Count Bunker

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER XXIV

  The day of the Gathering broke gray and still, and the Baron, who was noweather prophet, declared gloomily--

  "It vill rain. Donnerwetter!"

  A couple of hours later the sun was out, and the distant hillsshimmering in the heat haze.

  "Himmel! Ve are alvays lucky, Bonker!" he cried, and with gleefulenergy brandished his dumb-bells in final preparation for his muscularexploits.

  "We certainly have escaped hanging so far," said the Count, as he drewon the trews which became his well-turned leg so happily.

  His arrangements were admirable and complete, and by twelve o'clock thecastle lawn looked as barbarically gay as the colored supplement toan illustrated paper. Pipes were skirling, skirts fluttering, flagsflapping; and as invitations had been issued to various magnates in thedistrict, whether acquainted with the present peer or not, there wereto be seen quite a number of dignified personages in divers shades oftartan, and parasols of all the hues in the rainbow. The Baron was inhis element. He judged the bagpipe competition himself, and held oneend of the tape that measured the jumps, besides delighting the wholeassembled company by his affability and good spirits.

  "Your performance comes next, I see," said Eleanor Maddison, throwinghim her brightest smile. "I can't tell you how I am looking forward toseeing you do it!"

  The Baron started and looked at the programme in her hand. He had beentoo excited to study it carefully before, and now for the first time hesaw the announcement (in large type)--

  "7. Lord Tulliwuddle throws the 85-lb. hammer."

  The sixth event was nearly through, and there--there evidently was thehammer in question being carried into the ring by no fewer than threestalwart Highlanders! The Baron had learned enough of the pastimes ofhis adopted country to be aware that this gigantic weapon was somethinglike four times as heavy as any hammer hitherto thrown by the hardiestCaledonian.

  "Teufel! Bonker vill make a fool of me," he muttered, and hastilybursting from the circle of spectators, hurried towards the Count, whoappeared to be busied in keeping the curious away from the Chieftain'shammer.

  "Bonker, vat means zis?" he demanded.

  "Your hammer," smiled the Count.

  "A hammer zat takes tree men----"

  "Hush!" whispered the Count. "They are only holding it down!"

  The Baron laid his hand upon the round enormous head, and started.

  "It is not iron!" he gasped. "It is of rubber."

  "Filled with hydrogen," breathed the Count in his ear. "Just swing itonce and let go--and, I say, mind it doesn't carry you away with it."

  The chief bared his arms and seized the handle; his three clansmen letgo; and then, with what seemed to the breathless spectators to be amerely trifling effort of strength, he dismissed the projectile uponthe most astounding journey ever seen even in that land of brawnyhammer-hurlers. Up, up, up it soared, over the trees; high above thetopmost turret of the castle, and still on and on and ever upwards tillit became a mere speck in the zenith, and at last faded utterly fromsight.

  Then, and not till then, did the pent-up applause break out into sucha roar of cheering as Hechnahoul had never heard before in all its longhistory.

  "Eighty-five pounds of pig-iron gone straight to heaven!" gasped theSilver King. "Guess that beats all records!"

  "America must wake up!" frowned Ri.

  Meanwhile the Baron, after bowing in turn towards all points of thecompass, turned confidentially to his friend.

  "Vill not ze men that carried it----?"

  "I've told 'em you'd give 'em a couple of sovereigns apiece."

  The Baron came from an economical nation.

  "Two to each!"

  "My dear fellow, wasn't it worth it?"

  The Baron grasped his hand.

  "Ja, mine Bonker, it vas! I vill pay zem."

  Radiant and smiling, he returned to receive the congratulations of hisguests, dreaming that his triumph was complete, and that nothing morearduous remained than pleasant dalliance alternately with his Eleanorand his Eva. But he speedily discovered that hurling an inflatedhammer heavenwards was child's play as compared with the simultaneousnegotiation of a double wooing. The first person to address him was themillionaire, and he could not but feel a shiver of apprehension to notethat he was evidently in the midst of a conversation with Mr. Gallosh.

  "I must congratulate you, Lord Tulliwuddle," said Mr. Maddison, "and Imust further congratulate my daughter upon the almost miraculous featyou have performed for her benefit. You know, I dare say"--here heturned to Mr. Gallosh--"that this very delightful entertainment wasgiven primarily in my Eleanor's honor?"

