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Kabumpo in Oz
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"the cake, you chattering chittimong! where is the cake? stirem, friem, hashem, where is the cake?" cried eejabo, chief footman in the palace of pumperdink, bouncing into the royal pantry.
the three cooks, too astonished for speech, and with staring eyes, pointed to the center table. the great, gorgeous birthday cake was gone, though not two seconds before it had been placed on the table by hashem himself.
"it was my m-m-asterpiece," sobbed hashem, tearing off his cap and throwing his apron over his head.
"help! robbers! thieves!" cried stirem and friem, running to the window.
here was a howdedo. the trumpets blowing for the celebration to begin and the best part of the celebration gone!
"we'll all be dipped for this!" wailed eejabo, flinging open the second best china closet so violently that three silver cups and a pewter mug tumbled out. just then there was a scream from hashem, who had removed the apron from his head. "look!" he shrieked. "there it is!"
back to the table rushed the other three, stirem and friem rubbing their eyes and eejabo his head where the cups had bumped him severely. upon the table stood the royal cake, as pink and perfect as ever.
"it was there all the time, mince my eyebrows!" spluttered hashem in an injured voice. "called me a chittimong, did you?" grasping a big wooden spoon he ran angrily at eejabo.
"was it gone or wasn't it?" cried eejabo, appealing to the others and hastily catching up a bread knife to defend himself. instantly there arose a babble.
"it was!"
"it wasn't!"
"was!" rap, bang, clatter. in a minute they were in a furious argument, not only with words but with spoons, forks and bowls. and dear knows what would have become of the cake had not a bell rung loudly and the second footman poked his head through the door.
"the cake! where is the cake?" he wheezed importantly.
so eejabo, dodging three cups and a salt cellar, seized the great silver platter and dashed into the great banquet hall. one pink coat tail was missing and his wig was somewhat elevated over the left ear from the lump raised by the pewter mug, but he summoned what dignity he could and joined the grand procession of footmen who were bearing gold and silver dishes filled with goodies for the birthday feast of prince pompadore of pumperdink.
the royal guests were already assembled and just as eejabo entered, the pages blew a shrill blast upon their silver trumpets and the prime pumper stepped forward to announce their majesties.
"oyez! oyez!" shouted the prime pumper, pounding on the floor with his silver staff, while the guests politely inclined their heads just as if they had not heard the same announcement dozens of times before:
"oyez! oyez!
"pompus the proud and pozy pink, king and queen of pumperdink-- way for the king and clear the floor, way for our good prince pompadore. way for the elegant elephant--way for the king and the queen and the prince, i say!"
so everybody wayed, which is to say they bowed, and down the center of the room swept pompus, very fat and gorgeous in his purple robes and jeweled crown, and pozy pink, very stately and queenlike in her ermine cloak, and prince pompadore very straight and handsome! in fact, they looked exactly as a good old-fashioned royal family should.
but kabumpo, who swayed along grandly after the prince--few royal families could boast of so royal and elegant an elephant! he was huge and gray. on his head he wore jeweled bands and a jeweled court robe billowed out majestically as he walked. his little eyes twinkled merrily and his big ears flapped so sociably, that just to look at him put one in a good humor. kabumpo was the only elephant in pumperdink, or in any kingdom near pumperdink, so no wonder he was a prime favorite at court. he had been given to the king at pompa's christening by a friendly stranger and since then had enjoyed every luxury and advantage. he was not only treated as a member of the royal family, but was always addressed as sir by all of the palace servants.
"he lends an air of elegance to our court," the king was fond of saying, and the elegant elephant he surely had become. now an elegant elephant at court might seem strange in a regular up-to-date country, but pumperdink is not at all regular nor up to date. it is a cozy, old-fashioned kingdom, 'way up in the northern part of the gilliken country of oz; old-fashioned enough to wear knee breeches and have a king and cozy enough to still enjoy birthday parties and candy pulls.
if pompus, the king, was a bit proud who could blame him? his queen was the loveliest, his son the most charming and his elephant the most elegant and unusual for twenty kingdoms round about. and pompus, for all his pride, had a very simple way of ruling. when the pumperdinkians did right they were rewarded; when they did wrong they were dipped.
in the very center of the courtyard there is a great stone well with a huge stone bucket. into this pumperdink well all offenders and law breakers were lowered. its waters were dark blue and as the color stuck to one for several days the inhabitants of pumperdink were careful to behave well, so that the chief dipper, who turned the wheel that raised and lowered the bucket, often had days at a time with nothing to do. this time he spent in writing poetry, and as prince pompadore took the place of honor at the head of the table the chief dipper rose from his humble place at the foot and with a moist flourish burst forth:
"oh, pompadore of pumperdink, of all perfection you're the pink; your praises now i utter! your eyes are clear as apple sauce, your head the best i've come across; your heart is soft as butter."
"very good," said the king, and the chief dipper sat down, blushing with pride and confusion. prince pompadore bowed and the rest of the party clapped tremendously.
"sounds like a dipper full of nonsense to me," wheezed kabumpo, who stood directly back of prince pompadore's throne, leisurely consuming a bale of hay placed on the floor beside him. it may surprise you to know that all the animals in oz can talk, but such is the case, and pumperdink being in the fairy country of oz, kabumpo could talk as well as any man and better than most.
"eyes like apple sauce--heart of butter! ho-ho, kerrumph!" the elegant elephant laughed so hard he shook all over; then slyly reaching over the prime pumper's shoulder, he snatched his glass of pink lemonade and emptied it down his great throat, setting the tumbler back before the old fellow turned his head.
"did you call, sir?" asked eejabo, hurrying over. he had mistaken kabumpo's laugh for a command.
"yes; why did you not give his excellency lemonade?" demanded the elegant elephant sternly.
"i did; he must have drunk it, sir!" stuttered eejabo.
"drunk it!" cried the prime pumper, pounding on the table indignantly. "i never had any!"
"fetch him a glass at once," rumbled kabumpo, waving his trunk, and eejabo, too wise to argue with a member of the royal family, brought another glass of lemonade. but no sooner had he done so than the mischievous elephant stole that, next the prime pumper's plate and roll, and all so quickly, no one but prince pompadore knew what was happening and poor eejabo was kept running backwards and forwards till his wig stood on end with confusion and rage.
all of this was very amusing to the prince, and helped him to listen pleasantly to the fifteen long birthday speeches addressed to him by members of the royal guard. but if the speeches were dull, the dinner was not. the fiddlers fiddled so merrily, and the chief cook hashem had so outdone himself in the preparation of new and delicious dainties, that by ice-cream-and-cake time everyone was in a high good humor.
"the cake, my good eejabo! fetch forth the cake!" commanded king pompus, beaming fondly upon his son. nervously eejabo stepped to the side table and lighted the eighteen tall birthday candles. a cake that had disappeared once might easily do so again, and eejabo was anxious to have it cut and out of the way--out of his way at least.
hashem, looking through a tiny crack in the door, almost burst with pride as his gorgeous pink masterpiece was set down before the prince.
"many happy returns of your eighteenth birthday!" cried the courtiers, jumping to their feet and waving their napkins enthusiastically.
"thank you! thank you!" chuckled pompadore, bowing low. "i feel that this is but one of many more to come!" which may sound strange, but pumperdink being in oz, one may have as many eighteenth birthdays as one cares to have. this was pompa's tenth and while the courtiers drank his health the prince made ready to blow out the birthday candles.
"that's right, blow 'em all out at once!" cried the king. so pompa puffed out his cheeks and blew with all his might. but not a candle flickered. then he tried again. indeed, he puffed and blew until he was a regular royal purple, but nary a candle flame so much as wavered.
"stubbornest candles i ever saw!" blustered king pompus. then he puffed out his cheeks and blew like a porpoise; so did queen pozy and the prime pumper; so did everybody. they blew until every dish upon the table skipped and they all sank back exhausted in their chairs, but the candles burned as merrily as ever.
then kabumpo took a hand--or rather a trunk. he had been watching the proceedings with his twinkling little eyes. now he took a tremendous breath, pointed his trunk straight at the cake and blew with all his strength.
every candle went out--but stars! as they did, the great pink cake exploded with such force that half the courtiers were flung under the table and the rest knocked unconscious by flying fragments of icing, tumblers and plates.
"treason!" screamed pompus, the first to recover from the shock. "who dared put gunpowder in the cake?" brushing the icing from his nose, he glared around angrily. the first person to catch his eye was hashem, the cook, who stood trembling in the doorway.
"dip him!" shouted the king furiously. and the chief dipper, only too glad of an excuse to escape, seized poor hashem. "and him!" ordered the king, as eejabo tried to sidle out of the room. "and them!" as all the other footmen started to run. forming his victims in a line the chief dipper marched them sternly from the banquet hall.
"oyez! oyez everybody shall be dipped!" mumbled the prime pumper, feebly raising his head.
"oh, no! oh, no! nothing of the sort!" snapped the king, fanning poor queen pozy pink with a plate. she had fainted dead away.
"what is the meaning of this outrage?" shouted pompus, his anger rising again.
"how should i know?" wheezed kabumpo, dragging prince pompadore from beneath the table and pouring a jug of cream over his head.
"something hit me," moaned the prince, opening his eyes.
"of course it did!" said kabumpo. "the cake hit you. made a great hit with us all--that cake!" the elegant elephant looked ruefully at his silk robe of state, which was hopelessly smeared with icing; then put his trunk to his head, for something hard had struck him between the eyes. he felt about the floor and found a round shiny object which he was about to show the king when pompus pounced upon a tall scroll sitting upright in his tumbler. in the confusion of the moment it had escaped his attention.
"perhaps this will explain," spluttered the king, breaking the seal. queen pozy pink opened her eyes with a sigh, and the courtiers, crawling out from beneath the table, looked up anxiously, for everyone was still dazed from the tremendous explosion. pompus read the scroll to himself with popping eyes and then began to dance up and down in a frenzy.
"what is it? what is it?" cried the queen, trying to read over his shoulder. then she gave a well-bred scream and fainted away in the arms of general quakes, who had come up behind her.
by this time the prime pumper had recovered sufficiently to remember that reading scrolls and court papers was his business. somewhat unsteadily he walked over and took the scroll from the king.
"oyez! oyez!" he faltered, pounding on the table.
"oh, never mind that!" rumbled kabumpo, flapping his ears. "let's hear what it says!"
"know ye," began the old man in a high, shaky voice, "know ye that unless ye prince of ye ancient and honorable kingdom of pumperdink wed ye proper fairy princess in ye proper span of time ye kingdom of pumperdink shall disappear forever and even longer from ye gilliken country of oz. j. g."
"what?" screamed pompadore, bounding to his feet. "me? but i don't want to marry!"
"you'll have to," groaned the king, with a wave at the scroll. the courtiers sat staring at one another in dazed disbelief. from the courtyard came the splash and splutter of the luckless footmen and the dismal creaking of the stone bucket.
"oh!" wailed pompa, throwing up his hands. "this is the worst eighteenth birthday i've ever had. i'll never have another as long as i live!"
"what shall we do first?" groaned the king, holding his head with both hands. "let me think!"
"right," said kabumpo. "think by all means."
so the great hall was cleared and the king, with the mysterious scroll spread out before him, thought and thought and thought. but he did not make much headway, for, as he explained over and over to queen pozy, who--with pompadore, the elegant elephant and the prime pumper--had remained to help him, "how is one to know where to find the proper princess, and how is one to know the proper time for pompa to wed her?"
who was j.g.? how did the scroll get in the cake?
the more the king thought about these questions, the more wrinkled his forehead became.
"why! we're liable to wake up any morning and find ourselves gone," he announced gloomily. "how does it feel to disappear, i wonder?"
"i suppose it would give one rather a gone feeling, but i don't believe it would hurt--much!" volunteered kabumpo, glancing uneasily over his shoulder.
"perhaps not, but it would not get us anywhere. my idea is to marry the prince at once to a proper princess," put in the prime pumper, "and avoid all this disappearing."
"you're in a great hurry to marry me off, aren't you," said pompadore sulkily. "for my part, i don't want to marry at all!"
"well, that's very selfish of you, pompa," said the king in a grieved voice. "do you want your poor old father to disappear?"
"not only your poor old father," choked the prime pumper, rolling up his eyes. "how about me?"
"oh, you--you can disappear any time you want," said the prince unfeelingly.
"it all started with that wretched cake," sighed the queen. "i am positive the scroll flew out of the cake when it exploded."
"of course it did!" cried pompus. "let us send for the cook and question him."
so hashem, very wet and blue from his dip, was brought before the king.
"a fine cook you are!" roared pompus, "mixing gun powder and scrolls in a birthday cake."
"but i didn't," wailed hashem, falling on his knees. "only eggs, your highness--very best eggs--sugar, flour, spice and--"
"bombshells!" cried the king angrily.
"the cake disappeared before the party, your majesty!" cried eejabo.
everyone jumped at the sudden interruption, and eejabo, who had crept in unnoticed, stepped before the throne.
"disappeared," continued eejabo hoarsely, dripping blue water all over the royal rugs. "one minute there it was on the pantry table. next minute--gone!" croaked eejabo, flinging up his hands and shrugging his shoulders.
"then, before a fellow could turn around, it was back. 'tweren't our fault if magic got mixed into it, and here we have been dipped for nothing!"
"well, why didn't you say so before!" asked the king in exasperation.
"fine chance i had to say anything!" sniffed eejabo, wringing out his lace ruffles.
"eh--rr--you may have the day off, my good man," said pompus, with an apologetic cough--"and you also," with a wave at hashem. very stiffly the two walked to the door.
"it's an off day for us, all right," said eejabo ungraciously, and without so much as a bow the two disappeared.
"i fear you were a bit hasty, my love," murmured queen pozy, looking after them with a troubled little frown.
"well, who wouldn't be!" cried pompus, ruffling up his hair. "here we are liable to disappear any minute and all you do is to stand around and criticize me. begone!" he puffed angrily, as a page stuck his head in the door.
"no use shouting at people to begone," said the elegant elephant testily. "we'll all begone soon enough."
at this queen pozy began to weep into her silk handkerchief, which sight so affected prince pompadore that he rushed forward and embraced her tenderly.
"i'll marry!" cried the prince impulsively. "i'll do anything! the trouble is there aren't any fairy princesses around here!"
"there must be," said the king.
"there is--there are!" screamed the prime pumper, bouncing up suddenly. "oyez, oyez! has your majesty forgotten faleero, royal princess of follensby forest?"
"why, of course!" the king snapped his fingers joyfully. "everyone says faleero is a fairy princess. she must be the proper one!"
"fa--leero!" trumpeted the elegant elephant, sitting down with a terrific thud. "that awful old creature! you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"silence!" thundered the king.
"nonsense!" trumpeted kabumpo. "she's a thousand years old and as ugly as a stone lukoogoo. don't you marry her, pompa."
"i command him to marry her!" cried the king opening his eyes very wide and bending forward.
"faleero?" gasped the prince, scarcely believing his ears. no wonder pompadore was shocked. faleero, although a princess in her own right and of royal fairy descent, was so unattractive that in all her thousand years of life no one had wished to marry her. she lived in a small hut in the great forest kingdom next to pumperdink and did nothing all day but gather faggots. her face was long and lean, her hair thin and black and her nose so large that it made you think of a cauliflower.
"ugh!" groaned prince pompadore, falling back on kabumpo for support.
"well, she's a princess and a fairy--the only one in any kingdom. i don't see why you want to be so fussy!" said the king fretfully.
"shall i tell her royal highness of the great good fortune that has befallen her?" asked the prime pumper, starting for the door.
"do so at once," snapped pompus. just then he gave a scream of fright and pain, for a round shiny object had flown through the air and struck him on the head. "what was that?"
the prime pumper looked suspiciously at the elegant elephant. kabumpo glared back.
"a--a warning!" stuttered the prime pumper, afraid to say that kabumpo had flung the offending missile. "a warning, your majesty!"
"it's nothing of the kind," said the king angrily. "you're getting old, pumper and stupid. it's--why it's a door knob! who dares to hit me with a door knob?"
"it hit me once," mumbled kabumpo, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other three. "how does it strike you?"
"as an outrageous piece of impertinence!" spluttered pompus, turning as red as a turkey cock.
"perhaps it has something to do with the scroll," suggested queen pozy, taking it from the king. "see! it is gold and all the door knobs in the palace are ivory. and look! here are some initials!"
sure enough! it was gold and in the very centre were the initials p. a.
just at this interesting juncture the page, who had been poking his head in the door every few minutes, gathered his courage together and rushed up to the king.
"pardon, most high highness, but general quakes bade me say that this mirror was found under the window," stuttered the page, and before pompus had an opportunity to cry "begone!" or "dip him!" the little fellow made a dash for the door and disappeared.
"it grows more puzzling every minute," wailed the king, looking from the door knob to the mirror and from the mirror to the scroll.
"if you take my advice you'll have this marriage performed at once," said the prime pumper in a trembling voice.
"i believe i will!" sighed pompus, rubbing the bump on his head. "go and fetch the princess faleero and you, pompa, prepare for your wedding."
"but father!" began the prince.
"not another word or you'll be dipped!" rumbled the king of pumperdink. "i'm not going to have my kingdom disappearing if i can help it!"
"you mean if i can help it," muttered pompadore gloomily.
"this is ridiculous!" stormed the elegant elephant, as the prime pumper rushed importantly out of the room. "don't you know that this country of ours is only a small part of the great kingdom of oz? there must be hundreds of princesses for pompadore to choose from. why should he not wed ozma, the princess of us all? haven't you read any oz history? have you never heard of the wonderful emerald city? let pompadore start out at once. i, myself, will accompany him, and if ozma refuses to marry him--well"--the elegant elephant drew himself up--"i will carry her off--that's all!"
"it's a long way to the emerald city," mused queen pozy, "but still--"
"yes, and what is to become of us in the meantime pray? while you are wandering all over oz we can disappear i suppose! no sir! not one step do you go out of pumperdink. faleero is the proper princess and pompadore shall marry her!" said pompus.
"you're talking through your crown," wheezed kabumpo. "how about the door knob and mirror? they came out of the cake as well as the scroll. what are you going to do about them? let's have a look at that mirror."
"just a common gold mirror," fumed pompus, holding it up for the elegant elephant to see.
"what's the matter?" as kabumpo gave a snort.
on the face of the mirror, as kabumpo looked in, two words appeared:
elegant elephant.
and when pompus snatched the mirror, above his reflection stood the words:
fat old king.
then queen pozy peeped into the mirror, which promptly flashed:
lovely queen.
"why, it's telling the truth!" screamed pompa, looking over his mother's shoulder. at this the words "charming prince" formed quickly in the glass.
the prince grinned at his father, who was now quite beside himself with rage.
"you think i'm fat and old, do you!" snorted the king, flinging the gold mirror face down on the table. "this is a nice day, i must say! scrolls, door knobs, mirrors and insults!"
"but what can p. a. stand for?" mused queen pozy thoughtfully.
"plain enough," chuckled kabumpo, maliciously. "it stands for perfectly awful!"
"who's perfectly awful?" asked pompus suspiciously.
"why, faleero," sniffed the elegant elephant. "that's plain enough to everybody!"
"dip him!" shrieked pompus. "i've had enough of this! dip him--do you hear?"
"that," yawned kabumpo, straightening his silk robe, "is impossible!" and, considering his size it was. but just that minute the prime pumper returned and in his interest to hear what the princess faleero had said the king forgot about dipping kabumpo.
the courier from the princess stepped forward.
"her highness," puffed the prime pumper, who had run all the way, "her highness accepts prince pompadore with pleasure and will marry him to-morrow morning."
prince pompadore gave a dismal groan.
"fine!" cried the king, rubbing his hands together. "let everything be made ready for the ceremony, and in the meantime"--pompus glared about fiercely--"i forbid anyone's disappearing. i am still the king! set a guard around the castle, pumper, to watch for any signs of disappearance, and if so much as a fence paling disappears"--he drew himself up--"notify me at once!" then turning to the throne pompus gave his arm to queen pozy and together they started for the garden.
"do you mean to say you are going to pay no attention to the mirror or door knob?" cried kabumpo, planting himself in the king's path.
