"But I want to slide," said Jimmieboy, "and I'm afraid there'll be aslaw come along and melt the snow."
Jimmieboy always called thaws slaws, so his mother wasn't surprised atthis remark, and in a few minutes the boy was ready to coast.
"Come along, Magic!" he said, gleefully catching up the rope. "We'll seenow if Uncle Periwinkle was right when he said he didn't think you'd gomore'n a mile a minute, unless you had a roller-skate on both yourrunners."
And then, though Jimmieboy did not notice it, the left-hand swan-headwinked its eye at the other swan-head and whispered, "Humph! It's plainUncle Periwinkle doesn't know that we are a magic sled."
"Well, why should he?" returned the other swan-head, with a laugh. "Henever slode on us."
"I'm glad I'm not an uncle," said the left-hand head. "Uncles don'tknow half as much as we do."
"And why should they!" put in the other. "They haven't had theimportunities we have for gaining knowledge. A man who has lived all hisdays in one country and which has never slad around the world like ushas, don't see things the way us would."
And still Jimmieboy did not notice that the swan-heads were talkingtogether, though I can hardly blame him for that, because, now that hewas out of doors he had to keep his eyes wide open to keep from bumpinghis head into the snow balls the hired man was throwing at him. In a fewminutes, however, he did notice the peculiar fact and he was sosurprised that he sat plump down on the red back of the sled and was offfor--well, where the sled took him, and of all the slides that ever wereslid, that was indeed the strangest. No sooner had he sat down thanwith a leap that nearly threw him off his balance, the swans started.The steel runners crackled merrily over the snow, and the wind itselfwas soon left behind.
"C-can you sus-swans tut-talk?" Jimmieboy cried, in amazement, as soonas he could get his breath.
"Oh, no, of course not," said the right-hand swan. "_We_ can't talk, canwe Swanny?"
"No, indeed, Swayny," returned the other with a laugh. "You may think wetalk, you may even hear words from our lips, we might even recite apoem, but that wouldn't be talk--oh, no, indeed. Certainly not."
"It's a queer question for him to ask, eh Swanny?" said the right-handhead.
"Extraordinary, Swayny," said the one on the left. "Might as well ask alocomotive if it smokes."
"Well, I only wanted to know," said Jimmieboy.
"He only wanted to know, Swanny," said Swayny.
"I presume that was why he asked--as though we didn't know that," saidSwanny. "He'd ask a pie-man with a tray full of pies, if he had anypies, I believe."
"Yes, or a cat if he could miaou. Queer boy," returned Swayny. And thenhe added:
"I think a boy, who'd waste his time In asking questions such as that, Would ask a man, who dealt in rhyme If he'd a head inside his hat."
Jimmieboy laughed.
"You know poetry, don't you," he said.
"Well, rather," said Swayny. "That is to say, I can tell it from achurch steeple."
"Which reminds me," put in Swanny, as strange to say, this wonderfulsled began to slide up a very steep hill, "of a conundrum I never heardbefore. What's the difference between writing poetry the way some peopledo and building a steeple as all people do?"
"I can't say," said Swayny, "though if you'll tell me the answer nownext time you ask that conundrum I'll be able to inform you."
"Some people who write poetry run it into the ground," said Swanny, "andall people who build steeples, run 'em up into the air."
"That's not bad," said Jimmieboy, with a smile.
"No," said Swanny, "it is not--but you don't know why."
"I don't indeed," observed Jimmieboy. "Why?"
"Because my conundrums never are," said Swanny.
"EUROPE!" cried Swayny. "_Five minutes for refreshments._"
"What _do_ you mean?" said Jimmieboy, as the sled came to a standstill.
"What does any conductor mean when he calls out the name of a station?"said Swayny scornfully. "He means that's where you are at of course.Which is what I mean. We've arrived at Europe. That's the kind of a fastmail sled we are. In three minutes we've carried you up hill and downdale, over the sea to Europe."
"Really?" cried Jimmieboy, dumfounded.
"Certainly," said Swanny. "You are now in Europe. That blue place yousee over on the right is Germany, off to the left is France and thatlittle pink speck is Switzerland. See that glistening thing just on theedge of the pink speck?"
