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Updated: May 2, 2025
Again she flew and alighted, and again and still again, until after five successive bumps she fell sprawling upon a green meadow and was so dazed and bewildered by her bumpy journey across the Merry-Go-Round Mountains that she lay quite still for a time to collect her thoughts. Toto had escaped from her arms just as she fell, and he now sat beside her panting with excitement.
When they came to the house Trot sniffed the air and asked "Don't I smell perfume?" "I think you do," said the Bumpy Man. "You smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. All our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction.
And the same qualities that, earnestly cultivated in spite of repeated failure and disappointment, make good cricketers lead ultimately to success in all the walks of life. In spite of the improvement in grounds, cricket is still an excellent school for teaching physical courage. Many grounds are somewhat rough and bumpy to field on, beautifully smooth though they look from the pavilion.
"Why, Polly Howland, it's pitch dark, and midnight! I know it is," she protested. "How do you know there are stockings there, anyway?" "I was shivering and when I reached over to get the puff cover my hand touched something bumpy. I've felt of it and I KNOW it's a stocking. I never thought of having one, for I thought all those things were way back in little girl days.
This is the first large and thoroughly Indian city that we have seen Karachi being merely a thriving modern seaport and garrison town and we set to work to see what we could in the limited time at our disposal. We whisked along a road bumpy withal in parts, and somewhat dusty, but broad. On either hand rose substantial stone mansions, half hidden by trees and flowering shrubs.
The heavy young man on the front seat jumped from his place and began beating away the bees and holding the horses by the bridles, and in a few minutes we were on our way. The horses had been badly stung, and the heavy young man looked rather bumpy. As for us, the king had shut the stage door at the first approach of trouble, and we were unharmed.
The Ork watched him a while in silence and then asked: "Who may you be?" "Me?" answered the Bumpy Man. "Haven't you heard of me? Gingerbread and lemon-juice! I'm known, far and wide, as the Mountain Ear." They all received this information in silence at first, for they were trying to think what he could mean. Finally Trot mustered up courage to ask: "What is a Mountain Ear, please?"
"May I ask what country this is, sir?" inquired Cap'n Bill. "Goodness me fruit-cake and apple-sauce! don't you know where you are?" asked the Bumpy Man, as he stopped stirring and looked at the speaker in surprise. "No," admitted Cap'n Bill. "We've just arrived." "Lost your way?" questioned the Bumpy Man. "Not exactly," said Cap'n Bill. "We didn't have any way to lose."
Soon a nibble and then an angry pull, and I jerked out the irate little chap. He had the same naked bumpy body and the fierce head, and when two or three were put together, they fought blindly and with the ferocity of bulldogs. To write of pets is as bad taste as to write in diary form, and, besides, I had made up my mind to have no pets on this expedition.
It was then that some big doctor told him that if he wanted to live to have grandchildren, the best thing for him to do was to "tramp it" for a time live out of doors, sleep out of doors, do nothing but breathe fresh air and walk. That doctor was Fate, playing his game behind a pair of spectacles and a bumpy forehead.
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