The Bee-Man of Orn and Other Fanciful TalesStockton, Frank R.
Science
The Bee-Man of Orn and Other Fanciful Tales
Stockton, Frank R.
Fairy tales
"That is a pretty hard thing," said the Truant, "but I am sure some
of the boys can tell you how to do it."
The pigwidgeons visited the next four cells, which were occupied by
four boys, but not one of them could tell how to divide five-sevenths
by six. The Prince was questioned, but he did not know; and neither
did the course-marker, nor the map-maker. It was not until they came
to the cell of the oldest girl that they received an answer. She was
good at mental arithmetic; and, after a minute's thought, she said,
"It would be five forty-seconds."
"Good!" cried the pigwidgeons. "We will divide the butter into
forty-two parts, and each take five. And now let us go to work and
cut these bars."
Three of the six pigwidgeons were workers in iron, and they had their
little files and saws in pouches by their sides. They went to work
manfully, and the others helped them, and before morning one bar was
cut in each of the seventeen windows. The cells were all on the
ground floor, and it was quite easy for the prisoners to clamber out.
That is, it was easy for all but the Jolly-cum-pop. He had laughed so
much in his life that he had grown quite fat, and he found it
impossible to squeeze himself through the opening made by the removal
of one iron bar. The sixteen other prisoners had all departed; the
pigwidgeons had hurried away to divide their butter into forty-two
parts, and the Jolly-cum-pop still remained in his cell, convulsed
with laughter at the idea of being caught in such a curious
predicament.
"It is the most ridiculous thing in the world," he said. "I suppose I
must stay here and cry until I get thin." And the idea so tickled
him, that he laughed himself to sleep.
The Prince and his party kept together, and hurried from the prison
as fast as they could. When the day broke they had gone several
miles, and then they stopped to rest. "Where is that Jolly-cum-pop?"
said the Prince. "I suppose he has gone home. He is a pretty fellow
to lead us into this trouble and then desert us! How are we to find
the way back to his house? Course-marker, can you tell us the
direction in which we should go?"
"Not until to-night, your Highness," answered the course-marker,
"when I can set my instrument by the stars."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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