WHAT'S THE USE.What's the use of circuses that haven't any beasts?What's the use of restaurants that haven't any feasts?What's the use of oranges that haven't any peels?What's the use of bicycles that haven't any wheels?What's the use of railway trains that have no place to go?What's the use of going to war if you haven't any foe?What's the use of splendid views for those that cannot see?What's the use of freedom's flag to folks that aren't free?What's the use of legs to those who have no wish to walk?What's the use of languages to those who cannot talk?What's the use of kings and queens that haven't any throne?What's the use of having pains unless you're going to groan?What's the use of anything, however grand and good,That doesn't ever, ever work the way it really should?"
WHAT'S THE USE.
What's the use of circuses that haven't any beasts?What's the use of restaurants that haven't any feasts?
What's the use of oranges that haven't any peels?What's the use of bicycles that haven't any wheels?
What's the use of railway trains that have no place to go?What's the use of going to war if you haven't any foe?
What's the use of splendid views for those that cannot see?What's the use of freedom's flag to folks that aren't free?
What's the use of legs to those who have no wish to walk?What's the use of languages to those who cannot talk?
What's the use of kings and queens that haven't any throne?What's the use of having pains unless you're going to groan?
What's the use of anything, however grand and good,That doesn't ever, ever work the way it really should?"
"Humph!" panted the Bellows, "you don't call that bright, do you?"
"I do, indeed," said the Poker. "And I call it bright because I know it's bright. It is so bright that not a magazine in all the world dare print it, because they'd never be able to do as well again, and people would say the magazine wasn't as good as it used to be."
"What nonsense," retorted the Bellows. "Why, I could blow a mile of poetry like that in ten minutes:
What's the use of churches big that haven't any steeples?What's the use of nations great that haven't any peoples?What's the use of oceans grand that haven't any beaches?What's the use of Delawares that haven't any peaches?What's the use—"
What's the use of churches big that haven't any steeples?What's the use of nations great that haven't any peoples?
What's the use of oceans grand that haven't any beaches?What's the use of Delawares that haven't any peaches?
What's the use—"
"O, shut up Wheezy," interrupted the Poker angrily. "Of course you can go on like that forever, once somebody gives you the idea, but to have the idea in the beginning was the big thing. Columbus was a great man for coming to America, but every foreigner who has come over since isn't, not by a long shot. As I say in my celebrated rhyme on "Greatness":
The greatest man in all the world, by far the greatest one,Is he who goes ahead and does what no one else has done.But he must be the first if he would rank as some "potaters,"For those who follow after him are merely imitators.
The greatest man in all the world, by far the greatest one,Is he who goes ahead and does what no one else has done.But he must be the first if he would rank as some "potaters,"For those who follow after him are merely imitators.
"COLUMBUS WAS A GREAT MAN.""COLUMBUS WAS A GREAT MAN."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Bellows. "You are a great chap, Pokey—you, with your poetry. I hope Tom isn't going to be affected by the lessons you teach. The idea of saying that a man is the greatest man in the world because he does what no one else has done! I guess nobody's never eaten bricks up to now. Do youmean to say that if Tom here ate a brick he'd be the greatest man in the world?"
"No; he'd be a cannibal," put in the Righthandiron, desirous of stopping the quarrel between the rivals.
"How do you make that out?" demanded the Bellows.
"Because Tom is a brick himself," explained the Righthandiron; and just then slap! bang! the party plunged head first into what appeared to be—and in fact really was—a huge snowbank.
"Hurrah! Here we are!" cried Lefty, gleefully.
"Wh-where are we?" Tom sputtered, blowing the snow out of his mouth and shaking it from his coat and hair and ears.
"Hi, there! Look out!" roared Righty, grabbing Tom by the coat sleeve and yanking him off to one side. A terrible swishing sound fell upon the lad's ears, and as he gazed doggedly about him to see what had caused it he saw a great golden toboggan whizzing down into the valley, and then slipping up the hill on the other side.
"You had a narrow escape that time," said Righty, as they excitedly watched the toboggan speeding on its way, and which, by the way, was filled with a lot of little youngsters no bigger than Tom himself, children of all colors, apparently, red, white and blue, green, yellow and black. "If I hadn't yanked you away you'd have been run over."
