L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 06 (13 page)

"That's all tommy-rot," observed Handsome Tim, in a sulky tone. "We're
not spoiling for a row; it's the dance we're after."

"Then give up the revolvers," said Beth, coming to her cousin's
assistance. "If this is to be a peaceful entertainment you will not
need to be armed, and it is absurd to suppose a lady will dance with a
gentleman who is a walking arsenal."

They looked into one another's faces uncertainly. Dan'l sat softly
tuning his violin, as if uninterested in the controversy. Uncle John
and the Major looked on with seeming indifference.

"You must decide which you prefer—the revolvers or the dance,"
remarked Patsy, staring coolly into the ring of faces.

"Would your English ladies at home consent to dance with armed men?"
asked Beth.

"They're quite right, boys," said Stubby, nodding his bullethead.
"Let's agree to deposit all the shooting irons 'til the dance is
over."

"I won't!" cried Knuckles, his scowl deepening.

"By Jove, you will!" shouted Tobey, with unexpected vehemence. "You're
delaying the programme, old man, and it's a nuisance to dance in this
armor, anyway. Here—pile all your guns in this corner; every one of
you, mind. Then we shall all stand on an equal footing."

"Put them on the table there, by the old fiddler," said Patsy; "then
we will know we are perfectly safe."

Rather unwillingly they complied, each man walking up to the table and
placing his revolver at Dan'l's feet. The girls watched them intently.

"That man over there is still armed," called Beth, pointing to a
swarthy Mexican who squatted near the door.

"That's all right," said Tobey, easily. "He's our guard, Pedro. I've
stationed him there so you won't attempt to escape till we get ready
to let you go."

Patsy laughed.

"There's little danger of that," she said.

"All ready, now!" exclaimed Knuckles, impatiently. "We're all as
harmless as doves. Let 'er go, Dan'l!"

The old man was just then assisting Uncle John to lift Myrtle to the
top of the table, where the Major had placed a chair for her. Knuckles
growled, but waited until the girl was seated near the window. Then
Dan'l drew his bow and struck up a spirited march. Patsy took the arm
of Knuckles and paraded down the long room. Beth followed with Tobey,
and behind them tramped the remittance men in files of two. At the far
end were grouped the servants, looking curiously upon the scene, which
was lighted by lamps swung from the ceiling and a row of candles upon
the edge of the mantelshelf.

To carry out the idea of a grand march Patsy drew her escort here and
there by sharp turns and half circles, the others trailing behind like
a huge snake until she had passed down the length of the room and
started to return up the other side to the starting point. So
engrossed had been the cowboys that they did not observe the Major and
Uncle John clamber upon the table and stand beside Myrtle.

The procession was half way up the hall on its return when Patsy said
abruptly: "Now, Beth!" and darted away from her partner's side and
toward the table. Beth followed like a streak, being an excellent
runner, and for a moment Knuckles and Tobey, thus deserted by their
partners, stopped to watch them in amazement. Then their comrades
bumped into them and recalled them to their senses.

By that time the two girls had reached the table and leaped upon it.
Uncle John was waving his handkerchief from the window as a signal
to Wampus; Dan'l had laid aside his fiddle and seized a revolver in
either hand, and the Major had caught up two more of the discarded
weapons.

As Beth and Patsy turned, panting, and from their elevation looked up
the room, the cowboys gave a bellow of rage and rushed forward.

"Keep back!" shouted the Major, in stentorian tones, "I'll shoot the
first man that interferes."

Noting the grim determination in the old soldier's eye, they hesitated
and came to a halt.

"What do you mean by this infernal nonsense?" cried Tobey, in disgust.

"Why, it's just checkmate, and the game is up," replied Uncle John
amiably. "We've decided not to hold the proposed dance, but to take
our departure at once."

He turned and passed Myrtle out of the window where Wampus took her
in his arms, crutches and all, and carried her to the automobile. The
remittance men, unarmed and confronted by their own revolvers, stood
gaping open-mouthed and seemingly dazed.

"Let's rush 'em, boys!" shouted Handsome Tim, defiantly.

"Rush 'em alone, if you like," growled Knuckles. "I'm not ready for
the graveyard yet."

