The Flamp, The Ameliorator, and The Schoolboy's Apprentice Part 3

The worst part of the journey was clambering over the hot rocks when the mountains were reached, and the travellers did at last lose their resolute cheerfulness, and had just sat down in the shade to have a good cry, when they suddenly heard the sound of singing. Not exactly singing; rather a melancholy droning, or chanting, as of a dirge. Listening intently, they could make out these words:

_I'm not in the least in love with life; I might be, p'raps, if I had a wife To care for me in a wifely way, Or a neighbour or two to say good-day, Or a chum To come And give me the news in a friendly talk, Or share a duet or a meal or a walk.

But all alone in the world am I, And I sit in a cave, And try to behave As a good Flamp should, with philosophy.

I shan't last long, for the cave is damp, And nothing's so bad for a Flamp As cramp...._

'It's the Flamp!' said both children together, fearfully.

The chanting began again, and Tilsa and Tobene jumped up and, following the sound of the voice, came to a wide and heavily-trodden path between two rocks. They plodded along it until, rounding a crag, they perceived immediately before them a yawning cave. Although the singer was out of sight, the noise made by him was now almost overwhelming and so dismal that the children were on the point of joining in the lamentation themselves.

A few steps more brought them in sight of the melancholy songster.

Seated in a corner of the cave, with his ma.s.sive head on his fore-paws, the picture of dejection, was the most enormous creature they had ever seen or dreamed about. He was rather like an elephant, but much more immense and without a trunk: a huge, ungainly, slate-coloured animal.

He did not hear them, but sat rocking to and fro in his corner, moaning lugubriously.

'Toby,' said Tilsa, who now was not in the least alarmed, 'can you cough?'

'I'll try,' said Toby, and he coughed.

The Flamp took down one paw from its desert of face and peered out. Then he sprang to his feet and rubbed his heavy, watery, blue eyes in blank astonishment. Tilsa and Tobene did not move. They stood still, gazing into the Flamp's great, mournful face, now wrinkled up with surprise and excitement.

Then the Flamp spoke--'What?' he said, 'kids? Real kids? Flesh-and-blood kids? Human, rollicking, kind-hearted kids?'

'We are real children,' Tilsa replied at length, 'if that is what you mean, and, oh, we are so glad to have found you! The hedgehog's compa.s.s told us to come this way, or we should never have reached you at all.'

'Then you set out intending to find me?' said the Flamp. 'Well, that is a good one. How is it you're not scared, like all the rest of them?'

'I don't know,' said Tilsa. 'I can't think. But we weren't, were we, Toby?'

'No,' said Tobene.

'And what made you come?' the Flamp asked.

'We--we--' Tilsa faltered. 'Well, sir, we thought you wanted sympathy, like Alison did. And so we came to--to try and give you some.'

'And so I do,' the Flamp gasped out. 'And so I do,' and he lifted up his right paw, and brushed it across his eyes. 'You see, it's precious little of it I get. It's very hard, I can a.s.sure you, my dears, to be the last of one's race. Why, the land was full of Flamps once, and a fellow need never be in want of company, but now--now they're all dead, all but me, and I'm not long for this life.' The Flamp sighed and dropped a tear, which splashed heavily.

Tilsa felt very sorry. 'Poor--' she began to say, but stopped abruptly.

She was intending to say 'Poor Flamp,' but that now seemed to her too familiar; so she altered it to 'Poor gentleman!' although when the word was out, it seemed equally unsuitable.

Tobene said nothing aloud, but nudged Tilsa and whispered, 'Aren't you going to try throwing your arms round him, Tilsa? It's time, isn't it?'

'Hush!' said Tilsa severely.

The Flamp went on: 'And I doubt if any one is keener on company than I am. Over in the city yonder, you know, they have a season called Christmas, when every one is supposed to be friends with every one else; and I thought to myself, That's the time for me. I won't ask for much, I thought, but if just one night in the year they'll look pleased to see me, and say, 'How do?' why I'll be very grateful to them and a deal happier during the months that follow. It wasn't much to ask, was it?