"But where are we?" Tom asked, bewildered by the experience.
"We're on the Crescent Moon at last," said Lefty. "It's the boss toboggan slide of the universe."
"A toboggan slide?" cried Tom.
"The very same," said the Poker. "Didn't you know that thisdazzling whiteness of the Crescent Moon is merely the reflection of the sun's light on the purest of pure white snow? It's too high up for dust and dirt here, you see, and so the snow is always clean, and so, equally of course, is dazzling white."
"But the tobogganing?" asked Tom.
"It's like swinging and letting the old cat die," explained the Righthandiron. "You see, it's this shape," and he marked the crescent form of the moon on the snow and lettered the various points.
"Now," he continued, "you start your toboggan at A and whizz down to C. When you get there you have gathered speed enough to take you up the hill to B. Then of its own weight the toboggan slides back to D, from which it again moves forward to E, and so it keeps on sliding back and forth until finally it comes to a dead stop at C. Isn't that a fine arrangement?"
"Magnificent," said Tom. "And do they call it tobogganing here?"
"No," said Righty, "it's called oscillating, and the machine is known as the oscycle"—
"Don't confound it with the icicle," put in the Bellows.
"Oh, I know what an icicle is," said Tom. "It's a spear of ice that hangs from a piazza roof."
"That's what it is at home," said the Poker, "but not here, my lad. Here an icicle is a bicycle with runners instead of wheels."
"But what makes it go?" demanded Tom.
"Pedals, of course," returned the Poker. "You just tread away on the pedals, as if you were riding on a bicycle, and the chain sets a dozen ice picks revolving that shove you over the ice like the wind. Oh, it's great sport!"
"YOU SEE, IT'S THIS SHAPE.""YOU SEE, IT'S THIS SHAPE."
Another rush and roar of a passing toboggan caused them to pause in their conversation for a moment, and then Tom turned his attention to the diagram Righty had drawn on the snow.
"Suppose you didn't stop at B and go back—what would happen?" he asked as he considered the possible dangers of this wonderful new sport.
"You'd fall over the edge, of course," said the Poker.
"I see that," said Tom. "But if you fell over the edge what would become of you? Where would you land?"
"If you had luck you wouldn't land anywhere," said Righty. "The chances are, however, you'd fall back on the earth again. Maybe in Canada, possibly in China, perhaps in Egypt. It would all depend on the time of night."
"And wouldn't you be killed?" Tom asked.
"Not if you had your rubbers on," said Righty. "If you had your rubbers on it would only jar you slightly. You'd just hit the earth and then bounce back again, but there's no use of talking about that, because it never happened but once. It happened to a chap named Blenkinson, who took an Oscillator that hadn't any brake on it. He was one of those smart fellows that want to show how clever they are. He whizzed down one side and up the other, and pouf! First thing he knew he was flying off into space."
"And what became of him?" demanded Tom.
"He had the luck not to hit anything, but he suffered just the same," said Righty. "He flew on until he got to a point where he was held fast up in the air by the force of gravity of 1,600 different planets, and he's there yet. At a distance he looks like another new star, but when you get close to him he's nothing more than just a plain,everyday Smarty."
"I should think he'd starve to death," said Tom, as he reflected on the horrid fate of Blenkinson.
"He would if he had any appetite," said the Bellows. "But he hasn't. He's so worried all the time that he can't eat, so he gets along very well without food."
"Let's quit talking now," suggested the Poker, "and get a ride, eh?"
"I'm ready," said Tom eagerly. "Where do we start?"
"There's the station up on the hill. It's only about 700 miles. We can walk it in a year," said Righty.
"I move we take this cloud that's coming up," said the Bellows. "I'm winded."
Tom looked in the direction in which the Bellows had pointed, and, sure enough, there was a cloud coming slowly along, shaped very much like a trolley car, and on the front of it, as it drew nearer, the lad was soon able to discern the funny little figure of a Brownie acting as motorman.
"Why, it's really a trolley!" he cried.
"Why it's really a trolley!""Why it's really a trolley!"
