John Dough Begins his Adventures
Now, when John Dough left Madame Grogrande's shop and wandered up thestreet, he was reeking with the delightful odor of fresh gingerbread.Indeed, he was still so hot from the oven that I am positive you couldnot have held your hand against him for more than a second. The GreatElixir had brought him to life, and given him a certain standing in theworld; but during the first half-hour of his existence John Dough wasvery hot-headed. Also he was hot-footed, for he discovered that, bywalking fast, the contact with the fresh morning air drew the heat fromhis body and made him feel much more comfortable.
One virtue lent by the Great Elixir was knowledge, and while JohnDough felt that he possessed unlimited knowledge (having had anoverdose of the Elixir), he could not very well apply it to hissurroundings because he lacked experience with the world, which alonerenders knowledge of any value to mankind. John Dough could speak alllanguages--modern and classic. He had a logical and clear mind--what iscalled a "level head," you know; and this was coupled with good sense,fair judgment, and a tangled mass of wisdom that had been dumped intohim in a haphazard fashion. But these rare qualities were as yet ofno use to our man because he had acquired no experience. It was likeputting tools into a scholar's hands and asking him to make a watch.John Dough might accomplish wonders in time, if he did not grow staleand crumble; but just now he was the freshest individual that ever cameout of a bake-room.
It was still early morning, and most folks were in bed. A prowlingdog smelled the gingerbread and came trotting up with the intentionof having a bite of it; but John Dough raised his candy cane and hitthe dog a clip on the end of its nose that sent the animal in anotherdirection with its tail between its legs. Then, whistling merrily,the gingerbread man walked on. He knew no tune whatever, but he couldwhistle, and so he managed to express an erratic mixture of notes thatwould have made Herr Wagner very proud.
His flesh (or bread, rather) was cooling off beautifully now. He wasgrowing hard and crisp and felt much more substantial than at first.The baker had made him light and the Elixir had made him strong andvigorous. A great future lay before John Dough, if no accident happenedto him.
Presently some one said, "Hello!" John stopped short, for in front ofhim stood a bright-eyed boy with a piece of lighted punk in one handand a bunch of firecrackers in the other. It was Ned Robbins, who hadbeen up since daybreak celebrating the Glorious Fourth.
"You skeered me at first," said the boy, with a look of amazement thathe tried to cover with a laugh.
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," returned John Dough, politely.
"Been to a masquerade?" asked Ned, staring hard at the gingerbread man.
"No, indeed," replied the other. "I am not disguised, I assure you. Yousee me as I am."
"G'wan!" exclaimed Ned. But he could smell the gingerbread, and hebegan to grow frightened. So he touched the punk to the fuse of hisbiggest firecracker, dropped it on the ground at the feet of JohnDough, and then turned and scampered up an alley as fast as he could go.
The gingerbread man stood still and looked after Ned until the crackersuddenly exploded with a bang that caused John's candy teeth tochatter. His whole body was terribly jarred and he nearly fell backwardin the shock of surprise. Then he, also, started to run. It was notfear, so much as ignorance of what might happen next, that causedhim to fly from the spot; but he ran with a speed that was simplywonderful, considering that his limbs were of gingerbread. Truly, thatArabian Elixir was a marvelous thing!
Bang! He had run plump into another group of boys, knocking two of themover before they could get out of his way. His silk hat was jammed overhis eyes and the candy cane struck the wheel of a toy cannon and brokeoff a good two inches from its end.
THE CRACKER SUDDENLY EXPLODED]
As he pulled off his hat he heard a shout and saw the boys allscrambling for the broken end of the candy cane. One of them grabbed itand ran away, and the others followed in a mad chase and were soon outof sight.
John Dough looked after them wonderingly. Then he drew himself up,pulled down his fine vest, sighed at discovering a slight crack inhis shirt-front, and walked slowly along the street again. His firstexperience of life was not altogether pleasant.
"Good gracious!" said a voice.
He paused, and saw a woman leaning over a gate beside him and glaringat him in mingled surprise and terror. She held a broom in her hand,for she had been sweeping the walk. John lifted his hat politely.
