, while the others watched him in astonishment.
“Doesn’t it burn you?” asked the girl.
“No indeed,” said he. “Why don’t you eat? Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yes,” she replied, “I am hungry. But we usually eat our candy when it is cold and hard. We always pull molasses candy before we eat it.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Mountain Ear. “What a funny idea! Where in the world did you come from?”
“California,” she said.
“California! Pooh! there isn’t any such place. I’ve heard of every place in the Land of Mo, but I never before heard of California.”
“It isn’t in the Land of Mo,” she explained.
“Then it isn’t worth talking about,” declared the Bumpy Man, helping himself again from the steaming kettle, for he had been eating all the time he talked.
“For my part,” sighed Cap’n Bill, “I’d like a decent square meal, once more, just by way of variety. In the last place there was nothing but fruit to eat, and here it’s worse, for there’s nothing but candy.”
“Molasses candy isn’t so bad,” said Trot. “Mine’s nearly cool enough to pull, already. Wait a bit, Cap’n, and you can eat it.”
A little later she was able to gather the candy from the stone plate and begin to work it back and forth with her hands. The Mountain Ear was greatly amazed at this and watched her closely. It was really good candy and pulled beautifully, so that Trot was soon ready to cut it into chunks for eating.
Cap’n Bill condescended to eat one or two pieces and the Ork ate several, but the Bumpy Man refused to try it. Trot finished the plate of candy herself and then asked for a drink of water.
“Water?” said the Mountain Ear wonderingly. “What is that?”
“Something to drink. Don’t you have water in Mo?”
“None that ever I heard of,” said he. “But I can give you some fresh lemonade. I caught it in a jar the last time it rained, which was only day before yesterday.”
“Oh, does it rain lemonade here?” she inquired.
“Always; and it is very refreshing and healthful.”
With this he brought from a cupboard a stone jar and a dipper, and the girl found it very nice lemonade, indeed. Cap’n Bill liked it, too; but the Ork would not touch it.
“If there is no water in this country, I cannot stay here for long,” the creature declared. “Water means life to man and beast and bird.”
“The
re must be water in lemonade,” said Trot.
“Yes,” answered the Ork, “I suppose so; but there are other things in it, too, and they spoil the good water.”
The day’s adventures had made our wanderers tired, so the Bumpy Man brought them some blankets in which they rolled themselves and then lay down before the fire, which their host kept alive with fuel all through the night. Trot wakened several times and found the Mountain Ear always alert and listening intently for the slightest sound. But the little girl could hear no sound at all except the snores of Cap’n Bill.
Chapter Eight.Button-Bright is Lost and Found Again
“Wake up—wake up!” called the voice of the Bumpy Man. “Didn’t I tell you winter was coming? I could hear it coming with my left ear, and the proof is that it is now snowing hard outside.”
“Is it?” said Trot, rubbing her eyes and creeping out of her blanket. “Where I live, in California, I have never seen snow, except far away on the tops of high mountains.”
“Well, this is the top of a high mountain,” returned the bumpy one, “and for that reason we get our heaviest snowfalls right here.”
The little girl went to the window and looked out. The air was filled with falling white flakes, so large in size and so queer in form that she was puzzled.
“Are you certain this is snow?” she asked.
“To be sure. I must get my snow-shovel and turn out to shovel a path. Would you like to come with me?”
“Yes,” she said, and followed the Bumpy Man out when he opened the door. Then she exclaimed: “Why, it isn’t cold a bit!”
“Of course not,” replied the man. “It was cold last night, before the snowstorm; but snow, when it falls, is always crisp and warm.”
Trot gathered a handful of it.
“Why, it’s popcorn?” she cried.
“Certainly; all snow is popcorn. What did you expect it to be?”
“Popcorn is not snow in my country.”
“Well, it is the only snow we have in the Land of Mo, so you may as well make the best of it,” said he, a little impatiently. “I’m not responsible for the absurd things that happen in your country, and when you’re in Mo you must do as the Momen do. Eat some of our snow, and you will find it is good. The only fault I find with our snow is that we get too much of it at times.”
With this the Bumpy Man set to work shoveling a path and he was so quick and industrious that he piled up the popcorn in great banks on either side of the trail that led to the mountain-top from the plains below. While he worked, Trot ate popcorn and found it crisp and slightly warm, as well as nicely salted and buttered. Presently Cap’n Bill came out of the house and joined her.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Mo snow,” said she. “But it isn’t real snow, although it falls from the sky. It’s popcorn.”
Cap’n Bill tasted it; then he sat down in the path and began to eat. The Ork came out and pecked away with its bill as fast as it could. They all liked popcorn and they all were hungry this morning.
Meantime the flakes of “Mo snow” came down so fast that the number of them almost darkened the air. The Bumpy Man was now shoveling quite a distance down the mountain-side, while the path behind him rapidly filled up with fresh-fallen popcorn. Suddenly Trot heard him call out:
“Goodness gracious—mince pie and pancakes!—here is some one buried in the snow.”
She ran toward him at once and the others followed, wading through the corn and crunching it underneath their feet. The Mo snow was pretty deep where the Bumpy Man was shoveling and from beneath a great bank of it he had uncovered a pair of feet.