"Certainly it is!" laughed Righty. "Didn't you know that? When you have watched the moon from your window at home and seen constant lines of clouds passing up to it and stopping before its face night after night what did you suppose they did it for? Fun? I guess not. They're clever people up here, these moonfolk are, and they make use of everything going. They've taken these electric clouds and turned 'em into a sort of Sky Traction Company, and instead of letting 'em travel all around the universe doing nothing and raising thunder generally, some of the richer Brownies have formed a company to control them."
By this time the cloud had reached the point where our little party stood, and the motorman, in response to the Bellows' signal, brought it to a standstill.
"Step lively, please," the conductor cried from the rear end.
Tom and the two Andirons and the Poker and Bellows clambered aboard.
The conductor clanged a bell. The motorman turned his wheel and the cloud moved rapidly on.
And what a queer crowd of folks there were on board that strange trolley cloud. Tom had never seen such an interesting group before.
On the Trolley Cloud.
As I stated at the end of the last chapter, the travelers Tom and his companions encountered upon the Trolley cloud were a wonderful lot. In the first place, the whole situation was strange. Here was, in fact, a perfect car, made of what at a distance looked to be nothing but a fleecy bit of vapor. It had seats and signs—indeed, the advertising signs alone were enough to occupy the mind of any person seeing them for the first time to the exclusion of all else, what with the big painted placard at the end, saying:
FOR POLAR BEARS GO TO ARCTICSFifty-seven Varieties.No Home Complete Without Them.
Another showing a picture of Potted Town, in which all the inhabitants lived on canned food and things that came in jars, reading:
This is the famous Potted Town,Where everything is done up brown,We live on lobsters tinned, and beans,And freshly caught and oiled sardines;On ham and eggs done up in jars,And caramels that come in bars,Come buy a lot in Potted Town,And join the throngs we do up brown.A corner lot for fifty cents—A bargain that is just immense.An inner lot for forty-nineFor residence is just divine.If in a year you do not findThat we are suited to your mindWe'll give you fifteen cents in gold,And take back all the lots we've sold,If, when in other lands you goYou'll recommend Soapolio.
This is the famous Potted Town,Where everything is done up brown,We live on lobsters tinned, and beans,And freshly caught and oiled sardines;On ham and eggs done up in jars,And caramels that come in bars,Come buy a lot in Potted Town,And join the throngs we do up brown.A corner lot for fifty cents—
A bargain that is just immense.An inner lot for forty-nineFor residence is just divine.If in a year you do not findThat we are suited to your mindWe'll give you fifteen cents in gold,And take back all the lots we've sold,If, when in other lands you goYou'll recommend Soapolio.
"Who on earth wants a Polar Bear at home?" ejaculated Tom as he read the first.
"I do," growled a deep bass voice at his side, and the little traveler, turning to see who it was that had spoken, was surprised and really startled to find himself seated next to a shaggy-coated beast of that precise kind. "I do," repeated the Polar Bear, "and if anybody says I don't I'll chew him up," and then he opened his mouth and glared at Tom as if to warn the young man from pursuing the subject further.
"So would I," put in Righty. "So would I if all the Polar Bears were like you."
The bear was apparently pleased by the compliment and, with a satisfied wink at Righty, folded his fore legs over his chest and went to sleep.
"I think I'll buy one of those lots in Potted Town," said a Kangaroo who sat opposite to Tom.
"You couldn't raise the money," growled a Flamingo who sat at the far end of the car. "Thirty cents is your measure."
"Let him alone, Flammy," said an Ostrich who was crowded uncomfortably in between the Kangaroo and an old gentlemanwith one eye and a green beard who, Tom learned later, was a leading citizen of Saturn. "He can't help it if he's poor."
"Thank you, Mr. Ostrich," said the Kangaroo, with a sob. "I was very much hurt by the Flamingo's remark. I have 19,627 children, and it keeps me jumping all the time to support them."
"IT KEEPS ME JUMPING ALL THE TIME.""IT KEEPS ME JUMPING ALL THE TIME."
"I apologize," said the Flamingo. "My observations were most unjust. You do not look like thirty cents at all, as I perceive at second glance. As I look at you more closely you look like a $1.39 marked down to seventy-two. But why don't you get up and give the lady your seat?"