"go away," said pompus crossly.
"oyez! oyez! way for their majesties!" cried the prime pumper, running ahead with his silver staff, and the royal couple swept out of the banquet hall.
"never mind, kabumpo," said the prince, flinging his arm affectionately around the elegant elephant's trunk, "i dare say faleero has her good points--and we cannot let the old kingdom disappear, you know!"
"fiddlesticks!" choked kabumpo. "she'll make a door mat of you, pompa--prince pompadormat--that's what you'll be! let's run away!" he proposed, his little eyes twinkling anxiously.
"i couldn't do that and let the kingdom disappear, it wouldn't be right," sighed the prince, and sadly he followed his parents into the royal gardens.
"the king's a gooch!" gulped the elegant elephant unhappily. then, all at once he flung up his trunk. "somebody's going to disappear around here," he wheezed darkly, "that's certain!" with a mighty rustling of his silk robe, kabumpo hurried off to his own royal quarters in the palace.
left alone, prince pompa threw himself down at the foot of the throne, and gazed sadly into space.
once in his own apartment, kabumpo pulled the bell rope furiously.
"my pearls and my purple plush robe! bring them at once!" he puffed when his personal attendant appeared in the doorway.
"yes, sir! are you going out, sir?" murmured the little pumperdinkian, hastening to a great chest in the corner of the big marble room, to get out of the robe.
"not unless disappearing is going out," said kabumpo more mildly, for he was quite fond of this little man who waited on him. "but i'm liable to disappear any minute. so are you. so is everybody, and i, for my part, wish to do the thing well and disappear with as much elegance as possible. have you heard about the magic scroll, spezzle?"
"yes, sir!" quavered spezzle, mounting a ladder to adjust the elegant elephant's pearls and gorgeous robe of state. "yes, sir, and my head's going round and round like--"
"like what?" asked kabumpo, looking approvingly at his reflection in the long mirror.
"i can't rightly say, sir," sighed spezzle. "this disappearing has me that mixed up i don't know what i'm doing."
"well, don't start by losing your head," chuckled kabumpo. "there--that will do very well." he lifted the little man down from the ladder.
"good-bye, spezzle. if you should disappear before i should see you again, try to do it in style."
"yes, sir!" gulped spezzle. then taking out a bright red handkerchief he blew his nose violently and rushed out of the room.
kabumpo walked up and down before the mirror, surveying himself from all angles. a very gorgeous appearance he presented, in his purple plush robe of state, all embroidered in silver, and his head bands of shining pearls. in the left side of his robe there was a deep pocket. into this the elegant elephant slipped all the jewels he possessed, taking them from a drawer in the chest.
"i must get that gold door knob," he rumbled thoughtfully. "and the mirror." noiselessly (for all his tremendous size, kabumpo could move without a sound) he made his way back to the banquet hall and loomed up suddenly behind the prime pumper. the old fellow was staring with popping eyes into the gold mirror.
"ho, ho!" roared kabumpo. "ho, ho! kerumph!"
no wonder! above the shocked reflection of the foolish statesman stood the words "old goose!"
"a truthful mirror, indeed," wheezed the elegant elephant.
"heh? what?" stuttered the prime pumper, slapping the mirror down on the table in a hurry. "where'd you come from? what are you all dressed up for?"
"for my disappearance," said kabumpo, sweeping the door knob and mirror into his pocket. "i'm getting ready to disappear. how do i look?"
before the prime pumper had time to answer, the elegant elephant was gone.
back in his own room, kabumpo paced impatiently up and down, waiting for night. "i do not see how she could refuse us," he mumbled every now and then to himself.
that was an anxious afternoon and evening in the palace of pumperdink. every few minutes the courtiers felt themselves nervously to see if they were still there. the servants went about on tip-toe, looking fearfully over their shoulders for the first signs of disappearance. as it grew darker the gates and windows were securely barred and not a candle was lighted. "the less the castle shows, the less likely it is to disappear," reasoned the king.
the darkness suited kabumpo. he waited until everyone in the palace had retired, and a full hour longer. then he stepped softly down the passage to the prince's apartment. pompadore, without undressing had flung himself upon a couch and fallen into an uneasy slumber.
without making a sound, kabumpo took the prince's crown from a dressing cabinet, slipped it carefully into the pocket of his robe, and then carefully lifted the sleeping prince in his curling trunk and started cautiously down the great hall. setting him gently on the floor as he reached the palace doors, he pushed back the golden bolts and stepped out into the garden.
the voices of the watchmen calling to each other from the great wall came faintly through the darkness, but the elegant elephant hurried to a secret unguarded entrance known only to himself and pompadore and passed like a great shadow through the swinging gates. once outside, he swung the sleeping prince to his broad back and ran swiftly and silently through the night.
"what are we doing?" murmured the prince drowsily in his sleep.
"disappearing," chuckled kabumpo under his breath. "disappearing from pumperdink, my lad."
"ouch!" prince pompadore stirred uneasily and rolled over. "ouch!" he groaned again, giving his pillow a fretful thump. "ouch!" this time his eyes flew wide open, for his knuckles were tingling with pain.
"a rock!" gasped the prince, sitting up indignantly. "a rock under my head! no wonder it aches! great gillikens! where am i?" he stared about wildly. there was not a familiar object in sight. indeed he was in a dim, deep forest, and from the distance came the sound of someone sawing wood.
"oh! oh! i know!" muttered the prince, rubbing his head miserably. "it's that wretched scroll. i've disappeared and this is the place i've disappeared to." stiffly he got to his feet and started to walk in the direction of the sawing, but had only gone a few steps before he gave a cry of joy, for there, leaning up against a tree, snoring like twenty wood-cutters at work, was kabumpo.
"wake up!" cried pompadore, pounding him with all his might. "wake up, kabumpo. we've disappeared!"
"have we?" yawned the elegant elephant, opening one eye. "you don't say? hah, hoh, hum!" with a tremendous yawn he opened the other eye and began to chuckle and shake all over.
"we stole a march on 'em, pompa. i'd like to see the king's face when he finds us gone. old pumper will be oyezing all over the palace. he'll think we've disappeared by magic."
"well, didn't we?" asked pompadore in amazement.
"not unless you call me magic. i carried you off in the night. did you suppose old kabumpo was going to stand quietly by while they married you to a faggotty old fairy like faleero? not much," wheezed the elegant elephant. "i have other plans for you, little one!"
"but this is terrible!" cried the prince, catching hold of a tree. "here you have left my poor old father, my lovely mother, and the whole kingdom of pumperdink to disappear. we'll have to go right straight back--right straight back to pumperdink. do you hear?"
"do have a little sense!" kabumpo shook himself crossly. "you can't save them by going back. the thing to do is to go forward, find the proper princess and marry her. no scroll magic takes effect for seven days, anyway!"
"how do you know?" asked pompa anxiously.
"read it in a witch book," answered kabumpo promptly. "now, that gives us plenty of time to go to the emerald city and present ourselves to the lovely ruler of oz. there's a proper princess for you, pompa!"
"but suppose she refuses me," said the prince uncertainly.
"you're very handsome, pompa, my boy." the elegant elephant gave the prince a playful poke with his trunk. "i've brought all my jewels as gifts and the magic mirror and door knob as well. if she refuses you and the worst comes to the worst"--kabumpo cleared his throat gravely--"well--just leave it to me!"
after a bit more coaxing and after eating the breakfast kabumpo had thoughtfully brought along, pompa allowed the elegant elephant to lift him on his head and off they set at kabumpo's best speed for the emerald city of oz.
neither the prince nor the elegant elephant had ever been out of pumperdink, but kabumpo had found an old map of oz in the palace library. according to this map, the emerald city lay directly to the south of their own country. "so all we have to do is to keep going south," chuckled kabumpo softly. pompadore nodded, but he was trying to recall the exact words of the mysterious scroll:
"know ye, that unless ye prince of ye ancient and honorable kingdom of pumperdink shall wed ye proper fairy princess in ye proper span of time ye kingdom of pumperdink shall disappear forever and even longer from ye gilliken country of oz. j. g."
pompadore repeated the words solemnly; then fell a-thinking of all he had heard of ozma of oz, the loveliest little fairy imaginable.
"she wouldn't want one of her kingdom to disappear," reflected pompadore sagely. now, as it happened, ozma did not even know of the existence of pumperdink. oz is so large and inhabited by so many strange and singular peoples that although fourteen books of history have been written about it, only half the story has been told. there are no oz railway or steamship lines and traveling is tedious and slow, owing to the magic nature of the land itself, its many mountains and fairy forests, so that pumperdink, like many of the small kingdoms on the outskirts of oz, has never been explored by ozma.
oz itself is a huge oblong country divided into four parts, the north being the purple gilliken country, the east the blue munchkin country, the south the red lands of the quadlings, and the west the pleasant yellow country of the winkies. in the very center of oz, as almost every boy and girl knows, is the wonderful emerald city, and in its gorgeous green palace lives ozma, the lovely little fairy princess, whom kabumpo wanted pompadore to marry.
"do you know," mused the prince, after they had traveled some time through the dim forest, "i believe that gold mirror has a lot to do with all this. i believe it was put in the cake to help me find the proper princess."
"where would you find a more proper princess than ozma?" puffed kabumpo indignantly. "ozma is the one--depend upon it!"
"just the same," said pompa firmly, "i'm going to try every princess we meet!"
"do you expect to find 'em running wild in the woods?" snorted kabumpo, who didn't like to be contradicted.
"you never can tell." the prince of pumperdink settled back comfortably. now that they were really started, he was finding traveling extremely interesting. "i should have done this long ago," murmured the prince to himself. "every prince should go on a journey of adventure."
"how long will it take us to reach the emerald city?" he asked presently.
"two days, if nothing happens," answered kabumpo. "say--what's that?" he stopped short and spread his ears till they looked like sails. the underbrush at the right was crackling from the springs of some large animal, and next minute a hoarse voice roared:
"i want to know the which and what, the where and how and why? a curious, luxurious old cottabus am i!
i want to know the when and who, the whatfor and whyso, sir! so please attend, there is no end to things i want to know, sir!"
"aha!" exulted the voice triumphantly. "there you are!" and a great round head was thrust out, almost in kabumpo's face. "oh! i'm going to enjoy this. don't move!"
kabumpo was too astonished to move, and the next instant the cottabus had flounced out of the bushes and settled itself directly in front of the two travelers. it was large as a pony, but shaped like a great overfed cat. its eyes bulged unpleasantly and the end of its tail ended in a large fan.
"well," grunted kabumpo after the strange creature had regarded them for a full minute without blinking.
"well, what?" it asked, beginning to fan itself sulkily. "you act as if you had never seen a cottabus before."
"we never have," admitted pompa, peering over kabumpo's head and secretly wishing he had brought along his jeweled sword.
"why haven't you?" asked the cottabus, rolling up its eyes. "how frightfully ignorant!" it closed its fan tail with a snap and looked up at them disapprovingly. "will you kindly tell me who you are, where you came from, when you came, what you are going for, how you are going to get it, why you are going and what you are going to do when you do get it!"
"i don't see why we should tell you all that," grumbled kabumpo. "it's none of your affair."
"wrong!" shrieked the creature hysterically. "it is the business of a cottabus to find out everything. i live on other people's affairs, and unless"--here it paused, took a large handkerchief out of a pocket in its fur and began to wipe its eyes--"unless a cottabus asks fifty questions a day it curls up in its porch rocker and d-d-dies, and this is my fifth questionless day."
"curl up and die, then," said kabumpo gruffly. but the kind-hearted prince felt sorry for the foolish creature.
"if we answer your questions, will you answer ours?"
"i'll try," sniffed the curious cottabus, and leaning over it dragged a rocking chair out of the bushes and seated itself comfortably.
"well, then," began pompa, "this is the elegant elephant and i am a prince. we came from pumperdink because our kingdom was threatened with disappearance unless i marry a proper princess."
"yes," murmured the cottabus, rocking violently. "yes, yes!"
"and we are going to the emerald city to ask princess ozma for her hand," continued the prince.
"how do you know she is the one? when did this happen? who brought the message? what are you going to do if ozma refuses you?" asked the cottabus, leaning forward breathlessly.
"are you going to stand talking to this ridiculous creature all day?" grumbled kabumpo. but pompadore, perhaps because he was so young, felt flattered that even a curious old cottabus should take such an interest in his affairs. so beginning at the very beginning he told the whole story of his birthday party.
"yes, yes," gulped the cottabus wildly each time the prince paused for breath. "yes, yes," fluttering its fan excitedly. when pompadore had finished the cottabus leaned back, closed its eyes and put both paws on the arms of the rocker. "i never heard anything more curious in my life," said the curious one. "this will keep me amused for three days!"
"of course--that's what we're here for--to amuse you!" said kabumpo scornfully. "let's be going, pompa!"
"perhaps the curious cottabus can tell us something of the country ahead. are there any princesses living 'round here?" the prince asked eagerly.
"never heard of any," said the cottabus, opening its eyes. "can you multiply--add--divide and subtract? are you good at fractions, prince?"
"not very," admitted pompadore, looking mystified.
"then you won't make much headway," sighed the cottabus, shaking its head solemnly. "now, don't ask me why," it added lugubriously, dragging its rocker back into the brush, and while kabumpo and pompa stared in amazement it wriggled away into the bushes.
"come on," cried kabumpo with a contemptuous grunt, but he had only gone a few steps when the curious cottabus stuck its head out of an opening in the trees just ahead. "when are you coming back?" it asked, twitching its nose anxiously.
"never!" trumpeted kabumpo, increasing his speed. again the cottabus disappeared, only to reappear at the first turn in the road.
"did you say the door knob hit you on the head?" it asked pleadingly.
kabumpo gave a snort of anger and rushed along so fast that pompa had to hang on for dear life.
"guess we've left him behind this time," spluttered the elegant elephant, after he had run almost a mile.
but at that minute there was a wheeze from the underbrush and the head of the cottabus was thrust out. its tongue was hanging out and it was panting with exhaustion. "how old are you?" it gasped rolling its eyes pitifully. "who was your grandfather on your father's side, and was he bald?"
"kerumberty bumpus!" raged the elegant elephant, flouncing to the other side of the road.
"but why was the door knob in the cake?" gulped the cottabus, two tears trickling off its nose.
"how should we know," said pompa coldly.
"then just tell me the date of your birth," wailed the cottabus, two tears trickling off its nose.
"no! no!" screamed kabumpo, and this time he ran so fast that the tearful voice of the cottabus became fainter and fainter and finally died away altogether.
"provokingest creature i've ever met," grumbled the elegant elephant, and this time pompa agreed with him.
"isn't it almost lunch time?" asked the prince. he was beginning to feel terribly hungry.
"and aren't there any villages or cities between here and the emerald city?" pompa spoke again.
"don't know," wheezed kabumpo, swinging ahead.
"oh! there's a flag!" cried pompa suddenly. "it's flying above the tree tops just ahead."
and so it was--a huge, flapping black flag covered with hundreds of figures and signs.
"hurry up, kabumpo," urged the prince. "this looks interesting."
"it reminds me of something disagreeable," answered kabumpo, as he eyed the flag. nevertheless he quickened his steps and in a moment they came to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by a tall black picket fence. the only thing visible above the fence was the strange black flag, and as the forest on either side was too dense to penetrate and there seemed to be no way around, kabumpo thumped loudly on the center gate.
it was flung open at once, so suddenly that kabumpo, who had his head pressed against the bars, fell on his knees and shot pompadore clear over his head. altogether it was a very undignified entrance.
"oh! oh! now we shall have some fun!" screamed a high, thin voice, and immediately the cry was taken up by hundreds of other voices. a perfect swarm of strange creatures surrounded the two travelers. the elegant elephant took one look, put back his ears and snatched pompa from the paving stones.
"stop that!" he rumbled threateningly. "who are you anyway?" the crowd paid no attention to the elegant elephant's question, but continued to dance up and down and scream with glee. clutching kabumpo's ear, pompa peered down with many misgivings. they were entirely surrounded by thin, spry little people, who had figures instead of heads, and the fours, eights, sevens and ciphers bobbing up and down made it terribly confusing.
"let's go!" said pompa, who was growing dizzier every minute. but the figure heads were wedged so closely around them kabumpo could not move and they were shouting so lustily that the elegant elephant's voice was drowned in the hubbub. finally, kabumpo's eyes began to snap angrily and, taking a deep breath, he threw up his trunk and trumpeted like fifty ferry-boat whistles. the effect was immediate and astonishing. half of the figure heads fell on their faces, and the other half fell on their backs and stared vacantly up at the sky.
"conduct us to your ruler!" roared kabumpo, in the dead silence that followed.
"how'd you know we had a ruler?" asked a seven, getting cautiously to its feet.
"most countries have," said the elegant elephant shortly.
"he's got no right to order us around," said a six, sitting up and jerking its thumb at kabumpo.
"yes--but!" seven frowned at six and put his hands over his ears. "this way," he said gruffly, and kabumpo, stepping carefully, for many of the figure heads were still on their backs, followed seven.
if the inhabitants of this strange city were queer, their city was even more so. the air was dry and choky and the houses were dull, oblong affairs, set in rows and rows with never a garden in sight. each street had a large signpost on the corner, but they were not like the signs one usually sees in cities. for these were plus and minus signs with here and there a long division sign.
"i suppose everything in this street's divided up," mumbled pompadore, looking up at a division sign curiously.
"hope they don't subtract any of our belongings," whispered kabumpo, as they turned into minus alley. "look, pompa, at the houses. ever see anything like 'em before?"
"they remind me of something disagreeable," mused the prince. "why, they're books, kabumpo, great big arithmetic books!" pompa pointed at one.
"you mean they are shaped like books," said the elegant elephant. "i never saw books with windows and doors!"
"a lot you know!" said seven, looking back scornfully, but kabumpo was too interested to care. out of the windows of the big book houses leaped hundreds of the little figure heads, and they laughed and jeered at pompa and kabumpo.
"ho! ho!" yelled one, leaning out so far it nearly fell on its eight. "wait till the count sees 'em. he'll make an example of 'em!"
"what an awful country," whispered pompadore, ducking just in time, as a four snatched at his hair from an open window. but just then they turned a corner and entered a large gloomy court. sitting on a square and solid wood throne, surrounded by a guard of figure heads, sat the giant ruler of this strange city.
"what have you got there, seven?" roared the ruler.
"i am the elegant elephant and this is the prince of pumperdink," announced kabumpo before seven could answer. pompadore, himself, could say nothing for he had never before been addressed by a wooden ruler in his life. and that is exactly what the king of the figure heads was--an ordinary school ruler, twice as large as a man, with arms and legs and a great square head set atop of his thin flat body.
"i don't care a rap who you are. i want to know what you are?" said the ruler.
"we are travelers," spoke up pompa, swallowing hard--"travelers in search of a proper princess."
"well, you won't find any here," grunted the ruler shortly. "we don't believe in 'em!"
"would you mind telling me the name of your kingdom," asked pompa, somewhat cast down by these words.
"you have no heads," announced the ruler calmly, "or you would have known that this is rith metic. i," he hammered himself upon the wooden chest--"i am its ruler and every inch a king--king of the figure heads," he added, glaring around as if he expected someone to contradict him.
"all right! all right!" wheezed kabumpo, bowing his head twice. "i knew twelve inches made a foot rule, but i never knew they made a king rule. but could you give us some luncheon and allow us to pass peaceably through your kingdom?"
"pass through!" exclaimed the king, standing up indignantly. "we don't pass anyone through here. you've got to work your way through. pass through, indeed! and when you've worked your way through we'll put you in a problem and make an example of you."
"they'll make a very good example, your majesty," said a tall thin individual standing next to the ruler. he eyed the two cunningly. "if a thin prince sets out on a fat elephant to find a proper princess, how many yards of fringe will the elephant lose from his robe and how bald will the prince be at the end of the journey? i don't believe anyone could figure that out," he murmured gleefully.
"it might be done by subtraction," said the king, looking at the two critically.
"great hay stacks!" rumbled kabumpo, glaring over his shoulder to see if he had lost any fringe so far. "what have we gotten into?"