But I suppose I didn't go to work the right way, or perhaps I had two legs too many. Anyway, they misunderstood me: thought I'd come to do them harm or something, and tried shooting me and poisoning me and barricading themselves in. Wouldn't even give me a moment's sight of a kid's face. I didn't try any other night. It seemed to me that if at a season of goodwill they would behave like that, my chances at an ordinary time would be less than nothing. But men can't understand animals. Children can, though they're apt to grow out of it. Thank goodness, there's _some_ children that stay childlike to the end, however old they may be.' He brushed his paw across his eyes again.

Soon he went on: 'So I've had to live alone, with no company but my own voice. Maybe you heard me singing as you came. It wasn't much of a song, I admit, for elegance of rhyme and metre don't seem to come easy, but a song like that is more comfort than you'd believe.' He paused again.

Then he turned radiantly to his visitors. 'And you've trudged all the way from the city just to be kind to me, have you? Well, that is good of you! Bless your hearts, no one knows how much a deed like that means.

Why, it's as good as smush even to know that any one is thinking of you kindly, let alone doing things. I haven't felt so cheery and comfortable for years. But you must be hungry. Now tell me what you would like to eat and I'll try and get it for you, and afterwards you must tell me all about yourselves.'

Tilsa looked at Tobene, and Tobene at Tilsa.

Then Tobene spoke to the Flamp for the first time. 'You said just now that something was as good as smush. Please, what is smush? because if it's something to eat, I should like that.'

The Flamp laughed all over: 'Splendid,' he cried, 'splendid! Something to eat? I should rather think it is. You couldn't have made a better choice. You shall have smush. Sit down here while I get it ready.'

Tilsa and Tobene sat down, and the Flamp retreated farther into the cave. There was a noise of pots and pans.

'Isn't he a whopper?' said Tobene.

'Tremendous,' said Tilsa. 'And what a dear old thing!'

'Yes,' Tobene continued, 'and what a set of donkeys those people at Ule have been all these years. Why, he's as jolly as Alison, in a different way. Do you think he'll give us a ride, Tilsa?'

'Of course he will,' said a deep voice above them. 'But you must eat some smush first,' and looking up, they saw the Flamp on his hind legs, towering into the roof of the cave, and in his paws a large dish and some plates and spoons. 'Now then,' he said, 'eat as much as you can.'

(All that the historian can do towards a description of smush is to say that its colour is pink, and its taste quite indescribable but blessed in the highest degree. When asked about it afterwards, Tilsa and Tobene, even to their old age, would become purple and inarticulate with enthusiasm. Perhaps if each of you thinks of all the most delicious things you have ever eaten, you will come a little nearer to an idea of what smush is like.)

After they had finished, Tilsa told the Flamp all about herself, and Tobene, and old Alison, and her grandfather the Liglid of Ule.

'I expect,' she said, 'they are looking for us now. And I think, sir, if you don't mind, it would be better if you were to go back with us, and then we could let everybody see how kind and gentle you are, and grandpapa won't go on trying to circ.u.mvent you.'

'Circ.u.mvent?' said the Flamp. 'What's that?'

'I don't know what it means,' said Tilsa, 'except that it's something horrid. And someone named Bill's going to do it.'

'All right,' said the Flamp, 'we will go back together, and the sooner the better, I think, or that dear old Alison of yours will be nervous.

Although I should like to keep you here, you know. But you'll promise to come again, won't you, and stay a long time?'

'O yes,' cried Tilsa and Tobene together, 'we should just think we will!'

IX

That night the two children slept soundly in a corner of the cave, while the Flamp sat by and watched them. In the morning, after a breakfast of smush, they climbed on the monster's back and started for the city at a good swinging pace.

'It was like riding on a cloud,' said Tobene afterwards: 'so high up.'

They were well within sight of Ule when--'Look,' said Tobene suddenly, pointing in the direction of a speck on the white road, 'what's that?'

'It moves,' said Tilsa. 'It's a person.'

'We'll soon see what it is,' the Flamp grunted, lengthening his stride.

The earth shook as his feet beat upon it.