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01 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey · Thrilling Adventures - Daily

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Baron Trump's Marvelous Underground Journey by Ingersoll Lockwood. Chapter one, Bolger is greatly
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annoyed by the familiarity of the village dogs and the presumption of the housecats.
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His health suffers thereby, and he implores me to set out on my travels
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again. I readily consent, for I had been reading of the World within
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a World in a musty old manuscript written by the learned Don Fung, parting
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interviews with the elder Baron and the gracious Baroness my mother preparations for departure.
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Boger was not himself at all, dear friends. There was a lack luster
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look in his eyes, and his tail responded with only a half hearted wag
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when I spoke to him. I say half hearted, for I always had
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a notion that the other end of Bulgar's tail was fastened to his heart.
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His appetite, too, had gone down with his spirits, and he rarely
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did anything more than sniff at the dainty food which I set before him,
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although I tried to tempt him with fried chicken livers and toasted cost combs,
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two of his favorite dishes. There was evidently something on his mind, and
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yet it never occurred to me what that something was. To be honest about
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it, it was something which, of all things, I never should have
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dreamed of finding there. Possibly I might have discovered that an earlier day what
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it was all about, it had not been that. Just at this time
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I was very busy, too busy, in fact, to pay much attention
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to anyone, even to my dear four footed foster brother. As you may
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remember, dear friends, my brain is a very active one, and when
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once I had become interested in the subject, Castle Trumpe itself might fire and
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burn until the legs of my chair had become charred, before I would hear
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the noise and confusion, or even smell the smoke. It so happened at
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the time of Bulger's low spirits that the elder Baron had, through the kindness
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of an old school friend, come into possession of a fifteenth century manuscript from
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the pen of a no less celebrated thinker and philosopher than the learned Spaniard Don
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Constantino Bortolomeo Strefolo fiche Guandneris Fum, commonly known among scholars as Don Fum,
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Entitled A World within a World. In this work, Don Fum advanced the
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wonderful theory that there is every reason to believe that the interior of our world
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is inhabited, That, as is well known, this vast earth ball is
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not solid, on the contrary, being in many places quite hollow, that
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ages and ages ago, terrible disturbances had taken place on its surface, and
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had driven the inhabitants to seek refuge in these vast underground chambers, so vast
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in fact, as well to marry the name of world within a world.
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This book, with its crumpled, torn and time stained leaves excelling the odors
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of vaulted, cripped and worm eaten chest, exercise a peculiar fascination upon me.
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All day long, and often far into the night. I sat pouring
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over its musty and mildew pages, quite forgetful of the surface world, and
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with the plummet of thought sounding these subterranean depths, and with the eye and
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ear of fans see visiting them, and gazing upon and listening to the dwellers
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therein, while I would be thus engaged. Boger's favorite position was on a
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quaintly embroidered leather cushion brought from the orient by me on one of my journeys,
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and now placed on the end of my work table nearest the window.
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From this point advantage Boger commanded a full view of the park and the terrorist,
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and of the drive leading up to the poor Cocheer. Nothing escaped his
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watchful eye. Here he sat hour by hour, amusing himself by noting the
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comings and goings of all sorts of folk, from the hawkers of Googleles to
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the noblest people in the shire. One day my attention was attracted by is
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suddenly leaping down from his cushion and giving a low grow of displeasure. I
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paid little heed to it, but to my surprise, the next day,
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about the same hour it occurred again. My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused,
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and laying down don Fum's musty manuscript, by hastened to the window to learn
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the cause of Boger's irritation. Lo the seeker was out. There stood half
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a dozen mongle curves belonging to the tenantry of the baronial lands, looking up
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to the window, and by their barking and annex endeavoring to entice Boger out
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for a romp. Dear friends, need I assure you that such familiarity was
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extremely distasteful to Boger. Their impudence was just a little more than he could
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stand. Ringing my bell, I directed my servant to hunt them away,
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whereupon Boger consented to resume his seat by the window. Next morning, just
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as I had settled myself down for a good long read, I was almost
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my bogo bounding into the room with eyes flashing fire and teeth laid bare and
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anger. Laying hold of the skirt of my dressing gown, he gave it
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quite a savage tug, which meant put thy book aside, a little master,
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and follow me. I did so. He led me downstairs, across
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the hallway, and into the dining room. And then this new cause of
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discontent on his part became very apparent to me. They're grouped around his silver
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breakfast place, sat an ancient tabby cat and four kittens, all calmly licking
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or lapping away at his breakfast. Looking up into my face, he uttered
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a sharp complaining, how as much as to say, there, little master,
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look at that. Isn't that enough to rub the patience of a saint?