"Yes," said Jimmieboy.
"That's an Alp," said Swanny. "It's too bad we've got to get you home intime for breakfast. If we weren't in such a hurry, we'd let you off sothat you could buy an Alp to take home to your brother. You could havesnow-balls all through the summer if you had an Alp in your nursery, butwe can't stop now to get it. We've got to runaway immediately. ReadySwayny?"
"Yes," said Swayny. "ALL ABOARD FOR ENGLAND. Passengers will please keeptheir seats until the sled comes to a standstill in the station."
And then they were off again.
"How did you like Europe?" asked Swanny, as they sped along through abeautiful country, which Swayny said was France.
"Very nice what I saw of it," said Jimmieboy. "But, of course I couldn'tsee very much in five minutes."
"Hoh! Hear that, Swayny?" said Swanny. "Couldn't see much in fiveminutes. Why you could see all Europe in five minutes, if you onlylooked fast enough. You kept your eye glued on that Alp, I guess."
"That's what he did," said Swayny. "And that's why it was so hard to getthe sled started. I had to hump three times before I could get my runneroff and it was all because he'd glued his eye on the Alp! Don't do itagain, Jimmieboy. We haven't time to unglue your eye every time westart."
"I don't blame him," said Swanny. "Those Alps are simply great, and Isometimes feel myself as if I'd like to look at 'em as much as fortyminutes. I'd hate to be a hired man on an Alp, though."
"So would I," said Swayny. "It would be awful if the owner of the Alpmade the hired man shovel the snow off it every morning."
"I wasn't thinking of that so much as I was of getting up every morning,early, to push the clouds away," said Swanny. "People are very carelessabout their clouds on the Alps, and they wander here and there, strayingfrom one man's lawn onto another's, just like cows where Jimmieboylives. I knew a man once who bought the top of an Alp just for the view,and one of his neighbor's clouds came along and squatted down on hisplace and simply killed the view entirely, and I tell you he made hishired man's life miserable. Scolded him from morning until night, andfed him on cracked ice for a week, just because he didn't scare thecloud off when he saw it coming."
"I don't see how a man could scare a cloud off," said Jimmieboy.
"Easy as eating chocolate creams," said Swayny. "You can do it with afan, if you have one big enough--but, I say, Swanny, put on the brakesthere quick, or we'll run slam-bang into----"
"LONDON!" cried Swanny, putting on the brakes, and sure enough that'swhere they were. Jimmieboy knew it in a minute, because there was a ladycoming out of a shop preceded by a band of music, and wearing a bigcrown on her head, whom he recognized at once as the great and goodQueen, whose pictures he had often seen in his story books.
"Howdy do, little boy," said the Queen, as her eye rested on Jimmieboy.
"I'm very well, thank you, Ma'am," said Jimmieboy, holding out his handfor Her Majesty to shake.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm sliding until breakfast is ready," he replied.
"Until breakfast is ready?" she cried. "Why, what time do you havebreakfast?"
"Eight o'clock, so's papa can catch the 8:30 train, Ma'am," saidJimmieboy.
"But--it is now nearly one o'clock!" said the Queen.
"That's all right, Your Roily Highnishness," said Swanny. "This is anAmerican boy and he breakfasts on the American plan. It isn't eighto'clock yet where he lives."
"Oh, yes--so it isn't," said the Queen. "I remember now. The sun risesearlier her
e than it does in America."
"Yes, Ma'am," put in Swayny. "It has to in order to get to America ontime. America is some distance from here as you may have heard."
And before the Queen could say another word, the sled was slidingmerrily along at such a rapid pace that Jimmieboy had to throw his armsabout Swayny's neck to keep from falling overboard.
"W-where are we g-g gug-going to now?" he stammered.
"China," said Swanny.
"Egypt," said Swayny.
"I said China," cried Swanny, turning his eyes full upon Swayny andglaring at him.
"I know you did," said Swayny. "I may not show 'em, but I have ears. I,on the other hand said Egypt, and Egypt is where we are going. I want toshow Jimmieboy the Pyramids. He's never seen a Pyramid and he has seenChinamen."