"bald!" gulped pompa, rubbing his head. "do you mean to say you take poor innocent travelers and make them into arithmetic problems?"
"why not?" said the thin one, who looked exactly like a giant lead pencil. "and please address me as count, after this--count it up is my name. what's the matter with living in a problem, my boy? life is a problem, after all, and you will get used to it in time. i'll try to assign you to a comfortable book and you'll find book-keeping a lot more simple than house-keeping. this way, please!"
"please go," yawned the ruler, waving his hand. "the count will take you in charge now." and so dazed was the elegant elephant by all this strange reasoning that he tamely followed the lead pencil person.
"good-bye!" shouted the ruler hoarsely. "start them on simple additions," he said as they moved off.
the street ahead was filled with figure heads and as kabumpo paused they began forming themselves into sums. the first row sat down, the next knelt behind them, the third stood up, the fourth nimbly leaped upon the shoulders of the third, and so on, until a long addition confronted the travelers.
"now," said count it up in his blunt way, "as you haven't figures for heads, let us see if you have heads for figures." kabumpo pushed back his pearl headdress and drops of perspiration began to run down his trunk. prince pompa, lying flat on kabumpo's head, started to add up the first line of figures.
"eighty-three," he announced anxiously.
"say three and eight to carry," snapped count it up. "here, three!" a three stepped out of the crowd and placed itself under the line. "i've got to be carried!" cried eight, looking sulkily at pompa.
"carried!" snorted kabumpo, snatching eight into the air. "well, i'll attend to you. you do the adding, pompa, and i'll do the carrying."
he landed the eight head down at the bottom of the line of figure heads and swung his trunk carelessly while he waited for his next victim. so, slowly and painfully, pompa counted up the long lines and kabumpo carried and if they made the slightest mistake the figure heads shouted with scorn and danced about till the confusion was terrible. when an example was finished, the figure heads in it marched away but another would immediately form lines ahead so that it took them a whole hour to go two blocks.
"oh!" groaned pompa at last, "we'll never get through this, kabumpo. look at those awful fractions ahead! can't i skip fractions?" he asked looking pleadingly at count it up.
"certainly not!" said the pencilly man stroking his shiny hair, which was straight and black and grew up into a sharp point. "you shall skip nothing!"
"that gives me an idea," whispered kabumpo huskily. "why shouldn't we skip altogether? we're bigger than they are. why--"
"how are you getting on?" at the sound of that hoarse, familiar voice both the prince and kabumpo jumped.
"you don't mind me asking, i hope?" clinging to the high picket fence and looking anxiously through the bars was the curious cottabus.
"have you found the greatest common divisor yet?"
"who's he?" asked the elegant elephant suspiciously.
"isn't there any way out of rith metic but this?" wailed pompa, looking at the cottabus pleadingly. he was too tired to mind being questioned.
the curious beast was delighted to have this new opportunity to talk to the travelers.
"will you answer a few questions if i tell you?" asked the cottabus, raising itself with great difficulty and looking over the palings.
"yes--yes--anything," promised pompa.
"do you care for strawberry tarts?" asked the cottabus, twitching its nose very rapidly.
"of course," said the prince. "oh! do hurry. count it up will be back in a moment!" he had run ahead to arrange a new problem and the rest of the figure heads paid no attention to the queer creature clinging to the palings.
"are you going to invite the scarecrow to your wedding?" gulped the cottabus.
"i don't know any scarecrow," said pompa, "so how could i?"
"are you fond of that old elephant?" the cottabus waved at kabumpo, who stamped first one foot then another and fairly snorted with rage.
"all right," sighed the curious cottabus, "that makes my fifty questions."
hanging on to the fence with one paw it waved the other backward and forward as it chanted:
"how many tics in rith metic? tell me that and tell me quick! but if you can't it's not my fault, so simply turn a wintersault!"
the head of the cottabus disappeared.
"now isn't that provoking," gulped the prince. "after it promised to help us, too!"
"i meant summersault," wheezed the cottabus, reappearing suddenly--
"and if you can't it's not your fault, so simply turn a summersault!"
it recited dolefully, and losing its balance fell off the fence and landed with a thud on the ground below.
"here! hurry along!" scolded count it up, prodding kabumpo with a sharp pencil. "the next is a nice little problem in fractions."
"i wonder if it meant anything?" mused pompadore, as kabumpo approached the new problem. "'if you can't its not your fault, so simply turn a summersault.' anyway it wouldn't hurt to try. stop a minute, kabumpo!"
sliding down the elegant elephant's trunk, the prince put his head on the ground and very carefully and deliberately turned a somersault. at his first motion count it up gave a deafening scream, fell on his head and broke off his point, while the figure heads began to run in every direction.
"do it again! do it again!" cried kabumpo joyfully. so pompa turned another somersault and another, and another, and another, till not a figure head was in sight. even the figure heads at the windows of the houses tumbled out and dashed madly around the corner. before they could return, kabumpo snatched up pompa and tore through the deserted streets of rith metic till he came to the black iron gate at the other end of the city. butting it open with his head, the elegant elephant dashed through and never stopped running till he was miles away from there.
"have to rest a bit and eat some leaves," puffed kabumpo, at last slowing down. "whe--w!"
"wish i could eat leaves," sighed the prince, as kabumpo began lunching off the tree tops. "but, never mind, we're out of rith metic! wasn't it lucky that cottabus followed us? i never would have thought of getting out of sums by somersaulting. would you?"
"only sensible thing it ever said, probably," answered the elegant elephant, with his mouth full of leaves. "there's a lot more to be learned by traveling than by studying, my boy. somersaults for sums--let's always remember that!"
pompa did not answer. he slid down kabumpo's trunk and began hunting anxiously around for something to eat. not far away he found a large nut tree and, gathering a handful of nuts, he sat down and began to crack them on a white marble slab near by. next instant kabumpo heard a thud and a muffled cry.
the prince of pumperdink had vanished, as if by magic.
"where are you?" screamed the elegant elephant, pounding through the brush. "pompa! pompa! he's disappeared," gasped kabumpo, rushing over to the marble slab. there was not a sign of the royal prince of pumperdink anywhere, but carved carefully on the white stone were these words:
please knock before you fall in.
"fall in!" snorted kabumpo, his eyes rolling wildly. "great gooch!"
on the same night that prince pompa and kabumpo had disappeared from pumperdink, a little gray gnome crouched in a deep chamber, tunneled under the emerald city, laboriously carving letters on a big rock. it was ruggedo, the old gnome king, carving and grumbling and grumbling and carving, and pausing every few minutes to light his pipe with a hot coal which he kept in his pocket for that purpose. a big emerald lamp cast a green glow over the strange cavern and made the gnome look like a bad green goblin, which he was.
"wag!" screamed the gnome, suddenly throwing down his chisel. "where are you, you long-eared villain?" there was a slight stir at the back of the cave and a rabbit, of about the same size as the gnome, shuffled slowly forward.
"what you want?" he asked, rubbing one eye with his paw.
"bring me a cup of melted mud, idiot!" roared the gnome, pounding on the rock. "and serve it to me on my throne at once!"
"now, see here," the rabbit twitched his nose rapidly, "i'll get you a cup of melted mud, but don't you call me an idiot. i don't mind working for one, nor digging for one and listening to his foolishness, but nobody can call me an idiot--not even a make-believe king!"
"oh, you make me tired!" fumed the gnome.
"then go to sleep," advised the rabbit with a yawn. "what's the use of trying to pretend you're a king, rug? ho, ho! king over one wooden doll, six rocks and twenty-seven sofa cushions! you may have been a king once, but now you're just a plain gnome and nothing else, and if you go and sit quietly in your plain rocking chair i'll bring you a cup of plain mud."
with a chuckle, the rabbit retired, and ruggedo, spluttering with fury, flounced into a doll's broken rocker that was set in the exact center of the cave.
"here i give that rabbit everything i steal and he won't even allow me the little luxury of calling him an idiot or of pulling his ears. how can i pretend to be a king without an ear to pull?" grumbled the gnome.
"what are you grinning at?" bouncing out of his chair, ruggedo flew at a merry-faced wooden doll who sat propped up against the wall and shook her till her head turned round backwards and her arms and legs flew every which way. then he hurled her violently into a corner. quite out of breath he sank back in his chair and stared angrily about.
when wag returned the gnome snatched the tin cup of melted mud and tossed it down with one gulp. then, flinging the cup at the doll, he went back to work.
the rabbit shook his head mournfully and, picking up the wooden doll, straightened her out and placed her on a cushion. then, yawning again, he lit a candle and started for the passage at the back of the cave.
"how are you getting on?" he asked, pausing to look over the gnome's shoulder with a grin.
"fine!" answered ruggedo, forgetting to scowl. "i'm up to the sixth rock and expect to finish to-night."
"who do you think will read it?" asked the rabbit, putting back both ears and stroking his whiskers. then he gave a great spring, just escaped the chisel ruggedo had flung at his head, and pattered away into the darkness. for several minutes the gnome danced up and down with fury. then, as there was no one to pinch or shake, he started to work harder than ever on the sixth rock of his history. there were six of the great stones set in a row on one side of the cavern and the carving on them had taken the old gnome king the best part of two years. the letters were crooked and roughly chiseled, but quite readable. on the first rock he had carved:
history of ruggedo in six rocks
ruggedo the rough--king of the gnomes
one time metal monarch, at other times a limoneag, a goose, a nut, and now a common gnome by order of
the second rock told of ruggedo's magnificent kingdom under the mountains of ev, of the thousands of gnomes he had ruled and the great treasure of precious gems he had possessed, in those good old days before he was banished from his dominions.
the third rock told of his transformation of the queen of ev and her children into ornaments for his palace and of their rescue by a party from oz, through the cleverness of billina, a yellow hen. it told of the loss of his magic belt which was captured at this same time by dorothy, a little girl from kansas.
the fourth rock related how ruggedo had tried to conquer oz and recover his belt; how all of his plans failed and how he tumbled into the fountain of oblivion and forgot all about his campaign.
the fifth rock had taken ruggedo the longest to carve, for it gave the story of his banishment by the great jinn titihoochoo. you have probably read this story yourself. how tik tok, betsy bobbin, shaggyman and polychrome, trying to find shaggy's brother, hidden in the gnome king's metal forest, were thrown down a long tube to the other side of the world, and how the owner of the tube sent quox, the dragon, to punish ruggedo by banishment from his kingdom and how kaliko was made king of the gnomes.
the sixth rock told of ruggedo's last attempt to capture oz. meeting kiki aru, a highup boy who knew a magic transformation word, ruggedo suggested that they change themselves to limoneags--queer beasts with lion heads, monkey tails and eagle wings--get all the beasts of oz to help and march on the emerald city. but this plan failed, too. kiki lost his temper and changed ruggedo to a goose, the wizard of oz discovered the magic word and changed both the conspirators to nuts. later on they were changed back to their normal shapes, but again ruggedo was plunged into the fountain of oblivion and again forgot his wicked plans. this ended the rock history, except for a short sentence stating that ruggedo now lived in the emerald city.
but the magic of the fountain of oblivion had soon worn off and it was not long before ruggedo began to remember his past wickedness. that is why he decided to carve his life story in rock, so that it would be handy should he ever fall into the forgetful fountain again. and it had taken six rocks to tell all of his adventures. he had not carved these stories just as they had happened, nor ever called himself wicked, but he had told most of the facts, leaving out the parts most unflattering to himself. and now it was finished--his whole history in six rocks. throwing down his chisel for the last time, ruggedo straightened up and regarded his work with glowing pride.
"i don't believe there's another history like this in all oz," puffed the gnome, tugging at his silver beard.
"it's a good thing," chuckled wag, who had come back to eat a carrot. "oz would not be a very happy place if there were many folks like you."
he seated himself quietly on the first rock of ruggedo's history, and began nibbling his carrot.
"get up! how dare you sit on my history?" ruggedo stamped his foot and started threateningly toward wag.
"all right," said the rabbit, "it's too hard, anyway."
"of course it's hard," stormed ruggedo. "i've had a hard life; hard as those rocks. everybody's been against me from the very start, and all because i'm so little," he finished bitterly.
"no, because you are so wicked," said the rabbit calmly. "now, don't throw your pipe at me, for you know it's the truth."
ruggedo glared at the rabbit for a minute, then rushed over to the wooden doll, and began shaking her furiously. he always vented his rage on the wooden doll.
"stop that," screamed wag, "or i'll leave upon the spot. you ought to be ashamed of yourself. you old scrabble-scratch."
"she's not alive," snapped ruggedo sulkily.
"how do you know?" retorted the rabbit. "anyway, she's a jolly creature. i'm not going to have her banged around. here you've taken her away from her little mother, and she hasn't even anyone to rock her to sleep."
"i'll rock her to sleep," screamed ruggedo, maliciously. and flinging the doll on the floor he began hurling small rocks at the helpless little figure.
scrambling to his feet, wag rescued the wooden doll again, and ruggedo, who really was afraid the rabbit would leave him, subsided into his rocking chair. then reaching up to a small shelf over his head, he pulled down an accordion. at the first doleful wheeze wag gave a great hop, dropped peg and disappeared into his room in the farthest corner of the cave.
after his last attempt to capture oz, the gnome had been given a small cottage to live in, just outside the emerald city. but ruggedo could not bear life above ground. the sunlight hurt his eyes, and the contented, happy faces of the people hurt his feelings, for he was exactly what wag had called him--an old scrabble-scratch. so, while he pretended to live in the little cottage, according to ozma's orders, he really spent most of his time in this deep, dark cave. he entered it by a secret passage, opening from his cellar.
digging the long passage had been the hardest work ruggedo had ever done in his bad little life. while toiling one day, he had bumped into the underground burrow of wag, a wandering rabbit of oz, and after a deal of bargaining, the rabbit had agreed to help him. wag was to receive a ruby a month for his services, for the gnome still had a large bag of precious stones, which he had brought from the old kingdom. after the bargain with wag was made, the passage progressed rapidly, for the rabbit was an expert digger.
it was ruggedo's idea to tunnel himself out a secret chamber, directly under ozma's palace, and there establish a kingdom of his own. but when they had almost reached the spot, the earth began to crumble away, and a few strokes of ruggedo's spade revealed a great dark cavern, already tunneled by someone else. it was huge and the exact shape of the royal palace. this ruggedo discovered by careful measurement, and also that it was directly beneath the gorgeous green edifice, so that the footsteps of the servants could be heard faintly, pattering to and fro.
this dark, underground retreat suited the former gnome king exactly and, without stopping to wonder to whom it had belonged, ruggedo gleefully took possession. for almost two years he had lived here without anyone suspecting it, but so far his kingdom had not progressed very well. wag had tried to coax some of his rabbit relations to serve the old gnome as subjects, but ruggedo, besides his terrible temper, had a mean habit of pulling their ears, so that the whole crew had deserted the first week. he had pulled wag's ears once, but the rabbit tore out a pawful of his whiskers, and bit him so severely in the leg that ruggedo had never dared to try it again.
wag had stayed partly because ruggedo amused him and partly because of the bribes, for every day, in fear of losing his only retainer, ruggedo brought wag something from the emerald city--something he had stolen! in return, wag waited on the bad little gnome and listened to his grumblings against everybody in oz. all the furnishings of this strange cave had been stolen from various houses in the emerald city. the twenty-seven brocade cushions had been taken, one at a time from the palace; the green emerald lamp also. every day ruggedo ran innocently about the city, pretending to visit this one and that, and every day cups, spoons, and candlesticks disappeared.
the doll's rocker, which ruggedo insisted upon calling his throne, had been taken from betsy bobbin, a little girl who lived with ozma in the palace. he had lugged it through the secret passage with great difficulty. the wooden doll had been stolen from trot, another of ozma's companions. she was trot's favorite doll, for she had been carved out of wood by captain bill, an old one-legged sailor, who was one of the most celebrated characters in all oz. he had carved her for trot one day when they were on a picnic in the winkie country, from the wood of a small yellow tree, and as captain bill had old-fashioned notions, peg was a very old-fashioned doll. but she had splendid joints and could sit down and stand up. her face was painted and as pleasant as laughing blue eyes, a turned-up nose, and a smiling mouth could make it. trot had dressed her in a funny, old-fashioned dress, with pantalettes, and then, thinking peg too short a name, the little girl had added amy, because she was so amiable, she confided laughingly to the old sailor. captain bill had wagged his head understandingly, and peg amy had straightway become the most popular doll in the palace; that is, until she disappeared, for ruggedo had found her one day in the garden and, chuckling wickedly, had carried her off to his cave.
how trot would have felt if she had seen her poor doll being shaken and scolded by the old gnome king! but trot never knew. she hunted and hunted for her doll, and finally gave up in despair. fortunately, peg was well made, or she would have been shaken to bits, but her joints held bravely, and nothing--not even the terrible scolding of the bad old gnome--could change her pleasant expression.
being the sole subject of so wicked a king, however, was wearing even for a wooden doll, and peg was beginning to show signs of wear. her nose was badly chipped, one pantalette was missing, and both sleeves had been jerked from her dress by the furious old gnome. if the rabbit was around, ruggedo did not shake peg as hard as he wanted to, but when the rabbit was gone, he pretended she was his old steward, kaliko, and scolded and flung her about to his heart's content.
when not carving his history or shaking peg, ruggedo had spent most of his time digging new tunnels and chambers, so that leading off from the main cavern was a perfect network of underground passages. in the back of ruggedo's head was a notion that some day he would conquer the emerald city, regain his magic powers and then, after changing all the inhabitants to mouldy muffins, return to his dominions and oust kaliko from his throne. just how this was to be done, he had not decided, but the secret passages would be useful. so meanwhile he dug secret passages.
above ground the little rascal went about so meekly and pretended to be so delighted with his life among the inhabitants of the emerald city, that ozma really thought he had reformed. wag, to whom he confided his plans, would shake his head gloomily and often planned to leave the services of the wicked old gnome. there was no real harm in wag, but the rabbit had a weakness for collecting, and the spoons, cups and odds and ends that ruggedo brought him from the emerald city filled him with delight. he felt that they were not gotten honestly, but his work for ruggedo was honest and hard, "and it's not my fault if the old scrabble-scratch steals 'em," wag would mumble to himself. in his heart he knew that he was doing wrong to stay with ruggedo, but like all foolish creatures he could not make up his mind to go. so this very night, while the old gnome sat playing the accordion and howling doleful snatches of the gnome national air, wag was gloating over his treasures. they quite filled his little dug-out room. there were two emerald plates, a gold pencil, a dozen china cups and saucers, twenty thimbles stolen from the work baskets of the good dames of oz, scraps of silk, pictures and almost everything you could imagine.
"i'll soon have enough to marry and go to house-keeping on," murmured the rabbit, clasping his paws and twitching his nose very fast. he picked up a pair of purple wool socks that had once belonged to a little girl's doll and regarded them rapturously. out of all the articles ruggedo had given him, wag considered these purple socks the most valuable, perhaps because they exactly fitted him and were the only things he could really use. the squeaking of the accordion stopped at last and, supposing his wicked little master had retired for the night, wag prepared to enjoy himself. draping a green silk scarf over his shoulders, he strutted before the mirror, pretending he was a courtier of oz. then, throwing down the scarf, he sat down on the floor and had just drawn on one of the socks when a loud shrill scream from ruggedo made his ears stand straight on end in amazement.
"what now?" coughed the rabbit, seizing the candle. ruggedo was on his knees before the rocking chair.
"as i was sitting here, playing and singing," spluttered the old gnome, "i noticed a little ring in one of the rocks on the floor!"
"well, what of it?" sniffed wag, leaning down to pull up his sock.
"what of it?" shrieked the gnome. "what of it, you poor, puny earth worm! look!" leaning over ruggedo's shoulder and dropping hot candle grease down the gnome's neck, wag peered into a square opening in the floor. there lay a small gold box. studded in gems on the lid were these words:
glegg's box of mixed magic.
"mixed magic!" stuttered wag, dropping the candle. "oh, my socks and soup spoons!"
ruggedo said nothing, but his little red eyes blazed maliciously. reaching down, he lifted out the box and, clasping it to his fat little stomach, shook his fist at the high domed ceiling of the cave.