  "Whut!" exclaimed the merchant. "That's--eh--that's scarcely the fac'sas we've learned them. But his lordship will be able to tell you besthimself."

  His lordship smiled affably upon both, murmured something incoherent,and passed on hastily towards the scarlet parasol of Eleanor. But he hadno sooner reached it than he paused and would have turned had she notseen him, for under a blue parasol beside her he espied, too late, thefair face of Eva, and too clearly perceived that the happy maidens hadbeen comparing notes, with the result that neither looked very happynow.

  "I hope you do enjoy ze sports," he began, endeavoring to distributethis wish as equally as possible.

  "Miss Gallosh has been remarkably fortunate in her weather," saidEleanor, and therewith gave him an uninterrupted view of her sunshade.

  "Miss Maddison has seen you to great advantage, Lord Tulliwuddle," saidEva, affording him the next instant a similar prospect of silk.

  The unfortunate chief recoiled from this ungrateful reception of hiskindness. Only one refuge, one mediator, he instinctively looked for;but where could the Count have gone?

  "Himmel! Has he deserted me?" he muttered, frantically elbowing his wayin search of him.

  But this once it happened that the Count was engaged upon businessof his own. Strolling outside the ring of spectators, with a viewto enjoying a cigar and a little relaxation from the anxieties ofstage-management, his attention had been arrested in a singular andflattering way. At that place where he happened to be passing stood anopen carriage containing a girl and an older lady, evidently guests fromthe neighborhood personally unknown to his lordship, and just as hewent by he heard pronounced in a thrilling whisper--"THAT must be CountBunker!"

  The Count was too well-bred to turn at once, but it is hardly necessaryto say that a few moments later he casually repassed the carriage; norwill it astonish any who have been kind enough to follow his previouscareer with some degree of attention to learn that when opposite theladies he paused, looked from them to the enclosure and back again, andpresently raising his feathered bonnet, said in the most ingratiatingtones--

  "Pardon me, but I am requested by Lord Tulliwuddle to show any attentionI can to the comfort of his guests. Can you see well from where youare?"

  The younger lady with an eager air assured him that they saw perfectly,and even in the course of the three or four sentences she spoke he wasable to come to several conclusions regarding her: that her companionwas in a subsidiary and doubtless salaried position; that she herselfwas decidedly attractive to look upon; that her voice had spoken thewhispered words; and that her present animated air might safely beattributed rather to the fact that she addressed Count Bunker than tothe subject-matter of her reply.

  No one possessed in a higher degree than the Count the nice art oferecting a whole conversation upon the foundation of the lightestphrase. He contrived a reply to the lady's answer, was able to put themost natural question next, to follow that with a happy stroke of wit,and within three minutes to make it seem the most obvious thing in theworld that he should be saying

  "I am sure that Lord Tulliwuddle will never forgive me if I fail tolearn the names of any visitors who have honored him to-day."

  "Mine," said the girl, her color rising slightly, but her glance as kindas ever, "is Julia Wallingford. This is my friend Miss Minchell."

  The
Count bowed.

  "And may I introduce myself as a friend of Tulliwuddle's, answering tothe name of Count Bunker."

  Again Miss Wallingford's color rose. In a low and ardent voice she began

  "I am so glad to meet you! Your name is already----"

  But at that instant, when the Count was bending forward to catch thewords and the lady bending down to utter them, a hand grasped him by thesleeve, and the Baron's voice exclaimed,

  "Come, Bonker, quickly here to help me!"

  He would fain have presented his lordship to the ladies, but the Baronwas too hurried to pause, and with a parting bow he was reluctantlyborne off to assist his friend out of his latest dilemma.

  "Pooh, my dear Baron!" he cried, when the situation was explained tohim; "you couldn't have done more damage to their hearts if you hadhurled your hammer at them! A touch of jealousy was all that wasneeded to complete your conquests. But for me you have spoiled the mostpromising affair imaginable. There goes their carriage trotting down thedrive! And I shall probably never know whether my name was already inher heart or in her prayers. Those are the two chief receptacles forgentlemen's names, I believe--aren't they, Baron?"

  On his advice the rival families were left to the soothing influences ofa good dinner and a night's sleep, and he found himself free to ponderover his interrupted adventure.

  "Undoubtedly one feels all the better for a little appreciation," hereflected complacently. "I wonder if it was my trews that bowled herover?"