John Dough and the Cherub. Baum Lyman Frank
this the Brothers all bowed, saying at the same time:
"We are proud of ourselves!"
At that instant the Awkward tripped over his own toes and fell against the Blunderer, who tumbled headlong and thrust his slim lance straight through the body of John Dough.
"Oh!" cried Chick, greatly horrified.
"I told you so!" growled the Fresh-Air Fiend, pulling out the lance hastily. "Tell me, John Dough, are you dead, or are you just dying?"
"Neither one," said John, ruefully pushing together the hole that the lance had made; "but it doesn't add to my personal appearance to be prodded in that fashion. I'm made of gingerbread," he explained, turning to the man in armor.
"I beg your pardon! I really beg your pardon!" said the Blunderer, greatly distressed at what he had done. "I had no intention of hurting you."
"He means well," said the Incubator Baby; "but that doesn't help much."
"He won't last long in this Island," grunted the Bad-Tempered, referring to John Dough.
"Being made of gingerbread, he can't be expected to last," remarked the Disagreeable, smiling in a way that made John shudder.
"He shall have my protection," said the Blunderer. "It's the least I can do to make amends. Here – put on this armour!"
He hastily began stripping off the plates of metal, and placed the steel helmet over the head of the gingerbread man.
"No, no!" exclaimed John. "I don't want to wear all that hardware."
"But you must!" cried the Blunderer. "It's the only way you can escape accident in this awful Island."
"That's true enough," agreed the big-headed man. "I advise you to wear the armor, my gingerbread friend."
So John submitted to being dressed in the armor, and no sooner had the plates been strapped upon him than the wisdom of the act was apparent. For there came a rush and whirl of sound, and suddenly a great monster swept over the sands at the very spot where they stood. It sent the Brotherhood of Failings sprawling in every direction, while the Incubator Baby flew to the water's edge, and John Dough's armor-clad body was knocked down and pressed into the soft sand until it was level with the surface.
But presently Chick came back and made the others dig him out and set him upon his feet again, and then it was seen that no one had been seriously injured.
"What was it?" asked John, gazing in amazement at the place where the monster had disappeared in the distance.
"It's the one-wheeled automobile," answered the Sorrowful, "and unless it gets smashed mighty soon the Isle of Phreex will be an Isle of Cripples. I don't understand why they license the thing."
"Why, to make room for new arrivals, of course," declared the Disagreeable. "But it was lucky for the Pudding Man that he happened to be dressed in steel."
"I am not pudding, if you please," said John, indignantly. "I beg you to remember that I am gingerbread."
"It's all one," remarked the Thoughtless, "your cake is dough, anyhow."
"Let us return to the castle," the Ugly said. "Our kinglet should be introduced to his new subject."
So they all started off across the green, Chick leading the gingerbread man, until they came to a path leading upward through the rocks, along which they began to ascend. John had much difficulty in keeping out of the way of the Awkward, who tripped and stumbled constantly, while the Blunderer insisted upon taking the wrong path, and the Bad-Tempered stopped twice to fight with the Disagreeable and the Thoughtless. At last, however, they reached the top, which proved to be a broad plain of rock, upon which stood a great castle with many tall spires and grim towers and glittering minarets.
While they paused for John Dough to admire the view, and that they all might get breath, a sharp voice said near them:
"You're late, you lot of Failings, and the kinglet will scold."
John looked around, and saw perched upon a point of rock beside the path a most curious looking creature.
"Don't stare!" it said, with a laugh. "I don't, and I've got a dozen eyes to your one. Let me introduce myself. I'm the Prize Potato from the Centerville Fair."
Indeed, John now noticed a big blue ribbon twined around the middle of the potato, and on the ribbon was printed in gold letters: "First Prize."
"Some day you'll sprout," said the Disagreeable, "and then you won't have so many eyes."
The Prize Potato winked its numerous eyes, one after the other, in a droll fashion, and answered:
"Some day you'll meet with an accident, my dear Failing; but when you're planted in the ground you'll not sprout at all. That's where I'm your superior, for I'm perpetual. Every one of my eyes is good for a half-peck of potatoes, at least."
"Unless you're boiled with your jacket on," remarked the Ugly, with a sour smile.
"Come, come! Let us on," interrupted the little man with the big head. "Our kinglet doubtless awaits us."
When they had gone a few steps farther the Incubator Baby paused to say: "Some one is following us, and it's a stranger."
This remark caused John to look around, and immediately he stopped short with an expression of horror upon his frosted face. For there, turning the corner of the rocky path, was Ali Dubh the Arab. The fellow at once uttered a yell of joy and triumph, and drawing his gleaming knife he rushed upon John Dough with great eagerness.
The gingerbread man had given up all hope of escape and stood tremblingly awaiting his foe when, Chick suddenly grasped the Blunderer's lance and tripped the Arab so neatly with it that Ali Dubh fell his full length upon the path and broke his knife-blade into a dozen pieces. But he squirmed forward and was about to bite into John's leg when the big-headed man came to the rescue and threw a handful of pebbles into the Arab's open mouth, and so prevented him from doing the gingerbread man any damage.
"He seems dangerous," remarked the Blunderer. "Let's tie him up, before he hurts someone."
So while the Arab was coughing the pebbles out of his mouth, the Brotherhood of Failings bound his hands and feet with strong cords, so that he could not move.
"He's mine!" shouted the Arab, as soon as he could speak. "He belongs to me. I claim him for my own."
"There's no harm in that," replied the Fresh-Air Fiend. "But one of the laws of this Isle is that no person shall be injured by any one except the kinglet. And every one here must obey the laws. So, unless you promise not to carve or to eat this man of gingerbread, who is now a subject of our kinglet, we must lock you up in prison."
"I'll eat him as soon as I have the chance. I have a right to do so," cried the Arab.
"You're a bad man!" said Chick, stamping one small foot indignantly.
"I'm not," answered Ali Dubh; "I'm a good man. And I paid Jules Grogrande fifty cents for this gingerbread imitation of a man, who is mixed with my own magic Elixir. Also I paid a witch nine dollars to transport me to wherever the gingerbread man might be – which is right here – that I might take possession of my own property. So I've got him, and he's paid for, and he's mine, and I claim the right to eat him whenever I please."
"You'll do no such thing," declared Chick. "Why, John Dough is alive, and no one has a right to make him dead and then eat him – even if he is paid for!"
"Don't worry, my Cherub," said the big-headed man, soothingly; "we'll go at once and lock this Arab in a strong room of the castle, so that he can't possibly escape."
Chick smiled sweetly at this promise; but the Arab scowled and said, grimly:
"Never mind. My time will come. Some day I shall surely eat that gingerbread man, in spite of this Cherub and all the rest of you."
This defiance made the Brotherhood of Failings and the big-headed man so angry that they at once dragged Ali Dubh away to the castle, and John Dough and Chick followed after, hand in hand, and feeling quite safe.
Presently they came