"now!" hissed ruggedo triumphantly. "now we shall see what mixed magic will do to the emerald city of oz!"
"oh!" sighed sir hokus of pokes and oz, stretching his armored legs to the fire. "how i yearn to slay a giant! how it would refresh me! hast any real giants in oz, dorothy?"
"don't you remember the candy giant?" laughed the little girl, looking up from the handkerchief she was making for ozma.
"not to my taste," said the knight, "though his vest buttons were vastly nourishing."
"well, there's mr. yoop--he's a real blood-and-bone giant. there are plenty of giants, i guess, if we knew just where to find them!" said the little girl, biting off her thread.
"find 'em--bind 'em, get behind 'em! hokus pokus he don't mind 'em!"
screamed the patch work girl, bounding out of her chair. "but why can't you stay peaceably at home, old iron sides, and be jolly like the rest of us?"
"you don't understand, scraps," put in dorothy gravely. "sir hokus is a knight and it is a true knight's duty to slay giants and dragons and go on quests!"
"that it is, my lady patches!" boomed sir hokus, puffing out his chest. "i've rusted here in idleness long enough. to-morrow, with ozma's permission, i shall start on a giant quest."
"i'd go with you, only i've promised to help ozma count the royal emeralds," said the scarecrow, who had ridden over from his corn-ear residence to spend a week with his old friends in the emerald city.
"giants, sir, are bluff and rude and might mistake a man for food!
hokus pokus, be discreet, or you will soon be giant meat!"
chuckled the patch work girl, crooking her finger under the knight's nose.
"nonsense!" blustered sir hokus, waving scraps aside. rising from his green arm chair, he strode up and down the room, his armor clanking at every step. straightway the company began to tell about wild giants they had read of or known. trot and betsy bobbin held hands as they sat together on the sofa, and toto, dorothy's small dog, crept closer to his little mistress, the bristles on his back rising higher as each story was finished. "giant stories are all very well, but why tell 'em at night?" shivered toto, peering nervously at the long shadows in the corners of the room.
it was the evening after ruggedo's strange discovery of the mixed magic and in the royal palace ozma and most of the courtiers had retired. but a few of princess dorothy's special friends had gathered in the cozy sitting-room of her apartment to talk about old times. they were very unusual and interesting friends, not at all the sort one would expect to find in a royal palace, even in fairyland. dorothy, herself, before she had become a princess of oz, had been a little girl from kansas but, after several visits to this delightful country, she had preferred to make oz her home.
trot and betsy bobbin also had come from the united states by way of shipwrecks, so to speak, and had been invited to remain by ozma, the little fairy princess who ruled oz, and now each of these girls had a cozy little apartment in the royal palace. toto had come with dorothy, but the rest of the company were of more or less magic extraction.
the scarecrow, a stuffed straw person, with a marvelous set of mixed brains given to him by the wizard of oz, was dorothy's favorite. in fact she had discovered him herself upon a munchkin farm, lifted him down from his bean pole and brought him to the emerald city. tik tok was a wonderful man made entirely of copper, who could talk, think and act as well as the next fellow when properly wound. you would have been amazed to hear the giant story he was ticking off at this very minute. as for scraps, she had been made by a magician's wife out of old pieces of patch-work and magically brought to life. her bright patches, yarn hair and silver suspender button eyes gave scraps so comical an expression that just to look at her tickled one's funny bone. her head was full of nonsense rhymes and she was so amusing and cheerful that ozma insisted upon her living with the rest of the celebrities in the emerald city.
sir hokus of pokes was a comparative new-comer in the capital city of oz. yet the knight was so old that it would give me lumbago just to try to count up his birthdays. he dated back to king arthur, in fact, and had been wished into the land of oz centuries before by an enemy sorcerer. dorothy had found and rescued him, with the cowardly lion's help, from pokes, the dullest kingdom in oz. as there were no other knights in the emerald city, sir hokus was much stared at and admired. even the soldier with the green whiskers, the one and only soldier and entire army of oz--yes, even the soldier with the green whiskers saluted sir hokus when he passed. ozma, herself, felt more secure since the knight had come to live in the palace. he was well versed in adventure and always courageous and courteous, withal.
but, while i've been telling you all this, tik tok had finished his story of a three-legged giant who lived in ev.
"and where is ev?" puffed sir hokus, planting himself before tik tok.
"ev," began tik tok in his precise fashion, "is to the north-west of here on the oth-er side of the im--" there was a whirr and a click and the copper man stood motionless and soundless, his round eyes fixed solemnly on the knight.
"pass-able des-ert," finished the scarecrow, jumping up and kindly winding all of tik tok's keys as if nothing had happened.
"pass-able des-ert," continued the copper man.
"that's where the old gnome king used to live," piped betsy bobbin, bouncing up and down upon the sofa, "under the mountains of ev, and he threw us down a tube and tried to melt you in a crucible, didn't he, tik tok?"
"he was a ve-ry bad per-son," said the copper man.
"ruggedo was a wicked king, 'tho' now he's good as pie, but none the less, i must confess, he has a wicked eye!"
burst out scraps, who was tired of sitting still listening to giant stories.
but sir hokus could not be got off the subject of giants. "to ev!" thundered the knight, raising his sword. "to-morrow i'm off to ev to conquer this terrible monster. large as a mountain, you say, tik tok? well, what care i for mountains? i, sir hokus of pokes, will slay him!"
"hurrah for the giant killer!" giggled scraps, turning a somersault and nearly falling in the fire.
"let's go to bed!" said dorothy uneasily. she had for the last few minutes been hearing strange rumbles. of course it could not be giants; still the conversation, she concluded, had better be finished by sunlight.
but it never was, for at that moment there was a deafening crash. the lights went out; the whole castle shivered; furniture fell every which way. down clattered sir hokus, falling with a terrible clangor on top of the copper man. down rolled the little girls and the scarecrow and scraps. down tumbled everybody.
"cyclone!" gasped dorothy, who had experienced several in kansas.
"giants!" stuttered betsy bobbin, clutching trot.
the wizard of oz tried to reassure the agitated company. he told them there was no cause for alarm, and that they would soon find out what was the trouble. the soothing words of the wizard were scarcely heard.
what the others said was lost in the noise that followed. thumps--bangs--crashes--screams came from every room in the rocking palace.
"we're flying! the whole castle's flying up in the air!" screamed dorothy. then she subsided, as an emerald clock and three pictures came thumping down on her head.
what had happened? no one could say. dorothy, betsy bobbin and trot had fainted dead away. the scarecrow and sir hokus were tangled up on the floor, clasped in each other's arms.
the confusion was terrific. only the wizard was still calm and smiling.
the soldier with the green whiskers finished his breakfast slowly, combed his beard, pinned on all of his medals and solemnly issued forth from his little house at the garden gates.
"forward march!" snapped the soldier. he had to give himself orders, being the only man, general or private in the army. and forward march he did. it was his custom to report to ozma every morning to receive his orders for the day. when he had gone through the little patch of trees that separated his cottage from the palace, the soldier with the green whiskers gave a great leap.
"halt! break ranks!" roared the grand army of oz, clutching his beard in terror. "great goloshes!" he rubbed his eyes and looked again. yes, the gorgeous emerald-studded palace had disappeared, leaving not so much as a gold brick to tell where it had stood. trembling in every knee, the grand army of oz approached. a great black hole, the exact shape of the palace, yawned at his feet. he took one look down that awful cavity, then shot through the palace gardens like a green comet.
like paul revere he had gone to give the alarm, and paul revere himself never made better time. he thumped on windows and banged on doors and dashed through the sleeping city like a whirlwind. in five minutes there was not a man, woman or child who did not know of the terrible calamity. they rushed to the palace gardens in a panic. some stared up in the air; others peered down the dark hole; still others ran about wildly trying to discover some trace of the missing castle.
"what shall we do?" they wailed dismally. for to have their lovely little queen and the wizard and all the most important people in oz disappear at once was simply terrifying. they were a gentle and kindly folk, used to obeying orders, and now there was no one to tell them what to do.
at last unk nunkie, an old munchkin who had taken up residence in the emerald city, pushed through the crowd. unk was a man of few words, but a wise old chap for all that, so they made way for him respectfully. first unk nunkie stroked his beard; then pointing with his long lean finger toward the south he snapped out one word--"glinda!"
of course! they must tell glinda. why had they not thought of it themselves? glinda would know just what to do and how to do it. three cheers for unk nunkie! glinda, you know, is the good sorceress of oz, who knows more magic than anyone in the kingdom, but who only practices it for the people's good. indeed, glinda and the wizard of oz are the only ones permitted to practice magic, for so much harm had come of it that ozma made a law forbidding sorcery in all of its branches. but even in a fairy country people do not always obey the laws and everyone felt that magic was at the bottom of this disaster.
so away to fetch glinda dashed the grand army, his green whiskers streaming behind him. fortunately the royal stables had not disappeared with the palace, so the gallant army sprang upon the back of the saw horse, and without stopping to explain to the other royal beasts, bade it carry him to glinda as fast as it could gallop. being made of wood with gold shod feet and magically brought to life, the saw horse can run faster than any animal in oz. it never tired or needed food and when it understood that the palace and its dear little mistress had disappeared it fairly flew; for the saw horse loved ozma with all its saw dust and was devoted as only a wooden beast can be.
in an hour they had reached glinda's shining marble palace in the southern part of the quadling country, and as soon as the lovely sorceress had heard the soldier's story, she hurried to the magic book of records. this is the most valuable book in oz and it is kept padlocked with many golden chains to a gold table, for in this great volume appear all the events happening in and out of the world.
now, glinda had been so occupied trying to discover the cause of frowns that she had not referred to the book for several days and naturally there were many pages to go over. there were hundreds of entries concerning automobile accidents in the united states and elsewhere. these glinda passed over hurriedly, till she came to three sentences printed in red, for oz news always appeared in the book in red letters. the first sentence did not seem important. it merely stated that the prince of pumperdink was journeying toward the emerald city. the other two entries seemed serious.
"glegg's box of mixed magic has been discovered," said the second, and "ruggedo has something on his mind," stated the third. glinda pored over the book for a long time to see whether any more information would be given but not another red sentence appeared. with a sigh, glinda turned to the soldier with the green whiskers.
"the old gnome king must be mixed up in this," she said anxiously, "and as he was last seen in the emerald city, i will return with you at once." so glinda and the soldier with the green whiskers flew back to the emerald city drawn in glinda's chariot by swift flying swans and the little saw horse trotted back by himself. when they reached the gardens a great crowd had gathered by the fountain of oblivion and a tall green grocer was speaking excitedly.
"what is it?" asked glinda, shuddering as she passed the dreadful hole where ozma's lovely palace had once stood. everyone started explaining at once so that glinda was obliged to clap her hands for silence.
"foot print!" unk nunkie stood upon his tip toes and whispered it in glinda's ear and when she looked where unk pointed she saw a huge, shallow cave-in that crushed the flower beds for as far as she could see.
"foot print!" gasped glinda in amazement.
"uh huh!" unk nunkie wagged his head determinedly and then, pulling his hat down over his eyes, spoke his last word on the subject: "giant!"
"a giant foot print! why so it is!" cried glinda.
"what shall we do? what shall we do?" cried the frightened inhabitants of the emerald city, wringing their hands.
"first, find ruggedo," ordered glinda, suddenly remembering the mysterious entry in the book of records. so, away to the little cottage hurried the crowd. they searched it from cellar to garret, but of course found no trace of the wicked little gnome. as no one knew about the secret passage in ruggedo's cellar, they never thought of searching underground.
meanwhile glinda sank down on one of the golden garden benches and tried to think. the comfortable camel stumbled broken-heartedly across the lawn and dropping on its knees begged the sorceress in a tearful voice to save sir hokus of pokes. the camel and the doubtful dromedary had been discovered by the knight on his last adventure and were deeply attached to him. soon all the palace pets came and stood in a dejected row before glinda--betsy's mule, hank, hee-hawing dismally and the hungry tiger threatening to eat everyone in sight if any harm came to the three little girls.
"i doubt if we'll ever see them again," groaned the doubtful dromedary, leaning up against a tree.
"oh doubty--how can you?" wailed the camel, tears streaming down its nose.
"please do be quiet," begged glinda, "or i'll forget all the magic i know. let me see, now--how does one catch a marauding giant who has run off with a castle?"
on her fingers glinda counted up all the giants in the four countries of oz. no! it could not be an oz giant; there was none large enough. it must be a giant from some strange country.
when the crowd returned with the news that ruggedo had disappeared glinda felt more uneasy still. but hiding her anxiety she bade the people return to their homes and continue their work and play as usual. then, promising to return that evening with a plan to save the castle, and charging the soldier with the green whiskers to keep a strict watch in the garden, glinda stepped into her chariot and flew back to the south. all that day, in her palace in the quadling country, glinda bent over her encyclopedia on giants, and far into the night the lights burned from her high turret-chamber, as she consulted book after book of magic.
the book of records had been perfectly correct in stating that ruggedo had something on his mind. he had! to understand the mysterious disappearance of ozma's palace, we must go back to the old ex-king of the gnomes. the whole of the night after he had found glegg's box of mixed magic, ruggedo had spent trying to open the box. but pry and poke as he would it stubbornly refused to give up its secrets.
"better come to bed," advised wag, twitching his nose nervously. "mixed magic isn't safe, you know. it might explode."
"idiot!" grumbled ruggedo. "i don't know who glegg is or was, but i'm going to find out what kind of magic he mixes. i'm going to open this box if it takes me a century."
"all right," quavered wag, retiring backward and holding up his paw. "all right, but remember i warned you! don't meddle with magic, that's my motto!"
"i don't care a harebell what your motto is," sneered the gnome, continuing to hammer on the gold lid.
when he reached his room, wag shut the door and sank dejectedly upon the edge of the bed.
"there's no manner of use trying to stop him," sighed the rabbit, "so i've got to get out of here before he gets me into trouble. i'll go to-morrow!" resolved wag, pulling his long ear nervously. with this good resolution, the little rabbit drooped off asleep.
very cautiously he opened the door of his little rock-room next morning. ruggedo was sound asleep on the floor, his head on the magic box, and peg amy, with her wooden arms and legs flung out in every direction, lay sprawled in a corner.
"been shaking you again, the old scrabble-scratch!" whispered the rabbit indignantly, "just 'cause he couldn't open that box. well, never mind, peg, i'm leaving to-day and as surely as i've ears and whiskers you shall go too!" picking up the poor wooden doll wag tucked her under his arm. was it imagination, or did the little wooden face break into a sunny smile? it seemed so to wag and, with a real thrill of pleasure, he tip-toed back to his room and began tossing his treasures into one of the bed sheets. he seated peg in his own small rocking chair and from time to time he nodded to her reassuringly.
"we'll soon be out now, my dear," he chuckled, quite as if peg had been alive. she often did seem alive to wag. "then we'll see what ozma has to say to this mixed magic," continued the bunny, wiggling his ears indignantly. and so occupied was he collecting his treasures that he did not hear ruggedo's call and next minute the angry gnome himself stood in the doorway.
"what does this mean?" he cried furiously, pointing to the tied up sheet. then he stamped his foot so hard that peg amy fell over sideways in the chair and all the ornaments in the room skipped as if alive.
the rabbit whirled 'round in a hurry.
"it means i'm leaving you for good, you wicked little monster!" shrilled wag, his whiskers trembling with agitation and his ears sticking straight out behind. "leaving--do you hear?"
then he snatched peg amy in one paw and his treasures in the other and tried to brush past ruggedo. but the gnome was too quick for him. springing out of the room, he slammed the door and locked it. wag could hear him rolling up rocks for further security.
"thought you'd steal a march on old ruggedo; thought you'd tell ozma all his plans and get a nice little reward! well, think again!" shouted the gnome through the keyhole.
wag had plenty of time to think, for ruggedo never came near the rabbit's room all day. at every sound poor wag leaped into the air, for he felt sure each blow could only mean the opening of the dreaded magic box. to reassure himself he held long conversations with the wooden doll and peg's calm cheerfulness steadied him a lot.
"i might dig my way out but it would take so long! my ear tips! how provoking it is!" exclaimed wag. "but perhaps he'll relent by nightfall!" slowly the day dragged on but nothing came from the big rock room but thumps, grumbles and bangs.
"it is fortunate that you do not eat, peg, dear," sighed the rabbit late in the afternoon, nibbling disconsolately on a stale biscuit he had found under his bureau. "shall you care very much if i starve? i probably shall, you know. of course no one in oz can die, but starving forever is not comfortable either." at this the wooden doll seemed to shake her head, as much as to say: "you won't starve, wag dear; just be patient a little longer." not that she really said this, mind you, but wag knew from her smile that this is what she was thinking.
it was hot and stuffy in the little rock chamber and the faint light that filtered down from the hole in the ceiling was far from cheerful. at last night came, and that was worse. wag lit his only candle but it was already partly burned down and soon with a dismal sputter it went out and left the two sitting in the dark. peg amy stared cheerfully ahead but the rabbit, worn out by his long day of fright and worry, fell into a heavy slumber.
meanwhile ruggedo had worked on the magic box and every minute he became more impatient. all his poundings failed to make even a dent on the gold lid and even jumping on it brought no result. the little gnome had eaten nothing since morning and by nightfall he was stamping around the box in a perfect fury. his eyes snapped and twinkled like live coals and his wispy white hair fairly crackled with rage. hidden in this box were magic secrets that would doubtless enable him to capture the whole of oz but, klumping kaloogas, how was he to get at 'em? he finally gave the gold box such a vindictive kick that he almost crushed his curly toes; then holding onto one foot, he hopped about on the other till he fell over exhausted.
for several minutes he lay perfectly still; then jumping up he seized the box and flung it with all his gnome might against the rock wall.
"take that!" screamed ruggedo furiously. there was a bright flash; then the box righted itself slowly and sailed straight back into ruggedo's hands and, more wonderful still, it was open! with his eyes almost popping from his head, the gnome sat down on the floor, the box in his lap.
in the first tray were four golden flasks and each one was carefully labeled. the first was marked, "flying fluid"; "vanishing cream" was in the second. the third flask held "glegg's instantaneous expanding extract," and in the fourth was "spike's hair strengthener."
ruggedo rubbed his hands gleefully and lifted out the top tray. in the next compartment was a tiny copper kettle, a lamp and a package marked "triple trick tea." so anxious was ruggedo to know what was in the last compartment that he scarcely glanced at glegg's tea set. quickly he peered into the bottom of the casket. there were two boxes. taking up the first ruggedo read, "glegg's question box. shake three times after each question."
"great grampus!" spluttered the gnome, "this is a find!" he was growing more excited every minute and his hands shook so he could hardly read the label on the last box. finally he made it out: "re-animating rays, guaranteed to reawaken any person who has lost the power of life through sorcery, witchcraft or enchantment," said the label.
well, did anyone ever hear anything more magic than that? ruggedo glanced from one to the other of the little gold flasks and boxes. there were so many he hardly knew which to use first. "flying fluid and vanishing cream," mused the gnome. well, they might help after he had captured oz, but he felt it would take more powerful magic than flying fluid and vanishing cream to capture the fairy kingdom. next he picked up the bottle labeled "spike's hair strengthener." anything that strengthened would be helpful, so, with one eye on the last bottle, ruggedo absently rubbed some of the hair strengthener on his head. he stopped rubbing in a hurry and put his finger in his mouth with a howl of pain. then he jumped up in alarm and ran to a small mirror hanging on the wall. every hair on his head had become an iron spike and the result was so terrible that it frightened even the old gnome. he flung the bottle angrily on the ground. but stop! he could butt his enemies with the sharp spikes! comforting himself with this cheerful thought, ruggedo returned to the magic box.
