Complete Works of L. Frank Baum, page 849
The sun shone brilliantly, but so intense was the cold that even the soldiers who guarded the walls had gone within their little turreted houses and none had dared brave the severe weather save the two self-willed children.
As they toddled across the stone pavement the sun cast dark shadows behind them, which clung close to the children’s heels whether they went fast or slow.
The furs succeeded in keeping out the cold, but the Prince and Lady Lindeva found little to interest them in the courtyard, and began to realize the folly of venturing out.
Then merry Jack Frost came that way, and upon seeing the youngsters decided to pinch their ears. But these he found covered up. Next he thought he would nip their noses; but at the first attempt the little ones withdrew them into their furs. Jack Frost was really puzzled. He couldn’t get at them anywhere.
Just at this time the prince and his cousin saw a snow-bird sitting upon the battlements and ran across the court to catch it. When they moved Jack Frost noticed the shadows following them, and a clever idea came into his head.
“I’ll freeze the shadows!” he said to himself, with a laugh.
So, while the little ones stood still to watch the snow-bird, naughty Jack breathed softly upon the two shadows, which were holding hands exactly as the children did. Soon they became solid and rounded out into form, for the only reason shadows are so flat and helpless is because they are not solid. Being now frozen into shape they became greatly interested in themselves, and Jack Frost stopped long enough to put a mischievous notion into their heads.
“Let’s run away,” whispered the prince’s shadow to that of the Lady Lindeva.
“All right; let’s!” was the soft answer.
They glanced over their shoulders and then gave a look at the prince and his cousin, to whom they knew very well they belonged. But the children were intently watching the bird and had no thought for such trifling things as shadows.
Noting this, the two shadows slowly glided away, leaped the great wall with ease and ran in the direction of the Forest of Burzee. Jack Frost stood watching them as they moved swiftly over the snow, and he laughed joyously at the success of his stratagem.
The runaway shadows never stopped till they had reached the forest and gone some distance among the trees. Then, indeed, they paused to rest and recover their breaths; but each still held the other’s hand and they kept close together.
Kahtah, the great tiger of Burzee, lay upon the limb of a tree and sleepily opened his eyes from time to time to look about him.
Suddenly he pricked up his ears and began moving his long tail from side to side.
“The Prince of Thumbumbia and the Lady Lindeva have come to the forest!” he growled, softly. “I can see their shadows, so the children must be just behind that clump of bushes. Surely it was my good luck that brought them here, for I am hungry today and they will do excellently for dinner.”
Then he thrust his sharp claws from their sheaths, bared his big yellow teeth and gave a mighty spring that landed him exactly behind the clump of bushes where the children, according to their shadows, ought to have been.
But he struck the frozen ground and found no one there. And the shadows laughed at him.
“You were fooled that time, Kahtah!” they cried; and when the tiger turned upon them fiercely they ran away through the trees and left him.
Soon after they met with a ryl, which asked:
“Why have you run away from your owners?”
“For sport,” replied the prince’s shadow.
“And because we are tired with tagging after some one else,” added the Lady Lindeva’s shadow.
“Ah, I see,” remarked the ryl, looking at them with a wise expression; “you are frozen solid now, and think you amount to something. But you don’t. When the weather changes and you thaw out you will fade into the air and become lost forever. That will be bad. And the children will have no shadows ever after. That will be bad, too. Can’t you see you are acting foolishly?”
The shadows hung their heads and looked ashamed.
“My advice to you,” continued the ryl, “is to return to the castle as quickly as possible and join yourselves to the prince and the little girl as you were before. It is far better to tag after those high-born children than to become nothing at all. And in truth you are only shadows, who can not expect to become anything better, although you will grow bigger as your masters grow.”
For a moment there was silence; then the Lady Lindeva’s shadow whispered to her companion:
“The ryl is right. Let us return at once.”
“Very well,” replied the prince’s shadow. “We have had a good run and been independent for once in our lives. But I do not care to fade into the air and become nothing at all!”
So they turned around and went back to the castle.
III
After the shadows had left them the little prince and his cousin decided it was too cold to remain out of doors, and the snow-bird had flown away; so they returned to the big entrance of the castle and the guard let them in. But scarcely had they reached the hall and allowed the maids to remove their furs, when a loud shout was heard and a cavalcade of horsemen rode up to the castle and dismounted in the courtyard. With them was a splendid carriage, drawn by four milk-white steeds.
The leader of these men, who were all noblemen and courtiers, entered the hall of the castle, and having bowed low before the prince he said:
“I am grieved to announce that his majesty, the king, has just died. His nearest of kin are yourself, prince, and your cousin, the Lady Lindeva. But since you are a boy, and she is a girl, we have decided to offer to you the rule of this mighty kingdom. If you will graciously ride with us to the city you shall be crowned before sunset.” Then he kneeled before the prince and awaited his answer.
“I am sorry the king, my good uncle, is dead,” said the boy. “But often I have thought I should like to be a king myself. So I thank you all and shall return with you to the city.”
The chief nurse then replaced his soft furs and he walked out to enter the carriage which stood in waiting.
But when he stood in the bright sunshine one of the courtiers exclaimed:
“Why, the prince has no shadow!”
