The Adventures of Baron Trump. Lockwood Ingersoll

      Queen Phew-yoo was afraid that so long as I was permitted to have all the solid food I wanted, I would not grow thin enough to be content with air diet, and, therefore, not satisfied to make my home among them for the rest of my life.

      The next thing to happen to me was to find my supply of oysters and mussels reduced one-half by orders of Phew-yoo. This meant yield or starve!

      It struck me like a bolt out of a clear sky!

      But it has always been just such blows as this which have, throughout my life, aroused me to calm, quick, intelligent action.

      I hesitated no longer. My plan reached perfection in a single moment. When nightfall came I hastily scrawled a few lines addressed to my sailing-master, telling him of the fate which threatened to overtake me and bidding him arm a few trusty men and hasten to my rescue. This I tied to the collar of my loved and faithful Bulger. He covered my hand with caresses and I held him clasped in my arms for an instant while the tears fell hot and fast. Then I softly opened the door of my bamboo lodge.

      The night was bright and glorious. “Away, my beloved Bulger!” I whispered, stooping and pressing my lips for the last time on his silken ears and shapely head. “To the ship! Away!” He paused, looked into my face, gave a low whine as if to say: “Ay, ay, little master, I understand!” And away he sprang like the wind. For an instant I could follow him as with a long and sturdy bound he sped along! And then he was gone!

      The next morning, to my utter astonishment, I was informed that all the preparations for the marriage of the princess Pouf-fâh and the “little man thick-all-through,” were completed and that the feasting and merrymaking would begin the day following.

      This piece of news, startling as it was, I received with perfect calmness. I completely disarmed all suspicion by my apparent satisfaction with the bright prospect of becoming the son-in-law of the great chief Ztwish-Ztwish. I searched my pockets for trinkets to bestow upon the light and airy Pouf-fâh.

      Queen Phew-yoo was not visible. So great had been the joy of her mother’s heart that in a moment of weakness she had partaken too greedily of the rich, but unwholesome east wind and was now suffering from a fearful attack of dyspepsia.

      This was a most fortunate thing for me, for I am quite certain that queen Phew-yoo would never have consented to allow me to return to my own apartments that night. There was now but one thing left for me to do and that was to make for the distant sea-coast, where I had left my ship and crew.

      And start, too, that very night. As ill luck would have it, chief Ztwish-Ztwish, noticing that a delightfully strong west wind had begun to blow insisted upon having a sort of preliminary feast about sundown.

      I was invited to join the party.

      Not daring to refuse, I set out with the merry-makers and not only tired myself out by making frantic efforts to fill myself with their invisible food but it was nearly midnight before the village grew perfectly quiet and everybody seemed to have closed the doors and windows of his dwelling. But, after all, the rioting of the Wind Eaters was a fortunate thing for me. They went to bed so gorged with many and deep draughts of the hearty and filling west wind, that they slept like logs, if you will allow me to compare puff-balls to solid wood.

      I waited until the rumbling of the voices had died away as the last group of roysterers broke up and the solitary Wind Eaters, scattered along the streets, disappeared one by one into their bamboo dwellings.

      Leaving my door fastened on the inside, I sprang lightly through the window, and under cover of the deep shadows made my way unnoticed to the outskirts of the town. Here I broke into a sharp run, for at very most I would have but six hours’ start of the Wind Eaters and that was far too little; for, as I have already told you, they flit along like phantoms when in a fasting condition, and even when pretty well filled, are very swift of foot—more especially if the air be quiet so as not to impede their advance.

      On, on, I sped with a desperate resolve to make such a good use of my start as to make it impossible for them to overtake me.

      To my horror, after about an hour’s run I noticed that my legs were beginning to tire.

      This was a terrible blow to me. For a few moments I staggered along half unconscious of where I was, whither I was hastening and of the awful danger threatening me. All at once the truth of the matter broke upon me.

      I was but the wreck of my former self. The long months of fish diet had robbed my muscles of that wonderful strength and elasticity which was once my pride and my chief dependence in moments of peril.

      Frail as I had grown, my legs now bent beneath me.

      Slower and slower grew my pace. My heart seemed to swell and shut out the very breath of life.

      On, ever onward, I toiled with a desperate effort to escape my pursuers, whose rumbling voices it half seemed to me were faintly booming in the distance.

      But Nature would do no more!

      I reeled, I staggered, I stopped, I fell!

      How long I lay there I know not. But when I came to myself, I could plainly feel that change in the air which tells of the coming day. The rippling of a brook fell on my ear. I dragged my aching body in the direction the sound came from. A deep pull at the cool, clear water of the brook refreshed me somewhat. I attempted to rise; but, O, new loss of hope—to discover that my joints had stiffened while sleeping on the ground, uncovered, yes, even ill-clad, for I had left one piece of my clothing hanging on the window-sill of my lodge in the village, to quiet any suspicion which might arise in the minds of the serving-men.

      Thoughts of home, however, of the elder baron, of the gentle baroness, my mother, of my loved Bulger, flitted through my fevered brain, and prompted me to make one more effort to regain my feet and escape death at the hands of chief Ztwish-Ztwish’s enraged people, who would soon be bounding along, up hill and down dale, like spirits of the wind, as they were.

      A groan escaped my lips as I rose to my feet, so like knife-points in my joints were the pains which shot through my frame.

      But I must try to be up and away, even though the effort cost me a thousand agonizing twinges.

      I owe it to the loved ones at home to push on till I fall utterly broken, till, like a stricken beast, robbed of the power to stand, I should topple and fall at the feet and at the mercy of my pursuers.

      Such were the thoughts which oppressed my poor, reeling brain.

      A terrible mystery, a torturing dream weighed me down.

      I still had my mind. I could see. I could feel. I could hear. And why should I not rise and move onward, and away from the certain death which hovered over me?

      Crazed by such thoughts, I struggled to my feet and staggered along, sending forth a groan with every step!

      But I had steeled myself to the task, and dragged myself along, still oppressed by some strange and mysterious power, which gave to every pebble the rock’s size, and widened every gully to a yawning chasm, on the brink of which I paused in sickening fear of plunging into some black abyss. And yet, oh joy! gradually the films faded from my eyes, the mysterious power lifted its spell from my brain. I felt more like myself.

      I saw clearer. My step grew firmer. Now, at last, thought I, all is going well!

      When, suddenly, a long, blue-gray streak of light flashed along over the heads of the hills in the far distant eastern sky. It was the signal of morning!

      Again, with a groan I sank on my knees, caught myself, rose half-dazed, pressed on again, slowly, slowly, every step jarring on my heated brain like a hammer’s blow; but still onward, onward!

      A terrible grip as of some giant hand—palm of iron and fingers of steel—set itself on my very vitals. The thought that even now my escape was known to my enemies, that the phantom Wind Eaters, armed with their nets and clubs, were flitting out of the streets of chief Ztwish-Ztwish’s village, charged to carry me back alive to a worse death than death itself, or slay me for having broken faith and set the face of honesty over