"Is there a lady on the car who wants it?" asked the Kangaroo, standing up, and peering anxiously about him.
"No, of course not," said the Flamingo, "but what difference does that make? A true gentleman is polite whether there are ladies present or not."
The Polar Bear opened his eyes and leaning forward glared at the Flamingo.
"You don't seem to be over-anxious about yourself," he growled. "Why don't you give up your seat to the imaginary lady?"
"Because, Mr. Bear," the Flamingo returned, "it would not be polite. The seat I occupy is extremely uncomfortable, thanks to the crowding of the Hippopotamus on my left and the indulgence in peanuts of the Monkey on my right. By sitting down where I am, I am making a personal sacrifice."
"There'll be a free fight in a minute," said the Poker, anxiously. "I think we'd better get out."
"You won't do anything of the sort," said the Conductor. "Nobody leaves this car until we get there."
"Get where?" demanded the Poker.
"Anywhere," returned the Conductor. "Fares, please."
"But we've all paid," said the Flamingo.
"Somebody hasn't," replied the Conductor. "There are twenty-two on this car and I've collected only twenty-one fares. I don't know who is the deadhead. Therefore you must all pay. It is better that there should be twenty-one lawsuits for a total damage of $1.25 than that this company should lose a nickel. Juries disagree. Fares, please."
"I decline to pay a second time," cried the Monkey.
"And I—and I," came from all parts of the car; from Lefty and Righty, from Tom, the Flamingo, the Hippopotamus and Polar Bear.
"Very well," said the Conductor, calmly. "I don't care. It isn't my money that's lost, but I'll tell you one thing, this car doesn't stop until you've all paid up!"
"What!" cried the Polar Bear. "I want to get off at the Toboggan slide."
"So do I—so do I," cried everybody.
"No doubt," said the Conductor; "but that's your business, not mine. Double your speed, Moty," he added, calling forward to the Motorman. "These people want to get off. Of course, gentlemen and fellow beasts," he continued, "I can't keep you from getting off, but this car is traveling at the rate of four miles a minute, and if you try it, you do so at your own risk. Fares, please."
"It's an outrage!" said the Flamingo.
"I'm going to jump," said the Kangaroo.
"I think we'd better sit still, Tom," whispered Righty. "It would be smithereens if we tried to get off the car going at this rate."
"Don't mind me," said Tom. "I'm having a bully time. This is quite as good fun as oscillating, I guess."
"Excuse me, sir," said the Conductor, in reply to the Kangaroo, "but I must ask your name and address. I cannot prevent you from jumping, but I'm required by the rules of the company to find out all about you before letting you commit suicide. We need the information in case your heirs sue the company. Married?"
"Yes," said the Kangaroo. "Sixteen times."
"Any children?" queried the Conductor.
"I have already said so," sobbed the Kangaroo; "19,627 of them."
"Boys or girls?" asked the Conductor kindly.
"Neither," replied the Kangaroo.
"What?" cried the Conductor.
"Kangaroos, every one of 'em," sobbed the unhappy passenger.
"O, I see," said the Conductor, "What is your business?"
"Jumping," replied the Kangaroo.
"Business address?" demanded the Conductor.
"Number 28 Australia," was the reply.
"Home address?" questioned the Conductor.
"Number 37 Melbourne," said the Kangaroo. "Melbourne is in Australia, you know," he added.
"Made your will?" put in the Conductor, suddenly.
"What has that got to do with it?" cried the Kangaroo, angrily, but with a nervous start.
"We cannot permit you to jump unless you've made a will," said the Conductor, politely. "You see, when you jump you leave the car, and we don't know whom you leave the car to until we have read your will. You might leave it to Tom or to Righty, or to the poetic Poker—or to old Shaggy over there,"—pointing to the Polar Bear. "Inasmuch as it's our car we have a right to know to whom you leave it."
"I guess I'll stay where I am," said the Kangaroo meekly, very much overcome by the Conductor's logic.
"That's the answer," returned the Conductor. "You seem to be a very sensible sort of Kangaroo. Fare, please!" And the Kangaroo, diving down into his pocket, produced a five-cent piece, which he handed over to the Conductor without further comment.