"instantaneous expanding extract," muttered the gnome, turning the bottle over carefully. "that ought to make me larger--and if i were larger--if i were larger!" he snapped his fingers and began hopping up and down. he was about to empty the bottle over his head when he suddenly reflected that it might be safer to try this powerful extract on someone else. but on whom?
ruggedo glanced quickly around the cave and then remembered the wooden doll. he would try a little on peg amy and see how it worked. turning the key he stepped softly into wag's room. without wakening the rabbit, ruggedo dragged out the wooden doll. propping her up against the wall, the gnome uncorked the bottle of expanding fluid and dropped two drops on peg amy's head. peg was about ten inches high, but no sooner had the expanding fluid touched her than she shot up four feet and with such force that she lost her balance and came crashing down on top of ruggedo, almost crushing him flat.
"get off, you great log of wood!" screamed the gnome, struggling furiously. but this peg amy was powerless to do and it was only after a frightful struggle that ruggedo managed to drag himself out. he started to shake peg but as she was now four times his size he soon gave that up.
"well, anyway it works," sighed the gnome, rubbing his nose and the middle of his back. "i wonder how it would act on a live person? i'll try a little on that silly rabbit," he concluded, tip-toeing back into wag's room. now wag's apartment was about seven feet square--plenty large enough for a regular rabbit--but two drops of the expanding fluid--and, stars! wag was no longer a regular rabbit but a six-foot funny bunny, stretching from one end of the room to the other. he expanded without even waking up. ruggedo had to squeeze past him in order to get out and, chuckling with satisfaction, the gnome hurried back to his box of magic. his mind was now made up. he would take glegg's mixed magic under his arm, go above ground and with the expanding fluid change himself into a giant. then conquering oz would be a simple matter.
it was all going to be so easy and amusing that ruggedo felt he had plenty of time to examine the rest of the bottles and boxes. he rubbed some of the vanishing cream on a sofa cushion and it instantly disappeared. the box of re-animating rays, guaranteed to reawaken anyone from enchantment, interested the old gnome immensely, but how could he try them when there was no bewitched person about--at least none that he knew of? then his eye fell on the question box. why not try that? so, "how shall i use the re-animating rays?" asked ruggedo, shaking the box three times. nothing happened at first. then, by the light from his emerald lamp, the gnome saw a sentence forming on the lid.
"try them on peg," said the box shortly. without thinking of consequences or wondering what the question box meant by suggesting peg, the curious gnome opened the box of rays and held it over the huge wooden doll. for as long as it would take to count ten peg lay perfectly still. then, with a creak and jerk, she sprang to her feet.
"how perfectly pomiferous!" cried peg amy, with an awkward jump. "i'm alive! why, i'm alive all over!" she moved one arm, then the other and turned her head stiffly from side to side. "i can walk!" cried peg. "i can walk; i can skip; i can run!" here peg began running around the cave, her joints squeaking merrily at every step.
at peg's first move ruggedo had jumped back of a rock, his every spike standing on end. too late he realized his mistake. this huge wooden creature clattering around the cave was positively dangerous. why, she might easily pound him to bits. why on earth had he meddled with the magic rays and why under the earth should a wooden doll come to life? he waited till peg had run to the farthest end of the cave; then he dashed to the magic casket and scrambled the bottles, the trick tea set and the flasks back into place and started for the door that led to the secret passage as fast as his crooked little legs would carry him.
but he was not fast enough, for peg heard and like a flash was after him.
"stop! go away!" screamed ruggedo.
"why, it's the old gnome!" cried the wooden doll in surprise. "the wicked old gnome who used to shake me all the time. why, how small he is! i could pick him up with one hand!" she made a snatch at ruggedo.
"go away!" shrieked ruggedo, ducking behind a rock. "go away--there's a dear girl," he added coaxingly. "i didn't shake you much--not too much, you know!"
peg amy put a wooden finger to her forehead and regarded him attentively.
"i remember," she murmured thoughtfully. "you found a magic box, and you're going to harm ozma and try to conquer oz. i must get that box!"
reaching around the rock she seized ruggedo by the arm.
in a panic, he jerked away. "help! help!" cried the gnome king, darting off toward the other end of the cave. "help! help!"
in his little rock room wag stirred uneasily. then, as ruggedo's cries grew louder, he bounced erect and almost cracked his skull on the low ceiling. hardly knowing what he was doing he rushed at the door only to knock himself almost senseless against the top, for of course he did not realize he had expanded into a giant rabbit. but as the cries from the other room became louder and louder he got up and rubbing his head in a dazed fashion he somehow crowded himself through the door and hopped into the cave. when he saw peg amy chasing ruggedo, wag fell back against the wall.
"my wocks and hoop soons!" stuttered the rabbit. "she is alive! and he's shrunk!"
wag's voice rose triumphantly. "i'm going to pound his curly toes off!" he shouted. with this he joined merrily in the chase.
"i'll catch him!" he called, "i'll catch him, peg, my dear, and make him pay for all the shakings he has given you. i'll pound his curly toes off!"
"oh, wag! don't do that," cried the wooden doll, stopping short. "i didn't mind the shakings and gnomes don't know any better!"
"neither do rabbits!" cried wag stubbornly, bounding after ruggedo. "i'll pound his curly toes off, i tell you!"
the old gnome was sputtering like a firecracker. what chance had he now with two after him? then suddenly he had an idea. without stopping, he fumbled in the box which he still clutched under one arm and pulled out the bottle of expanding fluid. uncorking the bottle he poured its contents over his head--every single drop!
this is what happened: first he shot out sideways, till peg and wag were almost crushed against the wall. with a hoarse scream wag dragged peg amy back into his room, which was now barely large enough to hold them. they were just in time, for ruggedo was still spreading. soon there was not an inch of space left to expand in. then he shot up and grew up and grew and grew and groaned and grew till there wasn't any more room to grow in. so, he burst through the top of the cave, with a noise like fifty boilers exploding.
no wonder dorothy thought it was a cyclone! for what was on the top of the cave but the royal palace of oz? the next instant it was impaled fast on the spikes of ruggedo's giant head and shooting up with him toward the clouds. and that wretched gnome never stopped growing till he was three-quarters of a mile high!
if the people in the palace were frightened, ruggedo was more frightened still. being a giant was a new experience for him and having a castle jammed on his head was worse still. the first thing he tried to do, when he stopped growing, was to lift the castle off, but his spikes were driven fast into the foundations and it fitted closer than his scalp.
in a panic ruggedo began to run, and when a giant runs he gets somewhere. each step carried him a half mile and shook the country below like an earthquake and rattled the people in the castle above like pennies in a christmas bank. shaking with terror and hardly knowing why, the gnome made for his old kingdom, and in an hour had reached the little country of oogaboo, which is in the very northwestern corner of oz, opposite his old dominions.
the deadly desert is so narrow at this point that with one jump ruggedo was across and, puffing like a volcano about to erupt, he sank down on the highest mountain in ev. fortunately he had not stepped on any cities in his flight, although he had crushed several forests and about a hundred fences.
"oh, oh, my head!" groaned ruggedo, rocking to and fro. he seemed to have forgotten all about conquering oz. he was full of twinges and growing pains. ozma's castle was giving him a thundering headache, and there he sat, a fearsome figure in the bright moonlight, moaning and groaning instead of conquering.
the book of records had been right indeed when it stated that ruggedo had something on his mind. ozma's castle itself sat squarely upon that mischievous mind--and every moment it seemed to grow heavier.
no wonder there had been confusion in the castle! every time ruggedo shook his aching head ozma and her guests were tossed about like leaves in a storm. mixed magic had made mischief indeed.
for a long time after the terrific bang following ruggedo's final expansion, wag and peg amy had been too stunned to even move. crowded together in the little rock room, they lay perfectly breathless.
"umpthing sappened," quavered the rabbit at last.
"that sounds rather queer, but i think i know what you mean," said peg, sitting up cautiously.
"something has happened. ruggedo's been blown up, i guess."
"mixed magic!" groaned wag gloomily. "i knew it would explode. say, peg, what makes this room so small?"
"i don't know," sighed the doll in a puzzled voice, for neither peg nor wag realized how much they had grown. "but let's go above ground and see what has become of ruggedo." one at a time and with great difficulty they got through the door.
"why, there are the stars!" cried peg amy, clasping her wooden hands rapturously. "real stars!" the top of the cave had gone off with the old gnome king and the two stood looking up at the lovely skies of oz.
"it doesn't seem so high as it used to," said the rabbit, looking at the walls. "why, i believe i could jump out if i took a good run and carry you, too. come ashort, peg!"
"aren't you mixed, wag dear? don't you mean come along?" asked peg, smoothing down her torn dress.
"well, now that you mention it, my head does feel queer," admitted the rabbit, twitching his nose, "bort of sackwards!"
"sort of backwards," corrected peg gently. "well, never mind. i know what you mean. but do let's try to find that awful box of magic. you know ruggedo brought me to life, wag, with something in that box!"
"only good thing he ever did," said wag, shaking his head. "but i think you were alive before," he added solemnly. "you always seemed alive to me."
"i think so, too," whispered peg excitedly. "i can't remember just how, or where, but oh! wag! i know i've been alive before. i remember dancing."
peg took a few awkward steps and wag looked on dubiously, too polite to criticize her efforts. he didn't even laugh when peg amy fell down. peg laughed herself, however, as merrily as possible. "it's going to be such fun being alive," she said, picking herself up gaily, "such fun, wag dear. why, there's glegg's box!" she pounced upon the little shining gold casket. "ruggedo didn't take it after all!"
"is it shut?" asked wag, clapping both paws to his ears. "look out for explosions, say i."
"no, but i'll soon close it," said peg and, shutting glegg's box, she slipped it into pocket of her dress. it was about half the size of this book you are reading and as peg's pockets were big and old fashioned, it fitted quite nicely.
"come ashort," said wag again, looking around uneasily, for he was anxious to get out of the gnome's cave. so peg seated herself carefully on his back and clasped her wooden arms around his neck. then wag ran back a few steps, gave a great jump and sailed up, up and out of the cave.
"ten penny tea cups!" shrieked the soldier with the green whiskers, falling over backwards. "what next?" for wag with peg on his back had leaped straight over his head.
picking himself up, and with every whisker in his beard prickling straight on end, the grand army of oz backed toward the royal stable. when he had backed half the distance he turned and ran for his life. but he need not have been afraid.
"what a funny little man," chuckled wag. "why, he's no bigger than we are. he's no--!" then suddenly wag clutched his ears. "oh!" he screamed, beginning to hop up and down, "i forgot all my treasures--my olden goop soons. oh! oh! my urple sool wocks! i've forgotten my urple sool wocks!"
"your what?" cried peg amy, clutching him by the fur. "now wag, dear, you're all mixed up. perhaps it's 'cause your ears are crossed. there, now, do stop wiggling your whiskers and turn out your toes!"
but wag continued to wiggle his whiskers and turn in his toes and roar for his urple sool wocks.
"stop!" screamed peg at last, with both hands over her wooden ears. "i know what you mean! your purple wool socks!"
"yes," sobbed the rabbit, slumping down on a rock and holding his head in both paws.
"well, don't you think"--the wooden doll shook her head jerkily--"don't you think it's just as well? ruggedo stole all those things and you wouldn't want stolen soup spoons, now would you?"
wag took a long breath and regarded peg uncertainly. then something in her pleasant wooden face seemed to brace him up.
"no!" he sighed solemnly--"i s'pose not. i ought to have left rug long ago."
"but then you couldn't have helped me," said peg brightly. "let's don't think about it any more. you've been awfully good to me, wag."
"have i?" said wag more cheerfully. "well, you're a good sort, peg--a regular princess!" he finished, puffing out his chest, "and anything you say goes."
"princess?" laughed the wooden doll, pleased nevertheless. "i'm a funny princess, in this old dress. did you ever hear of a wooden princess, wag?"
"you look like a princess to me," said the rabbit stoutly. "dresses don't matter."
this speech so tickled the wooden doll that she gave wag a good hug and began dancing again. "being alive is such fun!" she called gaily over her shoulder, "and you are so wonderful!"
wag's chest expanded at least three inches and his whiskers trembled with emotion. "hop on my back peg and i'll take you anywhere you want to go," he puffed magnificently.
but the wooden doll had suddenly grown sober. "wherever is the castle?" she cried anxiously. she remembered exactly where it had stood when she was an unalive doll and now not a tower or turret of the castle was to be seen. "oh!" groaned peg amy, "ruggedo has done something dreadful with his mixed magic!"
wag rubbed his eyes and looked all around. "why, it's gone!" he cried, waving his paws. "what shall we do? if only we weren't so small!"
"we've got the magic box," said peg hopefully, "and somehow i don't feel as small as i used to feel; do you?"
"well, i feel pretty queer, myself," said the rabbit, twitching his nose. "maybe it's because i'm hungry. there's a kitchen garden over there near the royal stables and i think if i had some carrots i'd feel better."
"of course you would!" cried peg, jumping up. "i forgot you had to eat." so, very cautiously they stole into the royal cook's garden. wag had often helped himself to carrots from this garden before, but now sitting on his haunches he stared around in dazed surprise.
"everything's different!" wailed the rabbit dismally. "you're the same and i'm the same but everything else is all mixed up. look at this carrot. why, it's no bigger than a blade of grass." wag held up a carrot in disgust. "why, it will take fifty of these to give me even a taste and the lettuce--look at it! everything's shrunk, even the houses!" cried the big funny bunny, looking around. "my wocks and hoop soons, sheverything's hunk!"
peg amy had followed wag's gaze and now she jumped up in great excitement. "i see it now!" cried peg. "it's us, wag. everything's the same but we are different. some of that mixed magic has made us grow. we're bigger and everything else is the same. i am as tall as the little girl who used to play with me and you are even bigger and i'm glad, because now we can help find the castle and ruggedo and try to make everything right again."
peg clasped her wooden hands. "aren't you glad too, wag?"
the rabbit shook his head. "it's going to take an awful lot to fill me up," he said doubtfully. "i'll have to eat about six times as much as i used to."
"well, you're six times as large; isn't that any comfort?"
"my head doesn't feel right," insisted wag. "as soon as i talk fast the words all come wrong."
"maybe it didn't grow as fast as the rest of you," laughed the wooden doll. "but don't you care, wag. i know what you mean and i think you're just splendid! now hurry and finish your carrots so we can decide what to do.
"if mixed magic caused all this trouble," added peg half to herself, "mixed magic's got to fix it. i'm going to look at that box." wag, nibbling industriously, had not heard peg's last speech or he would doubtless have taken to his heels.
sitting unconcernedly in a cabbage bed, the wooden doll took the gold box from her pocket. fortunately she had not snapped the magic snap and it opened quite easily. her fingers were stiff and clumsy and the moon was the only light she had to see by, but it did not take peg amy long to realize the importance of glegg's magic.
"i wonder if he rubbed this on the castle," she murmured, holding up the bottle of vanishing cream. "and how would one bring it back? let me see, now." one after the other, she took out the bottles and boxes and the tiny tea set. the re-animating rays she passed over, without realizing they were responsible for bringing her to life, but the question box, peg pounced upon with eager curiosity.
"oh, if it only would answer questions!" fluttered peg. then, holding the box close to her mouth, she whispered, "where is ruggedo?"
"who are you talking to?" asked wag, looking up in alarm. "now don't you get mixed up, peg!"
"it's a question box," said the wooden doll, "but it's not working very well." she shook it vigorously and held it up so that the light streaming down from the stable window fell directly on it. in silver letters on the lid of the box was one word--ev!
"ev--ruggedo's in ev!" cried peg amy, rushing over to the rabbit. "can you take me to ev, wag dear?"
"of course," said wag, nibbling faster and faster at his carrots. "i'll take you anywhere, peg."
"then it's going to be all right; i know it," chuckled the wooden doll, and putting all the magic appliances back into the box she closed the lid with a snap. and this time the magic catch caught.
"is it far to ev?" asked peg amy, looking thoughtfully at the place where the castle had once been.
"quite a long journey," said wag, "but we'll go a hopping. ev is near ruggedo's old home and it's across the deadly desert, but we'll get there somehow. trust me. and when i do!" spluttered wag, thumping his hind feet determinedly, "i'll pound his curly toes off--the wicked little monster!"
"did you ask the question box where the castle was?" he inquired hastily, for he saw peg was going to tell him he must not pound ruggedo.
"why, no! how silly of me!" peg felt in her pocket and brought out the gold box. she tried to open it as she had done before but it was no use. she pulled and tugged and shook it. then wag tried.
"there's a secret to it," puffed the rabbit at last. "took rug a whole night and day to discover it. can't you remember how you opened it before, peg?"
the wooden doll shook her head sadly.
"well, never mind," said wag comfortingly. "once we find ruggedo we can make him tell. we'd better start right off, because if any of the people around here saw us they might try to capture us and put us in a circus. we are rather unusual, you know." the rabbit regarded peg amy complacently. "one doesn't see six-foot rabbits and live dolls every day, even in oz!"
"no," agreed peg amy slowly, "i s'pose not!"
the moon, looking down on the strange pair, ducked behind a cloud to hide her smile, for the giant funny bunny, strutting about pompously, and old-fashioned wooden peg, in her torn frock, were enough to make anyone smile.
"you think of everything," sighed peg, looking affectionately at wag.
"who wouldn't for a girl like you? you're a princess, peg--a regular princess." the rabbit said it with conviction and again peg happily smoothed her dress.
"hop on," chuckled wag, "and then i'll hop off."
seating herself on his back and holding tight to one of his long ears, peg announced herself ready. then away through the night shot the giant bunny--away toward the western country of the winkies--and each hop carried him twelve feet forward and sent up great spurts of dust behind.
while ruggedo was working all this mischief in the emerald city, pompadore and the elegant elephant had fallen into strange company. after the prince's disappearance, kabumpo stared long and anxiously at the white marble stone with its mysterious inscription, "knock before you fall in."
what would happen if he knocked, as the sign directed? something upsetting, the elegant elephant was sure, else why had pompa called for help?
kabumpo groaned, for he was a luxurious beast and hated discomfort of any sort. as for falling in--the very thought of it made him shudder in every pound. but selfish and luxurious though he was, the elegant elephant loved pompa with all his heart. after all, he had run off with the prince and was responsible for his safety. if pompa had fallen in he must fall in too. with a resigned sigh, kabumpo felt in his pocket to see that his treasures were safe, straightened his robe and, taking one last long breath, rapped sharply on the marble stone with his trunk. without a sound, the stone swung inward, and as kabumpo was standing on it he shot headlong into a great black opening. there was a terrific rush of air and the slab swung back, catching as it did so the fluttering edge of the elegant elephant's robe of state. this halted his fall for about a second and then with a spluttering tear the silk fringe ripped loose and down plunged the elegant elephant, trunk over heels.
after the third somersault, kabumpo, right side up, fortunately, struck a soft inclined slide, down which he shot like a scenic railway train.
"great grump!" coughed kabumpo, holding his jeweled headpiece with his trunk. "great--" before he reached the second grump, his head struck the top of the passage with terrific force, and that was the last he remembered about his fall. how long he lay in an unconscious state the elegant elephant never knew. after what seemed several ages he became aware of a confused murmur. footsteps seemed to be pattering all around him, but he was still too stunned to be curious.
"nothing will make me get up," thought kabumpo dully. "i'm going to lie here forever and--ever--and ever--and--" just as he reached this drowsy conclusion, something red hot fell down his neck and a voice louder than all the rest shouted in his ear. "what are you?"
"ouch!" screamed kabumpo, now thoroughly aroused. he opened one eye and rolled over on his side. a tall, curious creature was bending over him. its head was on fire and as kabumpo blinked angrily another red hot shower spattered into his ear. with a trumpet of rage kabumpo lunged to his feet. the hot-headed person fell over backwards and a crowd of similar creatures pattered off into the corner and regarded kabumpo uneasily. they were as tall as pompa but very thin and tube-like in shape and their heads appeared to be a mass of flickering flames.
"like giant candles," reflected the elegant elephant, his curiosity getting the better of his anger. he glanced about hurriedly. he was in a huge white tiled chamber and the only lights came from the heads of its singular occupants. a little distance away prince pompadore sat rubbing first his knees and then his head.
"it's another faller," said one of the giant candlemen to the other. "two fallers in one day! this is exciting--an 'ouch' it calls itself!"