"Good morning, madam," said he.
"Why, it's really alive!" gasped the woman.
"Is a live person so very unusual?" asked John, curiously.
"Surely, when he's made of cake!" answered the woman, still staring asif she could not believe her eyes.
"Pardon me; I am not cake, but gingerbread," he answered, in a ratherdignified way.
"It's all the same," she answered. "You haven't any right to be alive.There's no excuse for it."
"But how can I help it?" he asked, somewhat puzzled by this remark.
"Oh, I don't suppose it's your fault. But it isn't right, you know. Whomade you?"
"Jules Grogrande, the baker," he said, for he had read the name overthe door.
"I always knew there was something wrong with those Frenchies," shedeclared. "Are you done?"
Before he could reply she had drawn a large straw from the broom andstuck it several inches into his side.
"Don't do that!" he cried, indignantly, as she drew out the bit ofbroom again.
"I was only tryin' you," she remarked. "You're done to a turn, andought to make good eating while you're fresh."
John gazed at her in horror.
"Good eating!" he cried; "woman, would you murder me?"
"I can't say it would be exactly murder," she replied, looking at himhungrily.
"To destroy life is murder?" he said, sternly.
"But to destroy gingerbread isn't," she rejoined. "And I can't seethat it's cannibalism to eat a man if he happens to be cake, and freshbaked. And that frosting looks good. Come inside while I get a knife."
"COME INSIDE WHILE I GET A KNIFE"]
She opened the gate and tried to grab John Dough by an arm. But he gavea sudden backward leap and then sped down the street at a furiousrun, looking neither to right nor left in his eager flight.
Luckily, he was not in the center of the town, but near the outskirts,and the houses were few and scattered.
By and by he saw a deserted barn near the roadside. The door was halfopen and sagged on its hinges, so it could not be closed.
John darted into the barn and hid behind some hay in the far side. Hewas thoroughly frightened, and believed he must avoid mingling with thepeople of the town if he would escape instant destruction.
A knife! A knife! The word kept ringing in his ears and filled him withhorror. A knife could slice him into pieces easily. He imagined himselfsliced and lying on a plate ready for hungry folks to eat, and thepicture made him groan aloud.
All through the day he kept securely hidden behind the hay. Towardevening he decided to revisit the bakery. It was a difficult task, forhe had passed through many streets and lanes without noticing where hewas going, and it grew darker every minute. But at last, just as he wasbeginning to despair, he saw a dim light in a window and read over thedoor the sign: "Jules Grogrande, Baker."
He opened the door so softly that the little bell scarcely tinkled. Butno one would have heard it had it rung loudly, for there was a confusedmurmur of fierce voices coming from the little room Madame usuallyoccupied.
John Dough skipped behind the counter, where he could see into the roomwithout being seen himself.
Around the little table stood the Arab, Monsieur Jules, and Madame, andthey were all staring angrily into each other's faces.
"But the flask!" cried Ali Dubh. "Where is my precious flask?"
"It is here," said Madame, reaching behind the mirror and drawing forthsomething that glittered in the lamplight.
"But this is the silver flask--the cure for rheumatism," exclaimed theArab. "Where my Golden Flask--containing the priceless Elixir of Life?"
"I must have made a mistake," said Madame, honestly; "for my eyes areso queer that I cannot tell gold from silver. Anyway, the contents ofthe other flask I emptied into a bowl of water, and rubbed my limbswith it."
The Arab shouted a despairing cry in his native tongue and then glaredwildly at the woman.
"Was it the brown bowl, Leontine?" asked Monsieur Jules, trembling withexcitement.
"Yes," she answered.
"Where is it? Where is it?" demanded the Arab, in a hoarse voice. "Theprecious liquor may yet be saved."
"Too late, Monsieur," said the baker, shaking his head, sadly. "I usedthe contents of the bowl to mix the dough for my gingerbread man."
"A gingerbread man! What do you mean?" asked Ali Dubh.
