Latest / Adventure Books Library / 01 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
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- Baron Trump's Marvelous Underground Journey by Ingersoll Lockwood. Chapter one, Bolger is greatly annoyed by the familiarity of the village dogs and the presumption of the housecats. His health suffers thereby, and he implores me to set out on my travels again. I readily consent, for I had been reading of the World within a World in a musty old manuscript written by the learned Don Fung, parting interviews with the elder Baron and the gracious Baroness my mother preparations for departure. Boger was not himself at all, dear friends. There was a lack luster look in his eyes, and his tail responded with only a half hearted wag when I spoke to him. I say half hearted, for I always had a notion that the other end of Bulgar's tail was fastened to his heart. His appetite, too, had gone down with his spirits, and he rarely did anything more than sniff at the dainty food which I set before him, although I tried to tempt him with fried chicken livers and toasted cost combs, two of his favorite dishes. There was evidently something on his mind, and yet it never occurred to me what that something was. To be honest about it, it was something which, of all things, I never should have dreamed of finding there. Possibly I might have discovered that an earlier day what it was all about, it had not been that. Just at this time I was very busy, too busy, in fact, to pay much attention to anyone, even to my dear four footed foster brother. As you may remember, dear friends, my brain is a very active one, and when once I had become interested in the subject, Castle Trumpe itself might fire and burn until the legs of my chair had become charred, before I would hear the noise and confusion, or even smell the smoke. It so happened at the time of Bulger's low spirits that the elder Baron had, through the kindness of an old school friend, come into possession of a fifteenth century manuscript from the pen of a no less celebrated thinker and philosopher than the learned Spaniard Don Constantino Bortolomeo Strefolo fiche Guandneris Fum, commonly known among scholars as Don Fum, Entitled A World within a World. In this work, Don Fum advanced the wonderful theory that there is every reason to believe that the interior of our world is inhabited, That, as is well known, this vast earth ball is not solid, on the contrary, being in many places quite hollow, that ages and ages ago, terrible disturbances had taken place on its surface, and had driven the inhabitants to seek refuge in these vast underground chambers, so vast in fact, as well to marry the name of world within a world. This book, with its crumpled, torn and time stained leaves excelling the odors of vaulted, cripped and worm eaten chest, exercise a peculiar fascination upon me. All day long, and often far into the night. I sat pouring over its musty and mildew pages, quite forgetful of the surface world, and with the plummet of thought sounding these subterranean depths, and with the eye and ear of fans see visiting them, and gazing upon and listening to the dwellers therein, while I would be thus engaged. Boger's favorite position was on a quaintly embroidered leather cushion brought from the orient by me on one of my journeys, and now placed on the end of my work table nearest the window. From this point advantage Boger commanded a full view of the park and the terrorist, and of the drive leading up to the poor Cocheer. Nothing escaped his watchful eye. Here he sat hour by hour, amusing himself by noting the comings and goings of all sorts of folk, from the hawkers of Googleles to the noblest people in the shire. One day my attention was attracted by is suddenly leaping down from his cushion and giving a low grow of displeasure. I paid little heed to it, but to my surprise, the next day, about the same hour it occurred again. My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, and laying down don Fum's musty manuscript, by hastened to the window to learn the cause of Boger's irritation. Lo the seeker was out. There stood half a dozen mongle curves belonging to the tenantry of the baronial lands, looking up to the window, and by their barking and annex endeavoring to entice Boger out for a romp. Dear friends, need I assure you that such familiarity was extremely distasteful to Boger. Their impudence was just a little more than he could stand. Ringing my bell, I directed my servant to hunt them away, whereupon Boger consented to resume his seat by the window. Next morning, just as I had settled myself down for a good long read, I was almost my bogo bounding into the room with eyes flashing fire and teeth laid bare and anger. Laying hold of the skirt of my dressing gown, he gave it quite a savage tug, which meant put thy book aside, a little master, and follow me. I did so. He led me downstairs, across the hallway, and into the dining room. And then this new cause of discontent on his part became very apparent to me. They're grouped around his silver breakfast place, sat an ancient tabby cat and four kittens, all calmly licking or lapping away at his breakfast. Looking up into my face, he uttered a sharp complaining, how as much as to say, there, little master, look at that. Isn't that enough to rub the patience of a saint? Canst thou wonder that I am not happy? With all these disagreeable things happening to me, I tell thee little master, it is too much for flesh and blood to put up with. And I