"i don't care what it calls itself," answered the second candleman crossly. "i call it mighty rude. how dare you blow out our king?" shouted the hot-headed fellow, shaking his fist at the elegant elephant. "here, some of you, light him up!"
"blow out your king?" gasped kabumpo in amazement. sure enough, he had. there at his feet lay the king of the candles, stiff and lifeless and with never a head to bless himself with. while the elegant elephant stared at the long candlestick figure a fat little candleman rushed forward and lit with his own head the small black wick sticking out of the king's collar.
instantly the ruddy flame face of the king appeared, his eyes snapping dangerously. jumping to his feet he advanced toward pompadore. "is this your ouch?" spluttered the king, jerking his thumb at kabumpo. "you must take him away at once. i never was so put out in my life. me, the hand-dipped king of the whole illumi nation, to be blown out by a bumpy creature without any headlight. where's your headlight?" he demanded fiercely, leaning over the prince and dropping hot tallow down his neck.
pompa jumped up in a hurry and backed toward kabumpo. "be careful how you talk to him," roared the elegant elephant, swaying backwards and forward like a big ship. "he's a prince--the prince of pumperdink!" kabumpo tossed his trunk threateningly.
"a prince?" spluttered the king, changing his tone instantly. "well, that's different. a prince can fall in on us any time and welcome but an ouch! why bring this great clumsy ouch along?" he rolled his eyes mournfully at kabumpo.
"he's not an ouch," explained pompa, who was gradually recovering from the shock of his fall. "he is kabumpo, an elegant elephant, and he blew you out by mistake. didn't you, kabumpo?"
"purely an accident--nothing intentional, i assure you," chuckled kabumpo. he was beginning to enjoy himself. "if there's any more trouble i'll blow 'em all out," he reflected comfortably, "for they're nothing but great big candles."
seeing their king in friendly conversation with the strangers, the other candlemen came closer--too close for comfort, in fact. they were always leaning over and dropping hot tallow on a body and the heat from their flaming heads was simply suffocating.
"sing the national air for them," said the candle king carelessly and the candlemen, in their queer crackling voices, sang the following song, swaying rhythmically to the tune:
"flicker, flicker, candlemen, cheer our king and cheer again! neat as wax and always bright, cheer's the king of candle light!
kindle lightly--dwindle slightly, here we burn both day and nightly, here we have good times to burn till each one goes out in turn."
"thank you," said pompa, mopping his head with his silk handkerchief.
"thank you very much," kabumpo groaned plaintively, for the great elephant was nearly stifled.
"how is it you are so tall and thin?" asked pompa after an awkward pause.
"how is it you are so short and lumpy and unevenly dipped?" responded king cheer promptly. "if i were in your place," he gave kabumpo a contemptuous glance, "i'd have myself redipped. where are your wicks? and how can you walk about without being lighted?"
"we're not fireworks," puffed kabumpo indignantly and then he gave a shrill scream. ten candlemen tottered and went out, falling to the ground with a great clatter. then pompa leaped several feet in the air and his scream put out five more.
"stop!" cried king cheer angrily. "stand where you are!" but kabumpo and pompa neither stopped nor stood where they were. the elegant elephant rushed over to the prince and threw his heavy robe over his head. and just in time, for pompa's golden locks were a mass of flames. then the prince tore off his velvet jacket and clapped it to kabumpo's tail, which also was blazing merrily.
"great grump!" rumbled the elegant elephant furiously, when he had extinguished pompa and pompa had extinguished him. "i'll put you all out for this!" he raised his trunk and pointed it straight at the candlemen, who cowered in the far corner.
"i was only trying to light you up," wailed a little fellow, holding out his hands pleadingly. "i thought that was your wick." he pointed a trembling finger at kabumpo's tail and another at pompa's head.
"wick!" snorted kabumpo in a rage--while the prince ran his hand sorrowfully through his one luxuriant pompadour, of which nothing but a short stubble remained--"wick! what would we be doing with wicks?"
"i don't think he meant any harm," put in pompadore, whose kind heart was touched by the little candleman's terror. "and it wouldn't help us any."
"thought it was my wick," shrilled kabumpo, glaring over his shoulder at his poor scorched tail. "he's a wick-ed little wretch. he's ruined your looks."
"i know!" pompa sighed dismally. "no one will want to marry me now. it's all coming true, kabumpo, just as count it up said. remember? 'if a thin prince sets out on a fat elephant to find a proper princess, how many yards of fringe will the elephant lose from his robe and how bald will the prince be at the end of the journey?' and we've scarcely begun!"
"great hay stacks!" whistled kabumpo, his little eyes twinkling. "so i have lost every bit of fringe from my robe and my tail and half the back of my robe besides. this is nice, i must say."
"we only tried to give you a warm welcome," said the king timidly.
"warm welcome! well i should think you did," sniffed kabumpo. "how do we get out of here?"
"oh, that's very simple," said the king, cheering up. "tommy, go for the snuffer."
before kabumpo or pompa realized what this would mean a little candleman named tommy tallow had returned with a tall black candle person. he stepped to the side wall, quickly jerked a rope and down over kabumpo dropped a great brass snuffer and over the prince another.
"that ought to put the cross old things out," pompa heard the king say just before his snuffer reached the floor.
"this is terrible," fumed the poor prince, thumping on the sides of the huge brass dome. "i might as well have stayed at home and disappeared comfortably. my poor old father and my mother! i wonder where they are now?"
sunk in gloomy reflection, pompadore leaned against the side of the snuffer. and one cannot blame him for feeling dismal. the fall down the deep passage, the shock of losing his hair and now imprisonment under a stifling brass dome were enough to extinguish the hopes of the stoutest hearted adventurer.
"i shall never find a proper princess!" wailed pompa, tying and untying his handkerchief. but just then there was a creak from without and the great dome lifted as suddenly as it had fallen--so suddenly in fact that pompa fell flat on his back. there stood kabumpo winding up the long rope with his trunk and grumbling furiously all the while.
"takes more than a snuffer to keep me down," wheezed the elegant elephant, hurrying over and jerking the prince to his feet. "three humps of my shoulders and off she goes! what makes it so dark?"
"the candlemen have all gone," sighed pompa, brushing his hand wearily across his forehead. "all except that one."
in a distant corner sat tommy tallow and the light from his head was the only light in the great chamber. he was reading a book with tin leaves and looked up in surprise when he saw the elegant elephant and pompadore approaching. then he started to sputter and ran toward a bell rope at the side of the chamber.
"stop!" shouted kabumpo, "or i'll blow off your head!" at that the little candleman trembled so violently that his flame head almost went out.
"now suppose you show us the way out," snapped the elegant elephant, stamping one big foot until the floor trembled.
"you could burn out!" gasped tommy faintly. "that's what we do!"
"don't say out," whispered pompa anxiously. "we want to go away from here," he explained earnestly. "back on the top of the ground, you know."
"oh!" whistled tommy tallow, his face lighting up. "that's easy--this way, please!" he almost ran to a big door at one side of the room and tugging it open, waved them through.
"good-bye!" he called, slamming the door quickly behind them.
kabumpo and the prince found themselves in a wide dim hallway. it slanted up gradually and there were tall candle guards stationed about a hundred yards apart all of the way.
"are you going to a birthday party or a wedding?" asked the first guard, as they passed him.
"wedding," sniffed kabumpo. "why?"
"well, hardly any of the candles go out of here unless they're needed for a birthday or a wedding," explained the guard, shifting his big feet. "you're mighty poorly made though. what kind of candles do you call yourselves?"
"roman," chuckled kabumpo with a wink. "we roam around," he added ponderously.
"do all the candles used above ground come from here?" asked pompa curiously.
"certainly," replied the guard. "all candles come from illumi--and they don't like to leave either because as soon as they strike the upper air they shrink down to ordinary cake and candlestick size. distressing, isn't it?"
"i suppose it must be," smiled pompadore. "good-bye!" the guard touched his flame hat and kabumpo quickened his pace.
"i want air," rumbled the great elephant, panting along as fast as he could go. "i've seen and felt about all i care to see and feel of the illumi nation."
"so have i!" the prince of pumperdink touched his scorched locks and sighed deeply. "i'm afraid ozma will never marry me now, and pumperdink will disappear forever!"
"don't be a gooch!" snapped the elegant elephant shortly. "our adventures have only begun."
they passed the rest of the guards without further conversation, and after about two hours came to the end of the long tiled passageway and stepped upon firm ground again.
kabumpo was terribly out of breath, for the whole way had been up hill. for a full minute he stood sniffing the fresh night air. then, turning around, he looked for the opening through which they had come. not a sign of the passage anywhere!
"that's curious," puffed the elegant elephant. "but never mind. we don't want to go back anyway."
"i should say not," gasped the prince wearily. "where are we now, kabumpo?"
"still in the gilliken country, i think, but headed in the right direction. all we have to do is to keep going south," said the elegant elephant cheerfully.
"but we've had nothing to eat since morning," objected pompadore.
"that's so," agreed kabumpo, scratching his head thoughtfully, "and not a house in sight!"
"but i smell something cooking," insisted the prince, sniffing hungrily.
"so do i," said the elegant elephant, lifting his trunk, "and it smells like soup. let's follow our noses, pompa, my boy."
"yours is the longest," laughed the prince, as kabumpo swung him upon the elephant's back. so, guided by the fragrant whiffs that came floating toward them, kabumpo set out through the trees.
"strange that we don't see any houses," puffed kabumpo, swinging along rapidly.
"i hear water," answered pompa, peering out over kabumpo's head, "and there it is!"
rippling silver under the rays of the moon, which shone brightly, lay a great inland sea. the trees had thinned out, and a smooth, sandy beach stretched down to the shore. a slight mist hung in the air and all around was the delicious fragrance of vegetable soup.
"somebody's making soup," sighed the prince, "but who, and where?"
"never mind, pompa," wheezed the elegant elephant, walking down to the water's edge, "perhaps you can catch some fish, and while you cook them i'll go back and eat some leaves."
with a jerk of his trunk, kabumpo pulled a length of the heavy silver thread from his torn robe and handed it up to pompa. fastening a jeweled pin to one end, the prince cast his line far out into the waves. at the first tug he drew it in.
"what is it?" asked the elegant elephant, as pompa pulled the dripping line over his trunk.
"oh, how delicious! how wonderful!" exclaimed the once fastidious prince of pumperdink.
kabumpo could hear him munching away with relish.
"what is it?" he asked again.
"a carrot! a lovely, red, delightful, tender carrot!"
"carrot! who ever heard of a sea carrot?" grunted kabumpo. "i'm afraid you're not yourself, my boy. let me see it."
snaps and crunches, as pompa consumed his strange catch, were the only answer, and in real alarm the elegant elephant moved away from the shore, and in doing so bumped against a white sign, stuck in the sand.
"please don't fall in," directed the sign politely, "it spoils the soup."
"soup!" sputtered kabumpo. then another sign caught his eye: "soup sea--salted to taste--help yourself."
"come down--come down here directly!" cried the elegant elephant, snatching the prince from his back. "here's the soup--a whole sea full. now all you need is a bowl."
swallowing convulsively the last bit of carrot, pompa stood staring out over the tossing, smoking soup sea. every now and then a bone or a vegetable would bob out of the waves, and the poor hungry prince of pumperdink thought he had never seen a more lovely sight in his life.
"we'll probably be awarded a china medal for this," chuckled the elegant elephant. "won't old pumper's eyes stick out when we tell him about it? but now for a bowl!"
swinging his trunk gently, kabumpo walked up the white beach, and had not gone more than a dozen steps before he came to a cluster of huge shells. he turned one over curiously. "why, it's a soup bowl," whistled the elegant elephant. he rushed back with it to pompadore, who still stood dreamily surveying the soup.
"i never thought i'd be so thrilled by a common soup bowl," thought kabumpo, staring at the prince in amusement. he stepped out on a rock and dipped up a bowl of the hot liquid.
"here! drink!" commanded the elegant elephant, handing the bowl to the prince. "drink to the proper princess and the future queen of pumperdink."
"don't go," begged the prince between gulps, "i shall want two--three--several!"
kabumpo laughed good naturedly. "this is the pleasantest thing that has happened to us. here! have another!"
then both pompa and the elegant elephant gasped, for out of the bubbling waves arose the most curious figure that they had ever seen--the most curious and the jolliest. he was made entirely of soup bones, and his head was a monster cabbage, with a soup bowl set jauntily on the side for a cap. for a cabbage head he sang very well and this was the song to which he kept time by waving a silver ladle:
"ho! i am the king of the soup sea, yes, i am the king of the deep; my crown is a bowl and my sceptre a ladle, i fell in the soup when i fell from the cradle, and find it exceedingly cheap!
i stir it up nightly, and pepper it rightly-- a liquid perfection you'll find. and here is a roll, sirs, so fill up your bowl, sirs, and think of me after you've dined."
when he came to "dined," the soup king gave a playful leap and disappeared backward into the waves.
pompa rubbed his eyes and looked at kabumpo to see whether he had been dreaming.
"oh!" cried kabumpo, his eyes as round as little saucers. floating gently toward them were two large, crisp, buttered rolls.
"the most charming king i've ever met," chuckled kabumpo, scooping up the rolls and handing them to pompa.
pompa, staring dreamily ahead, first took a drink of soup, then a nibble of roll, too happy for speech. four times the elegant elephant refilled the bowl. then, his stomach full for the first time since they had left pumperdink, the prince stretched himself out on the sands.
"now," puffed the elegant elephant ceremoniously, "if you think you've had quite enough, i'll snatch a few bites myself." chuckling softly he made his way back to some young trees, and dined luxuriously off their tops.
when he returned to the beach, pompa was fast asleep, and for a few moments kabumpo was inclined to sleep himself. "but then," he reflected, "ozma may require a lot of coaxing before she consents to marry pompa, and two of our precious seven days are gone. it is plainly my duty to save pumperdink. besides, when pompa is married he will be king of oz! then i, the elegant elephant, will be the biggest figure at court."
kabumpo threw up his trunk and trumpeted softly to the stars. then, giving himself a big shake and a little stretch, he lifted the sleeping prince to his back and started on again. in about two hours he had circled the soup sea and, guiding himself by a particularly bright and twinkling star, ran swiftly and steadily toward the south.
as the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, kabumpo passed through a quaint little gilliken village. he snatched a bag of rolls from a doorstep and stuck them into his pocket, but he did not stop, and so fast asleep was the little village that except for a few wideawake roosters, no one knew how important a person had passed through.
the sky grew pinker and pinker. you have no idea how pink the morning skies in oz can be. just as the sun got out of bed, the elegant elephant came to the wonderful emerald city itself, shining and fairylike as a dream under the lovely colors of sunrise. kabumpo paused and took a deep breath. even he was impressed, and it took a good bit to impress him. he reached back and touched pompa with his trunk.
"wake up, my boy," whispered kabumpo in a trembling voice. "wake up and put on your crown, for we have come to the city of your proper princess."
pompa sat up and rubbed his eyes in amazement. without a word, he took the crown kabumpo handed up to him, and set it on his scorched, golden head. accustomed as pompa was to grandeur, for pumperdink is very magnificent in its funny old-fashioned way, he could not help but gasp at ozma's fair city. the lovely green parks, the houses studded with countless emeralds, the shining marble streets, filled the prince with wonder.
"i don't believe she'll ever marry me," he stuttered, beginning to feel quite frightened at his boldness.
"nonsense," wheezed kabumpo faintly. he was beginning to have misgivings himself. "sit up now! look your best, and i'll carry you straight into the palace gardens."
no one was awake. even the soldier with the green whiskers lay snoring against a tree, so that kabumpo stole unobserved into the royal gardens.
"i don't see the palace," whispered pompa anxiously. "wouldn't it show above the trees?"
"it ought to," said kabumpo, wrinkling up his forehead. "but look! who is that?"
pompa's heart almost stopped, and even kabumpo's gave a queer jump. on a golden bench, just ahead, sat the loveliest person either had seen in all of their eighteenth birthdays.
"ozma," gasped the elegant elephant, as soon as he had breath enough to whisper. "what luck! you must ask her at once."
"not now," begged the prince of pumperdink, as kabumpo unceremoniously helped him to the ground. his knees shook, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. he had never proposed to a fairy princess before in his whole life. then all at once he had an idea. slipping his hand into the elegant elephant's pocket, he drew out the magic mirror. "i'll see if she's a princess," stuttered pompa.
the elephant shook his head angrily but was afraid to speak again lest he disturb the quiet figure on the bench.
"and i'll not propose unless she is the one," said pompa, tip-toeing toward the bench. without making a sound he suddenly held the mirror before the startled and lovely lady.
"glinda, good sorceress of oz," flashed the mirror promptly.
"great gooseberries!" cried glinda, springing to her feet in alarm and swinging around on pompa. "where did you come from?" after studying a whole day and night in her magic books, glinda had returned to the emerald city to try to perfect her plan for rescuing ozma.
"from pumperdink, your highness," puffed kabumpo, lunging forward anxiously. he, too, had seen the words in the mirror and the fear of offending a sorceress made him quake in his skin--which was loose enough to quake in, dear knows!
"a thousand pardons!" cried the prince, dropping on one knee and taking off his crown. "we were seeking princess ozma, the fairy ruler of oz."
glinda looked from kabumpo to the prince and controlled a desire to laugh. the elegant elephant's torn and scorched robe hung in rags from his shoulders and his jeweled headpiece was dangling over one ear. pompa's clothes were equally shabby and his almost bald head with a lock sticking up here and there gave him a singular and comical appearance.
"pumperdink?" mused glinda, tapping her foot thoughtfully. then, like a flash she remembered the entry in the book of records--"the prince of pumperdink is journeying toward the emerald city."
"why did you want to see ozma?" asked glinda anxiously. perhaps these two strangers could throw some light on the mysterious disappearance of the royal palace.
"our country was threatened with disappearance and i thought--"
"he thought ozma might help us," finished the elegant elephant breathlessly. he did not believe in telling strange sorceresses about everything. now if glinda had not been so occupied with the disappearance of the palace and all the dearest people in oz, she might have been more curious about the disappearance of pumperdink. as it was she just shook her head sadly. "i'm afraid ozma cannot help you," she said, "for ozma herself has disappeared--ozma and everyone in the palace."
"disappeared!" trumpeted the elegant elephant, sitting down with a thud. "great grump! the thing's getting to be a habit!"
what was to become of pompa now? would he never be king, nor he, kabumpo, ever be known as the most elegant elephant in oz? had they made the long journey in vain?
"where? when?" gasped prince pompadore.
"night before last," explained glinda. "i've been consulting my magic books ever since but have only been able to discover one fact."
"what is that?" asked kabumpo faintly.
"that they are in ev," said glinda, "and that a giant carried them off. i came here early this morning to see whether i could discover anything new. would you care to see where the castle stood?"
"did he carry the castle off, too?" shuddered pompa. glinda nodded gloomily and led them over to the great hole in the center of the gardens.
for a minute she stood watching them. then, glancing at a golden sun dial set in the center of a lovely flower bed, she murmured half to herself, "i must be off!" next instant she clapped her hands and down swept a shining chariot drawn by white swans.
"good-bye!" called glinda, springing in lightly. "i'm off to ev to try my magic against the giant's. wait here and when i've helped ozma perhaps i can help you!"
"can't we help? can't we go?" cried pompa, running a few steps after the chariot, but glinda, already high in the air, did not hear him and in the wink of an eye the chariot and its lovely occupant had melted into the pink morning clouds.
"now what shall we do?" groaned the prince, letting his arms drop heavily at his sides.
"do!" snorted kabumpo. "the thing for you to do is to act like a prince instead of a gooch! there are other ways of getting to ev than by chariot."
the thought of kabumpo in glinda's chariot made pompa smile in spite of himself.
"there! that's better," said the elegant elephant more pleasantly.
"now, what's to hinder us from going to ev and rescuing princess ozma? she couldn't help marrying you if you saved her from a giant, could she?"
"but could i save her--that's the question," muttered the prince, looking uneasily at the yawning cavity where the castle had stood. "this giant must be a terrible fellow!"
"pooh!" said kabumpo airily. "who's afraid of giants? i'll wind my trunk around his leg and pull him to earth. then you can dispatch the villain. we must get you a sword, though," he added softly.