"I baked a man out of gingerbread this morning," said Monsieur Jules,"and to my horror he came alive, and spoke to me, and walked out of theshop while he was still smoking hot."
"It is no wonder," said the Arab, dolefully; "for within him wasenough of the Great Elixir to bring a dozen men to life, and give themstrength and energy for many years. Ah, Monsieur and Madame, think ofwhat your stupidity has cost the world!"
"I do not comprehend," said Madame, firmly, "how the world has everyet been benefited by the Great Elixir, which you and your selfishcountrymen have kept for centuries corked up in a golden flask."
"Bismillah!" shouted the Arab, striking himself fiercely across theforehead with his clinched fist. "Cannot you understand, you stupidone, that it was mine--_mine!_--this Wonderful Water of Life? I hadplanned to use it myself--drop by drop--that I might live forever."
"I'm sorry," said Monsieur; "but it is your own fault. You forced mywife to care for the flask, and you would not let her tell me about it.So, through your own stupidity, I used it in the gingerbread man."
"Ah!" said Ali Dubh, an eager gleam in his eyes, "where, then, is thatsame gingerbread man? If I can find him, and eat him, a bit at a time,I shall get the benefit of the Great Elixir after all! It would not beso powerful, perhaps, as in its natural state; but it would enable meto live for many, many years!"
John Dough heard this speech with a thrill of horror. Also he now beganto understand how he happened to be alive.
"I do not know where the gingerbread man is," said Monsieur. "He walkedout of my shop while he was quite hot."
"But he can be found," said the Arab. "It is impossible for agingerbread man, who is alive, to escape notice. Come, let us searchfor him at once! I must find him and eat him."
He fairly dragged Monsieur and Madame from the room in his desperation,and John Dough crouched out of sight behind the counter until he heardthem pass through the door and their footsteps die away up the street.
The talk he had overheard made the gingerbread man very sad indeed. Thebakery was no safe home for him, after all. Evidently it was the Arab'sintention to find him and insist upon eating him; and John Dough didnot want to be eaten at all.
Therefore his enemies must not find him. They were no safer to meetwith than the awful woman who wanted to cut him into slices; and hewas learning, by degrees, that all men were dangerous enemies to him,although he had himself the form of a man.
He left the bakery and stole out into the street once more, walkingnow in the opposite direction from that taken by the Arab and theGrograndes.
As he hurried along he met with few people on the streets; and these,in the dark, paid little attention to the gingerbread man; so graduallyhis spirits rose and his confidence in his future returned.
By and by he heard a strange popping and hissing coming from thedirection of the square in the center of the town, and then he saw redand green lights illuminating the houses, and fiery comets go sailinginto the sky to break into dozens of beautiful colored stars.
The people were having their Fourth of July fireworks, and John Doughbecame curious to witness the display from near by. So, forgettinghis fears, he ran through the streets until he came to a big crowdof people, who were too busy watching the fireworks to notice that agingerbread man stood beside them.
John Dough pressed forward until he was quite in the front row, andjust behind the men who were firing the rockets.
For a time he watched the rush of the colored fires with much pleasure,and thoroughly enjoyed the sputtering of a big wheel that refused to goaround, merely sending out weak and listless spurts of green and redsparks, as is the manner of such wheels.
But now the event of the evening was to occur. Two men brought out anenormous rocket, fully fifteen feet tall and filled with a tremendouscharge of powder. This they leaned against a wooden trough that stoodupright; but the rocket was too tall to stay in place, and swayed fromside to side awkwardly.
"Here! Hold that stick!" cried one of the men, and John Dough steppedforward and grasped the stick of the big rocket firmly, not knowingthere was any danger in doing so.
JOHN DOUGH IS CARRIED OFF BY THE ROCKET]
Then the man ran to get a piece of rope to tie the rocket in place; butthe other man, being excited and thinking the rocket was ready to fire,touched off the fuse without noticing that John Dough was clingingfast to the stick.
There was a sudden shriek, a rush of fire, and then--slowly at first,but with ever-increasing speed--the huge rocket mounted far into thesky, carrying with it the form of the gingerbread man!