At this all eyes were turned upon the boy, and they saw that he alone of them all cast no shadow upon the pavement.
Silence then fell upon them, till one, more bold than the rest, said:
“It will never do to make him king; for when it is known he has no shadow the people will lose all respect for him and consider him less than a human.”
“That is true,” said another. “No one would obey a king so poor that he has no shadow.”
“For this reason,” declared the leader of the party, “we must make Lady Lindeva queen, and set her to reign over the kingdom in place of the unfortunate prince.”
To this all were agreed, though many expressed regret. So the prince, who had been fully as much astonished at the loss of his shadow as any of the others, was led back into the castle and the Lady Lindeva brought forth in his stead.
But when the girl came into the sunshine the courtiers were shocked to discover that she had no more shadow than the prince. Whereupon they were puzzled how to act, and finally decided to return to the city and report the matter to Earl Highlough, who was chief man in all the kingdom.
When this great and wise statesman heard that neither the prince nor his cousin cast a shadow in the sunlight he refused to believe the report, and announced that he would himself go to the Castle of Thumbumbia and investigate the matter.
And while he was upon the way the runaway shadows stole back to the castle and sought out the boy and girl, resolving never to leave them again. The warmth of the room soon drew the frost from the shadows, and rendered them so limp and flat that they were really glad to stick close to the heels of their owners.
The Earl of Highlough presently arrived with a great train of courtiers and attendants, and at once requested the Prince of Thumbumbia to step out into the sunshine of the courtyard. This the prince did, feeling sadly the humiliation of having no shadow.
But, behold! no sooner came he into the sun than he cast a long, black shadow behind him; and the courtiers applauded his triumph, and with loud shouts hailed him as their king.
IV
The records state that for many years the new king walked daily within the gardens of his palace in order to make sure he had not again lost his shadow. Even after he grew to manhood, and by wise rule gained the love and respect of his subjects, whenever he happened to walk out with the Lady Lindeva - now his queen - there were both accustomed to glance over their shoulders with anxious looks.
But the shadows, having learned wisdom from the ryl, never deserted them again, and Jack Frost, having new tricks to play, forgot all about the annoyance he had once caused His Royal Highness the King.
Jack Burgitt’s Honor
From: The Associated Press, 1905
“Not me, Jack — not me! Think o’ Susie!”
“I hev thought,” said Jack doggedly, “an’ I’ve thought o’ mother an’ her prayers fer me. But men do these things, an’ they’re never found out — not in cases o’ this kind. I know it’s wrong, but it seems like a devil had got hold o’ me an’ wouldn’t let go, an’ sooner or later I’ve got to give in. One of us has got to do the job, pard, an’ you’re no better nor I am.’’
“We’ll draw cuts,” said Dick desperately.
“Thet’s sensible,” returned Jack, springing to his feet, “an’ it sounds like business. If I hed to think o’ this thing much longer I should go crazy. Which does the job — the long or the short?”
“Short,” said Jack faintly.
“Then draw.”
Dick reached out a trembling hand and drew the long blade of grass. Then they looked into each other .eyes a moment and turned away.
Soon after Jack emerged from the shanty in his coat and hat. The butt of a revolver protruded from his pocket, and his bowie was stuck in his belt. His white face wore a stern expression as he walked up to Dick and reached out his hand.
“Shake, pard,” he said grimly. “It’s the last time I can hold out an innercent hand.”
“Don’t go, Jack!” exclaimed Dick, with almost a sob. “Don’t go, ol’ man!”
“I must,” was the reply. “There’s no backin’ out now.” And he marched away toward the brush.
Old Hawks was busily at work that afternoon when a gruff voice at his side startled him.
“Hello, pard!”
He looked up to see Jack Burgitt standing near, his eyes fixed eagerly upon a nugget of gold which had just been washed out. Hawks examined the face of his visitor with shrewd intentness and shrank from what he saw there.
“Where did you come from?” he asked slowly as he thoughtfully considered the consequences of this visit and the character of the man before him.
Jack made a motion with his head.
“Down the valley,” he answered.
“Prospectin’?”
“Yes. I see you’ve struck it rich.’’
“Fair. Only fair,” replied Hawks, with a sigh.
Jack looked at the ground, at the little pile of dust in the tin at Hawks’ feet, anywhere except at the face of the old man.
“Kin ye give me a bunk fer the night?” he asked at length.
“Certainly,” answered Hawks promptly, concealing his fears and glancing briefly at the sun. “It’s near supper time now, and I’ll stop work and fry us a bit of bacon. You’re welcome to stay and rest as long as you please.”
Hawks was a fair judge of human nature, and, while he knew perfectly well from his visitor’s actions that the man had come to rob if not to murder him, there was somehow a look of innate honesty in Jack’s face that puzzled him. As he cooked the supper he reflected how he could best extricate himself from his uncomfortable position. By a few casual remarks he drew Jack out and soon discovered that he already knew of his rich find and that Hawks had carried large quantities of dust to Brown’s bank at Black Rock.
Hawks valued money, but after all life was much sweeter to him than gold, and he decided to bend all efforts toward saving his life.