"Anybody else think of jumping off?" asked the Conductor pleasantly, turning about and glancing over the other occupants of the car.
"I might," said the Monkey, placidly.
"O, indeed," said the Conductor, walking along the car to where the Monkey sat. "You might think of jumping off, eh?"
"Yes," said the Monkey.
"Do you know where you would land?"
"Yes," said the Monkey.
"Where?" demanded the Conductor.
"On my feet," said the Monkey. "Where else?"
The Conductor was apparently much put out.
"You're pretty smart, aren't you?" he said.
"No," said the Monkey. "I'm only plain smart. I'm not pretty."
"Everybody's talking about you? I presume," sneered the Conductor.
"Not yet, but they will be," returned the Monkey, with a grin.
"When?" demanded the Conductor.
"When my tail is published," retorted the Monkey, with a grin.
"Humph!" jeered the Conductor. "Great tail that."
"No," said the Monkey, "not very great, but it has a swing about it—"
"Say," interrupted the Hippopotamus, "I've got an idea. Somebody hasn't paid his fare, eh?"
"That's the point," said the Conductor.
"And unless he owns up we've all got to go on in this car forever?"
"You have," replied the Conductor, firmly.
"Well, let's be sensible about it," said the Hippopotamus. "We're all honest—at least I am—and I've paid once, and I admit I'm riding cheap considering my weight. But who hasn't paid? Tom, did you pay?"
"I paid for our whole party," put in Righty.
"Good," said the Hippopotamus. "Did you pay, Monk?"
"Yes, I did," said the Monkey. "I paid for me and Polar Bear."
"Good," said the Hippopotamus. "Has the Flamingo paid?"
"I gave him a promissory note for my fare," said the Flamingo.
"Good," said the Hippopotamus. "And now for the main question. Conductor, have you paid your fare?"
"I?" cried the Conductor.
"Yes, you!" roared the Hippopotamus, "Have you paid your fare?"
"But—" the Conductor began.
"I won't but," returned the Hippo. "I'm a Hippopotamus, I am. Not a goat. Have you paid your fare?"
"Of course I haven't," returned the Conductor, "because—"
"That's it!" returned the Hippopotamus. "That's the whole point. He's the one that's shy, and because we won't consent to pay his fare out of our own pockets he's going to hold us up. I move we squash him."
"But I say," roared the Conductor.
"Oh, pay your fare and shut up," growled the Polar Bear, "You began the row. What's the use?"
"Hear 'em quoting my poem," whispered the Poker to Tom.
"I've taken his number," said the Flamingo. "It's eight billion and seven. He's trying to beat his way."
"Pay up, pay up," came from all parts of the car, and before he knew it Tom found himself in the midst of an angry group surrounding the Conductor, insisting that he should pay his fare.
"Who are you that you should ride free?" demanded the Flamingo. "The idea of servants of the company having greater privileges than the patrons of the road!"
"I HAVEN'T THE MONEY.""I HAVEN'T THE MONEY."
"If you don't pay up right away," roared the Polar Bear, "I'll squeeze you to death."
"And I'll sit on you," put in the Hippopotamus.
"I haven't the money," cried the Conductor, now thoroughly frightened.
"Borrow it from the company," said the Polar Bear, "and ring it up."
This the Conductor did, and a moment later, having reached the station, rang the bell, and the car stopped.
"All out!" he cried, and the whole party descended.
"Who paid his fare, anyhow?" asked the Flamingo.
"I didn't," said the Monkey.
"No more did I," said the Hippopotamus. "The Kangaroo did, though. Didn't you, Kangy?"
"Only once," said the Kangaroo, "and that was the second time."
"Let's get away from this crowd," said the Bellows. "They're not honest."
"Right you are," said the Polar Bear. "They're a very bad lot. Come along; let's get aboard this toboggan, and leave 'em behind."
Whereupon Tom and his companions, accompanied by the Polar Bear, stepped aboard the waiting Oscycle, and were soon speeding down the upper incline of the Crescent Moon.
On the Oscycle—A Narrow Escape.
"Well," said the Polar Bear, as the Oscycle started on its downward course: "I'm mighty glad we're off, and away from those other creatures on that Trolley. They were a dishonest lot."
