Little Folks (British edition)/The Maker of Ghosts/Part 2

by A. E. Bonser

The Maker of Ghosts and the Maker of Shadows.

By A. E. Bonser, Author of “God Bless the Cheese,” etc. etc.

Well, not to lose valuable time, the maker of ghosts set to work to puzzle out by himself the second, third, and fourth lines, whilst the maker of shadows went to call upon the king. Sending in his card, he was at once admitted to the royal presence, when he frankly spoke of the intentions of his friend and himself, and how in the well-known charm for disenchanting the castle, a royal shadow was a necessary part.

His Majesty’s interest was at once aroused.

“You are heartily welcome to my shadow,” said he, “so far as my own feelings are concerned, but public opinion would not sanction the loss, I am quite sure.”

“Your Majesty’s gracious words give me hope,” replied the maker of shadows; and then he made known an idea which was floating in his head. It was that he should make a shadow for the king in all respects like the real one. That when it was ready he should bring it with him, and at noon, when the real shadow was at its smallest, he should take that off very carefully and substitute for it the one he had prepared.

The king prudently asked to see some shadows as a proof of the artist’s skill. So the next day a few samples were submitted for his inspection, with which he was so well pleased that the maker of shadows set to work at once on the new shadow, and when it was finished he brought it to the king.

So at mid-day the royal shadow was carefully put into a bottle and corked, and the new shadow so skilfully substituted, that those who afterwards came to call, repeated—“May your gracious Majesty’s august shadow never be less,” without hesitation.

So far successful, the maker of shadows now asked the king about the jolliwog.

“I don’t know myself,” said he, “but I will write you a letter of introduction to a very wise philosopher, who, I think, can give you the information.”

Now this learned individual lived in a remote and desert place. Here was a clump of camphor trees, and the hollow trunk of one of the largest of them served for a residence, the smell of the wood being admirably calculated to keep away ants and prevent the philosopher from taking cold. There was close at hand a library fashioned in the same way, a museum, an aviary, and an observatory, whilst a small kitchen-garden supplied his daily needs. The philosopher would sometimes remark to a chance visitor in his simple,
“A few samples were submitted” (p. 262). unaffected way—“What more do I want?”

His appearance at once commanded respect, for he was as bald as a looking glass, and his snowy beard touched the ground. His present occupation was the translation of the language of birds, several being there to assist him at that very moment. When the maker of shadows presented himself, he courteously set the work aside, and, having read the introductory letter, asked in what way he could be of service.

“I am anxious,” said the maker of shadows, “to know what the jolliwog is, and how I can obtain his eye-tooth?”

“Ah!” replied the philosopher; and with this profound remark retired to his hammock, motioning his visitor to occupy his camp-stool.

After some time had passed the philosopher again appeared, and going to his museum, selected a phial. This he handed to the maker of shadows, saying—

“The jolliwog is swift of flight,
Sharp his eye and keen his sight;
Greased lightning is the only thing
With which to catch him on the wing.
If to his haunts you’d like to go,
A stork shall take you to and fro.”

And he waved his hand towards a group of birds standing near.

“Ever so many thanks,” said the maker of shadows. “May I further trespass upon your kindness by asking you to allow another of your birds to carry a message to my friend that he may know where I have gone?”

“With pleasure,” replied the philosopher; and then he called, “Mercury! Mercury!” for that was the name of his carrier pigeon, who at once set out with his message for the capital of Common Sense, whilst the stork, with the maker of shadows on his back, departed in quest of the jolliwog.

Meanwhile, the shadow of royalty had long since been bottled, but the maker of ghosts had in vain racked his brains to discover what he might hold but could not grasp. With his hair rumpled all over his head he sat the image of despair, when he heard a tap at the door.

“Who’s there?” said he.

“I, Mercury, with a message,” replied a small voice. The maker of ghosts started violently, and changed colour.

“I’ve got it! Mercury!” he said with a knowing smile. Then he opened the door. The bird delivered his message, and flew back again to his master.

When he had gone, the maker of ghosts sat down to dinner and made a hearty meal, for he had not eaten for ever so many hours through anxiety and worry, and his mind was now at rest.

By-and-by he put on his cap, and went into the town to make a purchase. Mercury! Yes! That was what he wanted, for that is what you can hold but cannot grasp! He also bought a mortar and a hog’s bristle. Then taking the shadow of rovalty he carefully clasped it around the mercury, and rebottling, calmly awaited the return of his friend.

The land to which the stork was flying with the maker of shadows is so seldom visited, that should you look in the very largest atlas, the probability is you would not find it. It is hemmed in by a natural rampart of high mountains, and the country beyond is full of fissures, and clefts, and chasms dangerous and treacherous. Solitary, inaccessible, under the light of garish sun or silver moon, in the heat of summer or cold of winter, the jolliwog might well smile a smile expressive of peace and security, as he basked by the side of a big crevice close to his home. Yes! he smiled, and closed his eyes in sleep.

