The Adventures of Baron Trump. Lockwood Ingersoll

With a skilful twist, I wrenched the upper shell off, and, raising the lower one, upon which the fat and luscious creature lay unmindful of his impending fate, I opened my mouth and gracefully let the dainty morsel slip out of sight! A hundred cries of half horror, half wonder broke like a great chorus from the surrounding crowds of Wind Eaters. Again and again this outburst died away, only to break forth once more with redoubled vigor.

      Many of the lookers-on were made so seriously ill by this—to them—most extraordinary spectacle, that they hastily left the place before I was able to take a second mouthful.

      You may fancy how they felt. About as you would were I to begin gulping down bits of stone and iron.

      Queen Phew-yoo clung timorously to her husband’s arm; but the princess Pouf-fâh stepped boldly nearer to me, so that she might have a better view of the “little man solid all through.” Again I raised one of the largest shells and let its occupant slip noiselessly down my throat, not forgetting each time to loosen the white muscle which held the shells together for Bulger’s share of the feast.

      Gradually the qualms of the Wind Eaters, at sight of a human being swallowing food in lumps, gave place to a devouring curiosity on their part to draw nearer and get a better view of my manner of satisfying hunger.

      I could understand enough to know that many of the Wind Eaters had serious doubts that I really swallowed the oysters.

      To them, I was little less than some sort of a sleight-of-hand man or doer of tricks.

      The little princess Pouf-fâh mounted upon one of the benches, and the instant the oyster disappeared down my throat insisted upon my opening my mouth to its greatest width, in order that she might take a look for herself and see if the oyster were not hidden away under my tongue or in my cheek somewhere.

      A sudden scream of terror startled the lookers-on as much as it did me.

      The little princess was carried away in a swoon.

      It was my teeth! They had frightened the gentle Pouf-fâh half to death.

      For a moment all was confusion. Encouraged by Go-Whizz, many of the Wind Eaters seized their clubs and pressed forward with murderous intent. The reappearance of princess Pouf-fâh, bright and smiling, set everything right again.

      Now the crowd was seized with unconquerable curiosity to draw near and take a look for themselves at the terrible thing which had thrown Pouf-fâh into a swoon.

      My jaws soon began to ache from stretching my mouth wide enough open to give each one of them a glance at my double row of ivory cutters and grinders, and if I do say it myself, I had in those days one of the finest sets of teeth that ever cut their way through a slice of Nienburg biscuit, or ground up a piece of German roast goose.

      From now on, these childlike and simple-minded people became pretty thoroughly convinced that the “Little Man Thick All Through” was a kind and peaceful creature and every way perfectly harmless.

      The children flocked about me, and encouraged by my smiles and head-duckings soon made friends with me.

      I was glad of this, for I was anxious to make a close study of the Wind Eaters young and old.

      You may judge of my surprise when I saw a bevy of these children—animated puff-balls that they were—engaged in the to them, novel sport of rushing full tilt at me and bouncing off like rubber balls from a board fence.

      Well, I suppose you are bursting with curiosity to hear something more definite about these strange people.

      To me they were not entirely unknown. I had read here and there ancient books of travel by Arabian authors, of some such a race; whose bodies were so frail that they were unable to partake of any stronger and heavier food than the sweet gums which flowed from the trees and whose skins were so transparent that they were called “glass-bodied,” the beating of their little hearts being plainly visible to the eye of the beholder. I have no doubt that these authors referred to the dwellers of this wonderful island, on which no fruits, berries or edible roots were to be found, and whose ancestors, as I was informed by chief Ztwish-Ztwish, did, in former ages, thus sustain their lives. But I must confess that the fact that there were in existence human beings who literally lived upon air; or, more correctly speaking, upon winds laden with some invisible particles of life-sustaining matter, was a little more than I had ever dared to dream out, even in the most active workings of my imagination. You may judge then of my delight upon finding myself among these extraordinary people, and upon discovering them to be such true children of nature, mild-mannered and peacefully-inclined.

      And yet I was not long in making a discovery which proved to be quite an important one to me.

      It was this. I learned that although the truth was as I have stated it, that the Wind Eaters are as a rule, a race of peace-loving creatures, gentle in their dispositions and averse to wrong-doing, yet there were exceptions to this general rule. Strange to say, it depended on what wind they fed upon.

      All the women, for instance, were gentleness itself. They fed upon the soft zephyrs of the south. But the great majority of these people contented themselves with satisfying their hunger by resorting to the strong and wholesome west wind; while a goodly number, from some idea that it had a sweeter and more delicate flavor, a sort of heavy, nut-like taste, preferred the fitful, irregular east wind. It was however not considered wholesome diet by the best physicians of the nation and they contended that those who made a habit of feeding upon this wind were never as hale and hearty as those who restricted themselves entirely to the nutritious and bracing west wind.

      A few there were—as in every land there are those who delight in strong, rich food, who insisted upon feeding on the rugged, gusty north-west wind, claiming that it was best suited to their wants, and that nature had intended man to partake of a wind powerful and strong-bodied, in order to fit them for the battle of life. There were even some—a very few, be it said to the honor of these mild-mannered and peace-loving people, who, contrary to the laws of the land and the express commands of chief Ztwish-Ztwish, welcomed the blowing of the angry whistling, boisterous north-wind, and drank in the dangerous fluid until their better natures were completely changed; and from being gentle, timorous and peace-loving, they became rough, and quarrelsome.

      To this ilk belonged Captain Go-Whizz. In fact, as I was told by Whirr-Whirr, chief Ztwish-Ztwish himself showed signs of fear when he saw Go-Whizz come swaggering into the village, his eyes inflamed, his steps unsteady, his speech indistinct after a heavy meal upon the rude and buffeting wind of the north. While in this condition Go-Whizz lost the slight control he had over himself and had, upon one occasion, so far forgotten himself as to breathe out threats and defiance against chief Ztwish-Ztwish, driving that ruler out of his own apartments, by advancing upon him with a bit of flint which he had ground to a dangerously sharp point.

      Such were the curious people among whom I now found myself sojourning and on terms of pleasant intimacy with their ruler.

      A few days after my arrival at the village of the Wind Eaters, I was, unfortunately the innocent cause of rather a grave accident, which, for a while had the effect of making me somewhat unpopular at the court of chief Ztwish-Ztwish.

      It all came about in this way:

      I’ve already told you how quick the children were to discover the solidity of my body and what delight they took in throwing themselves against me full tilt, in order to have the sport of bouncing off again like so many rubber balls.

      Now you must keep in mind the fact that even after a hearty meal, a whole dozen of these babies weighed about one good pound.

      I used to encourage them to play about me, in order the better to observe their curious tricks and ways, one of which was to lock arms and legs and thus form a chain of human links, one of which being fastened to a peak of the roof and the other possibly to some high staff or pole, at times even extending across the street and ending on the roof of the opposite dwelling. Thus festooned they spent hours swaying to and fro in the cool of the day, often swinging themselves to sleep. And it was not at all an unusual thing to see one of the mothers in search of her child come bustling along, halt, take down the line of living links,