"So am I," came a voice from behind him, that made the Bear jump nervously, for it was none other than the Flamingo.
"So are the rest of us," added a lot of voices in chorus, and Tom, turning to see who beside himself and his companions had got aboard, was hugely amused to see the Kangaroo, the Monkey, the Hippopotamus and all the other creatures from the Trolley, save only the conductor and motorman, seated there behind, as happy as you please.
"It doesn't pay to associate with conductors," said the Flamingo. "They don't think of anything but money all the time, and they're awfully rude about it sometimes. Why, I knew a conductor once who refused to change a $100 bill for me."
"I don't believe you ever had a $100 bill," growled the Hippopotamus.
"I've got one I wouldn't sell for $1,000," said the Flamingo. "It's the one I eat with," he added.
"That's not legal tender," said the Polar Bear.
"You couldn't change it if it was," sneered the Flamingo.
On the Oscycle.On the Oscycle.
"I could change it in a minute if I wanted to," said the Polar Bear, with a chuckle.
"What with, cash?" demanded the Flamingo, scornfully.
"No—with one whack of my paw," said the Bear, shaking his fist menacingly at the Flamingo. "I could change your whole face, for that matter," he added, with a frown.
"I was only fooling, Poley, old man," said the Flamingo, a trifle worried. "Of course you could, but you wouldn't, would you?"
"Not unless I had to," replied the Bear, "but, gee, aren't we just whizzing along! Are you cold, Tom?"
"Yes," said Tom, with a shiver, "just a little."
"Well, come sit next to me and I'll let you use my furs. I don't need 'em myself. I'm a pretty warm Bear, considering where I come from."
"Sit close, gentlemen," cried the man in charge of the Oscycle. "We're coming to a thank-you-marm. Look out! Look out! Hang together. By jove, there goes the Monkey."
And sure enough, off the Monkey flew as the Oscycle crossed the hump at an enormous rate of speed.
"Hi, there, you fellows," the Monkey shrieked, as he landed in the soft snow, "wait a minute. Hi, you! Stop! Wait for me!"
"Can't do it," roared the man in charge. "Can't stop—going too fast."
"But what am I going to doo-oo-oo?" shrieked the Monkey excitedly.
"Get inside of a snowball and roll down. We'll catch you on the way back," the Kangaroo yelled, and as they now passed out ofhearing of the monkey's voice no one knew how the little creature took the suggestion.
"I'm glad he's gone," said the Hippopotamus. "He was a nuisance—and I tell you I had a narrow escape. He had his tail wound around my neck a minute before. He might have yanked me off with him."
"Yanked you?" said the Old Gentleman from Saturn, gazing contemptuously at the Hippopotamus. "Bosh! The idea of a seven-pound monkey yanking a three-ton Hippopotamus!"
"What?" roared the man in charge. "A what how much which?"
"Three-ton," said the Old Gentleman from Saturn. "That's what he weighs. I know because he stepped on my toe getting off the Trolley."
"But it's against the law!" cried the Man in Charge. "We're not allowed to carry more than 1,000 pounds on these Machines."
"Humph!" laughed the Kangaroo. "It's very evident, Hippy, that you'll have to go way back and lose some weight."
"I can't help weighing three tons," said the Hippopotamus. "I'm built that way."
"That's all right," said the Man in Charge, wringing his hands in despair; "but you'll have to get off. If you don't we'll go over the edge." His voice rose to a shriek.
Tom's heart sank and he half rose up.
"Sit still," said the two Andirons, grabbing him by the arms. "We're in for it. We've got to take what comes."
"Right you are," said the Bellows. "Don't you bother, Tom. We'll come out all right in the end."
"MY OWN PRIVATE ICEBERG.""MY OWN PRIVATE ICEBERG."
"But what's the trouble, Mr. Man?" asked the Poker. "What's the Hippo's weight got to do with our going over the edge?"
"Why, can't you see?" explained the Man in Charge. "His 6,000 pounds pushing the machine along from behind there gives us just so much extra speed, and all the brakes in the world won't stop us now we've got going unless he gets off."
The announcement caused an immediate panic, and the Polar Bear began to cry like a baby.