"all right! i'll do it!" cried the prince, throwing out his chest. the very thought of killing a giant made him feel about ten feet high. "do you know the way to ev, kabumpo? we'll have to hurry, because unless i marry ozma before the seven days are up my poor old father and mother and all of pumperdink will disappear forever."
you see, even pompa had now got it into his head that ozma was the proper princess mentioned in the scroll.
"we'll start at once," sighed the elegant elephant a bit ruefully. "i've had no sleep and precious little to eat but when you are king of oz you can reward old kabumpo as he deserves."
"everything i have will be yours," cried the prince, giving the elephant, or as much of him as he could grasp, a sudden hug. then each took a long drink from one of the bubbling fountains and, munching the rolls kabumpo had picked up in the gilliken village, the two adventurers stole out of the gardens.
as they reached the gates, kabumpo paused and his little eyes twinkled with delight. there lay the soldier with the green whiskers, snoring tremendously and beside him was a long, sharp sword with an emerald handle. "just what we need," chuckled kabumpo, snatching it up in his trunk. then out through the gates and swiftly through the still sleeping city swept the elegant elephant and the prince of pumperdink, off to rescue princess ozma, a prisoner in ev!
in their journey to ev, peg and wag had a night's start of kabumpo and prince pompadore, but towards morning wag's ears began to droop with sleep.
"gotta natch a sap, peg," wag muttered thickly, as they halted on a little hill.
"natch a sap? what's that?" asked the wooden doll anxiously. wag made no answer--just flopped on his side and in a minute was asleep and snoring tremendously.
"oh!" whispered peg, pulling herself gently from beneath the sleeping rabbit. "he meant snatch a nap."
she laughed softly and seated herself under a small tree. the birds were beginning to waken and their singing filled peg amy with delight. "how wonderful it all is," she murmured, gazing up at the little ruffly pink clouds. "how wonderful it is to be alive!"
"hello! mr. robin!" she called gaily, as a bird flew to a low bush beside her. "are your children quite well?"
the robin swung backward and forward on his swaying branch; then burst into his best morning song.
"oh!" cried peg amy, clasping her wooden hands, "i've heard that before! but how could i?" she reasoned, "i'm only a wooden doll and this is the first morning i have been alive. but then, how did i know it was a robin?"
peg rubbed her wooden forehead in perplexity, for it was all very puzzling indeed. below their little hill stretched the lovely land of the winkies, with its great green forests and little yellow villages. the wind sent the leaves dancing above peg's head and the early sunbeams made lovely patterns on the grass.
"i've seen it before!" gasped the wooden doll breathlessly. "the trees, the birds, the houses and everything!" springing to her feet she ran awkwardly from bush to tree, touching the leaves and bending over the flowers as if they were old friends. had it not been for the squeaking of her wooden joints, peg would almost have forgotten she was a wooden doll, for at the sight of the lovely green growing things something warm and sunny seemed to waken in her stiff wooden breast. "i've been alive before," said peg amy over and over.
suddenly, through the still morning air, came a loud, shrill laugh. peg, who had been standing with her cheek pressed closely against a small tree, swung around quickly--so quickly in fact that she fell over and lay in a ridiculously bent double position before the new-comers.
it was kabumpo and the prince of pumperdink. traveling by the same road wag had chosen but much more rapidly, the elegant elephant had come at sunrise to the little hill. he had been watching peg for some time, and when he saw her dance awkwardly over to the tree, he could no longer restrain himself.
"get out your mirror!" roared kabumpo, shaking all over with mirth. "here is your proper princess, pompa, my boy--as royal a maiden as the country boasts. ho, ho! kerumph!"
"don't be ridiculous," snapped pompa, looking down curiously at the comical figure of peg amy.
"but she's so funny!" gasped kabumpo, the tears rolling down his big cheeks.
"who's funny?" demanded an angry voice and wag, who had been awakened by kabumpo's loud roars, hopped up, his ears quivering with rage.
"i'll pull your long nose for you!" cried wag, advancing threateningly. "don't you dare make fun of peg. what are you, anyway?"
"great grump!" choked kabumpo, without answering wag's inquiry. "what kind of a rabbit is this?"
"a clawing, chawing, scratching kind--as you'll soon find out!" wag drew himself up into a ball and prepared to launch himself at kabumpo's head, when peg straightened up and caught him by the ear.
"don't, wag, please," she begged. "he couldn't help laughing. i am funny. you know i am!" she sighed a bit ruefully.
"you're not funny to me," blustered wag, still glaring at kabumpo. "who does he think he is?"
"i?" sniffed kabumpo, spreading out his ears complacently, "i am the elegant elephant of pumperdink. notice my pearls; gaze upon my robe."
"you don't look very elegant to me," snorted wag. "you look more like a tramp. says he's a lelegant nelephant from dumperpink," he whispered scornfully to peg.
"and what's that you've got on your back?" he called, with a wave of his paw at pompa. "a dunce?"
"dunce!" screamed kabumpo furiously. "this is the prince of pumperdink, you good-for-nothing lettuce-eater! what do you mean by laughing at royalty?"
"royalty! oh, ha, ha, ha!" roared wag, rolling over and over in the grass. "but he's so funny!" he paused to take another look at the prince. at this kabumpo lunged forward, his eyes snapping angrily.
"stop!" begged the prince, tugging kabumpo by the ear. "you were rude to his friend that--er--doll, so you must expect him to be rude to me. it's all your fault," he added reproachfully.
"are you a prince?" asked peg amy, staring up at pompa with her round, painted eyes.
"of course he's a prince. didn't i say so before? who is that hoppy creature?"
"that's wag--such a dear fellow." peg smiled confidently at kabumpo and he was suddenly ashamed of himself for laughing at her.
"well, he needn't get waggish with me," grumbled the elegant elephant in a lower voice.
"oh, don't quarrel!" begged peg. "it's such a lovely morning and you both look so interesting."
kabumpo eyed the big wooden doll attentively. it was smart of her to think him interesting. he cleared his throat gruffly.
"you're not as funny as you look," he admitted grandly, which was the nearest to an apology he had ever come. "but what are you doing here and why are you alive?"
"i don't know," explained peg apologetically. "it just happened last night."
"it did? well, where are you going?"
wag still looked cross and his nose was twitching violently, but peg politely answered kabumpo's question.
"we're on our way to ev to try to help ozma," said the wooden doll, folding her hands quaintly.
"why so are we!" cried pompa, sliding down kabumpo's trunk in a hurry.
"how do you expect to help her?" grunted kabumpo, looking at wag and peg contemptuously.
"don't mind him," begged pompa, running up to peg amy. "tell me everything you know about ozma. is she pretty?"
"beautiful," breathed peg, looking up at the sky. "beautiful and lovely and good. that's why i want to help her."
"then i sha'n't mind marrying her at all," said pompa, with a great sigh of relief.
"gooch!" roared kabumpo angrily--"telling everything you know!"
"do you mean to say you think ozma would marry you?" gasped wag, sitting up with a jerk. "oh, my wocks and hoop soons!" his ears crossed and uncrossed and with a final gurgle of disbelief wag fell back on the grass.
"well, is there anything so strange in that?" asked pompa in a hurt voice. "i've got to marry her," he added, desperately appealing to peg amy. and while kabumpo stood sulkily swinging his trunk the prince told peg the whole story of the magic scroll.
"i said you looked interesting," breathed peg, as pompa paused for breath. "did you hear that, wag? unless he marries a proper princess in a proper time his whole kingdom will disappear--his kingdom and everyone in it!"
"but how do you know ozma is the proper princess?" asked wag, chewing a blade of grass. "the scroll didn't say ozma, did it?"
"kabumpo thinks ozma is the proper princess," explained pompadore, nodding toward the elegant elephant, "and he's usually right!"
"humph!" sniffed wag. "well, maybe you are a prince. you're not really bad looking if you had some fur on your head," he remarked more amiably. "what happened? somebody pull it out?"
"oh, wag!" murmured peg amy, in a shocked voice.
"burned off," sighed pompa, and proceeded to tell of their fall into the illumi nation. he even told them about the soup sea and of their meeting with glinda, the good.
"don't you care," said the big wooden doll, as pompa mournfully rubbed his scorched head. "it will soon grow again and i don't see how ozma could help loving you--you're so tall, and so polite." this kind little speech affected pompa so deeply that he dropped on one knee and raised peg's wooden hand to his lips.
"the creature has a lot of sense," mumbled kabumpo, with his mouth full of leaves.
"creature!" exclaimed wag, sitting up straight and opening his eyes wide. "her name is peg amy, mr. nelegant lelephant."
"oh, all right," sniffed kabumpo hastily. "but you'll have to admit she's curious."
"of course she is," said wag complacently. "that's why i like her. she wasn't cut out to be a beauty, but to be companionable, and she is. when you've known peg as long as i have"--wag paused impressively--"you'll be proud to carry her on your back, mr. long nose!"
"i've only known her a few minutes and i adore her!" said pompa heartily. "mistress peg and i are good friends already." peg curtseyed awkwardly. "i've done this before," she reflected curiously to herself.
"shall we tell them about ruggedo?" peg asked aloud, turning to wag.
"yes, do!" begged pompa. "tell us something about yourselves. i never saw so large a rabbit in my life as wag and as for you!"--pompa paused, for wag was eying him resentfully--"you are the largest, most delightful doll i have ever met, the only alive one, i might say. how did you know about ozma's disappearance and how were you going to help her?"
"mixed magic!" whispered wag, crossing his ears and his eyes as well. "mixed magic!"
"magic?" gulped kabumpo, swallowing a branch of sticky leaves whole. "have you any magic?"
"a whole box full," sighed peg amy, patting her pocket softly.
"in that box is the magic that brought peg to life!" shrilled wag, pointing a trembling paw. "in that box is the magic that made us grow. in that box is the magic that caused ozma's castle to disappear--!"
"great grump!" whistled kabumpo. "how fortunate we fell in with them, pompa." he held out his trunk. "give me the box, my good girl, and you shall be fittingly rewarded when pompa is king of oz."
"that's a long time to wait," chuckled wag, tickled by kabumpo's outrageous impudence. "no, peg and i will just keep the box, thank you."
"of course you will," said prince pompadore, frowning at kabumpo. "but as we are both bound on the same errand, let us travel together. kabumpo and i are going to kill the giant who ran off with the castle."
the prince held up his long sword. "and if you can help us, i shall thank you from the bottom of my heart." pompa stretched out his hand impulsively.
"well, that's more like," said wag, pulling his ear thoughtfully. "and four heads are better than two!"
"of course we'll help you!" cried peg amy. "the trouble is, we don't know ourselves how to open the magic box, but we do know that ruggedo is in ev and when we get there we will make him open the box and undo all this mischief."
"you mentioned him before," said kabumpo, holding up his trunk. "who is ruggedo and what has he to do with ozma?"
"ruggedo is a wicked little gnome," explained peg amy gravely. "he used to be king of the gnomes but he was banished from his kingdom and ozma gave him a little cottage in the emerald city. he pretended to live there, but instead he tunneled a cave right underneath the palace. wag helped him dig." peg waved her hand at the rabbit. "and he was the only one who would stay with him. then ruggedo stole me. i was only a small, unalive doll, belonging to trot, a little girl who lives with ozma. ruggedo stole me just to shake," continued peg shuddering.
"that's why i'm going to pound his curly toes off!" screamed wag, beginning to hop about at the very thought of ruggedo.
"but how did you come to be so large and alive?" asked kabumpo, who was growing more interested.
"well, one night"--peg dropped her voice to a whisper--"one night ruggedo found this box of mixed magic hidden in the cave and then--"
"then," screamed wag hoarsely, "in some way we don't understand, peg and i grew big, peg came alive, the top blew off the cave--and depend upon it, whatever's happened to ozma and her palace happened from something in that box. it's all ruggedo's fault. when i catch him"--wag began to wiggle his nose and paw his whiskers--"my wocks and hoop soons! i'll pound his curly toes off!"
"and i'll help you!" cried kabumpo heartily. he could not help but admire such spirit. "come on--let's start. you may ride on my back with pompa if you care to," finished the elegant elephant with a sidelong glance at peg.
"oh, thank you," smiled the wooden doll, "but wag will carry me."
"i always carry peg," said wag jealously. "i've known her the longest."
"oh, all right," sniffed kabumpo, lifting pompa up, "but if she ever wants to ride on my back she may."
"humph!" grunted wag, as the wooden doll settled herself on his shoulders. "isn't he generous!"
peg pulled down one of wag's long ears. "it was kindly meant," whispered the wooden doll merrily.
"ready?" puffed kabumpo, backing out into the road. "we've no time to lose, for if we lose time we lose our kingdom too. forward for pumperdink!"
"all right!" cried wag, giving a great leap. "follow me!" and off hopped the giant bunny so fast that kabumpo had to stretch his legs even to keep him in sight.
meanwhile strange things had been happening in ozma's palace. for the people inside it had been a very mean time indeed. during ruggedo's run to the mountains of ev, they had almost been shaken out of their wits and when he sat down upon the mountain top there was not a person nor piece of furniture standing in the whole palace. courtiers and servants who were not knocked senseless lay shaking in their beds or huddled in corners and under sofas and chairs, just as they had fallen when the first terrible crash lifted the palace into the air.
ozma's four poster bed had collapsed, pinning the little fairy princess under a mass of silk hangings and curtain poles. being a fairy, ozma was unhurt, but not being able to move, nor to reach her magic belt or even make herself heard, she was forced to lie perfectly still and wait for help.
in dorothy's sitting room there was not a sound but the ticking of the copper man's machinery. trot and betsy bobbin had knocked their heads together so smartly that they were unconscious. sir hokus had been hurled violently against tik tok and the poor knight had known nothing since. dorothy lay quietly beside him, an ugly bruise on her forehead, where the emerald clock had landed.
"scraps!" called the scarecrow, sometime after the rumble and tumble had ceased, "are you there?"
"no, here!" gasped the patch work girl, sitting up cautiously. she had bounced all around the room and finally rolled into a corner quite close to the scarecrow himself. she put out her cotton hand as she spoke and touched him.
"how fortunate we are unbreakable," said the scarecrow, pressing her cotton fingers convulsively and trying to peer out through the intense blackness of the room. "what happened?"
"earthquake!" shivered scraps. "and maybe it's not over!"
"must have knocked everybody silly," said the scarecrow huskily.
"except us," giggled the patch work girl. "we couldn't be knocked silly 'cause we were silly in the first place."
"now, don't make jokes, please," begged the scarecrow. "this is serious. besides, i want to think."
"all right," said scraps cheerfully. "i don't--but i'm going to feel around and see if i can find the matches. there used to be some candles on the mantel and--" as she spoke, scraps fell headlong over sir hokus of pokes and as luck would have it her cotton fingers closed over a small gold match box. picking herself up carefully, scraps struck a match on sir hokus' armor and looked anxiously around the room.
"they need water," said the patch work girl, wrinkling up her patchwork forehead.
"so will you if you don't blow out that match!" cried the scarecrow in alarm, for scraps continued to hold the match till it burned to the very end. he jumped up clumsily and puffed out the light just in time. scraps promptly lit another and as she did so the scarecrow saw a tall blue candle sticking out of the waste basket.
"here," said the straw man nervously. "light this and stand it on the mantel there." by the flickering candle light the scarecrow and scraps tried to set dorothy's room to rights. they dragged the mattress from the bed-room and placed the little girls on it, side by side. sir hokus was too heavy to move, so they merely loosened his armor and put a sofa cushion under his head. then, just as scraps was going for some water, the room began to tremble again.
"i told you it wasn't over," cried scraps, flinging both arms about the scarecrow's neck. and as they rocked to and fro she shouted merrily:
"shaker! shaker! who art thee, to shake a castle like a tree? shaker! shaker! go away and come again some other day!"
"now, scraps," begged the scarecrow, steadying the patch work girl with one hand and catching hold of a table with the other, "everything depends on us. do try to keep your head!"
"keep my head!" shrilled scraps, as the room tilted over and slid all the furniture sideways. "i'll be lucky if i keep my feet. whoopee! here we go!" and go they did with a rush into the farthest corner. slowly the room righted itself and everything grew quiet again.
"i know what i'm going to do," said the scarecrow determinedly. "before anything else happens i'm going to see what has happened already."
"how?" asked scraps, bouncing to her feet.
"the magic picture," gasped the scarecrow. "you bring the candle, scraps, like a good girl. you're less liable to take fire than i am. then we'll come back and help dorothy and the others."
"good idea," said scraps, taking the candle from the mantel. breathlessly the two tip-toed along the hall to ozma's apartment. on the wall in one of ozma's rooms hangs the most magic possession in oz. it is a picture representing a country scene, but when you ask it where a certain person is, immediately he is shown in the picture and also what he is doing at the time.
"so," murmured the scarecrow, as they gained the room in safety, "if it tells where other people are, it ought to tell us where we are ourselves."
drawing aside the curtain that covered the picture the scarecrow demanded loudly, "where are we?"
scraps held the candle so that its flickering rays fell directly on the picture. then both jumped in earnest, for in a flash the face of ruggedo, the wicked old gnome king, appeared, on his head a great, green towering sort of hat.
the scarecrow seized the candle from scraps and held it closer to the picture. he squinted up one eye and almost rubbed his painted nose off.
"great kinkajous!" spluttered the straw man distractedly. "that's a palace on his head--an emerald palace--ozma's palace!"
"but how?" asked scraps, her suspender button eyes almost dropping out. "he's nothing but a gnome. he's--"
before scraps could finish her sentence the palace began to tilt forward and they both fell upon their faces. then the picture jerked loose and fell with a clattering slam on their heads, followed by such ornaments as had not already tumbled down before. through it all scraps held the candle high in air and fortunately it did not go out, despite the turmoil.
in a few moments the palace stopped rocking and a muffled call from ozma sent the scarecrow and scraps hurrying to her bedside. after some trouble, for they were both flimsily made, they managed to free the little princess of oz from the poles and bed curtains.
"goodness!" sighed ozma, looking around at the terrible confusion.
"not goodness, but badness," said the scarecrow, settling his hat firmly, "and ruggedo is at the bottom of it and of us." he quickly explained to ozma what he had seen in the magic picture.
slipping on a silk robe, ozma followed them into the next room. when the picture had been rehung, they all looked again. this time ozma asked where the palace was. immediately the old gnome king appeared and there could be no mistake--the palace was set squarely on his head. the picture did not show the real size of ruggedo nor of the palace, but it was enough.
"he must have sprung into a giant," gasped ozma, scarcely believing her eyes. "oh, what shall we do?"
"the first thing to do is to keep him quiet. every time he shakes his head it tumbles us about so," complained the scarecrow, plumping up the straw in his chest. "and we must look after dorothy and betsy and trot."
"and sir hokus," added the patch work girl, flinging out one hand. "he's yearning to slay a giant. 'way for the giant killer!"
without waiting for the others scraps ran back to dorothy's sitting room. lighting another candle, for all the lights in the palace were out, ozma and the scarecrow followed.
"odds goblins!" gasped the knight, as they entered. he was sitting up with one hand to his head.
"not goblins--giants!" cried the patch work girl, with a bounce, while ozma ran for some water to restore her three little friends.
"where?" puffed the knight, lurching to his feet.
"beneath you," said the scarecrow, clutching at a wisp of straw that stuck out of his head. "say! some one wind up tik tok. there's a lot of thinking to be done here and his head works very well, even if it has wheels inside."
sir hokus, though still a bit dizzy, hastened to wind up all the copper man's keys.
"thanks," said tik tok immediately. "give me a lift up, ho-kus." the knight obligingly helped the copper man to his feet. then both stared in amazement at the topsy turvy room. even in the dim candle light they could see that something very serious had occurred.
jack pumpkinhead picked himself up out of a corner, looking very much dazed.
just then dorothy opened her eyes, and betsy and trot, spluttering from the water the patch work girl was pouring on their heads, sat up and wanted to know what had happened. in a few words ozma told them what the magic picture had revealed.
"ruggedo to a giant's grown and set us on his head. we've made some headway, you'll admit, since we have gone to bed!"