But he would not have felt so comfortable had he been aware of the threatened danger, for the stork with its rider hovered overhead, keeping a sharp look-out below. To and fro, and hither and thither they had gone, and every inch of ground they had narrowly examined, but never a sign of the jolliwog! They were tired and almost ready to give it up, when suddenly the bird spied the object of their search, and giving the maker of shadows the joyful news, swooped downwards.

Perhaps the jolliwog heard the sound of the wings, perhaps the uncorking of the bottle of greased lightning aroused him; at any rate he woke up in a fright, and jumped down the crevice.

But quick as were his movements, the greased lightning was quicker, and caught him on the wing.

The maker of shadows then deftly extracted his eye-tooth, and wrapping it carefully in tissue paper put the parcel in his breast pocket. Then the two returned in great glee to the land of Common Sense.

It may be imagined what mutual congratulations passed between the two friends when the maker of shadows reached the capital. The bottles were produced, and, a neat hole being made in the jolliwog’s tooth, it was threaded with the hog’s bristle. Then they fell to pounding and mixing all the ingredients in a mortar as they quickly counted ninety-nine.

This done, they awaited a change of weather, as the spell could only be broken during a thunderstorm.

One day it was close and threatening; the longed-for storm was evidently not far off. On the morrow the atmosphere was stiflingly oppressive, but though there was no air stirring, all along the eastward horizon a frowning black rampart of clouds reared itself, slowly mounting higher and higher until it blotted out the sun. Birds with startled cries flew hither and thither, and folks out of doors, after a glance at the angry sky, hurried to get under cover. Then it was completely dark, and Nature seemed to hold her breath in awful expectation.

Suddenly from out of the gloom there came a vivid flash of lightning, almost blinding in its intensity, and then the thunder pealed in a succession of crashes which made the houses shake. Great drops of rain as big as pennies splashed on the ground.

Faster and faster came the rain, and the thunder roared till it was deafening, and the gutters of the town were like mountain torrents.

At midnight the two adventurers prepared to sally forth, each taking a part of the mixture, for they divided the charm between them. There was a sulphurous smell in the air, and the dazzling flashes of lightning rather confused the sight than helped to show the way.

Now when they reached the narrow causeway it wanted but five minutes to one o’clock, so binding their upper lips to prevent a sneeze, they began their perilous passage. The wind roared and they could hardly stand against it, so they crouched on all fours, and held on like grim death. Half way across, so fearful a gust assailed them that they were all but hurled into the depths below.

Suddenly above the thunder resounded a mighty crash! The portcullis was raised, and the black omnibus with its ghastly freight, and the Kofer in yellow tights and lavender tie lashing the griffins, issued from the gloomy portal and galloped across the causeway.

The two friends seizing their opportunity hurried forward, and entered beneath the portcullis before it fell. Immediately the turret clock boomed one! The maker of ghosts at once opened his bottle and sprinkled the door, whilst his friend sprinkled the courtyard floor.

“The greased lightning caught him on the wing” (p. 264).As they did so, the earth suddenly yawned beneath them, and from it rose a dense cloud of cayenne pepper, the dust of chilies, and the most powerful snuff. Fortunate it was that they had bandaged their upper lips, otherwise they must inevitably have sneezed!

But half the mixture had been sprinkled when there was heard a hurried scampering and fearful howling, and a troop of gigantic cats with flashing eyes, rolling tongues, and all aglow with internal fires, sprang upon them from the front.

To await their approach seemed like courting instant destruction, but, remembering the warning in the verses of the charm, they went on with their business, although their hair stood on end, their teeth chattered, their blood ran cold, and the very marrow of their bones was chilled.

As the last particle of the mixture was used, there came a blinding flash of lightning, and the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows fell at full length and knew no more.

When they recovered consciousness they could not at first recognise their surroundings. The storm had passed, the air was clear, and the silver radiance of the moon shone softly on wall and tower. No horrid cats were to be seen, no fearful sounds were to be heard, for the charm had wrought its magical effect, and the castle was completely disenchanted.

The joy of the king may be imagined. With a total disregard of etiquette, he immediately hurried off with his sweetheart to the castle to confirm the good news with his own eyes. The Chancellor of the Exchequer too examined the cellars, and found them filled with common-sense beyond his most sanguine expectations.

The king’s marriage was forthwith celebrated. It was followed by a banquet to which the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows were specially invited, and, as the most honoured guests, occupied seats to the right and left of the royal pair.

His Majesty made a speech in which he warmly thanked and praised the two strangers, and he wound up by confirming his promise of a third of his kingdom as a reward for their memorable services.

The maker of ghosts, responding for himself and his friend, prudently declined the offer as not being suitable to their station, and respectfully suggested that common-sense would be of more service to them. The request was at once granted in a most liberal spirit; and thus was laid the foundation of the fortunes of the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows.

“A troop of cats … all aglow with internal fires” (p. 265).