"Oh, why did I ever come?" he moaned as the tears trickled down his nose and froze into a great icicle at the end of it. "When I might have stayed home riding around on my own private iceberg?"
"Stop your whimpering," said the Kangaroo. "Brace up and be a man."
"I don't want to be a man," blubbered the bear, "I'm satisfied to be a poor, miserable little Polar Bear."
"You've got to jump, Hippy," said the Flamingo. "That's all there is about it."
"Sir," replied the Hippopotamus solemnly, "I shall not jump. It would ill comport with my dignity for me to try to jump as if I were merely a Kangaroo. No sir. Here I sit, firm as a rock. You might as well ask an elephant to dance a jig."
"We'll put you off if you don't get off of your own accord," roared the Polar Bear, bracing up, and removing the icicle from his nose he shook it angrily at the Hippopotamus.
"All right," said the Hippopotamus with a pleasant smile "All right. Has any gentleman brought a derrick along with him to assist in the operation? You don't happen to have a freight elevator in your pocket, do you, Mr. Kangaroo?"
"Pry him off, Poker," cried the Kangaroo.
"I would if I could," answered the Poker, mournfully. "But I'm not a crowbar."
"Well, then, all together here," shouted the Man from Saturn. "Line up and we'll shove him off."
There was a frantic rush at the stolid Hippopotamus in response to this suggestion, but they might as well have tried to batter down the rock of Gibraltar by hurling feathers against it, so firmly fixed in his seat was this passenger of outrageous weight.
"Come again, gentlemen," said the Hippopotamus suavely. "There's nothing better for the complexion than a good rub, and I assure you you have placed me under an obligation to you."
"Prod him with the icicle," said the Kangaroo to the Polar Bear.
"I am not to be moved by tears, even if they are frozen and sharpened to a point," laughed the Hippopotamus, as the Polar Bear did as he was told, smashing the icicle without so much as denting the Hippo's flesh.
"Well, if you won't jump, I will," said the Man from Saturn angrily. "If I'm hurt I'll take it out of your hide when we meet again."
"All right," retorted the Hippopotamus. "You'll have to get a steam drill and blast it out. By-by."
The man from Saturn jumped and landed head first in the snow, but whether he was hurt or not the party never knew, for their speed was now so terrific that he had barely landed before they whizzed past the bottom of the hill and up the other incline. It became clear, too, as they sped on that at such a fearful rate of progress nothing could now keep the Oscycle from going over the edge, and the others began to lay plans for safety.
THE MAN FROM SATURN JUMPED.THE MAN FROM SATURN JUMPED.
"I'm going to jump for a passing trolley cloud the minute we get to the edge," said the Kangaroo.
"I don't know what I shall do," sobbed the Polar Bear. "If I land on my feet I'll be all right, for they're big and soft, like sofa cushions, but if I land on my head—"
"That's softer yet, Poley," laughed the Flamingo, who appeared to be less concerned than anybody. "If you land on your head it will be just as if you fell into a great bowl of oatmeal, so you're all right."
"I'm not afraid for myself," said the Poker. "I can drop any distance without serious injury, being made of iron, and my friends, the Andirons, are equally fortunate. The Bellows, too, is comparatively safe. The worst that can happen to him is to have the wind knocked out of him. But—"
"It's Tom we're bothered about," said the Righthandiron, with an anxious glance at Lefty. "You see, we invited him to come off here with us, and—"
"Who is he, anyhow?" demanded the Flamingo, glancing at Tom in such a way that the youngster began to feel very uncomfortable.
"I'm a Dormouse," said Tom, remembering the agreement.
"Not for this occasion," put in the Poker. "This time you're a boy, and we've got to save you somehow or other and we'll do it, Tom, so don't be afraid."
"What kind of boy is he?" demanded the Flamingo. "One of these bean-snapping boys that go around shooting robins and hooking birds' eggs when they haven't anything else to do?"
"Not a bit of it," said Righty. "He never snapped a bean at a bird in all his life."
"Humph!" said the Flamingo. "I suppose he's been too busy pulling feathers out of peacocks' tails to decorate his room with to be bothering with robins and eggs."