Therefore he conversed frankly with his visitor, and as Jack became more at his ease Hawks found himself thinking that his guest was far from being a hardened criminal and under other circumstances might possess many admirable qualities.
“It is this horrible thirst for gold that has mastered the fellow,” thought the old man, “and made him capable of a crime in order to obtain it. Very well. As I am too weak to cope with him, I shall sacrifice a part of my wealth to purchase my life.”
Jack was eating his supper slowly and swallowing each morsel with great difficulty. His face retained its pallor, but also bore an expression of stern resolve. Old Hawks looked at him slyly and trembled.
“Will you be returning to Black Rock to-morrow?’ he asked.
Jack nodded.
“Then you can do me a great favor.”
“How’s that?”
“I have a large quantity of gold on hand, and if you will take it to Brown’s for me and deposit it to my account it will save my making the trip.”
Jack stared at him in amazement. “How much is there?” he demanded.
“About twenty-five hundred- dollars’ worth,” replied Hawks after a moment’s hesitation, during which he resolved to make the stake large enough to save himself beyond question. “It will be heavy, I know, but I shall be glad to pay you for your trouble.”
Burgitt pushed back from the table, his face flushing a deep red.
“An’ you’d trust me with all that dust?” he demanded.
“Yes,” answered the old man, with a smile that was rather forced. “I can see well enough you’re an honest chap, an’ I’m safe to trust to your honor.”
Jack winced and to cover his confusion pulled out his red handkerchief and slowly wiped his brow.
“All right, pard,” he said shortly; “I’ll take it.”
“The gold is in gunny stacks stowed away in this crevice of the rock,” continued Hawks, who had decided it was better to betray his hiding place voluntarily. Jack nodded.
“It’s easy got at if once you know where it is,” explained the old man, “but as a rule no one would ever think of looking in that crevice for it.”
“Why did you tell me about it?” asked Burgitt, with a frown.
“Because,” repeated Hawks dryly, “I believe you to be an honest man.” He did not think it wise to say that a knowledge of the hiding place would render it unnecessary for his guest to murder him in order to search for the gold at his leisure. Now that he had told him plainly where to find it he felt assured his gold and his visitor would disappear together during the night.
But to his surprise Jack was there the next morning and the gold as well. After breakfast, during which he had many disturbed thoughts, Hawks brought out the bags and placed them in Jack’s hands.
“I’d like you to see old Brown weigh it,” he said, to keep up appearances, “for then he won’t dare to cheat me.”
“I will,” replied Jack. Hawks stood in his doorway and watched the powerful form of his late visitor move down the valley.
“There goes the result of two weeks’ hard labor,” he said, with a sigh, “but there is more to be washed out, and, after all, I have escaped very cheaply.”
Jack walked into the camp, where Dick sat stolidly upon his rock, and threw down the heavy sacks of gold.
Dick shuddered and turned away his eyes.
“Is he dead?” he whispered hoarsely.
“No,” replied Jack in quite a cheerful tone; “he’s alive an’ well fer all I know.” Then he sat down beside his partner and told him how old Hawks had innocently taken him for an honest man and trusted him to carry his wealth to the bank.
“I’m glad ye didn’t hev to kill him,’ said Dick when he had heard the story, “for I should never ‘a’ felt like the same man. I didn’t sleep a wink las’ night. Jack. But I s’pose we’d better git our traps together an’ make tracks. It’s a pretty good strike fer us when you think how easy it was come by.”
“What d’ye mean?” asked Jack fiercely.
“As how?” returned Dick in surprise.
“About our makin’ tracks. D’ye s’pose I’d steal the dust?”
“Win — didn’t ye start out to — to” — stammered Dick, and then he stopped short and looked at Burgitt with an expression of intense relief.
“See here, Dick Hamilton,” said Jack proudly, “ol” Hawks said as he’d trust to my honor. Did ye ever know me to break my word?”
“No.”
“Well, I won’t begin now. Thet gold’s goin’ inter ol’ Brown’s bank an’ to Hawkses credit or else my name ain’t Jack Burgitt!”
Dick held out his hand.
“You’re right, pard,” he said, “in’ we’ve been a pair o’ low scoundrels. You jest tote them bags over to Brown’s, an’ I’ll “begin washin’ fer dust ag’in. Our claim ain’t so durned bad, after all, ef it’s well worked.”
When Jack carried Brown’s receipt up to Hawks the old man was nearly paralyzed with amazement. “I owe you an apology, my friend,” he said when he had recovered his breath. “My worry over this confounded gold has made me suspicious of every one. I took you for a thief that night and thought you meant to murder me.”
“I did,” said Jack simply, “but when you trusted to my honor, why you jest knocked me clean out.”
And then he frankly told Hawks the whole story, and the old man was so affected that he invited the two partners to join him at once in working his rich claim.
“I’ve got nearly as much as I need already.” he said, “and there’s plenty left to make us all rich. Besides, it’’; dangerous working alone, and I shall feel safer with your protection. I’ve prospected in different parts of the country for six years, and I know that gold is hard to find, but an honest man, Jack Burgitt, is scarcer in these diggings than gold itself.”