"No doubt," said Swanny. "But this time he's not going to Egypt. I'mgoing to show him a Mandarin. He can build a Pyramid with his blocks,but he never in his life could build a Mandarin. Therefore, Ho forChina."
"You mean Bah! for China," said Swayny, angrily. "I'm not going toChina, Mr. William G. Swanny and that's all there is about that. Lasttime I was there a Chinaman captured me and tied me to his pig-tail andI vowed I'd never go again."
"And when I was in Egypt last time, I was stolen by a mummy, who wantedto broil and eat me because he hadn't had anything to eat for twothousand years. So _I_'m not going to Egypt."
Whereupon the two strange birds became involved in a dreadful quarrel,one trying to run the sled off toward China, the other trying, withequal vim, to steer it over to Egypt. The runners creaked; the red backgroaned and finally, there came a most dreadful crash. Swanny flew offwith his runner to the land of Flowers, and Swayny, freed from hispartner, forgetting Jimmieboy completely, sped on to Egypt.
And Jimmieboy.
Well, Jimmieboy, fell in between and by some great good fortune, forwhich I am not at all prepared to account, landed in a heap immediatelybeside his little bed in the nursery, not dressed in his furs at all butin his night gown, while out of doors not a speck of snow was to beseen, and strangest of all, when he was really dressed and had gone downstairs, there stood Magic and the two swan heads, as spick and span asyou please, still waiting to be tried.
THE STUPID LITTLE APPLE-TREE
_THE STUPID LITTLE APPLE-TREE_
Jimmieboy was playing in the orchard, and, as far as the birds and thecrickets and the tumble-bugs could see, was as happy as the birds, aslively as the crickets, and as tumbly as the tumble-bugs. In fact, oneof the crickets had offered to bet an unusually active tumble-bug thatJimmieboy could give him ten tumbles start and beat him five in ahundred, but the tumble-bug was a good little bug and wouldn't bet.
"I'm put here to tumble," said he. "That's my work in life, and I'mgoing to stick to it. Other creatures may be able to tumble better thanI can, but that isn't going to make any difference to me. So long as Ido the best I can, I'm satisfied. If you want to bet, go bet with thedandelions. They've got more gold in 'em than we tumble-bugs have."
Now, whether it was the sweet drowsiness of the afternoon, or theunusual number of tumbles he took on the soft, carpet-like grass in andout among the apple-trees, neither Jimmieboy nor I have ever been ableto discover, but all of a sudden Jimmieboy thought it would be pleasantto rest awhile; and to accomplish this desirable end he could think ofnothing better than to throw himself down at the foot of what he hadalways called the stupid little apple-tree. It was a very pretty tree,but it was always behind-time with its blossoms. All the other trees inthe orchard burst out into bloom at the proper time, but the stupidlittle apple-tree, like a small boy in school who isn't as smart as someother boys, was never ready, when the others were, and that was whyJimmieboy called it stupid.
"Jimmieboy! Jimmieboy!"
He turned about to see who had addressed him, but there was nothing insight but a huge bumblebee, and he was entirely too busy at his dailystint to be wasting any time on Jimmieboy.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Jimmieboy asked.
"I'm--I'm a friend of yours," said the voice. "Oh, a splendid friend ofyours, even if I am stupid. Do you want to earn an apple?"
"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I'm very fond of apples--though I can get all Iwant without earning 'em."
"That's true enough," returned the voice; "but an apple you have givenyou isn't half so good as one you really earn all by yourself--that'swhy I want you to earn one. Of course I'll give you all the apples I'vegot, anyhow, but I'd like to have you earn one of 'em, just to show youhow much better it tastes because you have earned it."
"All right," said Jimmieboy, politely. "I'm very much obliged to you,and I'll earn it if you'll tell me how. But, I say," he added, "I can'tsee you--who are you?"
"Can't see me? That's queer," said the voice. "I'm right here--can't yousee the stupid little apple-tree that's keeping the sun off you andstretching its arms up over you?"
"Yes," Jimmieboy replied. "I can see that, but I can't see you."
"Why, I'm it," said the voice. "It's the stupid little apple-tree that'stalking to you. I'm me."
