THE JOURNEY

After they were both comfortably seated on the swinger and settled down for their long ride, the Imp was presently seized with the wildest excitement, which first startled and then amused the little boy. The more the swinger swung, the more loud and boisterous became the Imp’s extraordinary conduct.

But in less than a minute everything seemed to the little boy to be growing dreamy and hazy. He did not know where he was; he simply knew that he was sitting on something and holding on and moving at a terrific rate. He remembered being carried past the big parlour, and seeing the piano which looked all shadowy and strange, as if it were covered with thick dust. He recognized the hat-rack, as he flew by, and the silver plate which held the calling cards seemed to be whizzing round like a pin wheel. He did not know whether the clock had suddenly grown large enough to accommodate its tumultuous swinger, or whether the swinger had given up its usual duties altogether, and was running away as fast as it could. In short he did not know anything except that he was sitting opposite his singular friend, who had risen 35and was giving an acrobatic performance on the opposite side of the long stem—apparently without the smallest regard for the danger which attended his reckless actions.

Suddenly he began to sing and dance, and the song, as nearly as the little boy could make it out, was as follows. It amused him greatly, for it seemed to be curiously fitted to the motions which, of course, cannot be given here.

“And it’s merrily out of the front hall door,

When the good old clock is striking four,

36We’re off to the Land of Tockerlore—

The land you’ve never seen!

“And it’s pleasantly over the hills we go;

Look out for your feet! Don’t hold them so!

Just pull them up when the ball swings low!

Hurrah, for Tickerleen!

“And it’s merry I’ll be at your great surprise!

And I’ll laugh to see you strain your eyes,

And stare all day at the custard pies,

With which the streets are paved!

“And you’ll probably say, as your feet sink in

To the yellow custard, rich and thin,

In the rural districts, ‘What a sin!

Such custard should be saved.’

“And it’s jolly we are, and a merry pair!

My life! I believe we’re half way there!

Do you notice yet the change of air?

Those distant mountains tall?

“And hurrah, for the glorious King and Queen!

And the queerest court you’ve ever seen!

Hurrah, for the Duke of Limabean!

Look out! You’re going to fall!

37“And it’s hip, hurrah, for the National Guard!

With their table-spoons and deep regard

For the country’s—Oh, don’t laugh so hard!

You’d better hold on tight!

“For the country’s—

Oh, what was I going to tell?

Oh, never mind and it’s just as well,

For I see the village of Minutel;

Just watch that distant light!

“And I’m glad that you never attended school!

I’m glad you were sitting on that stool!

And glad you’re out of the common rule!”

(And then he gave a wink.)

“For our land is one glorious, gorgeous toy,

That you cannot lose nor yet destroy,

38Especially made for a little boy

That has the brains to think!”

“There!” said the Imp, as he resumed his seat on the swinging ball, “now I feel better! I was locked up in that musty clock for an hour before I met you, without a particle of fresh air. Now I feel better! I’m a great believer in exercise, and they say dancing is the greatest exercise in the world. I once knew a boy about your age who had St. Vitus’ Dance, and they thought there was no hope for him, but I said, ‘This is a disease and a cure all in one; let him dance; it’s good exercise.’ And he did, and he cured himself of dancing simply by dancing. The more he danced, the less he danced, until he was well altogether.”

“Wasn’t that a little strange?” asked the little boy; “you say he is well now?”

“Perfectly; he is a clock maker. I know him personally.”

There was a long pause after this, and then the little boy asked,

“Shall I meet the Duke of Limabean?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said the Imp. “I’ll show you his country-place when we get past the frontier. He married the Countess of Corn, you know. Their beautiful place at Succotash is visited by all tourists. There! Look close, and look out, don’t fall! You see that row of hills over there? Those 39are the Tockerlore Mountains. They form the frontier of the land. There used to be a fence there instead, but Father Time happened to see those mountains at a bargain sale and he thought they’d be better.”

“What?” said the little boy.

“I say there used to be a fence there instead.”

“Did you say that the king bought the mountains?”

“Why, yes, you don’t suppose he got them for nothing, do you?”

“I never heard of a person buying a range of mountains!”

“Did you ever hear of any one getting a range of mountains for nothing?”

“N-no, I can’t say I did.”

40“Well, then!”

“But what was the use of buying the mountains for a frontier when they were already there?”

“I didn’t say they were already there.”

There was a pause after this retort, and the little boy looked at his friend curiously. He then unfastened the belt of his Russian suit, and fixed it so that it went around the long stem.

“They have straps like this to hold you on merry-go-rounds; don’t you think this is a good idea?”

“Excellent,” said the Imp.

“May I ask another question?” said the little boy.

“Certainly; what is it?”

“Where were the mountains before the king bought them?”

“At the bargain sale.”

“And you mean to say that some one carried them there?”

“Why, certainly; you don’t suppose they walked there, do you? That is a strange question.”

“How far was the bargain sale?” asked the little boy.

“About two miles; at the five and ten cent store.”

“And the mountains were bought there?”

“Yes, delivered C. O. D.”

“Tockerlore is a kind of magic place, where they have fairies and magic wands, isn’t it?”

41“Why, do you think there is anything strange in a range of mountains not walking two miles of their own accord?”

“Oh, I didn’t expect them to walk!” said the little boy.

“Yes, you did, and you seemed to doubt that the king bought them—as if he would have stolen them!”

“Oh, I never thought that!” said the little boy. “I truly didn’t. I thought it was strange that—well, I don’t understand it, that’s all.”

The Imp looked at him in a quizzical way, and then said,

“What a queer child you are!” And that was all the conversation which took place until the strange mountains loomed up in full view before the boy’s eyes. But he had made a resolution not to express any surprise at anything he saw, for the Imp didn’t seem to see things in his way, and was very touchy.

As they approached nearer and nearer to the mighty hills, the little boy could distinguish living figures seated upon the rocks and ledges all about, and twanging little harps. They were very small—these figures—and they seemed to be singing an anthem, or something of the sort, which the little boy couldn’t make out. But he hesitated to ask any question concerning them and their business for fear of getting into a dispute.

42“There!” said the Imp, finally; “those are His Majesty’s Minstrels on guard at the mountains.”

“To keep them from running away?” asked the boy.

“To keep what from running away?”

“The mountains.”

“Now, don’t be absurd,” said the Imp, “do you hear that song they’re singing? That’s the national hymn. How beautiful it is. Just listen!”

They were now close upon a mighty canyon which ran between two great hills and formed a gateway into the mystic land.

The scented breeze wafted the voices of the tiny singers in the little boy’s direction, and he was struck with consternation on hearing the words of the national song.

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