"Never did such a thing in all my born days," retorted Tom indignantly.
"Probably not," sneered the Flamingo. "And why? Because you were so well satisfied keeping a canary locked up in a cage for your own pleasure that you hadn't any time to chase peacocks."
"I've lived in the family forty years," said the Righthandiron, "and to my knowledge there was never a caged bird in the house."
"Really?" said the Flamingo, looking at Tom with interest. "Rather a new kind of boy this. Very few boys have a good record where birds are concerned."
"Tom's no enemy to birds," observed the Bellows. "I know that because I've been in his family longer than he has, and I've watched him."
"Well," said the Flamingo, "if that's the case, maybe I can help him. One good turn deserves another. If he is good to birds I may be able at this time to do good to him. This trouble ahead of us doesn't bother me, because I have wings and can fly—" Here the Flamingo flapped his wings proudly—"and I could take Tom on my back and fly anywhere with him, for I am an extremely powerful bird. But I want to know one more thing about him before I undertake to save him. We birds must stand together, you know, and I'm not going to befriend a foe to my kind under any circumstances. Thomas!"
In a moment he was sitting astride the great bird's neck.In a moment he was sitting astride the great bird's neck.
"Yes, sir," replied Tom, all of a tremble, for he hadn't the slightest idea what was coming, and as a truthful boy he knew that whatever the consequences to himself might be he must give the correct answer.
"Do you have Sunday breakfast at home?" asked the Flamingo.
"Yes, sir," Tom replied respectfully.
"You have coffee and hominy and toast and fried potatoes and all that?" queried the bird.
"Yes, sir," Tom answered, turning very pale, however, for he was in great dread of what he now saw was likely to come next.
"And—ah—fruit?" said the Flamingo.
"Oh, yes, plenty of fruit," replied Tom very nervously.
"And now, sir," said the Flamingo, severely, and ruffling his feathers like an angry turkey, "now for the main point. Thomas—and, mind you I want a truthful answer. Did you ever eat a broiled—Flamingo for your Sunday morning breakfast?"
Tom breathed a sigh of relief as the Flamingo blurted out the last part of his question.
"No, sir. Never!" he replied.
"Then hurry and climb up on my shoulders here," the Flamingo cried. "You're a boy after my own heart. I believe you'd be kind to a stuffed parrot. But hurry—there's the edge right ahead of us. Jump—"
Tom jumped and in a moment was sitting astride of the great bird's neck. In his right hand he grasped the claw of Righty, in his left that of Lefty, while these two clutched tightly hold of the Bellows and the Poker respectively. A moment later the Oscycle reached the edge and dashed wildly over it, the Kangaroo following out hisplan of jumping higher still and fortunately for himself catching a passing trolley cloud by which he was borne back to the starting point again.
As for the Polar Bear and the Hippopotamus, they plunged out into space, while the group comprising our little party from home and the Flamingo soared gracefully back to earth again, where the generous-hearted bird deposited them safely on top of the most convenient Alp.
"Thanks very much," said Tom, as he clambered down from the bird's neck and stood upon solid ground again.
"Don't mention it," said the Flamingo. "It's a pleasure to serve a bird-defender and his friends," and with this he soared away.
"I'm glad he didn't ask me if I ever ate broiled chicken for Sunday breakfast," said Tom.
"Why?" asked the Poker. "Do you?"
"Do I?" cried Tom. "Well, I guess. I don't do anything else."
Home Again
"And now," said the Lefthandiron as the Flamingo flew off and left them to themselves, "it strikes me that it is time we set about having some supper. I'm getting hungry, what with the excitement of that ride, and the fact I haven't eaten anything but a bowlful of kindling wood since yesterday morning."
"I'm with you there," said Tom. "I've been hungry ever since we started and that snow on the moon whetted my appetite."
"Never knew a boy who wasn't hungry on all occasions," puffed the Bellows. "Fact is, a boy wouldn't be a real boy unless he was hungry. Did you ever know a boy that would confess he'd had enough to eat, Pokey?"
"Once," said Poker, "I wrote a poem about him, but I never could get it published. Want to hear it?"
"Very much," said Tom.
"Well, here goes," said the Poker anxiously, and he recited the following lines: