In that match, digging his toenails in the pitcher’s box, his cap cocked rakishly over his left eye, and Danger coaching “on de side” and howling like a demon when his master struck out any of the opposing batsmen, Timmy ladled out to the demoralized Hard Times those justly celebrated curves of his, reinforced with the famous snake shoot which he had acquired while tossing oranges on a feverish bed.
Timmy was carried home to the 19th ward in triumph, Danger bringing up the rear, leaving in his trail the vibrating air churned to a white heat by his wagging tail.
THE GOBLIN BARBER
Famous Stories—The Old-time Favorites
(By Johann Musäus. This writer, little known save to scholars, enjoyed a great reputation during his life—1733 to 1787—as a collector of his native folk lore. The Goblin Barber is founded on an old German legend. Franz Melcherson, a good-for-nothing, squanders a fortune; becomes beggared; falls in love with his landlady’s daughter, Meta; tramps to Antwerp to recover money due him; fails to collect, and on his way back asks shelter at an inn; is refused; curses the landlord, who, to be revenged, calls him back and lodges him in the haunted castle where the incidents of this story befall him.)
The castle lay hard by the hamlet, on a steep rock, right opposite the inn, from which it was divided merely by the highway and a little gurgling brook. The situation being so agreeable, the edifice was still kept in repair, and well provided with all sorts of house-gear; for it served the owner as a hunting-lodge, where he frequently caroused all day; and so soon as the stars began to twinkle in the sky, retired with his whole retinue, to escape the mischief of the ghost, who rioted about in it the whole night over, but by day gave no disturbance. Unpleasant as the owner felt this spoiling of his mansion by a bugbear, the nocturnal sprite was not without advantages, for the great security it gave from thieves. The count could have appointed no trustier or more watchful keeper over the castle than this same spectre, for the rashest troop of robbers never ventured to approach this old tower in the hamlet of Rummelsburg, near Rheinberg.
The sunshine had sunk, the dark night was coming heavily on, when Franz, with a lantern in his hand, proceeded to the castle-gate, under the guidance of mine host, who carried in his hand a basket of victuals, with a flask of wine, which he said should not be marked against him. He had also taken along with him a pair of candlesticks and two wax-lights; for in the whole castle there was neither lamp nor taper, as no one ever stayed in it after twilight. On the way, Franz noticed the creaking, heavy-laden basket, and the wax-lights, which he thought he should not need, and yet must pay for. Therefore he said: “What is this superfluity and waste, as at a banquet? The light in the lantern is enough to see with till I go to bed; and when I awake the sun will be high enough, for I am tired, and shall sleep with both eyes.”
“I will not hide from you,” replied the landlord, “that a story runs of there being mischief in the castle, and a goblin that frequents it. You, however, need not let the thing disturb you; we are near enough, you see, for you to call us; should you meet with aught unnatural I and my folks will be at your hand in a twinkling to assist you. Down in the house there we keep astir all night through, some one is always moving. I have lived here these thirty years, yet I cannot say that I have ever seen aught. If there be now and then a little hurly-burlying at nights, it is nothing but cats and martens rummaging about the granary. As a precaution I have provided you with candles; the night is no friend of man; and the tapers are consecrated, so that sprites, if there be such in the castle, will avoid their shine.”
It was no lying in mine host to say that he had never seen anything of spectres in the castle; for by night he had taken special care not once to set foot in it; and by day, the goblin did not come to sight. In the present case, too, the traitor would not risk himself across the border. After opening the door he handed Franz the basket, directed him what way to go, and wished him good-night. Franz entered the lobby without anxiety or fear, believing the ghost story to be empty tattle, or a tradition of some real occurrence in the place, which idle fancy had shaped into an unnatural adventure. He had laid it down as a rule deduced from experiences, when he heard any rumor, to believe exactly the reverse, and left the grain of truth which, in the opinion of the wise knight, always lies in such reports, entirely out of sight.