Bikey the Skicycle and Other Tales of Jimmieboy Part 24

"How did you like Europe?" asked Swanny, as they sped along through a beautiful country, which Swayny said was France.

"Very nice what I saw of it," said Jimmieboy. "But, of course I couldn't see very much in five minutes."

"Hoh! Hear that, Swayny?" said Swanny. "Couldn't see much in five minutes. Why you could see all Europe in five minutes, if you only looked fast enough. You kept your eye glued on that Alp, I guess."

"That's what he did," said Swayny. "And that's why it was so hard to get the sled started. I had to hump three times before I could get my runner off and it was all because he'd glued his eye on the Alp! Don't do it again, Jimmieboy. We haven't time to unglue your eye every time we start."

"I don't blame him," said Swanny. "Those Alps are simply great, and I sometimes feel myself as if I'd like to look at 'em as much as forty minutes. I'd hate to be a hired man on an Alp, though."

"So would I," said Swayny. "It would be awful if the owner of the Alp made the hired man shovel the snow off it every morning."

"I wasn't thinking of that so much as I was of getting up every morning, early, to push the clouds away," said Swanny. "People are very careless about their clouds on the Alps, and they wander here and there, straying from one man's lawn onto another's, just like cows where Jimmieboy lives. I knew a man once who bought the top of an Alp just for the view, and one of his neighbor's clouds came along and squatted down on his place and simply killed the view entirely, and I tell you he made his hired man's life miserable. Scolded him from morning until night, and fed him on cracked ice for a week, just because he didn't scare the cloud off when he saw it coming."

"I don't see how a man could scare a cloud off," said Jimmieboy.

"Easy as eating chocolate creams," said Swayny. "You can do it with a fan, if you have one big enough--but, I say, Swanny, put on the brakes there quick, or we'll run slam-bang into----"

"LONDON!" cried Swanny, putting on the brakes, and sure enough that's where they were. Jimmieboy knew it in a minute, because there was a lady coming out of a shop preceded by a band of music, and wearing a big crown on her head, whom he recognized at once as the great and good Queen, whose pictures he had often seen in his story books.

"Howdy do, little boy," said the Queen, as her eye rested on Jimmieboy.

"I'm very well, thank you, Ma'am," said Jimmieboy, holding out his hand for Her Majesty to shake.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm sliding until breakfast is ready," he replied.

"Until breakfast is ready?" she cried. "Why, what time do you have breakfast?"

"Eight o'clock, so's papa can catch the 8:30 train, Ma'am," said Jimmieboy.

"But--it is now nearly one o'clock!" said the Queen.

"That's all right, Your Roily Highnishness," said Swanny. "This is an American boy and he breakfasts on the American plan. It isn't eight o'clock yet where he lives."

"Oh, yes--so it isn't," said the Queen. "I remember now. The sun rises earlier here than it does in America."

"Yes, Ma'am," put in Swayny. "It has to in order to get to America on time. America is some distance from here as you may have heard."

And before the Queen could say another word, the sled was sliding merrily along at such a rapid pace that Jimmieboy had to throw his arms about Swayny's neck to keep from falling overboard.

"W-where are we g-g gug-going to now?" he stammered.

"China," said Swanny.

"Egypt," said Swayny.

"I said China," cried Swanny, turning his eyes full upon Swayny and glaring at him.

"I know you did," said Swayny. "I may not show 'em, but I have ears. I, on the other hand said Egypt, and Egypt is where we are going. I want to show Jimmieboy the Pyramids. He's never seen a Pyramid and he has seen Chinamen."

"No doubt," said Swanny. "But this time he's not going to Egypt. I'm going to show him a Mandarin. He can build a Pyramid with his blocks, but he never in his life could build a Mandarin. Therefore, Ho for China."

"You mean Bah! for China," said Swayny, angrily. "I'm not going to China, Mr. William G. Swanny and that's all there is about that. Last time I was there a Chinaman captured me and tied me to his pig-tail and I vowed I'd never go again."

"And when I was in Egypt last time, I was stolen by a mummy, who wanted to broil and eat me because he hadn't had anything to eat for two thousand years. So _I_'m not going to Egypt."

Whereupon the two strange birds became involved in a dreadful quarrel, one trying to run the sled off toward China, the other trying, with equal vim, to steer it over to Egypt. The runners creaked; the red back groaned and finally, there came a most dreadful crash. Swanny flew off with his runner to the land of Flowers, and Swayny, freed from his partner, forgetting Jimmieboy completely, sped on to Egypt.

And Jimmieboy.

Well, Jimmieboy, fell in between and by some great good fortune, for which I am not at all prepared to account, landed in a heap immediately beside his little bed in the nursery, not dressed in his furs at all but in his night gown, while out of doors not a speck of snow was to be seen, and strangest of all, when he was really dressed and had gone down stairs, there stood Magic and the two swan heads, as spick and span as you please, still waiting to be tried.

THE STUPID LITTLE APPLE-TREE

_THE STUPID LITTLE APPLE-TREE_

Jimmieboy was playing in the orchard, and, as far as the birds and the crickets and the tumble-bugs could see, was as happy as the birds, as lively as the crickets, and as tumbly as the tumble-bugs. In fact, one of the crickets had offered to bet an unusually active tumble-bug that Jimmieboy could give him ten tumbles start and beat him five in a hundred, but the tumble-bug was a good little bug and wouldn't bet.

"I'm put here to tumble," said he. "That's my work in life, and I'm going to stick to it. Other creatures may be able to tumble better than I can, but that isn't going to make any difference to me. So long as I do the best I can, I'm satisfied. If you want to bet, go bet with the dandelions. They've got more gold in 'em than we tumble-bugs have."

Now, whether it was the sweet drowsiness of the afternoon, or the unusual number of tumbles he took on the soft, carpet-like gra.s.s in and out among the apple-trees, neither Jimmieboy nor I have ever been able to discover, but all of a sudden Jimmieboy thought it would be pleasant to rest awhile; and to accomplish this desirable end he could think of nothing better than to throw himself down at the foot of what he had always called the stupid little apple-tree. It was a very pretty tree, but it was always behind-time with its blossoms. All the other trees in the orchard burst out into bloom at the proper time, but the stupid little apple-tree, like a small boy in school who isn't as smart as some other boys, was never ready, when the others were, and that was why Jimmieboy called it stupid.

"Jimmieboy! Jimmieboy!"

He turned about to see who had addressed him, but there was nothing in sight but a huge b.u.mblebee, and he was entirely too busy at his daily stint to be wasting any time on Jimmieboy.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Jimmieboy asked.

"I'm--I'm a friend of yours," said the voice. "Oh, a splendid friend of yours, even if I am stupid. Do you want to earn an apple?"

"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I'm very fond of apples--though I can get all I want without earning 'em."

"That's true enough," returned the voice; "but an apple you have given you isn't half so good as one you really earn all by yourself--that's why I want you to earn one. Of course I'll give you all the apples I've got, anyhow, but I'd like to have you earn one of 'em, just to show you how much better it tastes because you have earned it."

"All right," said Jimmieboy, politely. "I'm very much obliged to you, and I'll earn it if you'll tell me how. But, I say," he added, "I can't see you--who are you?"

"Can't see me? That's queer," said the voice. "I'm right here--can't you see the stupid little apple-tree that's keeping the sun off you and stretching its arms up over you?"

"Yes," Jimmieboy replied. "I can see that, but I can't see you."