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Canst thou wonder that I am not happy? With all these disagreeable things
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happening to me, I tell thee little master, it is too much for
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flesh and blood to put up with. And I thought so too, and
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did all in my power to comfort my unhappy little friend. But judge of
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my surprise upon reaching my room and directing him to take his place on his
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cushion, to see him refuse to obey. It was something extraordinary and set
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me to thinking. He noticed this and gave a joyful bark, then dashed
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into my sleeping apartment. It was gone for several moments, and then returning,
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bearing in his mouth a pair of oriental shoes, which he laid at
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my feet. Again and again he disappeared, coming back, each time with
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some article of clothing in his mouth. In a few moments he had laid
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a complete oriental costume on the floor before my eyes. And would you believe
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me, dear friends, it was the identical suit which I had worn of
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my last travels in far away lands, when he and I had been wrecked
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on the island of Googla, the land of the around bodies. What did
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it all mean? Why this? To be sure? Little master? Canst
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thou not understand thy dear Bulgar, he is wary of this dull and spiritless
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existence. He is tired of this increasing familiarity on the part of these marble
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curves of the neighborhood, and of the audacity of these kitchen tabbies and their
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families. He implores thee s break away from this life of reverie and in
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action, and for the honor of the Trumps to be up and away again.
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Stooping down and winding my arms around my dear Bulger, I cried out,
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yes, I understand THEE now, faithful companion, and I promise THEE
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that before this moon has filled her horns, we shall once more turn our
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backs on Castle Trump, up and away in search of the portals to Dina
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Fum's world within a world. Upon hearing these words, Bulger broke out into
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the wildest, maddest barking, bounding hither and thither, as if the very
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spirit of mischief had suddenly nestled in his heart. In the midst of these
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mad gambles. A low rap on my chamber door caused me to call out,
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peace, Peace, Good Bulgar, someone knocks peace, I say it
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was the elder baron with summer mean and stately tread. He advanced and took
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conceit beside me on the canopy. Welcome, honored father, I exclaimed,
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as I took his hand and raised it to my lips. I was upon
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the very point of seeking thee out. He smiled and then said, well,
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little Baron, what thinkest thou of dn Fume's world within a world?
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I think, my lord? Was my reply, that dun Fum is right
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that such a world must exist, and with thy consent, it is my
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intention to set out in search of its portals with all safe haste, and
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as soon as my dear mother, the gracious Baroness, and may be able
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to bring our heart to part with me. The old Baron was silent for
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a moment, and then added, little Baron, much as thy mother and
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I shall dread to think of thy being again out from under the safe protection
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of this venerable roof, the moss grown tiles of which have sheltered so many
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generations of the Trumps. Yet must we not be selfish in this matter?
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Heaven forbid that such a thought should move our souls to stay thee the honor
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of our family, thy fame as an explorer of strained lands in far away
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corners of the globe call unto us to be strong hearted. Therefore, my
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dear boy, make ready and go forth once more in search of new marbles.
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The learned don Fom's chart will stand thee by like a safe and trusty
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council. Remember, little Baron, the motto of the Trumps per adua ad
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astro. The pathway to glory is strewn with pitfall and dangers. But the
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comforting thought shall ever be mine that when thy keen intelligence fails, Bulger's an
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erring instinct will be there to guide. As I stooped to kiss the elder
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Baron's hand, the gracious Baroness entered the room, Bulger hastened to raise himself
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upon his hind legs and lick her hand in token of respectful greeting. The
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tears were pressing hard against her eyelids, but she kept them back, and
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encircling my neck with her loving arms, she pressed many and many a kiss
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upon my cheeks and brow. I know what it all means, my dear
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son, she murmured, with the status of smiles. But it never shall
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be said that Gertrude Baroness von Trump stood in the way of her son,
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adding new glories to the family, scutching, go, go, little baron
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in heaven, bring thee safely back to our arms and to our hearts in
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its own good time. At these words, Bulger, who had been listening
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to the conversation with pricked up ears and listening eyes, gave one long howl
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of joy, and then, springing into my lap, covered my face with
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kisses. This done evented his happiness and a string of ear splitting barks in
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a series of the maddest gambols. It was one of the happiest and proudest
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days of his life, for he felt that he had exerted considerable influence and
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sprang to the sticking point my resolution to set out on my travels once again.
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And now the patter of hurrying feet and a loud murmur of anxious voices
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resounded through the castle corridors. While inside and out ever and Anon, I
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could hear the cry, now whispered and now outspoken, the little Baron is
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making ready to leave home again. Bogo ran hither and thither, surveying everything,
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taking note of all the preparations, and I could hear joyous bark ring
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out as some familiar article used by me on my former journeys, was dragged
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from his hiding place. Twenty times a day. My gentle mother came into
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my room to repeat some good counsel or reiterate some valuable caution. It seemed
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to me that I had never seen her so calm, so stately, so
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lovable. She was very proud of my great name, and so in fact
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were every man, woman and child in the castle. Had I not gotten
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office I did, I should have been literally killed with kindness and bogar slain
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with sweetcake. End of Chapter one