"You are vot iss called cowardices," said Dan'l, flourishing the
revolvers he held. "Come on mit der courage, somebotty, so I can shoot
holes in you."

"You're building your own coffin just now, Dan'l," retorted Tobey,
in baffled rage. "We know where to get you, old boy, and we'll have
revenge for this night's work."

"I vill take some popguns home mit me," was the composed reply. "Den,
ven you come, I vill make a receptioning for you. Eh?"

Uncle John, Patsy and Beth had followed Myrtle through the window and
disappeared.

"Now, sir," said the Major to the old fiddler, "make your escape while
I hold them at bay."

"Nod yet," replied Dan'l. "Ve must gif ourselves de most
protectionment ve can."

With this he gathered up the firearms, one by one, and tossed them
through the window. Then he straightened up and a shot flashed down
the hall and tumbled the big Mexican guard to the floor just as he was
about to glide through the doorway.

"Dit ve say shtand still, or dit ve nod say shtand still?" asked
Dan'l, sternly. "If somebody gets hurt, it iss because he don'd obey
de orderations."

"Go, sir!" commanded the Major.

"I vill; bud I go last," declared the old man. "I follow you—see? Bud
you take my violin, please—unt be very tender of id, like id vas your
sveetheardt."

The Major took the violin and climbed through the window, proceeding
to join the others, who were by now seated in the car. When he had
gone Dan'l prepared to follow, first backing toward the window and
then turning to make an agile leap to the ground below. And now with a
shout the cowboys made their rush, only to halt as Dan'l reappeared at
the window, covering them again with his revolvers.

"So, you defils—make a listen to me," he called. "I am experiencing
a goot-bye to you, who are jackals unt imitation men unt haf no goot
right to be alive. Also if I see any of you de next time, I vill shoot
first unt apologise at der funeral. I haf no more monkey business mit
you voteffer; so keep vere you are until I am gone, unt you vill be
safeness."

He slowly backed away from the window, and so thoroughly cowed was the
group of ruffians that the old fiddler had been lifted hastily into
the automobile before the cowboys mustered courage to leap through
the window and search in the darkness for their revolvers, which lay
scattered widely upon the ground.

Wampus, chuckling gleefully, jerked the hoods off his glaring
searchlights, sprang to his seat and started the machine down the road
before the crack of a single revolver was heard in protest. The shots
came thicker after that, but now the automobile was bowling merrily
along the road and soon was out of range.

"De road iss exceptionalment goot," remarked Dan'l. "Dere iss no
dangerousness from here to der rifer."

"Danger?" said the chauffeur, scornfully. "Who cares for danger? I am
Wampus, an' I am here!"

"We are all here," said Patsy, contentedly nestling against the
cushions; "and I'm free to confess that I'm mighty glad of it!"

It did not take them very long to reach the river, a muddy little
stream set below high banks. By Dan'l's direction they turned to
the left and followed the wind of the river for a mile or so until
suddenly out of the darkness loomed a quaint little bungalow which the
old German claimed to be his home.

"I haf architectured it mineself, unt make it built as I like it. You
vill come in unt shtop der night mit me," he said, as Wampus halted
the machine before the door.

There was a little murmur of protest at this, for the house appeared
to be scarcely bigger than the automobile. But Uncle John pointed out,
sensibly enough, that they ought not to undertake an unknown road at
nighttime, and that Spotville, the town for which they were
headed, was still a long way off. The Major, moreover, had a vivid
recollection of his last night's bed upon the roof of the limousine,
where he had crept to escape rattlesnakes, and was in no mood to again
camp out in the open while they traveled in Arizona. So he advocated
accepting Dan'l's invitation. The girls, curious to know how so many
could be accommodated in the bungalow, withdrew all further objections
and stood upon the low, pergola-roofed porch while their host went
inside to light the lamps.

They were really surprised at the cosy aspect of the place. Half the
one-story dwelling was devoted to a living room, furnished simply but
with modest taste. A big square table was littered with music, much
being in manuscript—thus proving Dan'l's assertion that he was
a composer. Benches were as numerous as chairs, and all were
well-cushioned with tanned skins as coverings. A few good prints were
on the walls and the aspect of the place was entirely agreeable to the
old man's guests.

