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03 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey · Classic Adventure Books Library

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  Chapter three, Ivan more and more troublesome Bulgar watches him closely his cowardly attack
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  upon me, my faithful vulgar to the rescue a driver worth having. How
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  I was carried to a place of safety in the hands of old Juliana the
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  giants well when we halted for the night. It was only by threatening the
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  man with severe punishment upon my return to hitch that I could bring him to
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  rub his horse's dry and feed and water them properly. But I stood over
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  him until he had done his work thoroughly, for I knew that no such
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  horses could be had for love or money in that country. If they should
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  go lame from standing with wet coats in the chill night air, it might
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  meet a week's delay. Scarcely had I thrown myself on the hard mattress,
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  which the tavern keeper called the best bed in the house. When I was
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  aroused by loud and boisterous talking in the next room, Ivan was drinking and
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  quarreling with the villagers. I strode into the room with the arrows of indignation
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  shooting from my eyes, and the faithful Bulgar close at my heels. The
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  moment Ivan set eyes upon us. He shrank away, half in earnest and
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  half in jest, and called out, he look at the mazuntchik, the
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  little dandy, how smartly looks he frightens me? See his eyes, how
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  they shine in the dark. Look at the little demon on four legs beside
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  him. Save me, Rather save me, he will throw me down into
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  the giant's well. My uncle will never see me again. Save me,
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  brothers, peace fellow, I called out sternly, how darest thou exercise thy
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  dull wit on thy master. Get thee to bed at once, or I'll
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  have thee whipped by the village constable for thy drunkenness. Ivan clamored up upon
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  the top of the bake oven and stretched himself out on a sheepskin. Then,
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  turning to the tavern keeper, I forbade him, under any pretext whatever,
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  to give my servant any more liquor to drink. Ah, your excellency,
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  exclaimed the tavern keeper with a gesture of disgust. The fools never know
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  when they have had enough. It matters not what the tavern keeper may say
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  to them. They tell us not to spoil our own trade. Ah.
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  They don't know when to stop they have throats as deep as that. Giants
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  well, giants well, the giant's well, I murmured to myself, as
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  I again threw myself down upon the bag of hay, which did service as
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  a mattress for those who could afford to pay for it. It's strange how
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  those words seemed to be in every peasant's mouth, but I thought no more
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  about it at the time. Sleep got the better of me, and with
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  my usual good night to the elder baron and the gracious Baroness my mother,
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  I dropped off into sweet forgetfulness. It is a good thing that I had
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  the power of falling asleep almost at will, For with my restless brain,
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  ever throbbing and pulsating, with its own overabundance of strength, ever tapping at
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  the thin panels of bone which covered it, like an imprisoned inventor pounding on
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  his cell door and pleading to be let out into the daylight. With his
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  plans and schemes, I should simply have become a lunatic. As it was,
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  with the mere power of thought I ordered sweet slumber to come to my
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  rescue. And so obedient was this good angel of mine, that all I
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  had to do was simply to set the time when I wished to awaken,
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  and the thing was done to the very minute. As for the Bulgar,
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  I never pretended to lay down any rules for him. He made it a
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  practice of catching forty winks when he was persuaded that no danger of any kind
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  threatened me. And even then I am half inclined to believe that, like
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  an anxious mother over her babe, he never quite closed both eyes at once.
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  Though entirely sobered by daybreak, Yet Ivan went about the task of harnessing
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  up with such an ill grace that I was obliged to reprove him several times
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  before we had left the tavern yard. He was like a vicious but cowardly
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  animal that quails before a strong and steady eye, but watches its opportunity to
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  spring upon you when your back is turned. I not only called Bulgar's attention
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  to the fellow's actions. I warned him to be very watchful. But I
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  also took the precaution to examine the priming of the brace of Spanish pistols,
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  which I care thrust into my belt. We had scarcely pulled out into the
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  highway when a low growl from bulgar aroused me from a fit of meditation.
