JACK FROST
IF YOU’VE never had an Equator sweep down on you, of course you cannot understand in the least how frightened Billy was. Even the Equine Ox grew gray with fear when the Equator was angry, and the Equine Ox was seldom disturbed by anything but indigestion in his four stomachs.
As for Billy, he had never been really frightened before, excepting the time he fell into a tar barrel, and looking back upon it, that experience now seemed a very tame affair.
He shrank back and waited for the worst. To his surprise it did not happen. For just as the Equator was rushing toward him, just as he was trying to say Jack Robinson, and say it so quickly that his life would be spared an instant or two before he was turned to ashes, he heard a voice say:
“Hello, ’Quate! Loose, I see!”
Instantly the Equator, who had been white-hot, turned a sort of sickly yellow, then faded to dull red, and finally to a bluish green. In the meantime he had stopped sweepingdown on Billy and was motionless, save for a tremor that ran through his circular frame.
Between Billy and the Equator stood a wiry little fellow dressed all in fluffy white, with a white cap to match. In his hand he held what seemed to be a very straight icicle, which glittered with all the hues of the rainbow.
The Equator glowered upon the newcomer for some seconds before he growled huskily: “Jack Frost!”
“Perfectly correct,” said the stranger cheerfully. “I always did admire a good memory for names.”
“What are you doing here?” demanded the Equator sulkily, and Billy saw to his joy that he was now in no further danger of attack.
“Nothing that I am ashamed of,” returned Jack Frost, “which is more, it seems to me, than you can say.”
The Equator stared at Billy. “I—I—” he faltered.
“What was he doing?” asked Jack Frost, turning suddenly to Billy. Before the little boy could answer the Equator with a flop or two rose in the air, circled once or twice over the trees and sailed rapidly away.
“Bad lot!” commented Jack Frost. “Never take him seriously.”
“But he was going to burn me up,” said Billy.
“Umph!” said Jack Frost. “That’s different. Let’s go and see about it.”
Billy thought he had seen all of the Equator he cared to, but Jack Frost insisted on watching that ill-temperedcreature, and so Billy followed him to the very top of the volcano where they could get a clear view of the horizon.
They saw the Equator making off a mile or two away, and Jack Frost, taking Billy by the arm, started down the mountain at a brisk trot. As they hurried along Jack Frost said:
“I suppose you have heard of me.”
“Oh, yes,” said Billy. “I have, many times.”
“I’m not so cold as I’m painted,” said Jack Frost.
“I’m sure you are not,” replied Billy respectfully.
“No,” said Jack Frost, “I really am not a bad fellow. Your father probably holds it against me because I freeze the water pipes sometimes, but think how the plumber’s poor little children love me for it.”
“That’s true,” said Billy.
“Sometimes,” continued Jack Frost, “I pinch little boys’ fingers, but that is only to remind them that they forget to ask their mothers if they can go skating.”
“I only did that once,” said Billy, reddening.
“Again,” said Jack Frost, “I nip flowers. I do that to warn them to go back into the ground, because winter is coming.”
“You ought to do it,” said Billy. “I hope they don’t object.”
“They do, though. People often object to things that are good for them, like going to bed early, and washing their hands and geography.”
“Oh, I love geography now,” protested Billy.
“Oh, I’m delighted to hear it. Do you like songs?”
“Yes, indeed. The Equine Ox knows a beautiful one about the Equator.”
“I cannot imagine a beautiful song about the Equator,” said Jack Frost. “See what you think of mine.” And seating himself on the edge of the cliff they had been skirting, with his heels hanging over space, he sang:
THE SONG OF JACK FROST
“In the brown October,When the bonfires burn,When reluctant robinsSadly homeward turn,When the trees are moultingLeaves of gold and red,Like stray flakes of sunsetFrom the sky o’erhead,Then I steal at twilightThrough the shadows gray,Heralding the winterThat is on its way.Soon with films of silverI shall overspreadEvery quiet waterIn its pebbly bed.Soon I’ll warn the flowersThat it’s time to keepTryst with dreams of springtime,Wrapped in golden sleep.
“In the brown October,When the bonfires burn,When reluctant robinsSadly homeward turn,When the trees are moultingLeaves of gold and red,Like stray flakes of sunsetFrom the sky o’erhead,Then I steal at twilightThrough the shadows gray,Heralding the winterThat is on its way.Soon with films of silverI shall overspreadEvery quiet waterIn its pebbly bed.Soon I’ll warn the flowersThat it’s time to keepTryst with dreams of springtime,Wrapped in golden sleep.