thought so too, and did all in my power to comfort my unhappy little friend. But judge of my surprise upon reaching my room and directing him to take his place on his cushion, to see him refuse to obey. It was something extraordinary and set me to thinking. He noticed this and gave a joyful bark, then dashed into my sleeping apartment. It was gone for several moments, and then returning, bearing in his mouth a pair of oriental shoes, which he laid at my feet. Again and again he disappeared, coming back, each time with some article of clothing in his mouth. In a few moments he had laid a complete oriental costume on the floor before my eyes. And would you believe me, dear friends, it was the identical suit which I had worn of my last travels in far away lands, when he and I had been wrecked on the island of Googla, the land of the around bodies. What did it all mean? Why this? To be sure? Little master? Canst thou not understand thy dear Bulgar, he is wary of this dull and spiritless existence. He is tired of this increasing familiarity on the part of these marble curves of the neighborhood, and of the audacity of these kitchen tabbies and their families. He implores thee s break away from this life of reverie and in action, and for the honor of the Trumps to be up and away again. Stooping down and winding my arms around my dear Bulger, I cried out, yes, I understand THEE now, faithful companion, and I promise THEE that before this moon has filled her horns, we shall once more turn our backs on Castle Trump, up and away in search of the portals to Dina Fum's world within a world. Upon hearing these words, Bulger broke out into the wildest, maddest barking, bounding hither and thither, as if the very spirit of mischief had suddenly nestled in his heart. In the midst of these mad gambles. A low rap on my chamber door caused me to call out, peace, Peace, Good Bulgar, someone knocks peace, I say it was the elder baron with summer mean and stately tread. He advanced and took conceit beside me on the canopy. Welcome, honored father, I exclaimed, as I took his hand and raised it to my lips. I was upon the very point of seeking thee out. He smiled and then said, well, little Baron, what thinkest thou of dn Fume's world within a world? I think, my lord? Was my reply, that dun Fum is right that such a world must exist, and with thy consent, it is my intention to set out in search of its portals with all safe haste, and as soon as my dear mother, the gracious Baroness, and may be able to bring our heart to part with me. The old Baron was silent for a moment, and then added, little Baron, much as thy mother and I shall dread to think of thy being again out from under the safe protection of this venerable roof, the moss grown tiles of which have sheltered so many generations of the Trumps. Yet must we not be selfish in this matter? Heaven forbid that such a thought should move our souls to stay thee the honor of our family, thy fame as an explorer of strained lands in far away corners of the globe call unto us to be strong hearted. Therefore, my dear boy, make ready and go forth once more in search of new marbles. The learned don Fom's chart will stand thee by like a safe and trusty council. Remember, little Baron, the motto of the Trumps per adua ad astro. The pathway to glory is strewn with pitfall and dangers. But the comforting thought shall ever be mine that when thy keen intelligence fails, Bulger's an erring instinct will be there to guide. As I stooped to kiss the elder Baron's hand, the gracious Baroness entered the room, Bulger hastened to raise himself upon his hind legs and lick her hand in token of respectful greeting. The tears were pressing hard against her eyelids, but she kept them back, and encircling my neck with her loving arms, she pressed many and many a kiss upon my cheeks and brow. I know what it all means, my dear son, she murmured, with the status of smiles. But it never shall be said that Gertrude Baroness von Trump stood in the way of her son, adding new glories to the family, scutching, go, go, little baron in heaven, bring thee safely back to our arms and to our hearts in its own good time. At these words, Bulger, who had been listening to the conversation with pricked up ears and listening eyes, gave one long howl of joy, and then, springing into my lap, covered my face with kisses. This done evented his happiness and a string of ear splitting barks in a series of the maddest gambols. It was one of the happiest and proudest days of his life, for he felt that he had exerted considerable influence and sprang to the sticking point my resolution to set out on my travels once again. And now the patter of hurrying feet and a loud murmur of anxious voices resounded through the castle corridors. While inside and out ever and Anon, I could hear the cry, now whispered and now outspoken, the little Baron is making ready to leave home again. Bogo ran hither and thither, surveying everything, taking note of all the preparations, and I could hear joyous bark ring out as some familiar article used by me on my former journeys, was dragged from his hiding place. Twenty times a day. My gentle mother came into my room to repeat some good counsel or reiterate some valuable caution. It seemed to me that I had never seen her so calm, so stately, so lovable. She was very proud of my great name, and so in fact were every man, woman and child in the castle. Had I not gotten office I did, I should have been literally killed with kindness and bogar slain with sweetcake. End of Chapter one