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  And this growl was followed by such an anxious wine from my four footed brother
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  as he raised his speaking eyes to me, that I glanced hastily from one
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  side of the road to the other. Lo and behold, the treacherous ivan
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  was deliberately engaged in an attempt to overturn the torrantas and to get rid of
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  his enforced task of transporting us any farther on our journey. Wretch, I
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  cried, springing up and laying my hand on his shoulder. I perceive very
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  plainly what thou hast in mind. But I warn thee most sulemnly that if
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  thou makest another attempt to overturn thy wagon, I'll slay thee where thou sittest
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  for only answer. And with a lightning like quickness, he struck a back
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  hand blow at me with the loaded end of his whip stock. It took
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  me full in the right temple and sent me to the bottom of the tarantus
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  like a piece of lead. For an instant the terrible blow robbed me of
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  my senses. But then I saw that the cowardly villain had turned in his
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  seat, and had swung the heavy handled whip aloft, with intent to despatch
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  me with a second and surer blow. Poor fool he reckoned without his host,
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  for with a shriek of rage, Bulgar leaped at his throat like a
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  stone from a catapult, and struck his teeth deep into the fellow's flesh.
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  He roared with agony and attempted to shake off this unexpected foe, but in
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  vain. By this time I had come to a full realizing sense of the
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  terrible danger Bulgar and I were both in. For Ivan had dropped his whip
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  and was reaching for his sheath knife, but he never gripped it, for
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  a well aimed shot from one of my pistols struck him in the forearm.
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  For I had no wish to take the man's life, and broke it.
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  The shock and pain so paralyzed him that he fell over against the dashboard,
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  half in a faint, and then rolled completely out of the wagon, dragging
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  Bulgar with him. The horses now began to rear and plunge. I saw
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  no more. There was a noise as of the roar of angry waters in
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  my ears, and then the light of life went out of my eyes entirely.
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  I had swooned dead away. It seemed to me hours that I lay
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  there on my back in the bottom of the Tarantas, with my head hanging
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  over the side, But of course it was only minutes. I was aroused
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  by a prickling sensation on my left cheek, and as I slowly came to
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  myself, I discovered that it proceeded from the gravel thrown up against it by
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  one of the front wheels of the tarantas. For the horses were galloping along
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  at the top of their speed, and there on the driver's seat sat my
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  faithful Bulgar, the reins in his teeth, bracing himself so as to keep
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  them taut over the horse's backs. And as I sat up and pressed my
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  hand against my poor hurt head, the whole truth broke upon me. The
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  moment Ivan had struck the ground, Bulgar had released his hold on the fellow's
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  throat, and ere he had had a chance to revive, he had leaped
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  up into the driver's seat, and catching up the reins in his teeth,
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  had drawn them taut, and thus put an end to the rearing and plunging
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  of the frightened beast and started them on their way, leaving the enraged ivan
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  brandishing his knife and uttering imprecations upon mine in Bulgar's heads as he saw his
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  horse, horses, and wagon disappear in the distance. Now was it that
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  a mad shouting assailed my ears? And I caught a glimpse of half a
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  dozen peasants, who, seeing this as they thought empty Tarrentus come nearer and
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  nearer, with its galloping horses, had abandoned their work and rushed out to
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  intercept it. Judge of their amazement, dear friends, as their eyes fell
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  upon the common skillful driver, bracing himself on the front seat and with oft
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  repeated backward tosses of his head, urging those horses to bear his beloved master
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  farther and farther away from the treacherous Ivan's sheath knife. As the peasants seized
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  the animals by the heads and brought them to a standstill, I staggered to
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  my feet and threw my arms around my dear Bulgar. He was more than
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  pleased with what he had done, and licked my bruised brow with many a
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  piteous moan. Saint Nicholas Savus, cried, one of the peasants devoutly making
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  the sign of the cross. But if I should live long enough to fill
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  the giants well with pebbles, I never would expect to see the likes of
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  this again. Giants well, the giants well, I murmured to myself as
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  I followed one of the peasants to his cot, standing a little back from
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  the highway, for I stood sore in need of rest after the terrible experience
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  I had just had. The blow of Ivan's whip handle had jarred my brain,
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  and I was skilled enough in surgery to know that the hurt called for
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  immediate attention. As good luck would have it, I found beneath the peasant's
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  rough one of those old women, half witches perhaps, who have recipes for
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  everything, and who know an herb for every ailment. After she had examined
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  the cut made by the loaded whip handle, she muttered out, it's not
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  as broad as the mount the Norse, deep as the giant's well, but
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  it's bad enough, little master. The Giant's well, again, thought I,
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  as I laid me down on the best bed they could make up for
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  me. I wonder where it may be that Giant's well, and how deep
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  it is, and who drinks the water that is drawn from it? End
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  of Chapter three,