As the room was somewhat chilly he made a fire in the ample fireplace
and then with an air of pride exhibited to his visitors his tiny
kitchen, his own bedroom and a storeroom, which occupied the remainder
of the space in the bungalow. He told them he would prepare beds in
the living room for the girls, give his own room to Mr. Merrick and
Major Doyle, while he and Wampus would bunk in the storeroom.

"I haf much blankets," he said; "dere vill be no troubles to keep
varm."

Afterward they sat before the fire and by the dim lights of the
kerosene lamps chatted together of the day's adventures.

Uncle John asked Dan'l what had brought him to this deserted,
out-of-the-way spot, and the old man told his story in a manner that
amused them all greatly.

"I haf been," said he, "much famous in my time, unt had a
individualness pointed out whereeffer I went. I vas orchestra leader
at the Theater Royal in Stuttgart, unt our king haf complimented me
many times. But I vas foolish. I vas foolish enough to think that ven
a man iss great he can stay great. I married me to a clefer prima
donna, unt composed a great opera, which vas finer as anything
Herr Wagner has efer done. Eh? But dere vas jealousness at work to
opposition me. Von day ven my fine opera vas all complete I vent
to the theater to lead mine orchestra. To my surprisement der Herr
Director tells me I can retire on a pension; I am too old unt he has
hired a younger man, who iss Herr Gabert. I go home bewildered unt
mishappy, to find that Herr Gabert has stole the score of mine opera
unt run avay mit mine vife. Vot I can do? Nothing. Herr Gabert he lead
my orchestra tint all der people applauds him. I am forgot. One day I
see our king compliment Herr Gabert. He produces my opera unt say he
compositioned it. Eferybody iss crazy aboud id, unt crown Herr Gabert
mit flowers. My vife sings in der opera. The people cheer her unt she
rides avay mit Herr Gabert in his carriage to a grand supper mit der
nobility unt der Herr Director.

"I go home unt say: 'Who am I?' I answer: 'Nobody!' Am I now great?
No; I am a speck. Vot can I do? Veil, I go avay. I haf some money—a
leedle. I come to America. I do not like crowds any more. I like to be
alone mit my violin. I find dis place; I build dis house; I lif here
unt make happiness. My only neighbors are de remittance men, who iss
more mischiefing as wicked. Dey vill nod bother me much. So after a
time I die here. Vy nod? I am forgot in Stuttgart."

There was pathos in the tale and his way of telling it. The old man
spoke cheerfully, but they could see before them the tragedy depicted
by his simple words. His hearers were all silent when he had
concluded, feeling they could say nothing to console him or lighten
his burden. Only Wampus, sitting in the background, looked scornfully
upon the man who had once been the idol of his townspeople.

Dan'l took a violin from a shelf and began to play, softly but with
masterly execution. He caught their mood instantly. The harmony was
restful and contented. Patsy turned down the lamps, to let the flicker
of the firelight dominate the room, and Dan'l understood and blended
the flickering light into his melody.

For a long time he continued to improvise, in a way that fairly
captivated his hearers, despite their varied temperaments, and made
them wonder at his skill. Then without warning he changed to a
stirring, martial air that filled the room with its rich, resonant
tones. There was a fugue, a wonderful finale, and while the concluding
notes rang in their ears the old man laid his violin in his lap,
leaned back against his cushions and heaved a deep sigh.

They forebore disturbing him for a while. How strange it seemed that
this really talented musician should be banished to a wilderness while
still possessing power to stir the souls of men with his marvelous
execution. Truly he was a "maestro," as he had said; a genius whose
star had risen, flashed across the sky and suddenly faded, leaving his
future a blank.

Wampus moved uneasily in his chair.

"I like to know something," he remarked.

Dan'l roused himself and turned to look at the speaker.

"You have one bad eye," continued Wampus, reflectively. "What make him
so? You stick violin bow in eye some day?"

"No," grunted Dan'l.

"Bad eye he no make himself," persisted the little chauffeur. "What
make him, then?"

For a moment there was an awkward silence. The girls considered this
personal inquiry offensive and regretted admitting Wampus to the room.
But after a time the old German answered the question, quietly and in
a half amused tone.