Half-Hours With Jimmieboy Part 22

"That nose of thine, How superfine!

How pertinent thy chin.

How manifest The palimpsest And contour of thy shin!

"How ormolu Thy revenue!

How dusk thy silhouette!

How myrtilly Thy pedigree Doth grace thine amulet!

"What man is there, Ay, anywhere, What mortal chanticleer, Can fail to find Unto his mind Thy buxom bandolier!

"Ah, Frigidos!

Jack Frigidos, In parcel or in keg, Another like Thee none can strike From Dan to Winnipeg."

Here the voice paused.

"Is that all?" queried Jack Frost.

"It is all I have written up to this moment," the voice answered. "Of course there are seventy or eighty more miles of it, because, as your Majesty is well aware, it would take many a league of poetry fitly to commemorate your virtues."

"Your answer is pleasing unto me," replied the monarch of Frostland, when the voice had thus spoken. "The office of the Secretary of State is yours. The salary is not large, but the duties are. They are to consist mainly of----"

Here the King was interrupted by a tremendous noise without. Evidently some one was creating a disturbance, and as Jimmieboy turned to see what it was, he saw the great ice mountain looming up over the far-distant horizon melt slowly away and dwindle out of sight; and then messengers, breathless with haste, rushed in and cried out to the King:

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GAS-STOVE DESTROYING FROSTLAND.]

"We are attacked! we are attacked! A tribe from a far country, commanded by the Gas Stove, is even now within our boundaries, armed with a devastating hose, breathing forth fire, by which already has been destroyed the whole western frontier."

"What is to be done?" cried Jack, in alarm, and springing to his feet.

"Can we not send a regiment of cold winds out against them, and freeze them to their very marrows and blow out the gas?"

"We cannot, sire," returned the messenger, "for the heat is so deadly that the winds themselves thaw into balmy zephyrs before they reach the enemy."

"Not so!" cried the voice from Jimmieboy's lips. "For I will save you if you will place the matter in my hands."

"n.o.ble creature!" sobbed Jack, grasping Jimmieboy by the hand. "Save my kingdom from destruction, and all that you ask of me in the future is yours."

And Jimmieboy, promising to help Jack, started out, clad with all the authority of his high office, to meet the Gas Stove.

XVI.

THE END OF THE STORY.

AS Jimmieboy proceeded along the icy road he observed that everything was beginning to thaw, and then, peering as far into the distance as he could, he saw a great flame burning fiercely and scorching everything with which it came in contact. It was quite evident that the Gas Stove had brought with him the most effective ammunition possible for his purposes.

"I don't see exactly how he does it," said the newly appointed Secretary of State, as he ran hurriedly toward the devastating fire.

"Easy enough," returned the voice. "He has brought along a large quant.i.ty of gas and a garden hose, and he has turned on the gas just as you would turn on water, lit it, and there you are. There is absolutely no withstanding him, and unless he can be induced to stop very shortly, he'll destroy this whole kingdom, and we'll have nothing but a desert ocean; and I can tell you, Jimmieboy, a desert ocean where there is nothing but water is worse than a desert desert where there is nothing but sand."

"It seems almost a pity to destroy such a beautiful place as this," said Jimmieboy, looking about him, taking note of the great tall ice-covered trees and the frost flowers and gra.s.ses at the road-side. "But, you know, Jack Frost bit my little brother, which was very cowardly of him, and that's why the Gas Stove and I have come here to fight."

"I think you are wrong there," said the voice. "I don't believe Jack any more than kissed him; but if he did bite him, it was because he loved him."

Jimmieboy had never thought of it in that light before. All he knew was that whatever Jack Frost had done, it had brought tears to little Russ's eyes and woe to his heart.

"It's rather a funny way to show love to bite a person," said Jimmieboy.

"Just let me ask you a few questions," said the voice. "Do you like cherries and peaches?"

"Oh, don't I!" cried Jimmieboy, smacking his lips. "I just dote on 'em!"

"Then," said the voice,

"Why do you bite the cherry sweet?

Why in the peach do your teeth meet?"

"Never thought of it that way," said Jimmieboy.

"I suppose not," returned the voice. "Are you fond of apples and gingerbread?"

"Well, rather!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jimmieboy.

"Then tell me this," asked the voice:

"Why do you gnaw the apple red?

Why do you chew your gingerbread?"

"Because I like 'em," returned Jimmieboy.

"Why do you crunch your taffy brown?

Why do you nibble your jumble down?

Why do you munch your candy ball?

Why do you chew at all--at all?"

continued the voice.

"To make things last longer. 'Tain't proper to gulp 'em all down at once," answered Jimmieboy.

"And that's why Jack Frost bit little Russ," a.s.serted the voice. "In the first place, he loved him. Little Russ was to him as sweet as a cherry is to you. In the second place, he took a little wee bite, because it wasn't proper to gulp him all down. To-morrow that bite spot will be well, and little Russ will be none the worst for it. Now I don't see why you should want to ruin all this beautiful country just for that. It isn't a crime to love babies or to eat cherries."

"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But Jack Frost has done other things. He killed a lot of mamma's flowers."

"No, he didn't," returned the voice. "Your mamma left 'em out-doors all night, and Jack came along and did just what the bees do. He took all the sweetness he could find out of 'em, and brought them here, where he planted them and made them appear like flowers of silver. You see what the heat down there is doing?"

Jimmieboy looked, and saw the icy covering melting off the flowers and trees, and as the silver coating fell away they would wave softly in the balmy air for a moment, and then wither and crumble away.