Jimmieboy sat up and looked at the tree with a surprised delight. "Oh!that's it, eh?" he said. "You can talk, can you?"
"Certainly," said the tree. "You didn't think we poor trees stood outhere year in and year out, in cold weather and in warm, in storm and insunshine, never lying down, always standing, without being allowed totalk, did you? That would be dreadfully cruel. It's bad enough not to beable to move around. Think how much worse it would be if we had to keepsilent all that time! You can judge for yourself what a fearfully dulltime we would have of it when you consider how hard it is for you to sitstill in school for an hour without speaking."
"I just simply can't do it," said Jimmieboy. "That's the only thing myteacher don't like about me. She says I'm movey and loquacious."
"I don't know what loquacious means," said the tree.
"Neither do I," said Jimmieboy, "but I guess it has something to dowith talking too much when you hadn't ought to. But tell me, Mr. Tree,how can I earn the apple?"
"Don't be so formal," said the tree. "Don't call me Mr. Tree. You'veknown me long enough to be more intimate."
"Very well," said Jimmieboy. "I'll call you whatever you want me to.What shall I call you?"
"Call me Stoopy," said the tree, softly. "Stoopy for short. I alwaysliked that name."
Jimmieboy laughed. "It's an awful funny name," he said. "Stoopy!Ha-ha-ha! What's it short for?"
"Stupid," said the tree. "That is, while it's quite as long as Stupid,it seems shorter. Anyhow, it's more affectionate, and that's why I wantyou to call me by it."
"Very well, Stoopy," said Jimmieboy. "Now, about the apple. Have yougot it with you?"
"No," returned the tree. "But I'm making it, and it's going to be thefinest apple you ever saw. It will have bigger, redder cheeks than anyother apple in the world, and it'll have a core in it that will be justas good to eat as marmalade, and it'll be all for you if you'll dosomething for me to-morrow."
"I'll do it if I can," said Jimmieboy.
"Of course--that's what I mean," said Stoopy. "Nobody can do a thing hecan't do; and if you find that you can't do it, don't do it; you'll getthe apple just the same, only you won't have earned it, and it may notseem so good, particularly the core. I suppose you know that to-morrowis Decoration Day?"
"Yes, indeed," said Jimmieboy. "Mamma's going to send a lot of flowersto the Committee, and papa's going to take me to see the soldiers, andafter that I'm going over to the semingary to see them decorate thegraves."
"That's what I thought," said the tree, with a sigh. "I wish I could go.There's nothing I'd like to do better than to go over there and drop alot of blossoms around on the graves of the men who went to war and losttheir lives so that you might have a country, and we trees could grow inpeace without being afraid of having a cannon-ball shot into us, cuttingus in two--but I want to tell you a little story about all that. Youdidn't know I was planted by a little boy w
ho went to the war and gotkilled, did you?"
"No," returned Jimmieboy, softly. "I didn't know that. I asked papa oneday who planted you, and he said he guessed you just grew."
"Well, that's true, I did just grow," said Stoopy, "but I had to beplanted first, and I was planted right here by a little boy only tenyears old. He was awfully good to me, too. He used to take care of mejust as if I were a little baby. I wasn't more than half as tall as hewas when he set me out here, and I was his tree, and he was proud ascould be to feel that he owned me; and he used to tell me that when Igrew big and had apples he was going to sell the apples and buy nicethings for his mother with the money he got for 'em. We grew uptogether. He took such good care of me that I soon got to be taller thanhe was, and the taller I became the prouder he was of me. Oh, he was afine boy, Jimmieboy, and as he grew up his mother and father wereawfully proud of him. And then the war broke out. He was a little overtwenty years old then, and he couldn't be kept from going to fight. Hejoined the regiment that was raised here, and after a little while hesaid good-by to his mother and father, and then he came out here to meand put his arms around my trunk and kissed me good-by too, and heplucked a little sprig of leaves from one of my branches and put it inhis buttonhole, and then he went away. That was the last time I saw him.He was killed in his first battle."
Here Stoopy paused for an instant, and trembled a little, and a fewblossoms fell like trickling tear-drops, and fluttered softly to theground.
Bikey the Skicycle and Other Tales of Jimmieboy Page 12