“Dear me! Someone has been lost in the storm,” said Cap’n Bill. “I hope he is still alive. Let’s pull him out and see.”
He took hold of one foot and the Bumpy Man took hold of the other. Then they both pulled and out from the heap of popcorn came a little boy. He was dressed in a brown velvet jacket and knickerbockers, with brown stockings, buckled shoes and a blue shirt-waist that had frills down its front. When drawn from the heap the boy was chewing a mouthful of popcorn and both his hands were full of it. So at first he couldn’t speak to his rescuers but lay quite still and eyed them calmly until he had swallowed his mouthful. Then he said:
“Get my cap,” and stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.
While the Bumpy Man began shoveling into the corn-bank to find the boy’s cap, Trot was laughing joyfully and Cap’n Bill had a broad grin on his face. The Ork looked from one to another and asked:
“Who is this stranger?”
“Why, it’s Button-Bright, of course,” answered Trot. “If anyone ever finds a lost boy, he can make up his mind it’s Button-Bright. But how he ever came to be lost in this far-away country is more’n I can make out.”
“Where does he belong?” inquired the Ork.
“His home used to be in Philadelphia, I think; but I’m quite sure Button-Bright doesn’t belong anywhere.”
“That’s right,” said the boy, nodding his head as he swallowed the second mouthful.
“Everyone belongs somewhere,” remarked the Ork.
“Not me,” insisted Button-Bright. “I’m half way round the world from Philadelphia, and I’ve lost my Magic Umbrella, that used to carry me anywhere. Stands to reason that if I can’t get back I haven’t any home. But I don’t care much. This is a pretty good country, Trot. I’ve had lots of fun here.”
By this time the Mountain Ear had secured the boy’s cap and was listening to the conversation with much interest.
“It seems you know this poor, snow-covered cast-away,” he said.
“Yes, indeed,” answered Trot. “We made a journey together to Sky Island, once, and were good friends.”
“Well, then I’m glad I saved his life,” said the Bumpy Man.
“Much obliged, Mr. Knobs,” said Button-Bright, sitting up and staring at him, “but I don’t believe you’ve saved anything except some popcorn that I might have eaten had you not disturbed me. It was nice and warm in that bank of popcorn, and there was plenty to eat. What made you dig me out? And what makes you so bumpy everywhere?”
“As for the bumps,” replied the man, looking at himself with much pride, “I was born with them and I suspect they were a gift from the fairies. They make me look rugged and big, like the mountain I serve.”
“All right,” said Button-Bright and began eating popcorn again.
It had stopped snowing, now, and great flocks of birds were gathering around the mountain-side, eating the popcorn with much eagerness and scarcely noticing the people at all. There were birds of every size and color, most of them having gorgeous feathers and plumes.
“Just look at them!” exclaimed the Ork scornfully. “Aren’t they dreadful creatures, all covered with feathers?”
“I think they’re beautiful,” said Trot, and this made the Ork so indignant that he went back into the house and sulked.
Button-Bright reached out his hand and caught a big bird by the leg. At once it rose into the air and it was so strong that it nearly carried the little boy with it. He let go the leg in a hurry and the bird flew down again and began to eat of the popcorn, not being frightened in the least.
This gave Cap’n Bill an idea. He felt in his pocket and drew out several pieces of stout string. Moving very quietly, so as to not alarm the birds, he crept up to several of the biggest ones and tied cords around their legs, thus making them prisoners. The birds were so intent on their eating that they did not notice what had happened to them, and when about twenty had been captured in this manner Cap’n Bill tied the ends of all the strings together and fastened them to a huge stone, so they could not escape.
The Bumpy Man watched the old sailor’s actions with much curiosity.
“The birds will be quiet until they’ve eaten up all the snow,” he said, “but then they will want t
o fly away to their homes. Tell me, sir, what will the poor things do when they find they can’t fly?”
“It may worry ‘em a little,” replied Cap’n Bill, “but they’re not going to be hurt if they take it easy and behave themselves.”
Our friends had all made a good breakfast of the delicious popcorn and now they walked toward the house again. Button-Bright walked beside Trot and held her hand in his, because they were old friends and he liked the little girl very much. The boy was not so old as Trot, and small as she was he was half a head shorter in height. The most remarkable thing about Button-Bright was that he was always quiet and composed, whatever happened, and nothing was ever able to astonish him. Trot liked him because he was not rude and never tried to plague her. Cap’n Bill liked him because he had found the boy cheerful and brave at all times, and willing to do anything he was asked to do.
When they came to the house Trot sniffed the air and asked “Don’t I smell perfume?”
“I think you do,” said the Bumpy Man. “You smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. All our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. The south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. So we need no weathervane to tell us which way the wind is blowing. We have only to smell the perfume and it informs us at once.”
Inside the house they found the Ork, and Button-Bright regarded the strange, birdlike creature with curious interest. After examining it closely for a time he asked:
“Which way does your tail whirl?”
“Either way,” said the Ork.
Button-Bright put out his hand and tried to spin it.
“Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Ork.
“Why not?” inquired the boy.
“Because it happens to be my tail, and I reserve the right to whirl it myself,” explained the Ork.
“Let’s go out and fly somewhere,” proposed Button-Bright. “I want to see how the tail works.”
The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels Page 236