Mr. Munchausen <br />Being a True Account of Some of the Recent Adventures beyond the Styx of the L by John Kendrick Bangs (you can read anyone .TXT) 📕

knee, an’ a crick in my back, an’ a tired feelin’ all over me generally. Ain’t had much to complain about. Had the measles in December, and the mumps in February; an’ along about the middle o’ May the whoopin’ cough got a holt of me; but as it saved my life I oughtn’t to kick about that.”

Here Beelzy looked gratefully at an invisible something—doubtless the recollection in the thin air of his departed case of whooping cough, for having rescued him from an untimely grave.

“That is rather curious, isn’t it?” queried Sapphira, gazing intently into the boy’s eyes. “I don’t exactly understand how the whooping cough could save anybody’s life, do you, Mr. Munchausen?”

“Beelzy, this lady would have you explain the situation, and I must confess that I am myself somewhat curious to learn the details of this wonderful rescue,” said Mr. Munchausen.

 “Well, I must say,” said Beelzy, with a pleased smile at the very great consequence of his exploit in the lady’s eyes, “if I was a-goin’ to start out to save people’s lives generally I wouldn’t have thought a case o’ whoopin’ cough would be of much use savin’ a man from drownin’, and I’m sure if a feller fell out of a balloon it wouldn’t help him much if he had ninety dozen cases o’ whoopin’ cough concealed on his person; but for just so long as I’m the feller that has to come up here every June, an’ shoo the bears out o’ the hotel, I ain’t never goin’ to be without a spell of whoopin’ cough along about that time if I can help it. I wouldn’t have been here now if it hadn’t been for it.”

“You referred just now,” said Sapphira, “to shooing bears out of the hotel. May I inquire what useful function in the ménage of a hotel a bear-shooer performs?”

“What useful what?” asked Beelzy.

“Function—duty—what does the duty of a bear-shooer consist in?” explained Mr. Munchausen. “Is he a blacksmith who shoes bears instead of horses?”

 “He’s a bear-chaser,” explained Beelzy, “and I’m it,” he added. “That, Ma’am, is the function of a bear-shooer in the menagerie of a hotel.”

Sapphira having expressed herself as satisfied, Beelzebub continued.

“You see this here house is shut up all winter, and when everybody’s gone and left it empty the bears come down out of the mountains and use it instead of a cave. It’s more cosier and less windier than their dens. So when the last guest has gone, and all the doors are locked, and the band gone into winter quarters, down come the bears and take possession. They generally climb through some open window somewhere. They divide up all the best rooms accordin’ to their position in bear society and settle down to a regular hotel life among themselves.”

“But what do they feed upon?” asked Sapphira.

“Oh they’ll eat anything when they’re hungry,” said Beelzy. “Sofa cushions, parlor rugs, hotel registers—anything they can fasten their teeth to. Last year they came in through the cupola, burrowin’  down through the snow to get at it, and there they stayed enjoyin’ life out o’ reach o’ the wind and storm, snug’s bugs in rugs. Year before last there must ha’ been a hundred of ’em in the hotel when I got here, but one by one I got rid of ’em. Some I smoked out with some cigars Mr. Munchausen gave me the summer before; some I deceived out, gettin’ ’em to chase me through the winders, an’ then doublin’ back on my tracks an’ lockin’ ’em out. It was mighty wearin’ work.

“Last June there was twice as many. By actual tab I shooed two hundred and eight bears and a panther off into the mountains. When the last one as I thought disappeared into the woods I searched the house from top to bottom to see if there was any more to be got rid of. Every blessed one of the five hundred rooms I went through, and not a bear was left that I could see. I can tell you, I was glad, because there was a partickerly ugly run of ’em this year, an’ they gave me a pile o’ trouble. They hadn’t found much to eat in the hotel, an’ they was disappointed and cross. As a matter of  fact, the only things they found in the place they could eat was a piano stool and an old hair trunk full o’ paper-covered novels, which don’t make a very hearty meal for two hundred and eight bears and a panther.”

“I should say not,” said Sapphira, “particularly if the novels were as light as most of them are nowadays.”

“I can’t say as to that,” said Beelzy. “I ain’t got time to read ’em and so I ain’t any judge. But all this time I was sufferin’ like hookey with awful spasms of whoopin’ cough. I whooped so hard once it smashed one o’ the best echoes in the place all to flinders, an’ of course that made the work twice as harder. So, naturally, when I found there warn’t another bear left in the hotel, I just threw myself down anywhere, and slept. My! how I slept. I don’t suppose anything ever slept sounder’n I did. And then it happened.”

Beelzy gave his trousers a hitch and let his voice drop to a stage whisper that lent a wondrous impressiveness to his narration.

 “As I was a-layin’ there unconscious, dreamin’ of home and father, a great big black hungry bruin weighin’ six hundred and forty-three pounds, that had been hidin’ in the bread oven in the bakery, where I hadn’t thought of lookin’ for him, came saunterin’ along, hummin’ a little tune all by himself, and lickin’ his chops with delight at the idee of havin’ me raw for his dinner. I lay on unconscious of my danger, until he got right up close, an’ then I waked up, an’ openin’ my eyes saw this great black savage thing gloatin’ over me an’ tears of joy runnin’ out of his mouth as he thought of the choice meal he was about to have. He was sniffin’ my bang when I first caught sight of him.”

“Mercy!” cried Sapphira, “I should think you’d have died of fright.”