“In the brown October,
When the bonfires burn,
When reluctant robins
Sadly homeward turn,
When the trees are moulting
Leaves of gold and red,
Like stray flakes of sunset
From the sky o’erhead,
Then I steal at twilight
Through the shadows gray,
Heralding the winter
That is on its way.
Soon with films of silver
I shall overspread
Every quiet water
In its pebbly bed.
Soon I’ll warn the flowers
That it’s time to keep
Tryst with dreams of springtime,
Wrapped in golden sleep.
“And seating himself on the edge of the cliff, he sang”
Then when first the snowflakesTremble in the airI must forth and hurry,Hurry everywhere:Silvering the treetopsTill their branches brightShimmer as the rainbowIn the morning light.Etching lacy landscapesOn the windowpane,Spreading fluffy carpetsOver hill and plain,Roofing over rivers,Blanketing the bears,Warm and snug and cozyIn their forest lairs.Here and there and yonder,Always on the wing,Till I’m called to slumberBy the voice of Spring.”
Then when first the snowflakesTremble in the airI must forth and hurry,Hurry everywhere:Silvering the treetopsTill their branches brightShimmer as the rainbowIn the morning light.Etching lacy landscapesOn the windowpane,Spreading fluffy carpetsOver hill and plain,Roofing over rivers,Blanketing the bears,Warm and snug and cozyIn their forest lairs.Here and there and yonder,Always on the wing,Till I’m called to slumberBy the voice of Spring.”
Then when first the snowflakes
Tremble in the air
I must forth and hurry,
Hurry everywhere:
Silvering the treetops
Till their branches bright
Shimmer as the rainbow
In the morning light.
Etching lacy landscapes
On the windowpane,
Spreading fluffy carpets
Over hill and plain,
Roofing over rivers,
Blanketing the bears,
Warm and snug and cozy
In their forest lairs.
Here and there and yonder,
Always on the wing,
Till I’m called to slumber
By the voice of Spring.”
“I think that is a very pretty song,” said Billy.
“Thank you,” said Jack Frost; “but what has become of the Equator in the meantime?”
Billy looked in every direction, but no sign of the Equator was to be seen.
“I was listening to your song,” he said. “I forgot to keep looking.”
“You are a very nice little boy,” said Jack Frost, pattingBilly on the head, “but we have just got to find that Equator. There is no telling what he may be doing.”
“I know what he will try to do,” said Billy.
“That’s something. What is it?”
“Catch Miss Evening Star and make a Comet out of her.”
“Great goodness! Why didn’t you say that before?”
“There wasn’t time,” explained Billy.
“There is always time,” said Jack Frost coldly. “Time is everywhere. The supply is inexhaustible.”
“I’m sorry,” said Billy.
“Never mind,” said Jack Frost kindly. “I dare say it will turn out all right, like the farmer’s wagon that met the automobile. Anyway, here comes the Geography Fairy. He ought to have some tidings.”
Looking over the edge of the cliff, Billy saw Nimbus approaching. He explained afterward that the crater which he and the Evening Star had followed, led right through the volcano and out of the cliff at the bottom.
Jack Frost hailed him, and Nimbus climbed up, bidding his train of Meteors wait until he returned.
He and Jack Frost shook hands cordially, and Nimbus inquired:
“Have either of you seen anything of the Evening Star? I lost track of her when we got out of the crater.”
“Gracious!” said Billy, “I thought she was with you.”
“So she was,” said Nimbus, “but she said she thought she’d like to fly once more, and sailed off to pay the Moon a visit.”
Jack Frost looked up quickly.
“That’s where the Equator’s gone, then,” he said.
“Has the Equator left the top of the volcano?” asked Nimbus excitedly.
“He has,” said Jack Frost. “He was just about to destroy this little boy when I stopped him. He’s afraid of me.”
“More than of any one else in the whole world,” said Nimbus. “But where do you suppose he is now?”
“I don’t suppose,” said Jack Frost; “I can only suspect.”
“And what do you suspect?”
“That he’s trailing the Evening Star, and if he finds her——”
“But he must not find her,” cried Nimbus.
“No,” said Jack Frost, “he must not.”
Out of the darkness above them shone a bright speck that grew larger and larger. As it drew nearer Billy saw that it was a Meteor, a new Meteor which he had never seen before.
“Hey, there!” shouted Nimbus, who had seen him the same moment Billy did; “any message for me?”
“Yes,” puffed the Meteor, who was not within easy talking distance. “Miss Evening Star is being chased by theEquator, and has only got about a thousand miles’ start.”
“Which way are they going?” asked Nimbus and Jack Frost in a breath.
“Gee whiz!” said the Meteor, “I forgot to ask.”