Ingersoll Lockwood

Once more I grow tired of the quiet pleasures of home. The elder Baron opposes my leaving the land. His reasons. How I freed the ancestral estates from the pests of moles, meadow-mice and ground-squirrels; and how I set out for the Indies with my faithful Bulger. I enter a wild and untrodden territory. Wonderful transformation of day into night, and night into day. The huge fire-flies. My capture of one and what it brought forth. How I reached the borders of Palin-mÂ-Talin, the Great Gloomy Forest. BenÈ-ag the blind guide. My sojourn in his cave. I enter Palin-mÂ-Talin under his guidance. Strange adventures in the Great Gloomy Forest. BenÈ-ag takes leave of me. My advance is blocked by Boga-Drappa, the Dread Staircase. My flight down its treacherous steps. I enter the land of the Umi-Lobas, or Man-Hoppers. Am carried a prisoner to their king. Something about him and his people. King GÂ-roo’s affection for me. His gift to me of copies of all the books in the royal library—All about the princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ. I am condemned to a life-long imprisonment among the Umi-Lobas. I plan an escape. How it was done. Efforts of King GÂ-roo to capture me. Farewell of little princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ. How I sailed away from the land of the Umi-Lobas, and made my way back across India. My return home.

PORTRAIT OF ONE OF MY MOUSERS IN RUBBER BOOTS.

Like all lovers of a roving life, I was not long in growing tired of the quiet ways and simple pursuits of the inmates of the old baronial hall.

At times, I felt like an intruder, when I caught myself sitting with eyes riveted upon the pages of some musty, old volume of strange adventure in far-away lands, while the elder baron, the gracious baroness, my loving mother, and several cousins from the neighboring estate, gave themselves up to the sweet pleasures of the fireside, feasting upon honey-cake, drinking hot spiced wine, playing at draughts, dominoes, or cards, now chatting in the most animated manner of the trivial things of every-day life, now bursting out into uproarious laughter at some unexpected victory won at cards or at some fireside game.

Silently closing my book, and still more silently stealing away, I sought the quiet of my apartments, where, with no other companions, save faithful Bulger, I gave myself up to unrestrained indulgence in waking dreams of life in a storm-rocked ship, landings on strange shores, parleyings with curious beings, battling with the wild-visaged typhoon, or hurrying with sails close-reefed and hatches battened down, to gain a safe port ere the storm king’s ebon chargers could rattle their hoofs over our heads.

My dear mother, the gracious baroness, made extraordinary exertions to drive away my low spirits.

Knowing my fondness for coffee cake, she suffered no one to make it for me excepting herself. And at dinner she took care to place a professor or, some learned person beside me, so that I might not find myself condemned to silence for the want of a gifted mind to measure mental swords with.

But all to no purpose. I grew daily more taciturn, absent-minded, and plunged into meditation. With my eyes fixed upon vacancy, I sat like one with unbalanced mind amidst the lightest-hearted merry-makers. In vain the company besought me to relate past adventures, to tell them tales already thrice told. I only shook my head with a mournful smile, and made good my escape from scenes which were painful to me.

Bulger felt that his little master was suffering, and coaxed with plaintive whining to have me make known to him the cause of my grief.

His joy was wild and boisterous when he saw my body-servant enter my apartments, bearing an empty traveling chest upon his shoulders.

To tell the truth, life at the baronial hall pleased Bulger not a whit more than it did me.

The house dogs annoyed him with their attentions, and he was wont to retire from the dining hall with a look of utter disgust upon his face, when one of the family cats, in the most friendly spirit, drew near and tasted a bit of his dinner.

All caresses, too, from other hands than mine were distasteful to him; and, although for my sake he would permit the gracious baroness to stroke his silken ears, yet any familiarity on the part of the elder baron was firmly, but respectfully, declined.

The very moment I saw my chests placed here and there in my apartments, my spirits rose. I became like another being. The color returned to my cheeks, the gleam to my eye, the old-time ring to my voice.

From lip to lip, the word was passed: “The little baron is making ready for another journey!”

From early morn to deepening shadows of twilight, I busied myself with superintending the packing of my boxes. It was a labor of love with me.

I never was born for a calm life beneath the time-stained tiles of paternal halls! My heart was filled with redder, warmer blood than ordinary mortals. My brain never slept. Night and day, shadowy forms of men and things, strange and curious, swept along before me in never-ending files.

One morning, while at work with my boxes, a low knock at my chamber door fell upon my ear. Bulger, scenting an enemy, gave a low growl. I swung the door open. It was the elder baron.

“Honored father,” I cried gayly, “act as if thou wert master here! Be sad, be gay; sit, stand, drink, eat, or fast!”

“Little baron,” began my father in a solemn voice, “I beseech thee give over thy jesting. When thou hast heard the object of my visit, grief will chase every vestige of mirth from thy light heart.”

“Speak baron!”

“Art thou a dutiful and loving son?” asked my father, fixing his dark, mournful eyes full upon me.

“I am!”

“’Tis well!” he replied, “then arrest this making ready to abandon thy parents in their hour of misfortune. Put an end to all this unseemly hurlyburly, and to thy longing to be gone from beneath the paternal roof.”

The clouded face, trembling and tear-filled eyes of the elder baron shocked me. I could feel the blood leaving my cheeks, where, till then, it had bloomed like the glow of ripening fruit.

But I checked myself; and, motioning the baron to be seated, said in a calm—though spite of me—trembling voice:

“Noble father, it is thine to command; mine to obey! Speak, I pray thee, and speak too, plainly—if need be, harshly. Bare thy most secret thoughts. What aileth thee? What sends these dark shadows to rest on that calm, smooth brow?”

“Thanks, little baron,” was my father’s reply, “for thy promise of obedience. This is the weight which presses on my heart: Since thou hast taken up this rambling, roving life, robbed of thy counsel and co-operation, I have seen our ancestral estate hastening to ruin. Last year our tenantry scarcely harvested enough to keep body and soul together. This year promises to turn out worse yet. Desolation sits upon the broad acres once the prize of our family! Crops fail, grass withers, trees turn yellow! The poor cattle moan for sustenance as they winder about in the dried-up pastures. I look upon all this wreck and ruin, but am helpless as a babe to stay it! Speak, my son; wilt thou, hast thou the heart, canst thou be so cruel as to turn thy back upon these pitiful scenes without raising thy hand to avert the impending doom?”

“Baron!” I interposed mildly, but firmly, “facts first! eloquence thereafter! Impart unto me, in plain, King’s speech, the cause of all this ruin! What hath wrought it? What hath desolated our fair fields? What hath carried this rapine among our flocks and herds? Speak!”

“I will, little baron, give attentive ear!” rejoined my father with stately bend of the body:

“As ancient Egypt was visited with scourge and plague, so have been our ancestral acres! In pasture and grain fields, myriads of moles feed upon the tender rootlets; in grass lands, swarms of meadow-mice fatten on the herbage; in orchards and nurseries, countless numbers of ground-squirrels spread destruction far and near! Such are the terrible scourges now laying waste our once fair estates, your pride and mine, and the envy of all beholders!

“Little baron, I feel, I know that thou canst help me; that somewhere in the vast storehouse of thy mind, rest plans and devices potent enough to restore these broad lands to all their former beauty and productiveness.”

“Baron!” was my reply, “when was there a time that thou foundst me wanting in my duty to thee or lacking in power to assist thee?”

“Never!” ejaculated the elder baron with great emphasis.

“Then, betake thee to my gentle mother—the baroness—thy consort, comfort her. Bid her take heart! Say I will not go abroad until these pests are driven from our ancestral domain!”

The elder baron rose. I accompanied him to the door, then, we saluted each other with dignity and he withdrew to bear the glad message of my promised assistance to my sorrowing mother.

Alone in my apartments, a terrible feeling of disappointment came over me. I felt that it would be useless to continue in my preparations to leave home in the face of these dire misfortunes now threatening my family. For, as I reasoned—and I think with great clearness—the name of our family would dwindle to a shadow, were we robbed of these broad acres of pasture and meadow-land, forest and orchard.

To me, a landless nobleman had something very ludicrous about him; and I fully made up my mind that I would either save my ancestral estate from ruin, or lay aside forever my title of baron, as a gem which had lost its radiance, even as a pearl, which the stolid rustic ruins for the sake of a meal of victuals!

That night I partook of no food, so that I might lie down with unclouded mind.

Bulger noticing this, concluded that his little master was ailing, and likewise refused to touch food, although I ordered his favorite dish—roasted cocks’ combs—to be prepared.

Till midnight I lay awake in deepest thought over the arduous task which confronted me. At the stroke of twelve from the old clock on the stair, I determined to let my mind work out the problem itself, and turned over and went to sleep.

The baron and baroness entered the breakfast-room with unclouded brows the next morning. I greeted them very cordially. The conversation was enlivened by one or two of the elder baron’s ancient anecdotes which he furbished up for the occasion with several new characters and an entirely new ending. I laughed heartily—as I was in duty bound to do.

Breakfast over Bulger and I sallied forth to begin work. I resolved to attack the moles first.

To get rid of pest number one was not at all a difficult matter for me, when once I set about thinking it over. In fact, I may say right here, that this task, set me by the elder baron, would have been an impossible one had it not been for my intimate acquaintance with the natures, habits and peculiarities of animal life. Always a close student of natural history there was little about the four-footed tenants of the fields which had escaped my observation.

Accompanied by Bulger; armed with a pair of short, wooden tongs; and carrying a basket, I set out for the grain fields.

Bulger was in high glee for he had already made up his mind that there was sport ahead for him.

In less than an hour, with him to point out their hiding places and to unearth them, I had captured a hundred moles. Returning to the overseer’s lodge, with his help I cut off the nails of each mole’s fore feet close to the flesh and then gave orders to have the lot carried back to the grain fields and released. Turning my attention now to the meadow-mice, I realized at once that to get rid of pest number two would be the most difficult task of all.

The unthinking reader has doubtless already cried out in thought: “Why not turn a troop of cats into the meadows, and let them make short work of the destructive little creatures?”

Ah how easy it is to plan, how difficult to execute! Know then, my clever friend, that the meadows were wet and that though often tried the cats absolutely refused to enter them.

The merest tyro in natural history is aware of a cat’s aversion to wetting its fur; and, above all, of stepping into water. Even moisture is disagreeable to a cat’s feet and she will willingly walk a mile rather than cross a plot of dew-moistened green sward. However, I determined to begin my operations at once.

Knowing the wonderful changes which the pangs of hunger will work in an animal’s nature, forcing the meat-eaters to turn to the herbage of the field for sustenance—I hoped for favorable results.

Selecting half a dozen vigorous young cats from the cottages of our tenantry, and providing myself with a lot of India rubber caps used for drawing down over the necks of bottles, in order to make them air-tight, I proceeded to encase the legs of each cat in these coverings, cutting a hole in each one, however, so as to allow the paws to pass through. I wished to accustom them to these leggings before covering the feet entirely. My next step was to subject the cats to twenty-four hours fast. After which, I caused some of their favorite food—broiled fish to be placed at the other end of a long room, covering the intervening space with long-napped rugs, which I had first dipped into water.

In spite of their hunger, they absolutely refused to cross the dripping rugs.

Advancing to the edge, they tested the condition of the obstacles which blocked their advance upon the savory food feeling here and there for a dry spot; and then retreating with piteous mewing, as they shook the wet from their feet.

Drawing the rubber caps completely over the feet of one of the cats, I now placed her on the wet rug, encouraging her to remain there by feeding her a few dainty bits of the fish. Finding that her feet did not get wet, she consented to walk here and there over the wet surface, in order to secure toothsome bits of food. I made the same experiment with the other cats, and everything went as well as I could wish.

The next day I continued my instruction, and to my great joy, succeeded in schooling the whole lot, not only to make no objection to having their feet encased in the rubber boots, but even to wade through an inch or more of water, in order to secure a particularly dainty bit of food.

I was now ready to make a practical test of my trained hunters.

The day preceding the trial they were again subjected to a prolonged fast.

I must frankly confess that my heart beat rather nervously as I, with the overseer and two other assistants set out for the low lands, carrying the trained mousers—already shod in their rubber boots—in three baskets.

We advanced cautiously upon the meadow-land, but so far as the mice were concerned, our caution was useless, for they ran about under our very feet.

As I stood gazing over the long stretch of devastated meadow-land, once so famous for its thick, velvety grass, the tears gathered in my eyes and my voice choked. Now or never, thought I, must the attempt be made to save these fair fields from utter ruin. At a wave of my hand, my assistants stooped and released the somewhat startled cats. They were not long, however, in collecting their wits and getting ready for business.

Sharp hunger is an excellent sauce! As the six monsters leaped among those troops of tiny creatures—till that moment nibbling, playing or teasing one another, without a thought of harm or danger—the wildest consternation seized upon them.

Not only near by us, but as far as the eye could reach, panic and disorder spread among these, till then peaceful little beings. Those which sought safety in their holes were hurled back by others rushing frantically out into the open air.

The cats kept at their work like avenging furies. They killed for the mere pleasure of killing, passing like a death-dealing blast here and there over the meadows.

After the work of destruction had been kept up for half an hour, I directed that the trained six should be carried back to their quarters, for I was too good a general to let my troops get their fill of sack and plunder.

The next day another attack was made upon the enemy. The trained six, if anything, spread death right and left with greater fury than at first. The wet lands no longer had any terrors for them. They splashed through the puddles like mischievous boys through roadside brooks and ponds.

I now bethought me of turning my attention to the ground squirrels. My first step was to send to town for several bushels of the smallest marbles that could be purchased. Then, having, with the assistance of my ever-faithful and loving friend and helper—my dear, dumb brother Bulger—located the whereabouts of several hundred burrows of the ground-squirrels, I gave orders to have a half-dozen or more of the marbles rolled down into each one of those holes.

These labors completed, I withdrew to my apartments and set about amusing myself in several ways, while awaiting a report from the overseer.

Many of the tenants who had watched my operations against the moles, meadow-mice and ground-squirrels, even ventured openly to denounce them as “wild whims”, “a dreamer’s ideas” “silly workings of a diseased mind.”

Poor creatures! They had lost their all. They had seen the labor of long weary months ruined by these pests. They were embittered and skeptical. I had not the heart to notice their rather impertinent utterances. While awaiting the developments, I plunged into the delights of some tales of a bold traveler written in the ancient Assyrian tongue in the wedge-shaped letter.

Three days went by and no news from the superintendent!

Two more, made five full days!

On the sixth came nothing.

At last, with the dawn of the seventh I was awakened by loud and long continued cheering beneath my windows. Springing from my bed and drawing aside the curtains, I was astonished to see long lines of our tenantry, men, women and children bearing banners, wreaths, garlands, etc.

One company of children carried long, thin rods from the end of which dangled dead moles, meadow-mice and ground-squirrels.

The moment I presented myself at the window, there was an outburst of cheering, so sturdy that the windows rattled before it. A tap at my door called me in another direction. It was the elder baron!

“Haste! little baron!” he cried eagerly “descend to the castle platform, the people are beside themselves with joy! Canst thou catch their cries? Not a mole, nor a mouse, nor a squirrel is alive on the broad acres of thy estate. I say “thy” because it is justly thine! Thou hast saved it from utter ruin. Henceforth for the few years which kind Providence may will that I should tarry with thee, let it be as thy guest.”

“Nay, nay, baron!” I replied laughingly, “that may not be! Till thou sleepest with the noble dead of our long and honored line, thou art master here!”

I pressed his hand reverently to my lips and sent him to talk to the people until I should be ready to take my place at his side.

I can well fancy how impatient the reader is to hear something more about the manner in which I rid my ancestral estate of these noisome pests. With regard to the meadow-mice that needs no explanation, but, the disappearance of the moles and ground-squirrels seems somewhat mysterious.

Well and good. I’ll make it clear! Gentle reader, if you had been as close a student of the natures and habits of these animals as I, you could have done the same thing yourself. You must know, then, that the mole’s body bears about the same relation to his forefeet, as a boiler does to a steam engine, which is admirably adjusted in all its parts, working smoothly and noiselessly, like a thing of life—polished and beautiful in all its bearings and put together so skillfully that no human thought could better it. That is to say, the only wonderful thing about a mole is his hand.

That is a delight to a student of natural history.

I have sat for hours and studied the marvelous shape of this hand. And strange though it may seem to you, no one knows better than the mole himself, that therein lies his hold on life.

You’ll bear in mind, that I caused the nails to be clipped off the forefeet of the hundred moles, close to the flesh, and then turned them loose. In other words, without absolutely destroying their marvellous hands, I completely destroyed their usefulness.

Now another thing you must be taught, that in the busy communities of these little animals, there are no sluggards. Every one must work. Only one thing stops him from using his hands.

That is death. When a mole sees his fellow stop work, he knows what has happened.

Upon the return of the hundred captives to their burrows, there was joy mingled with terror!

Whose turn might come next?

But, when the moment arrived to fall into line and set to work, there was consternation!

What! alive, and not able to dig?

Immediately, the wildest panic seizes upon the community. They abandon their homes! With frantic haste, they pierce new burrows in every direction, leaving their ill-fated companions behind them to die a lingering death—literally buried alive. Weeks, months will elapse ere they recover from this wild fear. Then they will be miles away.

And the ground-squirrels, you ask. The ground-squirrel is as conceited, inquisitive, persistent and hard-headed as he is hard-toothed. If he knew that the world was round he would claim that it was simply a huge nut and wish that he were big enough to get at its kernel.

When the marbles first came rolling down his burrow, he was pleased. They were so smooth, so round! He rolled them hither and thither, as content as a child with a new toy. Then he stored them away for another day’s amusement. Pretty soon he began to tire of them. They were dreadfully in his way. They annoyed him greatly. And yet, he couldn’t bear to think of parting with them. Finally the question arose in his mind: What are they, anyway? Surely they must have a kernel! And so he set to work gnawing upon them. They were terribly hard, but he was determined to get at the pit. Day after day, he kept at the thankless task, gnawing, gnawing, until, one fine morning, he awoke to make the awful discovery that his teeth were gone!

Now, a ground-squirrel may be said to consist of four teeth, and nothing else. These gone there is no way to keep the other part alive.

True, he may, after infinite labor struggle through a nutshell, but it is too slow work to keep up his strength. Every nut becomes a harder task.

And so it was with the vast colony in our orchards. The first few days quite a number made their appearance as usual. Then, fewer and fewer came out of their holes, and they looked thin and feeble and showed no inclination to gambol and chatter. At the end of the week, the work was done. They had wrought their own destruction. The entire colony had perished from starvation.

Thus it was, I restored the fair lands of our family to their old-time productiveness and removed all the obstacles which stood between me and my immediate departure from home.

In a few days all was ready.

The elder baron and the gracious baroness, my mother, parted from me with a gentle rain of tears, and a refreshing shower of blessings. Accompanied by my dumb brother—the ever faithful Bulger—and one trusty servant, I set out by extra post for Vienna.

Thence at break-neck speed, I journeyed to Buda-Pesth and reached the Black Sea via Bucharest.

Traversing that body of water in a swift vessel, commanded by an old sailing-master of mine, I skirted the foot hills of the Caucasus Mountains, and made my way to Teheran.

Here I tarried several days, long enough to purchase a few camels and horses and join a caravan, soon to leave that city on a trading expedition.

The proprietor of the trading company renewed his welcome in heartier terms when he was informed that I had brought a goodly collection of European trinkets with me.

To clinch his good will—so to speak—I gave him a pair of fine German pistols.

We were now sworn friends.

I remained with the expedition until it reached Cabul. The proprietor was astounded to learn that I did not contemplate returning westward with him. After a whole day spent in eloquent pleadings, he gave in, fell upon my neck, wept, and wished me good speed.

I was glad to be rid of him, for I was in no humor to form friendships with men whose souls never rose above a sharp bargain. Attended only by my faithful Bulger and a single guide, I set out from Cabul; crossed northern Hindoostan, and entered Thibet to the north of the Himalayas.

This was the land of which I had long dreamed—a land absolutely unknown to the outside world.

I never had any inclination to pass over beaten tracks. By nature and education, a lover of the strange and marvellous, my soul expanded beneath the skies of this far-away and curious land, like a flower beneath the sunlight of a warm May morning.

Scarcely had I penetrated more than a dozen leagues into this wild untrodden territory than I made the astonishing discovery that the sun’s light was obscured the entire day; while the sky, by night, was flooded with a soft, mysterious light, quite bright enough to enable me to read the finest print with perfect ease. In other words, the natural order of things was exactly reversed. So, I—always quick to accommodate myself to existing circumstances—made use of the dark days for rest and sleep, and pursued my journey by night.

One morning, however, the mystery was explained. The impenetrable clouds, which had been veiling the heavens like a pall, suddenly sank earthward; and, to my almost unspeakable astonishment, I discovered that this blanket of inky blackness was made up of living creatures—gigantic fire-flies, quite as large as our ordinary bat, and far blacker in both body and wing.

When night came, this living tissue was changed into a robe of sparkling, shimmering glow, mantling the heavens like a garment of burnished gold spangles, upon which a burst of soft light, as if from ten times ten thousand waxen tapers, fell in dazzling effulgence. It was something to see and die for. Bulger’s poor startled mind made him look up, half in dread, half in wonder at this mysterious fire, which enveloped everything in its flame, and yet consumed nothing. I had but one thought. It was to capture several of these huge fire-flies. Night after night I watched patiently for an opportunity.

It came at last.

I was preparing some coffee, and my back was turned. Suddenly, I was startled by a piteous outburst, half whine, half bark, from poor Bulger. A cluster of these living stars had fallen at his very feet. Quicker than thought, I sprang forward and threw my blanket over them. Then, with the greatest care, I transferred them to one of my wicker hampers.

Bulger, upon seeing this basket on fire and yet feeling no heat, was most painfully nonplused. He walked round and round the improvised cage, keeping at a safe distance, however, now sniffing the air, now looking up to me with a most imploring glance—as if to say:

“Dear little master, do explain this thing to me! Why doesn’t it burn up?”

To my great disappointment, the three captives died after a few days’ imprisonment, not, however, until they had laid a number of eggs—about the size of robins’ eggs—which I packed away most carefully in my boxes of specimens.

I may say, right here, that, upon my return home, I subjected these eggs to a gentle warmth and was charmed to see emerge from each one of them a larva about the size of a pipe-stem; but, to my delight—and to Bulger’s absolute terror—this pipe-stem affair had, inside twenty-four hours, become as large round as a Frankfort sausage.

In due time, they passed into the chrysalis state. But this apparent death seemed to become a real one.

Weeks went by and there were no signs of a metamorphosis.

I was cruelly disappointed.

More important matters, however, arose to occupy my thoughts. The sleeping fire-flies of the Orient were quite forgotten, when, one evening, the women servants of the manor house, with blanched faces and piercing shrieks came literally tumbling headlong down the main stairway.

Fortunately I was sitting on the first terrace of the park. With a bound I gained the hall-way, and snatching down a brace of fire-arms from the wall, throw myself in front of the wildly shrieking troop of women, calling out in stentorian tones, for silence.

“Has murder been committed?” I cried, “Is there revolt among the tenantry? Has blood been shed?”

“No! no! little baron!” they exclaimed, with wild eyes and clasped hands, “but the castle is on fire! Your rooms are in flames! Your treasures will be consumed! Quick! little baron; save them! save us! save the gracious lady and venerable master!”

Quicker than it takes to tell it, I laid hold of the rope of the alarm bell and set it pealing.

The retainers answered with a will. A score of them burst into the hall-way ready for the word of command.

“Seize the fire-buckets, my lads!” I called out calmly, but in a tone of sufficient dignity to inspire perfect confidence.

“Man ladders to the windows of my apartments.”

By this time another gang of the tenantry came rushing in upon the scene. I met them with an order to unhang the portraits in the baronial dining-hall, and store them in a place of safety. Then, having spoken a few words of comfort to the gracious baroness, my mother, I seized a fire-bucket and led the line up the stairway. Laying my shoulder against the door of my apartments, I burst it open; and, with head lowered before the blaze of light dashed in, followed by the bucket-bearers.

“Halt!” I cried.

It was too late! some of my finest hangings and rugs were spoiled by half a dozen buckets of water emptied upon them.

The mystery was solved! The blaze of light that fairly flooded my apartments proceeded from the huge fire-flies which had hatched out without being noticed by me. But I didn’t begrudge my ruined hangings.

There was my recompense clinging to the walls.

I need hardly say, that the giant fire-flies were the wonder of their day, and brief as it was it sufficed to cover my name with a glory as resplendent, as their mysterious fire.

THE LITTLE BARON READING BY THE LIGHT OF THE GIGANTIC FIRE-FLIES.

I caused a huge lamp of exquisite oriental pattern to be constructed, and having placed the light-bearers beneath its dome of polished glass, passed several nights in the most perfect happiness, seated in its soft, white light, poring over musty volumes of travel, written in tongues long-forgotten, save by a few of the most learned scholars. But, my delight was short-lived. The gigantic fire-flies absolutely refused to eat anything, although I tempted them with a hundred different kinds of food. Little by little, their mysterious flame lost its bright effulgence—burning lower and lower until it went out in death.

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To resume the thread of my story:

I was growing impatient to reach the table-lands of the Himalayas, and taxed the powers of endurance of my guide to their uttermost.

In our bivouacs at times he would encircle my slender ankle-joints with his thumb and index finger and exclaim: “All the gods helped make thee, little baron!” meaning that there dwelt great will-power and strength in my small body.

The skies now cleared up. The living pall rolled backward, toward the horizon, and naught remained to tell of the mighty flood of light which so lately overran the heavens save a faint shimmering streak of fire in far distant Western sky.

Soon it went out altogether. Thus far, our journey had been through an open country, with here and there a clump of forest trees which, at last grew so frequent that I felt sure we must be approaching the confines of some extensive piece of woodland.

In this I was not mistaken.

As we reached the summit of a range of hills, I could see in the distance a long, dark line of forests. My guide, who had pushed on ahead, in search of water, came galloping wildly back.

I paid no particular attention to him, until I noticed that he had dismounted in great haste and was running towards me.

“Turn back! turn back! little master!” he exclaimed, throwing himself at my feet, and clasping my legs with his arms!

“Enter not in the Palin-mÂ-Talin! (Home of Darkness.) A hundred pilgrims have laid their bones in the moss-grown depths of the Great Gloomy Forest! It is as pathless as the ocean! It is as silent as death. It is as limitless as the heavens! Nor man nor beast can breathe its cool, moist air, and live! Turn back! I beseech thee, little baron; tempt not the Palin-mÂ-Talin!”

“Palin-mÂ-Talin! Palin-mÂ-Talin!” I repeated, as if awakening from a dream, “why, it must be—ay, there can be no doubt of it—the Great Aryan Forest, in which, countless centuries ago, the human race having abandoned their holes in the clay banks, first learned to hunt the wild beast, feed on his flesh and clothe themselves in his skins.”

In my joy at this discovery I threw a handful of gold pieces into the lap of my astonished guide.

Bulger, always ready to share my happiness, came bounding to my side, barking loud and shrill. To my infinite surprise, the answering bark of a dog came floating on the morning breeze.

“Hark!” I exclaimed, in a whisper. This time it was unmistakable.

“’Tis one of BenÈ-agÂ’s dogs!” was my guide’s reply. “Come, little master, let me lead thee to his cave. It is beneath the very shadow of the Great Gloomy Forest. He can tell thee of its dangers, for he hath crossed it!”

“And come safely back?” I asked.

“While life lasts he will sit in the gloom of Palin-mÂ-Talin!” murmured the man.

“What meanest thou?” I cried.

“I mean, that the noonday sun cannot chase the shadows from his eyes.”

“He is blind?”

“Ay, little master, blind!” was the guide’s reply, “and yet save this blind hermit, there lives no human creature who can lead thee safely through the Great Gloomy Forest!”

“Have done with thy jesting!” I cried.

“Nay, little master!” was the man’s answer. “I speak in all truth and reverence, for BenÈ-ag is a holy man, and in him dwells such a radiant spirit, that his path is illumined and his footsteps are sure when other men would walk to their destruction!”

“O, lead me to him!” I exclaimed with ill-concealed joy. “A thousand pieces of gold are thine, if the blind hermit consents to be my guide.”

“A thousand pieces of gold!” repeated the guide with a gleam in his dark eyes. “Ah, little baron, no one can earn that princely reward, excepting thee thyself! Who am I, poor, miserable, ignorant slave that I am, that I should attempt to move this saintly and learned man in thy behalf? He would heed the cry of one of his dogs far more quickly than he would my chatter!”

“Is he so unlike his kind,” I asked, as we rode slowly along, “as not to love gold?”

“Ay, little baron! if every dried leaf in his forest path were a coin of burnished gold, he would not stoop to pick one up!”

“Are his ears closed to flattery?”

“As closed as his eyes are to the sun’s rays.”

“Loves he not some savory dish?”

“Fruits and berries content him!”

“Surely a draught of rare old wine, mellow with age, fragrant as crushed roses, purple within the beaker, would warm his heart to quicker beating, and incline him to serve me!”

“Nay, nay, little baron! a gourd full of water from the sparkling rill near his home in the rocks, is sweeter to him than any nectar ever distilled by the hands of man!”

“They say he is learned! Then shall my gift be a score of rare old books, priceless parchments filled with thoughts so noble, so deep, so subtle, that, to read therein, means to live a thousand years in one!”

“Ah, little master,” replied my guide, with a mournful smile, “thou art still astray. This dweller ’mid the rocks, this lover of solitude, the measure of whose life, they say, is full three hundred years, knows no other books than the pages of his own soul! On these he has turned his thoughts so long and so diligently, that the foolish outpourings of so-called authors seem like the merest prattle of childhood.”

“But look, little master, we are drawing near the home of the blind hermit.”

I turned my eyes in the direction indicated.

A rocky ledge, wild, craggy, broken, seamed and twisted, crowned with a growth of pine trees having knotted, gnarled and fantastically-shaped trunks and boughs, shut in our view. As we drew near the entrance to BenÈ-agÂ’s cave, a troop of dogs, of various ages and species, came bounding forward with loud barkings.

Bulger advanced to meet them boldly, after first glancing at my face to see whether I objected or not.

It was a long while since he had met any of the members of his race, and then again, he doubtless wished to get a good look at these residents of such a distant land.

The feeling seemed to be mutual, for in an instant the barking ceased, and the hermit’s dogs gathered about Bulger in silent wonderment.

After a series of salutations, which plainly ended in the best of fellowships, the hermit’s dogs endeavored to lure Bulger away for a run in the forest and fields, but in this they were, I need scarcely say, entirely unsuccessful. Bulger gave them to understand in very decided terms that he would talk with them, and even romp with them, but that it must all be done under the eyes of his master.

We now halted and dismounted.

“This is the place,” said my guide in a low tone. “Through that deep fissure in the rocks thou wilt find a path that leads to BenÈ-agÂ’s cave. Enter it boldly, little master. At the entrance to the cave thou wilt find a dried gourd hanging on the rocky wall. Seize it! When shaken, its seeds will give forth a loud, rattling sound. This done, move not, though the shadows of evening find thee still standing at the door of BenÈ-agÂ’s cave. Farewell, little master; Heaven make good to thee tenfold thy kindness to me! I will await thee three days. If by that time I do not hear thy voice calling me to serve thee again, I shall return to my kindred!”

Advancing to the cleft in the rocky wall, I found the gourd hanging by a leathern thong.

The loud rattling of the seeds, as it broke the deep silence of this wild and lonely place—fit vestibule to a temple devoted to silence, solitude and meditation—startled me painfully.

Restoring the gourd to its place, I leaned forward to catch the faintest sound of the hermit’s voice which might reach my ear.

It came not.

The silence grew more oppressive than before.

The broken, twisted rocks, overhanging and surrounding me, took on fantastic forms.

In every dark cavity I saw some misshapen creature stirring about.

A dreadful feeling of loneliness crept over me.

No sound came, save the loud throbbing of my own heart.

A half hour went by!

BenÈ-ag spake not a word.

“Perhaps he sleeps!” I whispered to myself.

My words awakened the echoes of the rocky recesses, and the word “sleeps” came back to my ears in a hundred different tones, now loud and hissing, now soft and sibilant.

At last a full hour had now gone by since I had rattled the seeds of the dried gourd, and yet the blind hermit spake no word.

Again the death-like stillness sank upon the place, and the gathering shadows grew deeper and deeper.

Could the guide have played me false? I asked myself.

Nay, that cannot be!

And yet why comes there no sound from BenÈ-agÂ’s cave?

Shall I summon him once more? May he not have gone forth to gather food?

Am I doomed to be turned back when I have reached the very threshold of my long-wished-for desire?

These and a hundred other questions flitted through my mind as I stood in the dark and gloomy corridor that led to BenÈ-agÂ’s cave.

By the shadows on the rocky wall I could see that I had now been standing at least two hours awaiting summons to draw nearer.

But hush!

He speaks at last!

My heart bounded joyfully, and yet as if with a leaden weight upon it.

“Who is it that disturbs my meditation?” were the hermit’s words.

“A stranger! A brother! One who needs thy guidance!” I replied in a firm, yet humble tone.

“No human creature is stranger to me! Thou art too young to be my brother! The light that is left me shines only for my own feet!” came slowly from the hermit’s cave in a full, deep, rich voice.

“True, great master,” I replied, “but then, may I not be thy son, and follow thy footsteps?”

“Thou art very wise for thy years,” spake BenÈ-agÂ.

“Not so wise, great master,” was my reply, “as I shall be when I have sat at thy feet.”

“Come somewhat closer; thy child-voice sounds like an echo,” continued the blind hermit. “And yet thou art not a child! Some great spirit plays in sportive mood behind thy face! I see that thou art blue-eyed and flaxen-haired. Thine eyes are set wide asunder, and above them towers a dome of thought. Thy home is in the land of the Norseman. At least thy fathers dwelt there. On thy cheek glows the crimson which, in the peach and apple-land, stains the autumn foliage!”

As I had not yet even stepped within BenÈ-agÂ’s cave, these words of the blind hermit caused a strange feeling, half of fear, half of dread fascination, to creep over me.

My heart throbbed violently.

His ear, far keener than birds’ or beasts’, caught the sound.

“Fear not, little one!” said he, in deep, rich tones, full and swelling like the voice of organ pipes, “if thou canst content thyself with a handful of berries when thou art hungry, with a draught from the neighboring rill when thou art thirsty; if thy young limbs are sturdy enough to wrest repose from a rocky couch, then art thou welcome! If not, go thy way! For twenty years I’ve been busy with a certain problem, and have no time to stop and spread a more bountiful repast!”

“But season thy frugal fare with thy wisdom, great master,” I returned, “and it will be sweeter to my palate than stall-fed ox and mellow wine.”

“Come somewhat nearer, little traveler, so that I may see thee better!” spake the blind hermit, kindly and gently.

I did not wait for further summons, but stepped boldly into BenÈ-agÂ’s cave.

It was, in truth, little more than a lofty cleft in the rocks, with several deeper recesses, in which the shadows lay undisturbed. Its roof of jagged, broken and blackened masses of stone, was arched and lofty. In and about it, flocks of small swallow-like birds nested, and at times broke out in musical twitterings. Barren, gloomy and utterly forlorn as the place was, without chair, mat, bed or blanket, every thought of its awful loneliness and abject surroundings vanished from my mind, as I fixed my eyes upon its occupant.

As I had stepped within the limit of BenÈ-agÂ’s cave, he had slowly risen from his bench of stone, and now stood erect before me. Of powerful build, tall and majestic, with long snow-white hair and snowy beard, he towered like a statue of Parian marble in the dim twilight, to which now, however, my eyes had become accustomed.

I gazed upon him, half in fear, half in delight.

I could feel my breath coming fast and faster, as I riveted my gaze upon his wonderful face, so full of love, patience, courage and contentment.

Had he bent his eyes upon me, I would never have believed him blind, for they were unclouded, full and lustrous. And yet, on second look, I saw that their gleam was like the brightness of the polished gem, that lacks the softness of living, sensitive orbs.

BenÈ-ag was clad in a rude garb of dried skins, from which the hair had been skilfully scraped. Tossed back from his broad and massive brow, his white locks hung in heavy ringlets on his broad shoulders, while his wonderful beard, as white and glistening as spun glass—around his body twice entwined—clung like a snow-wreath twisted about a sturdy oak by the circling gale.

BENÈ-AGÂ, THE BLIND GUIDE.

So, like a mighty son of earth he towered, rude, yet noble; untaught yet learned, human yet godlike that I stood transfixed. My tongue forgot its tricks of speech. I felt that I should turn to stone, if he did not speak to me.

While standing thus speechless, robbed of power to move a limb, Bulger broke the spell!

At BenÈ-agÂ’s feet lay a sick dog, infirm thro’ age and not ailment; blind like his master, his head pillowed on some soft dry leaves—the only semblance of bed within the hermit’s cave.

Bulger’s gaze fell upon this pitiful spectacle. With cautious step, outstretched neck, and wide-opened eyes, he approached his sick brother, sniffed him over, licked his face and ears, whined piteously and then fixed a pleading look upon me as if to ask: “Dear little master, canst thou do nothing to help my poor, sick brother? Canst thou not make him well again, so that I may coax him out into the warm sunshine to play with him?”

BenÈ-ag spake: “I see that thou art not alone, little wanderer, thou bringest a companion with thee. He is welcome. His tenderness and sympathy will carry joy and gladness to the heart of my suffering friend, whose head I’ve pillowed upon some soft grass! I, too, love dogs! Thou seest they are my sole companions. Their love is less exacting than human love. They require no pledge or promise. They understand my silence, read my thoughts and are content!”

“But, come! little traveler, time presses. Speak! What brings thee to BenÈ-agÂ’s cave? If it be idle curiosity, depart! But, if thou seekest counsel; if thou comest with honest intent to ask my advice in some arduous matter, I am ready to serve thee!”

“I thank thee, great master!” I replied, humbly. “Know then that I would traverse the Great Gloomy Forest and that report hath reached mine ear that thou alone, of all human beings, canst guide me through its never-lifting shadows, shield me from its poisonous vapors and let me not follow my own foot-prints in ever-widening circles, until reason itself feels the dreaded spell of that vast, trackless, pathless wilderness!”

“’Tis true!” gave answer BenÈ-ag in deep, sad tones. “I can perform the service thou askest! But, O, my son! thou must know that a most sacred vow holds me in its mysterious power, securely locked, that I should lead no fellow-creature through that pathless wood, save on certain conditions!”

“Name them, great master!” I cried.

“That he who asks this service,” continued BenÈ-agÂ, “shall tarry thirty days and nights with me in my rocky home, to inure him to the burden of awful gloom and silence; that he, in all that time, taste of no food save the berries, on which I feed; slake his thirst with no draught other than that which I bring him from the neighboring rill and sleep on the bare rock, even as I do! Reflect! the apprenticeship is severe. Deem it not dishonorable, nor weak, to shrink from so hard a task! Pause, reflect, ere thou answerest. I’ll resume my meditations for an hour and then question thee again!”

“Be it so, great master!” I made answer; and, BenÈ-agÂ’s sightless eyes seem to turn to the shrunken form of the dying dog.

Silence filled the cave, and feeble twilight struggled against the gathering gloom. My thoughts turned homewards! I could hear the gentle voice of the baroness, my mother. The castle windows were lighted, and the tall lindens shook a rich perfume from their blossoming boughs. All seemed so sweet and peaceful. My mother’s voice reached me—I caught its every word: “Set forth my son’s repast!” said she in soft, mild tones. “See that his favorite dishes are kept warm. Choose none but the choicest wine for him; and, take good care that his bed be soft and even, and his pillow’s smooth!” My breath came only with painful effort as these words rang in my ears.

I started up with a bound. In spite of myself, I took a step toward the portal of BenÈ-agÂ’s cave, where the last rays of the setting sun tipped the angry, jagged, broken rocks with gold.

“Well, my son!” spake the blind hermit. “Art thou still resolute?”

“Ay, great master!” I cried, turning back and drawing near to him.

“Fear naught! Though puny in body, yet was I born with the strength of steel in my limbs, and the will power of a score of common men.”

“Lead thou on! I will follow thee.”

A faint smile spread over the noble countenance of the blind hermit, as he replied:

“I have not told thee all, my son! Till we pass from these walls of stone, and stand in the open air, thou must not speak a word aloud. Nay, nor in a whisper, either. I will set thy food and drink before thee, and that,” he continued, pointing to a projecting shelf of rock, “shall be thy bed! On its bare surface, rest thy limbs when nature bids thee sleep. Art thou still resolute?”

“Ay, great master!” I replied with loud and buoyant voice, “I will do thy bidding!”

“’Tis well!” said BenÈ-agÂ. “I like thy brave and steadfast soul! But hold me not hard of heart in condemning thee to this gloom and silence! Temper the bitterness of thy fate by giving thyself over to deep and earnest meditation, during the few brief hours that it shall last. Forget the so-called world—a bubble that bursts when thou thinkest to grasp it; a shadow, which thou pursuest with eager pace, and yet canst never overtake; a mirage, rising before the weary traveler’s gaze, with visions of delicious gardens, watered by limpid rills and cooled by sparkling fountains, only to melt away and leave him more weak and fainting than before. Look within thyself! Thou art the temple of an immortal soul! Enter its portals! Fix thine eyes on the mysterious writings there unrolled! Grow not weary and discouraged if thou canst not decipher their meaning as easily as thou wouldst the books of man! And O, my son, should the gloom and silence of BenÈ-agÂ’s cave weigh too heavily on thy young soul, raise thine eyes to some one of the many lines which I have carved upon these rocky walls, in my hours of recreation. They will guide thee back to sweet contentment; give thee strength to persevere unto the end! And now, my son, farewell! Though with thee, near thee, even by thy side, yet remember, I am far from thee. Ay, farther than earthly staff can measure! Be hopeful, be strong, and thou wilt conquer! Again, farewell!”

“Farewell, great master, farewell!” I exclaimed; and, as my words echoed through the vast, rocky chamber, the last ray of light fled before the thickening gloom, and all was inky blackness.

I had noticed, ere the darkness came, that I was standing near the projecting shelf of rock which was to serve me as a bed, when nature called me to rest.

Turning now softly, I groped my way toward it and stretched myself at full length on its bare surface. For a few moments all went well. Such a conflict of thought was raging in the chambers of my mind, that I took no note of the chill which this couch of stone sent creeping through my limbs. I closed my eyes, thinking to coax sleep to them, and thus forget the ever-increasing pang!

In vain! It seemed as if death itself had seized my feet between his icy palms!

Sharp pains leapt from one joint to another, and wherever my body came into contact with that couch of stone, it seemed as if a thousand needles pricked my flesh. Half-crazed by the ever-increasing agony, I tossed from side to side, like one in delirium. At times I sat up to escape from stupefying dizziness which caught me in its swift, encircling whirl! My heated pulse beat at the thin walls of my temple, until it seemed as if I should go mad! A rushing, soughing, gurgling sound of many waters roared in my ears, while strange, fantastic forms, in lines of fire on inky background, flitted to and fro before my eyes, until I began to fear I should soon be doomed to sit in eternal gloom like BenÈ-ag himself.

And now heat and cold held alternate sway within my tired and broken frame. Vainly I strove to wet my parched lips with my tongue! The fever had dried it to a chip. For a few brief moments the torture ceased!

I breathed more freely!

My limbs, thought I, are getting used to their couch of stone! I shall full asleep and forget my sufferings!

But no! With redoubled fury they came back to their work.

I dared not cry out so soon to BenÈ-agÂ, for mercy, for release from the cruel conditions he had imposed upon me! Rather death than yield so quickly; shrink so like a coward who stands motionless and trembling on the battle field, as a spent ball strikes his breast.

I slept at last!

But O, what a broken, fevered sleep it was! A sleep with unclosed eyes, full of dark and dismal sights. I could stand no more. I yielded and longed for death. In thought, I kissed my parents’ hands and felt their soft caresses on my brow and face. And then, it seemed the gracious baroness, my mother, caught my hand in hers and pressed it fervently on her lips. The kiss was so warm, so tender, so life-like, that I started up like one awakening from a long delirium. It cannot be a dream, I murmured, I am awake!

Tossing my racked form over on its side, so that I could touch my right hand—the one on which I had felt the kiss, with my left the mystery was explained.

’T was Bulger!

He was beside my couch of stone. It was he who had licked my cold, numb hand and turned my thoughts homeward. I caressed his head and ears and sought to make him lie down lest the rustle might disturb the blind hermit. He refused to obey, altho’ I thrice let him know my wishes. It was his first act of disobedience and for an instant drove all thoughts of pain from my mind. To all my suffering now came this new grief.

Aroused from my stupor at last, by his persistent refusal to obey I collected my thoughts sufficiently to realize that he was bent upon leaping on my couch. His forefeet were already resting upon its edge. I dared not resist lest he should break the solemn stillness of BenÈ-agÂ’s cave by giving vent to some sound of entreaty. No sooner had he sprung upon the rocky shelf than I felt him crouching on its edge, and reaching down as if in the act of seizing something in his teeth, something so heavy, too, that it called for violent exertion. Whatever it was, I was not slow in discovering that he was endeavoring to drag it upon my rocky couch. Half rising, I stretched out my hand to solve the mystery.

O beloved Bulger!

In an outburst of affection I pressed my lips repeatedly upon his body. He took no note of my caresses, but only tugged the harder at the thing he held within his teeth. It was my blanket!

Taught in his early years to fetch my slippers, my gloves, my cap to me, when he found them lying here or there, he had never forgotten to render me these petty services. And thus, noticing that my blanket had, apparently, been forgotten, he seized it, heavy as it was and dragged it to his little master’s bed.

Regardless of BenÈ-agÂ’s ire; unmindful of the fact that to accept Bulger’s gift was plainly an open breach of the compact between the blind hermit and me, I wrapped my bruised and aching body in the thick, warm covering and fell into a long refreshing sleep.

Such was my first night in BenÈ-agÂ’s cave. The next day was bright and clear and the rocky chamber seemed less dismal to me. My eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom.

From morn till night, I shunned that bed of torture, passing my time studying out the hidden meaning of the words which BenÈ-ag has carved on the rocky walls; watching the birds as they flitted in with food for their nestlings or standing near the blind hermit with my gaze riveted upon his noble features, thick, clustering hair and far-flowing beard!

From this time forth all went well. I soon forgot the long hours of that terrible night of silence and despair. Indeed, I was astounded to find how swiftly the time sped along when one gives himself up to deep and all-absorbing meditation.

Days and nights flitted by like alternate hours of light and darkness.

I was startled from a deep sleep by hearing the full round voice of BenÈ-ag saying: “Up! up! little traveler, up! my son, the morn is breaking. The appointed hour has come! To-day we must enter Palin-mÂ-Talin or all thy apprenticeship shall have been in vain!”

I sprang up; and, approaching BenÈ-agÂ, related in tones of unfeigned grief, how I had disregarded the sacred compact between us; and, that, altho’ it cut me to the heart, to be obliged to turn back, when I stood upon the very confines of the Great Gloomy Forest, yet I was not worthy to follow him, and was firmly resolved not to plead for mercy!

All! I told him all! how my frame had been so racked by pain that I was upon the very point of crying out for release from the terrible compact, when my beloved Bulger came to my relief, and saved me from that degradation. He heard me in silence, his noble countenance giving no sign or hint of what was going on within that lofty soul.

At last, a sad and almost imperceptible smile spread over his face and he spake as follows: “Take heart, my son. All is forgiven. Thou art but a child and I should have lightened the burden of this apprenticeship. Nor can I hold thee worthy of blame for yielding to such a touching proof of thy dog’s love for thee! Hadst thou repulsed him he would have lain in wakeful sorrow by thy bedside all that night—dear, faithful soul! Would he belonged to me!”

So saying, BenÈ-ag bent his towering form and caressed Bulger’s head and ears.

Nor was Bulger slow in returning the hermit’s caresses. They had become the best of friends. Bulger felt the fascination of BenÈ-agÂ’s mysterious power from the very first.

When the hour arrived for us to leave the rocky chamber of gloom and silence, and step out into the sunlight once more, my heart broke out into its old-time beat. Had I not been in the presence of the venerable BenÈ-agÂ, I should have leapt and danced for joy, as we emerged from that dreary abode, and I felt the warm air fan my cheek once more. But, one thing struck me now most forcibly. It was the wonderful change which I noted in the blind hermit himself, when he stood in the sunlight and the morning breezes tossed the curls of his white, silken hair, like April winds making merry with a flock of snowflakes. First, his appearance was quite different from that to which I had become accustomed. A leathern cap crowned his massive head, and held his thick, rebellious hair somewhat in control. His wide-flowing beard had entirely disappeared beneath his rude garb, save where it clothed his face and neck. I saw at once that he was clad for work—for toilsome progress through Palin-mÂ-Talin’s thick growth. In his right hand he carried a curious rod or wand, long, slender, polished and extremely flexible. I soon learned to wonder at his extraordinary skill in using this staff to guide his steps or discover the nature of any object not within the reach of his hands. A rude pouch or leather bag was swung across his shoulder.

The change in BenÈ-agÂ’s manner was still more noticeable. To me, this change was as pleasing as it was unexpected. In a brief half hour he became another man. His deep, rich voice, soft and round as the sound of an organ-pipe took on a mellower tone! A faint smile wreathed his noble features, as the sunlight fell upon them. His step became quick and elastic, his movements brisk and agile. So wonderfully keen were his remaining senses that only the closest observer could have guessed that he was blind.

Turning in the direction of the spot where his dogs were at play, he startled me by breaking out into a joyous,—

“Yo ho! my children! Yo ho! my brothers! Here to me! Here to me!”

His dogs—Bulger among them—bounded forward with a loud chorus of barking. BenÈ-ag caught the stranger’s voice. “It pains me deeply,” he cried, “to rob him of his playfellows, for I see him gamboling and sporting with my children!”

As the blind hermit stooped, his dogs, with loud cries of sorrow at parting, sprang up to lick his face and hands.

“Go, my children! Go, my brothers!” said BenÈ-agÂ. “Content yourselves. I’ll come again soon, very soon, with love warmed by absence!”

All was now ready for the start. Beneath the rising sun I could see a long, dark line, far away, where earth and sky came together. It was Palin-mÂ-Talin. Home of Darkness! The Great Gloomy Forest!

Thither BenÈ-ag now directed his footsteps with astonishing rapidity of gait, tapping the ground with his long, polished wand as he hurried along!

Awe-struck, I followed my blind guide!

In comparison with such miraculous powers of hearing, smelling and feeling, my eyes were worthless. Ever and anon he called out to me:

“Guard thee well, my son, a viper stirred in the grass to thy left! Guard thee well, my son, to touch the leaves of the flowering shrub through which we are passing now—they are poisonous.”

“Guard thee well, my son, to taste the waters of the rivulet to which we are coming, until I have made trial of its purity.”

“Guard thee well, my son, to pluck one of the flowers which now delight thy eye, and charm thee with their odor. ’Tis next to death to breath their perfume close to thy nostrils.”

“Guard thee well, my son, to crush upon thy skin one of the little insects which now fill the air, lest thou spread a subtle poison o’er thy flesh!”

As we drew near to the outer edge of the Great Gloomy Forest, a strange joy lit up BenÈ-agÂ’s face. He beat the air with his polished wand in graceful curves and circles, as he poured forth, half singing, half reciting, a sort of chant, invocation, or mysterious greeting to Palin-mÂ-Talin, Home of Darkness!

As if charmed by the rich music of his own voice, his spirits ran higher and higher. At times he halted to catch the soft echoes as they came floating back on the wings of the morning air.

As nearly as I can remember BenÈ-agÂ’s chant was something like this:

“O, la, la, la, la, l-a-a-a-a! Hail to thee, Palin-mÂ-Talin. Shadowy Land! La, la! Lu, la, lo, li! Lu, la, lo, li! We are coming to thee, beloved Temple of Silence and Gloom! Let us into thy dark corridors, Palin-mÂ-Talin Lo-il-la! Lo-il-la! Thou art victor! Palin-mÂ-Talin, my beautiful! From thy buckler of darkness fall the Sun’s arrows, splintered and broken! O, la, la, la, la, la, l-a-a-aa-a-a! We are coming King of Gloom and Stillness! Palin-mÂ-Talin. O silent domain! Let us in from the roar and the glare! Let us in from the roofless world. We are near at hand, Palin-mÂ-Talin! Swing open thy black portals! Lift thy veil of Gloom! Admit thy children into thy silent chambers. O, Palin-mÂ-Talin, Lo-il-lo! Lo-il-lo! Lo-il-lo! Lo-il-l-a-a-a-a-a-a!”

At last we stood by the very edge of Palin-mÂ-Talin.

BenÈ-ag swept his polished wand against the foliage of one of the low-hanging, far-reaching branches; then, sprang forward and seizing a handful of the leaves, crushed them in his grasp and raised them to his nostrils. “This is not the gateway, my son” he cried, “we must turn farther northward!”

After about half an hour, he again halted and reaching out for a handful of the leaves inhaled their odor.

“Not yet! not yet!” he murmured. “Somewhat northward still! Be not troubled, my son. Thou see’st Palin-mÂ-Talin with thine outward eye! Not so BenÈ-agÂ! He must lay his hand upon the very walls of this Temple of Silence and Gloom ere he can see it!”

Suddenly the blind hermit paused. His thin nostrils quivered, his massive breast heaved convulsively. “We are almost there!” he spoke in measured tones. “I catch the perfume of the foliage which clothes the two ebon columns of the gateway.” I looked and saw before me two towering trees, whose wide-reaching branches swept the very ground. Side by side they stood, alike in size and grandeur. BenÈ-ag passed his hand caressingly over the first branch which brushed his cheek and pressed its leaves to his lips; then, broke out into his wild chant once more.

I stood looking at the blind hermit and listening to his song of greeting, hardly knowing what to expect next when, suddenly, he threw himself upon his knees and crept under the far-reaching branches of one of these gigantic sentinels of the Great Gloomy Forest.

Bulger and I followed him! Thus it was we entered the domain of Palin-mÂ-Talin, Home of Darkness. I shall not try to describe to you the solemn stillness, the mysterious twilight of the Great Gloomy Forest, nor to paint for you the wonderful beauty of the deep green mosses which covered rocks and trees: trailed from the swaying branches, carpeted the floorway, or hung like heavy canopies, from tree to tree, above our heads, and increased the gloom caused by the thick, interlacing foliage.

I had followed BenÈ-agÂ’s noiseless footsteps about half a mile into the stilly depths of Palin-mÂ-Talin when, I began to feel a strange chill creep over me; beginning at my very finger tips and pursuing its insidious way toward my very vitals. So rapidly did it run its benumbing course that I was upon the point of calling out to the BenÈ-agÂ, when he halted; and having broken a twig from a tree with foliage of dark green and polished leaves, bade me eat them, saying:

“Palin-mÂ-Talin does no harm to those that know him!”

I found the leaves pungent and agreeable to the taste. Their effect was magical. My limbs at once forgot their numbness and my step lost its heaviness.

We had now been several hours in the Great Gloomy Forest; and, thus far, BenÈ-ag had advanced into its ever-increasing gloom—for night was falling, without a halt.

Had BenÈ-ag had as many eyes as Argus and each of lynx’s power, he could not have pursued his way thro’ Palin-mÂ-Talin’s gloomy corridors more easily and more securely. His polished wand flashed like a thing of life in his miraculously trained hand, touching everything, vibrating, swinging, advancing, retreating, with a rapidity, that my eyes could not follow.

“O, great master!” I called out to him, “let me not be presumptuous enough to speak to thee of things which should be left unstirred in the chambers of thy mind, but if it be permitted to me to know, tell me how thy rayless eyes can pierce this gloom and find a path thro’ this trackless forest, wrapt in the gloom and silence of ten thousand years!”

“It shall be as thou wishest, son;” replied the blind hermit “the little there is to know thou shall hear! But surely, thy young limbs must be weary. First let me make ready a bed for the night and spread some food and drink!”

So saying, he swung his leathern bag off his shoulder, took from it a roll of dried skin and spread it on the ground; then, wrenching four pine boughs from a tree near by, he thrust them in the earth one at each corner of a square, and striking a spark with his tinder-box, set fire to the pitch which trickled down the boughs.

The flickering flames cast a thousand weird shadows on the trailing mosses and black shrouded trees, and filled the air with a grateful warmth.

BenÈ-ag now drew forth some dried fruit and berries.

We ate in silence.

Bulger sniffed at the food but nothing more.

Our frugal repast concluded, the blind hermit took from his leathern pouch a sharp-pointed piece of flint with which he pierced the bark of a tree near our bivouac. Into the hole he thrust a slender reed. I was astonished to see a limpid liquid flow from the end of the reed. He filled a gourd with it and placing the drinking vessel in my hand said in a low, caressing voice:

“Drink, my son! ’Twill refresh and strengthen thee!”

I raised the gourd to my lips. The liquid was cool and sweet, and very pleasing to the taste.

“Drink as deep as thou wilt, my son,” cried BenÈ-agÂ, “for Palin-mÂ-Talin could slake the thirst of an army.”

Again I placed the gourd to my lips. This time I drank long and deep. A gentle warmth now coursed thro’ my limbs. My eye-lids sank downward, oppressed with a most delicious longing for sleep. Pillowing my head on BenÈ-agÂ’s pouch, with my hand resting on my faithful Bulger’s head, I was soon wrapped in slumber.

When I awoke, it was still night. The pine knots had burned nearly out. There sat the blind hermit beside me. I could see that he was keeping watch. His head turned as I stirred.

“Thou hast asked me,” he began, to tell thee how I am able to find my way thro’ Palin-mÂ-Talin’s gloom. Here, in this trackless home of shadow no outward eyes would avail me aught. Thou hast seen how the floor of this vast Temple is everywhere alike. For it, nature has woven a carpet of thick, velvet moss which, in the flight of centuries, takes on no change of hue. ’Tis ever the same! Tear a pathway in it, in a few short days the rent will be made whole. Blaze the trees, the encircling mosses will, in a brief period hide the marks, and all thy labor will be in vain. Even supposing that thou couldst succeed in leaving a lasting trail behind thee, the deadly poison which lurks in this damp air would chill thy life blood ere thou couldst cross from outer wall to outer wall of this vast Temple, with its roof of interwoven moss and foliage, impenetrable to the noonday sun.

“Thou hast felt the first touch of that deadly chill, which curdles the warmest blood and sends a sleep of death upon the rash intruder! But to me, O, my son, Palin-mÂ-Talin is all light and glow! I cannot see that gloom which strikes such terror to thy soul. And thou must know, my son, that Palin-mÂ-Talin has no shadows deep enough to hide the north star from my sight. I always know which way it was the sun went down, and which way it will be that he will rise; for all the winds are known to me, and whence they blow. To thy cheek the air appears to sleep at times. To mine, never! ’Tis no more a task for me to catch the breath-like zephyr—unfelt by thee—than it is for thy faithful dog to take up the trail of his master’s footsteps and follow it through the crowded mart. Then again, thou must bear in mind that for a hundred years and more I’ve been a shadowless figure in this, home of shadows; that the trees of Palin-mÂ-Talin have taken me to their hearts, and I them to mine; that not only do I know how and where they grow, but it hath been revealed to me that these towering children of Palin-mÂ-Talin are not scattered helter-skelter, here and there, in orderless manner; but, that in a certain measure, they are ranged in lines from the rising toward the setting sun, each species forming a belt to itself, not like a grove by man’s hand planted, but in a wild, yet orderly confusion. To thee, this would be a useless guide, for thou hast seen how the trunks are swathed up in garbs of moss, and how the gloom gives all the foliage the same deep-dark hue of green. To thine eye, here, all these trees seem alike, the countless offspring of a single sire! And yet it is not so! For, when in my progress through these lofty corridors of gloom and silence I sway too far northward or southward, a single handful of leaves crushed in my grasp, gives up the secret of my whereabouts. But, even this sure guiding string has failed me at times, and I have gone astray in the home of my friend! And yet in such moments, Palin-mÂ-Talin had no terrors for me! When thus, an aimless wanderer in this trackless wood, I learned to draw aside this garb of green which decks Palin-mÂ-Talin’s breast, and lay my hand upon his very heart!

“So has kind nature sharpened my sense of feeling that by the simple touch of the clay beneath our feet I can set my erring footsteps right and regain my lost path. Be thou, my son, in coming years, as steadfast in thy search for truth as I have been in my endeavors to change this gloom and silence into living light and speech, and thou wilt walk through life’s devious paths as easily as I thread my way through the trackless chambers of Palin-mÂ-Talin!”

As BenÈ-ag ceased speaking, he lifted his song, making the trailing mosses sway with the vigor of his notes, now deep and solemn, now clear and far-reaching.

The echoes came back softened down to flute notes. He listened breathlessly.

“O wonderful man!” thought I, “even the sleeping echoes rouse themselves to guide thy footsteps aright.”

“Come, my son!” he cried in tones of gladness, “our torches go to their end. Let us push on! Though the sun be not yet high enough to chase the inky darkness out of Palin-mÂ-Talin’s depths, still, with this guiding string thou canst follow me!”

Saying this, he placed the end of a leather thong in my hand, and we set out once more.

After we had been an hour or so under way, the sun’s rays began so to temper the darkness of the Great Gloomy Forest, that my eyes were of some slight use to me!

Again BenÈ-ag broke out in a wild chant, and paused to catch the echo.

“Ah,” murmured the blind hermit, half in soliloquy “that was a greeting from the drowsy waters of Lool-pÂ-Tool!”

Imagine the feeling of utter helplessness which came over me an hour or so later when, suddenly I found myself standing upon the banks of a broad streamlet, of hue blacker than the wings of night, apparently stagnant; or, at least so sluggish as to seem well deserving of the title “Drowsy Waters.”

“This is Lool-pÂ-Tool!” said BenÈ-agÂ, as he rested his chin on his hand and seemed to be gazing down on its inky surface.

But how to cross it, for no bark was moored in sight—was now the bewildering thought which oppressed my mind! Surely it cannot be forded, for to the eye it seemed as deep as it was silent and mysterious. Nor yet, would it be otherwise than inviting death itself to plunge into its stagnant waters and swim to the other side.

While I stood thus wrapped in a cloud of anxious thought, BenÈ-ag himself seemed scarcely less perplexed. His usual calmness had deserted him.

Drawing some pebbles from his leather pouch, he cast them one by one into the stream, bending forward to catch the sound they made with eager, listening air. Then turning to the right he followed the banks of Lool-pÂ-Tool, keeping his staff in the water and beating it gently with the tip as if striving to draw some secret from it.

Again he paused and cast some pebbles into the dark and sluggish stream, and bent forward to get their answer. Again, he woke the echoes, and listened breathlessly to the reply that came, only to take up the march after a brief delay with what seemed to me a somewhat hesitating step. Evidently he was astray. His calm, noble face lost its look of serene confidence. Suddenly halting, he reached out for a handful of foliage, crushed the leaves in a quick and nervous grasp, inhaled their odor, and then resumed his march as before, with head dropped forward on his breast, and doubt and uncertainty visible in every movement.

For an instant the thought flashed thro’ my mind that possibly BenÈ-ag had gone so far astray as to make the discovery of the right course impossible. I could feel my lips draw apart, and my heart creep slowly upward into my throat!

The thought of a lingering death from starvation in the chill, dark corridors of Palin-mÂ-Talin, set a knife in my heart.

I almost tottered as I followed the blind hermit’s lead. My tongue was too dry to let me cry out to him in my sudden despair.

While these terrible thoughts were chasing each other thro’ my mind, BenÈ-ag halted; and, resting his staff upon the branches of the nearest tree, broke out into one of his wild invocations:

“O Palin-mÂ-Talin, BenÈ-ag calls unto thee! Hear him! He is astray! Set his feet in the right path! Let him not wander aimlessly about in thy gloom and silence. O, Palin-mÂ-Talin! He is thy child; be kind and loving to him!”

With these words BenÈ-ag threw himself upon his knees, tore away the thick covering of moss, until he had laid bare the forest floor; from this, he took up a handful of the soil and pressed it between his fingers as if to test some secret quality.

When he arose I knew that all was well. A radiant glow played about his features. He was himself again!

Catching up his wand, he broke away with mad strides, as if pursued by very demons. Only by running could I keep within sight of him.

On! on! we sped along the banks of Lool-pÂ-Tool stream of the “Drowsy Watery,” mile by mile, BenÈ-ag carolling his wild chants of glad thanks, I panting as if bent upon escaping fleshless death himself. Another hundred paces and I would have fallen headlong to the ground.

My feet seemed shod with lead.

Bulger set up a most piteous whining as he saw the look of despair settling on my face.

Suddenly the blind hermit halted; and, turning towards me, cried out in a joyous tone:

“This is the place my son. It is all over now! Fear nothing! Mount on my shoulders! Thou wilt not add a feather’s weight to the burdens which I carry there! Be not troubled about thy dog. Lool-pÂ-Tool has no terrors for him.” Such was my confidence in the blind hermit’s power to bear me safety across the mysterious stream that I did not wait for a second bidding to mount upon his shoulders altho’ as far as I could see, the waters of Lool-pÂ-Tool looked just as black and deep as ever. Advancing to the edge of the stream BenÈ-ag now began, with quick and nervous movement of his staff, to search for hidden stepping stones.

In vain I strained my eyes to catch some sign of resting place for his feet.

And yet, they were there: for with giant strides, steady, sure and rapid, BenÈ-ag passed over the “Drowsy Waters” of Lool-pÂ-Tool and set me safety down on the other bank. I made effort to speak my thanks. But, wonderment had robbed my tongue of power of utterance. I could only gaze in silence upon that noble face—now clad in all its former serenity—then turn and follow its owner’s footsteps.

After a few miles further advance BenÈ-ag halted, and, bending his gaze upon me, as if his eyes were as full of light as his look was of radiance, spoke as follows:

“My son, my task is done! Look, dost thou not see that gleam of light yonder? ’Tis the outer wall of Palin-mÂ-Talin. Pass it and thou wilt enter the world of noise and glare once more! Thou hast no further need of me. Go straight on; and, in a brief half hour, the sun’s rays will greet thee again! Once outside of this pathless wood, thou wilt find thyself upon a lofty parapet—a sheer height of two hundred feet above the plains below. Look about thee and thou wilt see a stairway of solid rock, leading downward to the plain—not such as built by hands of man, with steps of even height, hewn regular and smooth, but a rude, fantastic flight of stairs left standing there by nature when she cleared away the mass each side. Upon these narrow steps, smoothed by the beating storms of ten thousand years, the waters daily pour a treacherous slime, so that those who have rashly tried to pass to the fair land below, now lie among the jagged rocks. No foot is sure enough to tread on the slippery steps of Boga-Drappa. To fall means certain death. I cannot counsel thee my son. Be wary! Be wise! Farewell.”

As this last word fell from BenÈ-agÂ’s lips he flashed out of my sight like a spirit form.

The Palin-mÂ-Talin covered him with her darkness.

He was gone.

The tears gathered in my eyes.

Fain would I have pressed its hand to my lips.

I knew it was useless for me to try and call him back or to follow him. So, with a heavy heart I turned and pressed forward in the direction he had indicated.

I was soon at the outer edge of Palin-mÂ-Talin and to tell the truth I felt my heavy heart grow light again. Bulger too, showed his delight at being once more in the warm sunshine. Breaking out into the wildest barking he raced hither and thither with the joyous air of a boy set free from long and irksome task.

As BenÈ-ag had described to me, I now found myself standing upon a lofty parapet, overlooking a delightful valley, thro’ which I longed to wander, after my long stay in BenÈ-agÂ’s cave and the gloomy trail through Palin-mÂ-Talin’s depths.

Walking along the edge of the cliff I was not long in coming upon the Stair of the Evil Spirit or Boga-Drappa as it was called.

It was jagged, irregular and tilted here and there; and yet, quite even and stair-like when one considered that it was of nature’s building. As the blind hermit had warned me the treacherous slime covered Boga-Drappa’s entire length, forever renewed by the impure waters which trickled down its steps.

To attempt to descend would have been worse than madness.

No human foot was sure enough to tread those slippery stones and reach the bottom.

Although I was impelled by the strongest desire to hasten forward I saw that a single rash act might end my life.

Ordinary obstacles have no terror for me. But when nature sets a threatening barrier in my way I halt, but do not surrender.

And, therefore, I sat calmly down to ponder over the problem that faced me.

For three days I tarried on this parapet and each day I visited Boga-Drappa and gazed long and fixedly upon its far-reaching flight of rocky steps.

On the third day I had solved the problem.

Hastily gathering up every fragment of lime-stone lying near, I piled it in a cone-shaped heap and around it and over it I laid a mass of dry leaves and billets and over all such logs as I could lift. Then, striking fire with my flint and tinder I set the pile in flames.

In the morning I was rejoiced to find a heap of the purest quick-lime beneath the ashes.

By means of an empty skull of some animal of the deer family, which I found lying near, I at once began to feed the waters trickling over Boga-Drappa’s steps with the lime.

All that day and up to the noon hour of the next, I kept the water which flowed down the stairway, milk white with the lime.

Now, however, came the greatest difficulty. From the size of the stream I realized that it would be impossible for me to stay its course by means of any dam that I could build, for a longer time than one brief half hour. But, I dared not wait too long, for the coating of lime, which, by this time I knew must have been deposited on the rocky steps, to harden in the sun.

The dam might break and undo all my work.

At high noon, when the sun was beating down the hottest, I put the last touch to my dam. I was startled to see with what rapidity the waters gathered in the basin I had built. With anxious eyes and throbbing heart, I stood at the head of Boga-Drappa’s stair of rock and gazed up and down.

I could see no signs of drying on the black and glistening steps. One moment after another glided by. At last a faint trace of whiteness began to show itself here and there. I turned an anxious glance at the gathering waters. The frail dam seemed about to yield to the ever-increasing pressure.

In one or two places, I caught glimpses of tiny rivulets trickling through.

Once more, with a terrible feeling of faintness I glanced down the long dark flight of steps. Half blinded by the noon day sun I nevertheless caught sight of a snow white crust on the stairway.

Now was my time or never!

Calling out to Bulger to precede me I sprang boldly down the stair which, till that moment had been black with treacherous slime. The waters broke away and came rushing on my very heels. Down, down, I went in headlong haste, bounding like a deer from step to step!

My heart sank within me as I felt the torrent, now mad and raging spatter its spray on my neck.

Another instant and I’m saved! My feet strike firm.

I see the fair country come nearer and nearer.

Another leap, and with my faithful Bulger I’ve cleared the dreaded stairway of Boga-Drappa! Staggering forward, I reach the greensward of the valley and fall fainting, after my terrible race for life!

Bulger’s mingled wailing and caresses roused me after a few moments of clouded brain and then all was well. And yet a shudder stole over me as I raised my eyes to take a last look at the rocky stairway of Boga-Drappa, now clad once more in its black, glistening, treacherous slime.

Refreshed by a hearty meal upon the luscious fruit which grew in wonderful profusion on every side, followed by a deep draught of cool, clear spring water, and calling joyfully to my faithful Bulger to follow me, I set out for the distant summit of the ridge which shut in this peaceful little corner of the earth’s surface, so well fitted for the home of human beings, and yet so utterly abandoned and tenantless, even by four footed creatures. While, I am a great admirer of nature in all her aspects from wildest grandeur to picture-like delicacy, yet no spot which is not inhabited by man or beast, can long hold me content.

I must have life, not the dull spiritless life of tree, shrub or plant, ever-chained to one spot, but the restive, bounding, throbbing life of man or animal to study, contemplate and reflect upon. Therefore, it was that I determined to pass at once out of this beautiful little valley.

I pushed on with eager step for I was desirous of gaining the high land before nightfall. In this I was successful, but the twilight had so deepened when I reached the crest of the ridge, that any survey of the country lying beyond was impossible.

Shortly after I had lighted a bivouac fire, Bulger came in with a bird—of the quail kind—and I proceeded to broil it on the live embers.

The faithful animal was delighted to be once more in a country in which he could serve me and while our supper was cooking, took occasion to go through a number of his old tricks, in order to see his little master’s face brighten up.

Side by side, we lay down for the night in that far-away land, and were soon fast asleep.

The morning broke with rare splendor. I hastened to examine the country beneath me. It was dotted here and there by groves and bits of woodland and seemed unusually green and fruitful.

What attracted my attention more than anything else was the fact that, as far as my eye could reach, the region was watered by a perfect network of little rivers, which glistened in the morning sun like bands of burnished silver.

I had never seen the like. It occurred to me at once, that should these streams prove too deep and rapid to ford, it would force me to change my course entirely, and pass either to the north or south, until I reached a clear country. It was pretty well toward sundown when I stood upon the confines of this strange land which I named Polypotamo or “Many Rivers.” The streams, which varied from ten to twenty feet in width, were deep, clear and swift.

As you may readily imagine such a country was very productive. Fruit and flower-bearing shrubs and trees, all of a most beautiful green grew in the wildest abundance. The air, cooled and purified as it was by the numerous streams of limpid water, was like a magic inhalation, carrying a strange feeling of dreamy delight to every part of the body.

Said I to myself:

“If this fair land be not inhabited then it is a monstrous pity, for here kind nature has spread her riches with a more than usually lavish hand.”

Bulger and I stretched ourselves upon the bank of the first stream that we reached and were preparing for a nap after our long days tramp, when suddenly the strangest noises reached our ears. He started up with a look of mingled alarm and curiosity which, could I have seen my own face, I would undoubtedly have found pictured there in equally strong lines.

Louder and louder grew these curious sounds.

I listened with pricked-up ears, as I strained my eyes in the direction whence they came, eager to catch the first glimpse of the beings who uttered them.

I had not long to wait. About an eighth of a mile away, my eyes fell upon a sight, which, in spite of the possible dangers threatening my life, in case these creatures had proven to be vicious or savage, caused me to burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

There, in full view, was a troop of human creatures, dwarfish in stature—not being much over four feet in height—who seemed incapable of using their legs as we do; but moved about from one place to another by hopping, as some birds do, or as rabbits would do if they moved about standing upright on their hind legs.

In an instant they caught the sound of my voice; and, with the swiftness of the wind, and with an ease that astounded me, leaped over the two intervening streams—each of which was at least fifteen feet in width—and came bounding toward us with the same gigantic leaps! The whole thing was done so quickly, and the mode of locomotion was so novel and altogether wonderful, that I was surrounded before I knew what happened to me.

It is needless to say that I couldn’t understand their language, although I soon mastered it, consisting as it did of pure Aryan roots, no word being of more than three letters.

The Man-Hoppers—such was my translation of their name, Umi-Lobas—ranged themselves in a circle around Bulger and me, threw themselves on their faces, so to speak—for their arms were ridiculously out of all proportion to their bodies—and threatened with shrill outcries and menacing movements, to kick Bulger and me to death instantly unless we surrendered unconditionally.

It was a novel sight.

THE JOLLY PARTY OF UMI LOBAS (MAN HOPPERS) THAT CAPTURED BULGER AND ME.

Bulger was inclined to advise resistance; but, when I had given a hurried glance at their feet, which were very large and attached to astonishingly vigorous legs, I deemed it only prudent to run up the white flag; in fact, I gave them to understand that we threw ourselves on their mercy.

But first, a word about these strange people:

They were, as I have said, small of stature, and let me add that, upon their narrow, sloping shoulders were set delicate, doll-like heads, animated by large, lustrous, black eyes of extreme softness in expression. Their arms looked like the arms of a boy on the body of a man. But, although so small, for they reached only to their waists and ended in tiny, shapely hands, yet they showed themselves possessed of extraordinary strength and dexterity. Their legs, however, were the most wonderful part of them.

In fact, I might almost say that the Umi-Lobas were all legs, so out of all proportion was the development of their limbs. The effect of this disproportion may be easily imagined. It so dwarfed their bodies that they appeared like cones set upon two legs.

“Miscreant!” cried the leader, as I learned three days later when I had mastered their language, “if thou dost not instantly admit that his majesty, GÂ-roo, King of the Umi-Lobas, is not the fastest, farthest and most graceful jumper in the world, thou shalt be kicked to death without the least ceremony!”

I made signs that I was quite willing to admit this, although I didn’t understand exactly what it was!

Seeing that I was not disposed to attempt any harm, the Man-Hoppers sprang to their feet and seated themselves in a perfect ring around Bulger and me, like so many rabbits when standing on their hind feet to reach something, intent upon getting a good look at us, or at me rather, for Bulger was evidently no great novelty for them.

They kept up a perfect rattle of remarks in shrill piping tones upon my personal appearance. I, too, was by no means idle.

I kept even pace with their galloping curiosity, studying the expression of their faces and the movements of their bodies. After a few moments I was given to understand that I must start at once for the palace of their gracious monarch, GÂ-roo, the One Thousandth, for they were a very ancient people.

As I rose to my feet and took a few steps toward the water, intending to assure them that I could not leap across the stream, it became their turn to laugh.

And laugh they did too, with such spirit, such heartiness—I might almost say such violence—that I never realized till then that they laugh best who laugh last.

Again and again their piping, pygmy voices broke out in shrill chorus while their pretty doll faces were convulsed with merriment.

Bulger repeatedly showed his teeth, and gave vent to short, spiteful barks as the Umi-Lobas continued their, to him, unseemly behavior. But I knew it would only injure us in the end, if I showed any signs of anger, so I simply shrugged my shoulders and waited for them to recover from their fit of merriment. Finally, between the pauses of laughter I caught such words as:

“Pendulum-legs!”

“Man-scissors!”

“Man Tongs!”

“Flip-flop! Wiggle-waggle!”

“Here she goes, there she goes!”

Such were a few of the terms expressive of the impression which my poor unoffending legs made upon the minds of the Umi-Lobas.

They quieted down at last and again began to make signs that I should prepare to follow them.

When at last I succeeded in making them understand that I was not a jumper, and could no more leap across the stream in front of us than I could hop over the moon, their mirth now gave place to disgust. Such pleasant phrases as:—

“Lead legs!”

“Two-legged snail!”

“Little man stuck-in-the-ground!”

“Little man tied-to-his-head!” etc., etc., were fired at me.

After a consultation, it was determined to dispatch two of their number for a sort of porte-chaise in use among the Umi-Lobas in which to transport Bulger and me to the King’s palace.

Away went the messengers like the wind, in leaps of twenty feet seeming scarcely to touch the ground, bounding along in the distance like pith balls. After a short delay they reappeared bearing, slung on a sort of yoke resting upon their shoulders, a stout wicker basket.

Bulger and I were invited to step into it; the cover was closed and securely fastened by a stout leathern thong. Then with a bumpety bump sort of motion away we went across land and water.

Bulger whined piteously and fixed his lustrous eyes upon me, as if to say:

“Little master, if they are transporting us to torture or death I’m glad I am with thee!”

I soon gave him to understand that there was no danger.

He returned my caresses and we both awaited further developments. It seems that the two Man-Hoppers who had been sent for the porte-chaise had spread the news of their strange capture, so the whole town was on the watch for our arrival.

At last we came to a full stop. The basket was set down on the ground and the leathern thong loosened. To tell the truth, I was as anxious to see as they were.

A terrible hubbub was in progress, those in authority having seemingly lost all control over the pushing, pulling, scrambling mass of Umi-Lobas. With such violent outcries and still more violent gestures did they gather about us, that I began to fear that they would overturn our carriage and do Bulger and me some real injury, in their mad curiosity.

Suddenly a voice, louder and shriller than all the rest, called out:

“Silence! His majesty, GÂ-roo, the Thousandth, King of the Umi-Lobas, is approaching. Down! Down! Silence! Fall back!”

One of the attendants now raised the lid of our basket and courteously invited me to step out.

Without stopping to give the thing a thought, I seized the leathern thong, sprang lightly up and threw one of my legs over the side of the basket.

Instantly there was an outburst of shrill, ear-piercing exclamations of wonder, fear, surprise, horror, delight and I don’t know how many other emotions.

For a moment I was startled, and half inclined to make my way back into my basket again. Suddenly, however, it occurred to me what it all meant.

The Umi-Lobas being able to move their legs only backward and forward, and utterly incapable of moving one leg without the other, were about as much astonished at seeing one of my legs come flopping over the side of the basket, as I would be if you should throw one of your legs out sidewise and strike your foot against your shoulder.

As I sprang lightly to the ground and took a few steps towards King GÂ-roo, who stood surrounded by his court officials, a very lean Umi-Loba on one side of him and a very fat one on the other—a perfect whirlwind of such cries as: “Pendulum-legs” “Walking-Scissors!” “Measuring-Man!” “Little Man All Head!” etc., etc., burst forth.

King GÂ-roo received me very pleasantly; requesting me to walk, run, hop on one foot, cross my legs, he, standing with wide opened eyes as I went through my paces to please him.

He then asked me my name, my rank at home, my profession, my age, what I liked to eat and drink, how much heavier my head was than my body, etc., etc. I made such a good impression on the King of the Umi-Lobas that he turned and invited me to spend some time at his palace.

I was delighted, for I was very desirous of studying the manners and customs of these strange people, and of conversing with their learned men. Suddenly, there was a great change manifest in the King’s manner toward me. He listened with knitted brows and compressed lips, first to his fat counsellor and then to his lean one.

His lean minister, so lean that he appeared to me to be an animated steel spring snapping apart, was named, MegÂ-ZaltÔ or “Great Jumper,” than the King himself no one being able to leap across a broader stream.

His fat minister, so fat that he was able to advance only by little hops of a few inches at a time, was named MigrÔ-ZaltÔ, or “Small Jumper,” and as he had for many years been unable to race about the country like the other Umi-Lobas and had consequently had much time on his hands, which he had used to improve his mind reading and studying, until he had acquired great wisdom. Hence King GÂ-roo’s choice of him as royal minister and court adviser.

I was again ordered to stand in front of his majesty, the ruler of all the Umi-Lobas.

“Sir Pendulum-legs!” said he, “upon reflection, I am persuaded that thy visit to my dominions bodes no good. Thou must know that I have two privy councillors, to whose advice I always listen and then do as I see fit. His excellency MegÂ-ZaltÔ,” continued King GÂ-roo, pointing to his lean minister, “counsels me to command that thou be stamped and kicked to death at once, saying that thou wilt work great injury among my people; thou being a foreigner from a far-away land, they will endeavor to imitate thy manner of walking. Our good old-fashioned ways of walking will be sneered at; and my people’s legs will soon lose their wonderful strength and activity.

“My other councillor, who is a very learned man and loves to discuss questions of race, manners and customs with strangers, advises me to let thee live for several weeks, at least, until he has had an opportunity to get some valuable information from thee. Now, I am a quiet and peace-loving King, for nature by surrounding my dominions with such a network of rivers, and giving us the power to leap over them, makes it next to impossible for an enemy to follow us. Therefore, Little Man All Head, it is my royal will that for the present no harm come to thee!”

“Thanks, most powerful and graceful jumper in this or any other world!” said I, with a very low bow. “I accept my life at thy hands in order to use it to make known thy goodness and greatness in every land I shall pass through.”

My delicate flattery touched King GÂ-roo very perceptibly. He smiled and nodded his little doll head in the friendliest manner. But MegÂ-ZaltÔ’s fierce, little face was screwed up in a thousand wrinkles. I felt within me that he was firmly resolved to do me injury.

Now, there was another interruption. A shrill, piping baby-voice suddenly rang out in a series of angry screams, while a score of other voices in soft, soothing tones could be heard as if endeavoring to comfort the screamer.

I turned my eyes in the direction of the voices. To my surprise and delight I saw coming towards me one of the female Umi-Lobas, advancing timidly with light and graceful hops, like a sparrow on the greensward. Her head and face looked for all the world like some of the wax dolls I had seen in Paris, only she was a trifle paler than they.

It was the beautiful princess, HoppÂ-HoppÂ. She seemed to be in a very fretful and petulant humor, and showed her peevishness in every movement.

Nothing pleased her. She pouted, hung her head, and threw her baby-arms about, upon the most trivial provocation.

As I learned afterwards, this all proceeded from her unwillingness to marry the lean, bony MegÂ-ZaltÔ, who was violently in love with her, and to whom the King, in a moment of some great contentment, had rashly promised the princess in marriage, and as King GÂ-roo had in doing so taken the Umi-Lobas’ vow: “May I never be able to jump farther than the length of my nose, if I break my vow,” he dared not break his word, and, of course, the old, thin, bony, wrinkled MegÂ-ZaltÔ insisted upon his sticking to the bargain.

The effect of all this was to throw the beautiful princess HoppÂ-Hopp into a deep melancholy. In fact, she refused absolutely to partake of any food for so long a while that everybody said sadly, “She will die!”

King GÂ-roo was beside himself with grief. But, as MegÂ-ZaltÔ had no blood, he couldn’t feel any pity for either father or daughter, and insisted that the King should stick to his bargain with him.

Led on at last by the rich reward offered by King GÂ-roo to any physician who could succeed in making princess HoppÂ-Hopp partake of food, one of the court physicians hit upon the following plan:

The attendants were directed to set a table in the princess’ apartment, and load it down with her favorite dishes. Then the lady-in-waiting was instructed to bind a silk band around the princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ’s body, when the latter retired for the night, so arranged that it should press gently, but continuously on the sympathetic nerve, and cause her to walk in her sleep.

The plan worked successfully. Every night about midnight princess HoppÂ-Hopp would rise from her bed, while in the deepest sleep, sit down at the table and partake of a hearty meal. After which she returned to bed, when one of the ladies of the bed-chamber immediately loosened the silken band, lest she might arise the second time and overeat herself.

Princess HoppÂ-Hopp advanced towards me, hopping along with a timid air, until she was close enough to get a good look at me.

I was then desired to go through my paces once more, which I did with a great deal of vigor, concluding the performance by sitting down and crossing my legs.

HoppÂ-Hopp smiled faintly at first; but, when it came to the leg-crossing feat, she clapped her little doll hands and broke out in a laugh about as loud as the low notes of a flute.

King GÂ-roo was crazed with joy. It was the first time HoppÂ-Hopp had laughed for a year. I could see that there was a hurried consultation going on between King GÂ-roo and his fat and lean ministers. I knew only too well what it all meant. But princess HoppÂ-Hopp interrupted the consultation, and solved the whole question herself by crying out like a spoilt child clamoring for a toy, “I want him!”

King GÂ-roo burst forth into a loud laugh, in which everyone joined, save the lean, rattle-jointed MegÂ-ZaltÔ, who scowled fiercely at me, screwing his little face up like a dried apple.

“He is thine; take him, beloved daughter,” exclaimed King GÂ-roo gayly, “and if he can cure thy melancholy and make thee once more the joy and sunshine of our Court, no one of the glorious gems which deck our royal diadem shall be too good for him.”

Amid great rejoicing and loud huzzas, a silk cord was tied about my body and I was led away by the beautiful princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ. Bulger resented the indignity of tying a cord around my waist and came within an ace of setting his teeth in the thick leg of the attendant who performed that service for me. Growling and showing his teeth right and left, the poor, puzzled animal followed me to prison; I say to prison, for that was what it proved to be.

Night and day, a guard surrounded my apartments and kept within respectful distance when I was summoned to divert the gentle princess by running, hopping on one foot, walking with my toes turned out or in, or with my feet stretched far apart.

But the one thing which delighted the princess and chased the melancholy from the pretty doll face was my ability to cross my legs. This wonderful feat I was obliged to repeat and repeat until my limbs fairly ached; but no matter how often repeated to the gentle HoppÂ-Hopp it was ever new and wonderful, and she invariably rewarded me by smiling and clapping her baby-hands.

About this time it was that my beloved brother Bulger gave me another proof of his deep affection and most extraordinary intelligence. I had no sooner begun to prepare for bed than I noticed that something was the matter with him. He fixed his lustrous black eyes pleadingly upon me, bit my shoe playfully, tugged at my clothing, sprang upon me, then bounded off toward the bed, sniffed at it, growled in unfeigned anger, and then making his way back to me, began to tease and worry me once more. I was half inclined to get provoked. By turns I scolded and petted him. All to no purpose; he continued his strange actions, growing, if anything, more and more violent in his manner. At last I was ready for bed. Striving with all my power to quiet and console him, I made an effort to throw myself on my bed, so that he might leap up and lie down beside me.

But no, it was impossible. With grip of iron he laid hold of my night-robe and held me firmly fast, whining and crying most piteously, as if to say,

“O, loved little master, why is it that thou canst not understand me?”

Suddenly a strange thought flashed across my mind. I stooped and glanced under my couch.

Nothing seemed amiss.

Then, as if urged on by some unseen hand, I seized the bed-clothing and hurled it on the floor. Lo, the mystery was solved! There, hidden beneath the drapery, shone the tips of a dozen or more tiny blades, each sharper than a needle’s point, and as I found upon examination, stained with a poison so subtle that the slightest prick would have robbed me of life. Need that I tell you how the tears burst forth, how I flung myself upon my knees and caught that beloved animal in my arms, covering him with kisses?

He was satisfied.

Again, had he added to that long list of debts due him from me—debts only to be discharged in coin fresh and bright from the heart’s mint. As you have doubtless guessed, this cowardly and cruel attempt on my life was the work of that living coil of steel springs, MegÂ-ZaltÔ, who had determined to put out of the way the hated foreigner, whose monstrous deformities were so pleasing to the being he loved.

King GÂ-roo was greatly incensed when, upon Bulger’s recognition of the would-be murderer in the presence of the whole Court, the miserable wretch made a clean breast of it, and related how he had arranged the knives with his own hands.

“Out of my sight, thou unworthy servant! If I do not command that thy vile heart and viler head be parted by the executioner’s axe, it is because thy father rendered mine priceless services. Go! Come not again until I summon thee!”

King GÂ-roo now took me into special favor.

In the first place, he was delighted to see how successful my efforts had been to amuse the princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ, on whose baby cheeks the roses glowed once more, and whose child-voice rang out again as of old, like a flute note or a tiny silver bell.

His majesty ordered that the Court painter should forthwith make a portrait of Bulger for the royal gallery, and that a plaster cast of my head should be taken for the royal museum.

I was much pleased with all this attention.

But I noticed that the very moment I hinted at the necessity of my speedy return home, King GÂ-roo skillfully turned the conversation to some other subject. The fact of the matter was, he feared to have me leave the palace lest his beloved HoppÂ-Hopp should miss my daily performances and fall back again into her melancholy.

The little princess herself was not slow in exerting her power over me. Snapping the ground with her feet, like a rabbit, when I failed to be quite as entertaining as usual, and even going so far as to threaten me with a dose of that living coil of steel-spring, called MegÂ-ZaltÔ, when I refused to cross my legs and uncross them quickly enough to please her ladyship.

One day, being in a sort of brown study, over my position, and revolving in my mind several different ways of making my escape from King GÂ-roo’s dominions, I unwittingly paid little attention to HoppÂ-HoppÂ’s commands. In vain she stormed, snapping the ground with her little feet, shaking her baby hands at me, piping out in shrill and angry tones at my negligence.

I didn’t quicken my pace one jot. A heavy load of thoughts oppressed my mind.

My heart was full of sorrow.

All that day I had been thinking of home, of the dear old baron and the gentle baroness, my mother, and wondering whether they missed me at the castle.

Suddenly came a messenger from King GÂ-roo summoning me at once to go to the audience chamber.

With a bound I came to myself.

The little princess HoppÂ-Hopp had gone to her apartments.

I started to call her back.

Every instant I expected to hear that little bundle of bones and malevolence jump out at me like a venomous toad.

With fear and trembling I betook me to the King’s chamber.

To my unspeakable delight his majesty, the ruler of the Umi-Lobas, was in the rosiest of humors.

He met me with outstretched hands, poured out a beaker of wine for me, and bade me sit down at the very foot of the throne.

I strove in vain to stammer out my thanks.

He would not hear a word of them; said that “the stream should flow the other way,” meaning that I was the one to be thanked.

“Now, little man all head,” began the King, after I had finished my wine, “I have sent for thee to try and make thee happy, in the same measure as thou hast contributed to my happiness. This day I speak to thee from a father’s heart. Thou hast restored my darling child to health and contentment, and remembering from my conversations with thee that thou art a great lover of rare and useful books, I have had copies made of every book on the shelves of the royal library, and I now beg thee to accept them as a very slight token of my gratitude.”

I was speechless.

The blood rushed fast and hot to my cheeks.

I stammered out a few senseless words of protest, thanks, surprise, and what not.

The plan seemed to me only too plainly a scheme to tie me in King GÂ-roo’s service, to load me with several thousand volumes which I would have no possible means of carrying with me, and which, to leave behind would be such an insult that arrest and imprisonment would most surely follow.

At last I succeeded in getting myself together in some shape, and spake as follows:

“O, most powerful, wonderful and graceful jumper of all the Umi-Lobas, GÂ-roo, thousandth of thy line, I implore thee do not load me down with such a vast and priceless treasure. Thou knowest I am but a sojourner for a brief term in thy kingdom; I have no caravan, when I go hence to transport this vast accumulation of wisdom, stored in so many thousands of thick and bulky volumes, steel-clasped and iron-hinged. Thy gift is far too princely for so humble a visitor as I. Therefore, most gracious King GÂ-roo, bestow it upon some wealthy noble of thy land, in whose spacious castle halls these books may find a safe resting-place, shelf rising on shelf, a very fortress of learning, impregnable to the cohorts of ignorance.”

King GÂ-roo smiled.

Then, turning to an attendant, he said:

“Summon Poly-dotto to attend before me, and bid him bring the library with him.”

I was more puzzled than ever by this command.

In a few moments the door swung open, and an aged Umi-Loba, well bent with years, with long tufts of white hair growing from his ears—for these people do not permit hair to grow upon their faces, plucking it out and destroying its roots in early life—and carrying a single volume of goodly size under his arm.

He advanced with feeble hops, steadying himself upon a staff.

His voice brought a smile to my face in spite of myself, for it whistled like a flute, unskilfully stopped, and ever and anon broke out into a funny squeak.

But although infirm of body, Poly-dotto was a perfect wonder of mind and memory.

I was fairly startled to find that Poly-dotto could understand my language with perfect ease, not a thing to startle one, either, when we stop to think that all our European tongues originated in this part of the world.

Poly-dotto hopped forward, made an attempt to bend his body more than it was, thrust the long, white tufts of hair growing from his ears into the bosom of his garb, and placed the book he had brought with him into King GÂ-roo’s hands.

His majesty returned the salutation of the aged sage, and then, bending a look upon me, beckoned to me to draw near.

I obeyed.

“Receive, Sir Pendulum-legs,” cried King GÂ-roo, “as a mark of my affection and a proof of my gratitude, this complete and perfect transcript of the entire royal library, for many centuries the pride of the Kings of the Umi-Lobas.”

I glanced at King GÂ-roo, then at the back of the book thinking that it was merely the catalogue of the books contained in the royal library.

But, no; there was the title, “Complete Transcript,” etc.

I opened the book.

Its pages were thinner than the finest tissue I had ever seen.

I turned to the last page.

Twenty thousand pages!

My astonishment was redoubled.

With some difficulty, on account of my unskilled fingers, I turned over some pages here and there. They were all closely filled with minute dots and strokes.

To my eye, one page seemed like another, a bewildering repetition of these same little dots and strokes.

I looked up at King GÂ-roo and Poly-dotto. They were both much amused over my confusion.

Like a flash the truth burst upon me. It seemed to me like waking from a dream.

Yes, there was no doubt of it. I was that moment in the land of the original short-hand writers. Here had arisen that mysterious system of recording language by means of dots and strokes, of which so many men, in so many different countries, in different centuries, had claimed to be the inventors.

In my readings of ancient peoples I had often seen it darkly hinted at, that far, far back in remote ages there existed a race of beings, with short arms and tiny hands, who had invented a written language to suit their wants, in which absolutely no letters at all were used, the words being represented by dots and strokes placed at different heights to denote different sounds.

With a sort of breathless delight I now sat down and began to examine the book anew, pausing every now and then to repeat a few words of thanks to the King of the Umi-Lobas.

“Inform little man all head, most learned Poly-dotto,” cried the King, “how many volumes he holds in his hand.”

Poly-dotto caressed the white tufts hanging from his ears, and spake as follows:

“The royal library which thou holdest in thy hand, contains eight thousand volumes all rare and valuable, and only to be found in the library of our royal master. These volumes treat of astrology, alchemy, divination, cheirosophy, medicine, mathematics, law, politics, philosophy, pastimes, warfare, fifty volumes of poetry, fifty of history, fifty of wonder-stories, besides several hundred treatises on theosophy, altruism, positivism, hypnotism, mind-reading, transmigration of souls, art of flying, embalming etc., etc.!”

“O, wonderful! Most wonderful!” was my ejaculation.

“But I beseech thee, O, learned Poly-dotto,” I continued, “impart to me the secret of all this! Unfold to me the origin of this most wonderful system of writing whereby the wisdom of ages may be recorded in one small volume!”

Poly-dotto glanced at the king, who bowed his head in sign of his royal consent that the aged sage might speak.

“Where we now stand,” began Poly-dotto, tossing back the long tufts of white hair which reached from his ears to his shoulders, “was once a rugged and mountainous country. In those days, now some thirty thousand years ago, our people were more like thine than at present. To climb the rocky sides of these mountains required long, sinewy arms and strong hands of great grasping power, and flexible legs, moving quite independently of each other, like mountaineers in all lands. But, all of a sudden, these rock-crested heights began to sink and the valleys to rise; true, very slowly and gradually, but yet uninterruptedly, so that in a few years, what had been a rough, broken country, ridged and wrinkled, began to take on the aspect of a perfectly level land. With these changes our people began to change.

“Having no longer any use for hands of iron grip and arms of tireless muscles, they were not long in finding out that this strength was leaving them, that their great breadth of shoulder and depth of chest were slowly but surely disappearing in their sons and grandsons. By a strange fatality, about this time, a terrible flood passed over our luckless land. Our panic-stricken people had just time enough to escape. For several months the regions once inhabited by a contented little nation were covered by water many fathoms deep. When, at last, the waters had subsided, and our ancestors were permitted to set foot again on their native soil, what a change met their eyes! This vast domain of our gracious master, King GÂ-roo—the Thousandth, had become as you now see it, a perfectly level plain, net-worked by the countless narrow but deep and swift-rolling streams. But the soil brought in the arms, so to speak, of these raging waters and cast upon our houses, burying them far beneath, was of most extraordinary fertility, just as you see it now. Every manner of plant, fruit, flower, vegetable and grain grows here without cultivation when once planted. Our people were not slow to take advantage of Nature’s kindness and build up once more the happy homes destroyed by the flood. But now we were brought face to face with a most wonderful state of things. Here we were shut in, surrounded by a vast network of streams, and yet taught by our terrible experience so to dread water, that not even to escape from death itself could our people be induced to swim across one of these little rivers or pass over it in any sort of boat. Time went on. It was either a question of living on these long narrow necks of land, and walking scores of miles to pass around the bends and curves of the streams, or else jump over them. Our wise men issued instructions to our forefathers, telling them how from early childhood they must train their little ones to leap, encouraging them by rewards to keep up the practice until leaping became as easy to them as walking and running had been. The royal ancestors of our most gracious master enacted most stringent laws against walking and running. In a few generations great changes took place. It was not an unusual thing to see a child of eight or ten leap six or eight feet over rivulets while playing some game like your hide and seek. As these child-hoppers increased in years, their power of leaping soon led them to see that they could advance much more rapidly by jumping than by the ancient, toilsome way of setting first one and then the other foot forward.

“The streams now widened, putting the leaping powers of our people to severe tests. But we overcame every obstacle, and in a few generations it became a rare thing indeed to see a Umi-Loba moving about in the ancient manner. As you may easily imagine, Nature could not furnish vigor enough to enable our people to transform themselves in this manner, and at the same time preserve their length, strength and power of shoulders, arms and hands. A most astonishing result showed itself. What was gained below was lost above. Our people’s arms began to grow flabby; their hands took on a delicate and nerveless appearance, as if a long illness had bleached and softened them. Then the wise men of our nation noticed another change. After a certain age, the arms of our children ceased growing entirely, and although our physicians made extraordinary efforts to overcome this sudden stoppage of growth, which usually occurred when our children reached their tenth year, yet all their exertions were of no avail.

“Our king, to his great dismay, saw growing up about him a race of young men whose arms were so short, and whose hands were so small and delicate, that they could no longer wield the spears and bows and arrows of our forefathers. Even the knives and forks and drinking cups had to be made smaller and smaller as these wonderful changes came about.

“And not long, too, was it before our wise men found it utterly impossible to hold and guide the long, heavy pens of their ancestors, or to lift the ponderous volumes in which our fathers had kept the records of our nation.

“With smaller pens came smaller books, and finer writing, until at last one of my ancestors, in a moment of happy inspiration, conceived the idea of giving up the ancient way of writing by means of two score or more of letters, so large that only a few of them could be written upon one line, and of which two or three were necessary in order to record one simple sound, and of using little dots and strokes as fine as hairs, to represent the sound of our words.

“Our children were delighted.

“Their short arms and tiny hands were well fitted for such work.

“In a few years the new system of writing was taught in all our schools, and by royal edict became the only lawful method of writing throughout the kingdom. Later, another of my ancestors greatly improved the system, so simplifying it that whole sentences could be recorded by a single tiny dot or hair-stroke.

“By means of this wonderful system is it that we are enabled to compress a whole library into one single book, as you have seen, and to make it possible for our royal master to carry about with him on his journeys the assorted wisdom of ages, in so compact a form that it may be placed under the royal pillow and yet not wrinkle it.

“Thou knowest full well,” continued Poly-dotto, with a smile, as he raised one of his baby hands and pointed a tiny finger at the book I held in my hands, and upon whose pages my eyes were fixed in wide-opened astonishment, “that in thy country a story writer could not possibly squeeze a single one of his tales between those covers!”

King GÂ-roo laughed heartily at this speech.

After a few moments more of pleasant chat, I was dismissed by his majesty with promises of continued favor.

As I was backing out of the audience chamber, King GÂ-roo cried out gayly, as he shook a tiny finger at me:

“Look well after princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ, Little Man-All-Head!”

While seated in my apartment, the day following my reception at court and the presentation of the royal library to me, whiling away the time as best I could by dipping into the early history of the Umi-Lobas, I suddenly heard a great wheezing and whistling noise, as if some one suffering from the asthma were approaching.

Bulger gave a low growl.

I sprang up, and upon going to the door was not a little surprised to see MigrÔ-ZaltÔ, coming toward me with very short hops, every one of which drew forth a grunt.

However, he finally reached a seat in my apartment, and after half an hour’s rest, addressed me as follows:

“I bring thee good news, Little Man-All-Head. His majesty, King GÂ-roo, has graciously resolved to appoint thee one of his Ministers of State. Poly-dotto has informed him that your head is exactly three times larger that the largest Umi-Lobas, and that, consequently, you must be at least three times as wise as any of his counsellors. He is, quite naturally, unwilling that any other monarch should have the use of the vast treasure of wisdom stored in thy head. His design is to treat thee like a son, to surround thee with everything that gold can buy or cunning hands fashion, for thy comfort and amusement; in a word, so to shower honors upon thee that thou shalt soon forget thy home and kinspeople.”

The effect of MigrÔ-ZaltÔ’s words upon me was indescribable.

I felt as if my heart were about to beat its last.

It was only by the greatest effort that I could pull myself together, stammer out my thanks to his majesty, King GÂ-roo, and save myself from betraying my utterly disconsolate condition.

Behold me now a prisoner for life! For in spite of all these honeyed words, King GÂ-roo now proceeded to double the number of guards set to watch my movements, and thus head off any attempt at escape.

I, of course, pretended not to notice this extra precaution.

In fact, I put a smiling face over my sad heart, and pretended to be perfectly contented; to have given up all thoughts of ever returning home.

I took good care to let MigrÔ-ZaltÔ know that I now intended to begin studying the ancient history of his people.

With the princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ, too, I was all kindness and sympathy. But while I was thus engaged in throwing my keepers off their guard, I was diving deep into the folk-lore of the Umi-Lobas.

The books of the royal library, so graciously bestowed upon me by King GÂ-roo, stood me in good service.

I determined to get at all the weaknesses of the Umi-Lobas, in order to see if I could not discover some way to elude their vigilance.

It was all dark to me for the first few days, but at length I caught a glimmer of hope.

It came about this way:

The Umi-Lobas dread water. My own observation, as well as Poly-dotto’s words, had directed my attention to this strange fact.

Provided by nature with limbs of such extraordinary strength that they can leap over streams, even thirty feet in width, they have a superstition that nature intended them to avoid touching the surface of a stream.

For the first, I now observed that they had no boats of any kind, and that their children, unlike other children, never played upon the banks of the beautiful streamlets which flowed in every direction around their homes.

“A boat is the thing I need!” said I to myself, every pulse beating with suppressed excitement.

But, ah! where to get it!

It were idle to attempt to build a boat or even a raft without attracting the attention of my watchers and raising an outcry.

I must abandon that idea.

By a strange fatality my bitterest enemy now came to my assistance. You doubtless remember how that animated coil of steel spring, MegÂ-ZaltÔ, tried to kill me by placing tiny poisoned knife-blades in my bed.

Well, after that I never laid down at night that I didn’t first pull off the cushions, drapery and coverings of my couch in search of any more of the same kind.

I never found any, for MegÂ-ZaltÔ was still in disgrace, and forbidden, under penalty of instant death, to approach the royal palace.

But I did find something else.

It was this:

I discovered that my bedstead emptied of its cushions and clothes, was exactly the shape of a yawl boat; in fact, of so fine a model as to give infinite pleasure to my sailor’s eye, and, most astonishing discovery of all, that it was already fitted with a staunch and shapely mast, the staff which supported the hangings. All I needed was a couple of thin, straight sticks for booms, and I would be able to take one of my sheets and rig a square sail in a few moments.

Here again I found myself face to face with an appalling difficulty.

Even admitting that I could elude the vigilance of my keepers, how was I, all alone by myself, to transport the heavy bedstead to the water’s edge, a quarter of a mile away!

I was upon the point of giving up the whole scheme.

The more I turned it over in my mind the more its dangers and difficulties increased.

I paced the floor with quick and anxious step, scarcely aware of Bulger’s solicitude.

He was at my heels with vain coaxings, trying to quiet me down.

At last, in blank despair, I threw myself in a chair.

Bulger raised himself on his hind legs and gazed inquiringly into my face.

His tongue was out.

He was suffering from the heat.

For the first time I became aware of my condition.

The perspiration was streaming down my face. Suddenly a new idea flashed though my mind and helped out the old one.

Said I to myself:

“I’ll complain to the King of the heat; I’ll tell him how accustomed I am to outdoor life and sleeping in the open air with no covering, save the blue sky and twinkling stars; that I shall most surely pine away with inward wasting unless I be permitted to move my bed during the midsummer heat down by the river side, where the air is coolest and purest.”

King GÂ-roo listened to my request without the slightest suspicion that any idea of escaping from his domain was flitting through my mind.

In fact, he would have as soon expected to see one of his royal beds spread its drapery for wings and fly away to the mountains as to see it go flashing down the river with one of the sheets set for a sail.

So my request was granted at once.

My bed was moved down to the river’s edge, where one tent was raised to house me in case of a rain storm, and another to shelter the troop of guards which always kept at a respectable distance from me, and yet near enough to hop down upon me in about three seconds.

So far all had gone well. At first my plan was to launch my boat and make my escape in the night, but I was obliged to give this up, for I discovered that the guard was always doubled at night fall.

Escape, if I escape at all, then must be in the broad daylight.

Six of the Umi-Lobas soldiers stood sentry about my quarters from sun-rise to sun-set.

That they were armed it is needless to say.

But their tiny swords and pikes had no terror for me.

With a stout club I could have beaten them down in a few moments.

Their terrible legs and feet, however, were quite another thing.

One blow from the feet of a vigorous Umi-Loba would have laid me dead on the ground.

I have often seen these guards amuse themselves by striking deep holes in the ground or by breaking stone slabs an inch thick with a single blow of their heels.

I must choose a different mode of eluding such dangerous pursuers.

They must be drugged.

But how to accomplish it?

To offer them all food at the same moment would most surely arouse their suspicions.

Then again, they did not all eat together.

So too, it would be worse than folly to attempt to drug their drink.

What was to be done?

Again my heart grew sick and faint within me.

I sat down to collect my scattered thoughts.

At that moment the attendant began to serve my midday repast. I glanced at the tempting dishes and sparkling wines. It was a feast fit for a King.

“Sir Pendulum-legs,” said the serving man, with a low bow, “this is the season for O-loo-loo eggs. The first find was made to-day. The nest held six. His majesty sends thee two and wishes thee a pleasant dream.”

Now let me tell you what this strange speech all meant.

The O-loo-loo bird is about the size of a quail, and lays from six to a dozen eggs of a jet black hue. But as the bird, whose plumage is as black as a bat’s wing, makes its nest in the wilderness, among the rank growth of a heather-like plant, of so dark green a foliage as to seem almost black, the eggs are invisible to the hunter’s eye, and the nests can only be found by posting sentinels to mark the spots where the birds alight.

As you may imagine, O-loo-loo eggs are worth their weight in gold. Nay more, the people are forbidden to eat one.

Such is the King’s command!

They all belong to him, and the finder must straightway bear his prize to the royal palace where a rich reward awaits him.

But the most mysterious thing about them is yet to be told! Not only are these eggs of most delicious flavor, but two of them are sufficient to throw the eater into a deep sleep, during which the most delightful dreams steal over him! Visions of exquisite loveliness flit before his eyes, and life seems so sweet and satisfactory that waking is really the keenest pain. The cause of this strange effect was for many centuries a mystery and the ancestors of the Umi-Lobas were wont to worship the O-loo-loo bird as a sort of sacred creature. But the mystery was solved at last. It was found that these birds fed upon the seed of the poppy plant, and hence the power of their eggs to cause sleep in those partaking of them.

I ate the two O-loo-loo eggs to test the matter, and in a few moments found myself sinking into a most delicious slumber.

When I awoke I saw light where darkness had lately reigned.

The way to escape from King GÂ-roo’s guards was now clear to me. I at once proceeded to save up my O-loo-loo eggs.

In a few days, they became more plentiful, and it was not long before I had accumulated two dozen of them.

And now, thought I, if I offer them to my keepers as a feast, their suspicions will be aroused; they will refuse to partake of them, and the whole matter will be laid before the king and I shall be shorn of the little liberty I have. Therefore, I must use my knowledge of human nature.

As each man passed on his rounds I called him to me, and showing him four of the O-loo-loo eggs, said:

“I like thee; thou art my favorite, couldst thou be very close mouthed?”

The fellow’s eyes sparkled with delight, and I could see that his mouth was watering at the sight of the dainty morsels.

Upon his assuring me that he would take good care that no one should know how kind I had been to him, I gave him four of the eggs, enough to make him sleep like a log for three hours.

He bolted them, shells and all.

I was much pleased with the working of my plan.

The next sentinel, who made his appearance a few moments after the first, was served in the same way. And so on with all the others. Each promised most solemnly never to reveal his good fortune to his comrades.

My plan thus far had worked splendidly.

In about a quarter of an hour I had the supreme satisfaction of seeing all six of them begin to rub their eyes, then yawn, then stretch their little arms up over their heads in the sleepiest manner possible. In less than half an hour they were all stretched out on the greensward, snoring like good fellows.

Now was my time to act!

I sprang toward my bed to empty it of its contents and launch it on the little river which flowed near by, when, to my horror, I heard the princess HoppÂ-Hopp calling, “Little Man All Head! Little Man All Head!”

A cold chill crept over me! There she came, hopping toward me like the wind, calling out for me to come and make her laugh!

What was I to do?

Strike her down?

Smother her?

Oh no; I could not have harmed that innocent little doll-faced being, had it been to save myself from life-long imprisonment.

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a bright thought flitted through my brain.

I have run, hopped, and stood on one foot, kicked one foot high in the air, crossed my legs, etc., to amuse the little princess, but I have never danced for her!

If she can find it amusing enough to laugh heartily at such plain old-fashioned antics, she will surely go into convulsions when she sees me dancing a quick time jig with heels flying in the air.

So, calling out to her in my gayest manner, I said:

“Come, little princess, come little Umi-Loba. Hop this way! Be quick; I’ve something very funny to show you.”

She didn’t wait for a second bidding.

With two bounds she was beside me.

Bidding her be seated I began to dance and she began to laugh. In half a moment I quickened my step and she broke out into the wildest merriment.

“O, do stop, Little Man All Head,” she gasped. “O, do stop, or I shall die!” I didn’t want her to die, but I did want her to fall down into a swoon.

So now I let myself out.

My legs flashed like sunbeams dancing on the water.

Bulger looked on in dignified astonishment.

He failed utterly to make out what his little master meant by these furious antics.

Indeed they were furious.

Faster and faster my nimble feet beat the ground. Wilder and more uncontrollable became the laughter of the little princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ. The tears coursed down her pretty face she rocked from side to side; she bent forward and back.

Adding still more speed to my movements, I kept my eyes fixed upon her.

Victory!

The end came at last!

She rolled over on the greensward in a swoon.

“Now or never!” I murmured to myself.

In quicker time than it takes to tell it, aided by my faithful Bulger, I emptied the bed of its contents, set my shoulder to one end of it, while Bulger fastened his teeth in some fringe that hung from the other, and then, he pulling with might and main, and I pushing with all the desperation of a battle for freedom, the wooden structure was slowly brought to the bank of the river.

It was a hard task for us!

But we did it.

Now down the slippery bank it glided with a rush, striking the water and floating like a duck.

In an instant Bulger and I sprang on board of the little craft.

To rig up one of the sheets as a square sail and set it on the pole which had held the curtains was only the work of a few seconds.

A stout long-handled fan served me for a rudder.

Away! Away! I was off at last!

The wind was fresh and strong, and my square sail worked to a charm.

At that moment a shrill, piping voice reached my ear.

“Little Man All Head! Little Man All Head! Where art thou? Come to me!”

The shrill, far-reaching tones of her voice attracted a hundred attendants. They seemed fairly to spring up out of the ground.

Pell-mell, with a wild rush, the stronger ones leaping over the heads of the less vigorous ones, they made for the river banks.

Alarm bells now sounded on every side.

Gongs and strangely-sounding horns and rattles called the people to the spot where the little princess had been found lying half unconscious on the greensward.

The sight of the half dozen sentinels stretched out here and there in the deepest sleep, the scattered drapery of my couch, the bed itself missing, all told too plainly the story of my escape.

All this time, my snug little craft was making good headway down the river, which grew wider at every hundred feet.

With one wild outburst of shrill, angry voices, the Umi-Lobas turned to pursue the fugitive.

Bulger whined piteously as he saw them swarming on the banks.

In another moment they began leaping from one bank to another, passing over our heads in perfect clouds.

I knew full well that they would not dare to leap into my boat but I feared that they might overwhelm us with showers of their little spears. However I determined to try the effect of one of my pistols on them if their spears annoyed me.

King GÂ-roo, beside himself with spiteful anger, now arrived upon the scene, and took command of his assembled troops and serving men.

First he tried entreaty upon me, offering me princely sums and royal honors if I would only turn back.

But I was deaf to his honeyed words. Whereupon he fell into a towering passion. He ordered his soldiers to recapture me dead or alive.

A shower of spears now whistled through the air.

Most of them fell far short of their mark, for the river had now widened so that I was at least thirty feet from the shore whereon they were standing.

But a few of these spearlets fell dangerously near me.

Fearing that their points might be poisoned, I determined to try the effect of a pistol shot in the air.

The loud report of the fire-arm, and the puff of smoke which followed it, filled the Umi-Lobas with the most abject fear.

They threw themselves on their faces and cried out that I was an evil spirit.

I could now see that King GÂ-roo had given orders to let me sail away in peace.

They made no further attempts to molest me, and yet it was very plain that they were loth to part with the “little man all head,” for whom their King and the princess HoppÂ-Hopp had conceived so warm an affection.

I, too, felt a wrinkle in my heart as my little boat bore Bulger and me away on the rippling waters of the beautiful river now grown so wide that I was at least a hundred feet from the bank, and the palace of King GÂ-roo began to fade away in the distance.

For several miles they followed the banks of the stream, keeping opposite me, and ever and anon sending me a good bye in a soft and plaintive voice.

Straining my eyes, I could see little princess HoppÂ-HoppÂ, borne aloft on the shoulders of a group of serving-men, and waving me a last adieu.

Then, once more, I caught the sound of that shrill baby voice:

“Good bye! Good bye! Little Man-All-Head! HoppÂ-Hopp says good bye forever!”

And so I sailed away from the land of the Umi-Lobas, the land of the Man-Hoppers!

In a few days the river began to broaden out and the land of the Umi-Lobas was left far behind! The moment I caught sight of any signs of human beings on the river banks, I steered my staunch little boat into a broad cove, whose sloping shores led to lofty table lands. Here, with tear-moistened eyes, I moored the little craft which had snatched me from a life of keen, though silent, sorrow, and followed by faithful Bulger, struck out boldly for the interior. After a few weeks’ journeying I entered a country which was now and then traversed by traders. They were astonished to find me traveling all alone by myself, but readily accepted my statement that I had become separated from a troop of traders, and that my horse had died.

I now made haste to re-cross India and gain the shores of the Mediterranean, whence I took passage for home, with a joyous heart and a memory well-stored with quaint facts and curious recollections.

BULGER AND I SAIL AWAY FROM THE LAND OF THE UMI-LOBAS (MAN HOPPERS), IN MY BEDSTEAD YACHT.