--shouted scraps, who was growing more and more excited.
"rug-ge-do will nev-er re-form," ticked the copper man sadly.
"but what are we going to do?" wailed dorothy. "suppose he leans over and spills us all out?"
"i shall take my sword," said sir hokus, speaking very determinedly, and backing toward the window as he spoke, "climb down, and slay the villain." he threw one leg over the sill.
"come back!" cried ozma. "dear sir hokus, don't you realize that if you kill ruggedo he will fall down and break us to pieces? besides, wicked as he is, i could not have him killed."
"yes, we should be all broken up if you did that," sighed the scarecrow. "we must try something else."
reluctantly, the knight dropped back into the room. "close the windows," ordered ozma with a little shudder.
"i've thought of a plan," said tik tok, in his slow, painstaking way. "a ve-ry good plan."
"tell us what it is," begged dorothy. "and oh, tik tok, hurry!"
"eggs," said the copper man solemnly.
"oh!" gasped dorothy, "i remember. eggs are the only things in oz that ruggedo is afraid of; for if an egg touches a gnome he shrivels up and disappears."
"then where are the eggs?" demanded sir hokus gloomily. "in faith, this sounds more like an omelet than a battle. but if we're to fight with eggs instead of swords, let us draw them at once."
"you mean throw them," corrected dorothy. but tik tok shook his head violently.
"not throw them," said the copper man slowly, "threat-en to throw them."
"but how can we threaten a giant so far below us?" asked ozma.
"print a sign," directed tik tok calmly, "and low-er it down to him."
"tik tok," cried the scarecrow, rushing forward and embracing him impulsively, "your patent-action-double-guaranteed brains are marvels. i couldn't have thought up a better plan myself."
now off ran scraps to fetch a huge piece of cardboard, and the scarecrow for a paint brush, and sir hokus for a piece of rope.
"it's growing lighter," quavered trot, looking toward the windows. the sky was turning gray with little streaks of pink, and the three girls huddled together on the mattress gave a sigh of relief; for nothing, not even a giant, seems so bad by daylight.
"perhaps someone has already started to help us," said ozma hopefully. "but here's the sign board. what shall we write?"
"how shall i begin?" asked the scarecrow, dipping the brush into a can of green paint. "dear ruggedo?"
"i should say not," said dorothy indignantly.
"then i shall simply say, sir," said the scarecrow.
"if you move or turn or shake your head a-gain, ten thou-sand eggs will be hurl-ed from the pal-ace windows," suggested tik tok.
as this message met with general approval, the scarecrow set it down with many flourishes and blotches of paint spilled between. then ozma painted her name and the royal seal of oz at the end.
meanwhile, with the help of a pair of field glasses, sir hokus had located ruggedo's nose, sticking out like a huge cliff below the middle window of dorothy's room. so, tying a long rope to each corner of the sign, and rolling it up so it would go through the window, the knight let it down till it dangled directly in front of ruggedo's nose.
at first ruggedo did not even see the sign, which was about as large as the tiniest visiting card--compared to him. but it blew against his face and tickled his cheek. he tried to brush it away. then, suddenly noticing it was dangling from above, he seized it in one hand and held it close to his left eye. the words were so small for a giant that ruggedo had to squint fearfully before he could make them out at all, but when he did he gave a bloodcurdling scream, and began to tremble violently.
up in the palace the entire company fell over and twenty windows were shaken to bits. then everything grew quiet and there was perfect silence; for ruggedo, realizing his danger, grew rigid with fright. giant drops of perspiration trickled down his forehead. how long could he keep from moving?
"well," said dorothy after a few minutes had passed, "i guess that will keep him quiet, but what next? shall we let ourselves down with ropes?"
"we have none long enough," said sir hokus.
"then i'll fall out and go for help," said the scarecrow brightly, and started toward the window. when he reached it he paused in astonishment. "look," he cried, waving excitedly to the others, "here comes someone, walking right over the clouds."
someone was coming toward the palace. a little gray-cloaked old gentleman--a surprisingly quick and nimble old gentleman--springing from cloud to cloud and pausing now and then to straighten a huge sack he carried over his left shoulder. he was so busy admiring the lovely sky colors behind him and waving merrily at the fluffy cloud figures above his head, that he did not see ozma's shining palace until he was almost upon it.
"stars!" murmured the little old gentleman, balancing perilously on the very edge of a silver cloud. "another air castle! how delightful! i shall jump right through it!"
gathering himself together he leaped straight toward the window out of which dorothy and ozma and the others were looking. with a soft thud he struck the emerald setting just above the window, and down tumbled his sack, opening as it fell and filling the air with clouds of silver sand. down tumbled the little old gentleman, turning over and over, and finally landing on a blankety white cloud far below.
all of this dorothy saw, and was about to ask ozma what it could mean when an overpowering drowsiness stole over her. before she could speak her eyes closed, and she sank backward into a big arm chair. trot and betsy bobbin with two little sighs crumpled down to the floor. the head of sir hokus dropped heavily on the sill, and not even in pokes had he snored so lustily. ozma slipped gently down beside betsy and trot, and in a moment there was not a person awake in that whole big palace. even the little mice in the kitchen were fast asleep, with heads on their paws.
did i say everyone? well, not quite everyone had fallen under the strange spell. tik tok, scraps, and the scarecrow, who had never slept in their lives, were still wide awake, and regarding their companions with astonishment and alarm. the tin woodman was taking things calmly, oiling up his joints and polishing his tin jacket with silver polish.
"this is no time to sleep," cried the scarecrow, shaking sir hokus. "i say--wake up!" but all their efforts to arouse their companions were in vain.
"en-chant-ment," said the copper man. "some--" with a click and a whirr tik tok's machinery ran down, and as scraps and the scarecrow were too upset to think of winding him, he stood as silent and dumb as the rest.
"what shall we do?" cried the scarecrow, seizing scraps' arm. "jump out of the window and go for help, or stay here and guard the palace?"
scraps looked out of the window. "stay here," shuddered the patch work girl, drawing in her head quickly.
"then," said the scarecrow, "let us arm ourselves and prepare to withstand any attack." he snatched up a pair of fire tongs and scraps grasped the poker. falling into step, the two marched from the top to the bottom of the palace. everywhere the same sight met their gaze; rooms turned topsy turvy, and spread over floors and sofas and chairs the sleeping figures of ozma's once lively courtiers and servants. the effect was so distressing that scraps and the scarecrow found themselves whispering and treading about on tip-toe. after inspecting the whole palace they returned to dorothy's room and placed themselves disconsolately in the doorway.
"anyway, ruggedo is quiet," sighed the scarecrow, "and that is something."
scraps started to make a verse, but the silence and the ghostlike atmosphere of the sleeping palace had dashed even the spirits of the patch work girl and she subsided with an indistinct mumble.
ruggedo was silent for a very good reason. ruggedo was asleep, too--asleep sitting up as stiff as a stone image, for even in his sleep he dreamed of the dreaded bombardment of eggs.
all this had happened because the little man in gray had taken ozma's palace for an air castle, and who could blame him for that? even the sand man would not expect to find a regular palace set among the clouds. there are plenty of dream castles, to be sure, and one of the sand man's chief delights is to jump through them and admire their lovely furniture. but sure-enough castles--the little fellow could not get over it. sitting cross-legged on the white cloud, which floated close to ruggedo's head, he stared and stared.
"well, i never," chuckled the sand man, and turned a somersault for very amazement. then, not knowing what else to do or think, he sensibly decided to hurry home and tell the whole affair to his wife. his empty bag he found on a tall treetop, and without one backward glance he bounded into the air and disappeared. really, it was quite lucky the little old gentleman spilled his bag of sand where he did, for the only safe giant is a sleeping giant, and while ozma and her friends lay dreaming they could not worry.
"will they sleep forever?" sighed scraps, after she and the scarecrow had sat silently for an hour.
"seems likely," said the scarecrow gloomily. "but even if they do," he plucked three straws from his chest, "we shall stick to our post to the very end."
the scarecrow regarded the sleeping figures of the little girls affectionately.
"to the end of forever?" gulped scraps, putting her cotton finger in her mouth. "how long is that?"
"that," said the scarecrow resignedly and settling himself comfortably, "that is what we shall soon see."
"do you think you were alive before?" asked kabumpo, squinting down his long trunk at peg amy. she had begged him to take off his plush robe and, spreading it on the grass, was beating it briskly with the branch of a tree.
"yes," sighed the wooden doll, pausing with uplifted stick and regarding kabumpo solemnly, "i must have been alive before 'cause i keep remembering things."
"what kind of things?" asked the elegant elephant, rubbing himself lazily against a tree.
"well, this for instance," said peg, holding up a corner of the purple plush robe. "i once had a dress of it. i'm sure i had a dress of this stuff."
"when you were a little doll?" asked kabumpo curiously.
"no," said peg, giving the robe a few little shakes, "before that. and i remember this country, too, and the sun and the wind and the sky. if i'd only been alive one day i wouldn't remember them, would i?"
"queer things happen in oz," said kabumpo comfortably. "but why bother? you are alive and very jolly. you are traveling with the most elegant elephant in oz and in the company of a prince. isn't that enough?"
peg amy did not reply but kept on beating the plush robe with determined little thumps and staring off through the trees with a very puzzled expression in her painted blue eyes. they had traveled swiftly all morning through the fertile farmlands of the winkies and had paused for lunch in this little grove. peg, not needing food, and kabumpo, finding plenty of tender branches handy, had remained together while wag and the prince sought more nourishing fare.
many a little winkie farmer had stared in amazement as peg and pompa passed that morning but so fast did kabumpo and wag travel that before the winkies were half sure of what they had seen there was nothing but a cloud of dust to wonder over and exclaim about.
"if you had a pair of scissors, i could cut off the burned part of your robe and make it more tidy," said peg, when she had finished beating the dust out of kabumpo's gorgeous blanket.
"there might be a pair in my pocket," said the elegant elephant. "here, let me get them," he added hastily. "for suppose she should look into the magic mirror," he thought suddenly. "it might tell her something terrible!"
even in this short time kabumpo had grown fond of queer wooden peg and careless as he was somehow he did not want to hurt her feelings again. sure enough, there was a pair of silver scissors in with the jewels he had tumbled into his pocket before leaving pumperdink. so peg carefully cut away all the scorched part of kabumpo's robe and pinned under the rough edges with three beautiful pearl pins.
"now lift me up into that small tree and i'll drop it over you," she laughed gaily. this kabumpo did quite easily and after peg amy had smoothed and adjusted the robe, she crept out on the end of the branch and straightened the elegant elephant's pearl head dress and brushed all the dust from his forehead with a handful of damp leaves.
"you're a good girl, peg," said kabumpo, sighing with contentment. "i don't care whether you never were alive before or not, you've more sense than some people who've lived for centuries. i'm going to give that gnome something on my own account. dared to shake you, did he? well, wait till i get through shaking him!"
"it didn't hurt," said peg reflectively, "but it ruined all my clothes. do you think prince pompadore minds having me look so shabby?"
kabumpo shifted about uneasily. "will this help?" he asked sheepishly, pulling a lovely pearl necklace from his pocket. "ozma doesn't need everything," he muttered to himself.
"oh! how perfectly pomiferous!" cried peg. "lift me down so i can try it on." in a trice kabumpo swung her down from the tree and awkwardly peg amy clasped the chain about her wooden neck. then she flung both arms round kabumpo's trunk. "you're the biggest darling old elephant in oz!" cried peg happily.
kabumpo blinked. he was accustomed to being called elegant and magnificent but no one--not even pompa--had ever called him an old darling before and he found he liked it immensely.
while peg ran to look at her reflection in a small pool he resolved to get the wooden doll a position at court, for, in spite of her stiff fingers, peg was very deft and clever. "and she shall have a purple plush dress too," said kabumpo grandly.
just then pompa and wag returned in a high good humor. the prince had tapped on the door of a small farm house and the little winkie lady had been most hospitable. not only had she given the prince all he could eat, but she had allowed wag to go into the garden and pick two dozen of her best cabbages. his size had greatly astonished her and she had insisted upon measuring him twice with her yellow tape measure but finally, without revealing the purpose of their journey, the two managed to get away. as all were now refreshed and rested, they decided to start on again.
"we ought to reach ev by evening," puffed wag, between hops.
"but i wish we could open the magic box," sighed peg, holding on to wag's ear, "for in that box there's flying fluid!"
"we'd make a remarkably nice lot of birds," chuckled kabumpo, looking over his shoulder, "now wouldn't we?"
"you would," laughed pompa. "what else was in the box, peg?"
it was hard to talk while they were being jolted along, but peg, being of wood, did not feel the bumps and pompa, being a prince, pretended not to, so that they continued their conversation in jerky sentences.
"there's vanishing cream, a little tea kettle and some kind of rays and a question box," said peg, holding up her wooden hand. "a question box that answers any question you ask it."
"there is!" exclaimed kabumpo, stopping short. "well, i wish we could ask it whether pumperdink has disappeared."
"and how to rescue ozma, and who sent the scroll!" cried pompa. "oh, do let me try to open it, peg!"
so peg handed over glegg's magic box and as they pounded along the prince tried to pry it open with his pearl pen knife. "it would save us such a lot of trouble," he murmured, holding it up and screwing his eye to the keyhole.
"better let it alone," advised wag, wiggling his ears nervously. "suppose you should grow as big for you as i am for me. suppose you should explode or vanish!"
"vanish!" coughed kabumpo. "great grump! put it away, pompa. wait till we reach ev and make that wicked little ruggedo open it for us. who is this glegg, anyway?"
"a lawless magician, i guess," said wag, "or he wouldn't have owned a box of mixed magic. ozma doesn't allow anyone to practice magic, you know."
"why, i'll bet he was the person who sent the scroll!" exclaimed the prince suddenly. "don't you remember, kabumpo, it was signed j. g.?"
"not a doubt in the world," rumbled kabumpo. "i'll throw him up a tree when i catch him and ruggedo, too!"
"oh, please don't," begged peg amy. "perhaps they are sorry."
"not half as sorry as they will be," wheezed kabumpo, plowing ahead through the long grass like a big ferryboat under full steam.
wag hopped close behind and peg kept her eyes fixed upon pompa's back. in spite of his scorched head, he seemed to peg the most delightful prince imaginable.
"i'll brush off his cloak and cut his hair all evenly," thought peg. "then, perhaps ozma will say yes when he tells her his story and asks for her hand. but i wonder what will become of me," peg sighed ever so softly and looked down with distaste at her wooden hands and torn old dress. nothing very exciting could happen to a shabby wooden doll.
"why, i haven't even any right to be alive," she reflected sadly. "i'm only meant to be funny. well, never mind! perhaps i can help pompa and maybe that's why i was brought to life."
this thought, and the gleam of the lovely pearls kabumpo had given her, so cheered peg that she began to hum a queer, squeaky little song. the country was growing rougher and more hilly every minute. the sunny farmlands lay far behind them now and as peg finished her song they came to the edge of a queer, dead-looking forest. the trees were dry and without leaves and there were quantities of stiff bushes and short stunted little trees standing under the taller ones.
peg had an odd feeling that hundreds of eyes were staring out at them but the forest was so dim that she couldn't be sure. there was not a sound but the crackling of the dead branches under wag's and kabumpo's feet.
"i don't like this," choked wag. "my wocks and hoop soons! what a pleerful chase!"
"it isn't very cheerful," shivered peg. "oh, look, wag! that big tree has eyes!" at peg's remark the tree doubled up its branches into fists and stepped right out in front of them. at the same instant all the other trees and bushes moved closer, with dry crackling steps.
"now we have you!" snapped the tallest tree in a dreadful voice.
"now we have you!" crackled all the other skitter-witchy creatures, crowding closer.
"pigs, pigs, we're the twigs; we'll tweak your ears and snatch your wigs!"
they shouted all together. one taller than the rest leaned over and seized wag by the ear with its twisted fingers.
"help!" screamed wag, kicking out with his hind legs. immediately kabumpo began laying about with his trunk.
"stand back!" he trumpeted angrily, "or i'll trample you to splinters."
pompa stood up on kabumpo's back and began to wave his sword threateningly. at this the ugly creatures grew simply furious. they snatched at the prince with their long, claw-like branches, tearing at his sadly scorched hair and almost upsetting him.
"stop! stop!" cried peg amy, waving her wooden arms frantically. "don't hit him. he's going to be married. hit me, i'm only made of wood!"
"don't you dare hit her!" shrilled pompa, slicing off the branch head of the nearest twig. "i am a prince and she is under my protection. don't touch her!"
by this time kabumpo had cleared himself a space ahead and wag a space behind. every time kabumpo's trunk flew out, a dozen of the queer crackly bushmen tumbled over forward and every time wag's heels flew out a dozen crumpled over backward. pompa kept his sword whirling and, after several had lost top branches, the whole crowd fell back and began grumbling together.
"now then!" puffed kabumpo angrily, "let's make a dash for it, wag. come on; we'll smash them to kindling wood!"
"what's all this commotion?" cried a loud voice. the twigs fell back immediately and a bent and twisted old tree hobbled forward.
"strangers, your woodjesty," whispered a tall twig, waving a branch at kabumpo.
"well, have you pinched them?" asked the king in a bored voice.
"a little," admitted the tall twig nervously, "but they object to it, your woodjesty."
"well, what if they do?" rasped the king tartly. "don't be gormish faggots. you know i detest gormishness. it seems to me you might allow my people a little innocent diversion," he grumbled, turning to pompa, "they don't get much pleasure!"
"pleasure!" gasped the prince, while kabumpo and wag were so astonished that they forgot to fight.
"what does he mean by gormish?" whispered peg uneasily to wag. before he could answer, the twigs, who evidently had decided not to be gormish, made a rush upon the travelers. but kabumpo was ready for them with uplifted trunk. with a furious trumpet he charged straight into the middle, wag at his heels, with the result that the twigs went crackling and snapping to the ground in heaps.
"all we need is a match," grunted kabumpo, pounding along unmindful of the scratching and clawing. "they're good for nothing but kindling wood."
"don't be gormish," he screeched scornfully, as he flung the last twig out of his way and wag and he never stopped till they had put a good mile between themselves and the disagreeable pinchers.
"are you hurt?" asked kabumpo, stopping at last and looking around at pompa. "if we keep on this way you won't be fit to be seen--much less to marry. let's have a look at you." he lifted the prince down carefully and eyed him with consternation. the prince had seven long scratches on his cheek and his velvet cloak was torn to ribbons.
"i declare," spluttered the elegant elephant explosively, "you're a perfect fright. i declare, it's a grumpy shame!"
"well, don't be gormish," said the prince, smiling faintly and wiping his cheek with his handkerchief.
"let me help," begged peg amy, falling off wag's back. "ozma won't mind a few scratches and what do clothes matter? anyone would know he was a prince," she added, taking pompa's cloak and regarding it ruefully.
pompa smiled at peg's earnestness and made her his best bow but kabumpo still looked anxious. "everyone's not so smart as you, peg," he sighed gloomily. "but come along. the main thing is to rescue ozma and after that perhaps she won't notice your scratches and torn cloak. she'll think you got them fighting the giant," he finished more hopefully.
with a few more of kabumpo's jeweled pins peg repaired pompa's cloak. then, after tying up wag's ear, which was badly torn, they started off again.
"what worries me," said wag, twitching his nose very fast, "what worries me is crossing the deadly desert. we're almost to it, you know."
"never cross deserts till you come to 'em," grunted kabumpo, with a wink at peg amy.
"oh, all right," sniffed wag, "but don't be gormish. you know how i detest gormishness!"
while pompa and peg were laughing over these last remarks a most terrible rumble sounded behind them.
"now what?" trumpeted kabumpo, turning about.
"sheverything's mixed hup!" gulped wag, putting back his ears. "hold on to me, peg!"
everything was mixed up, indeed. moving toward the little party of rescuers was a huge jagged piece of land, running along on ten tremendous feet and feeling its way with its long wiggly peninsula. the feet raised it several yards above the ground.
"if we crouch down maybe it will run over us," panted pompa, sliding down kabumpo's trunk.
"i don't want to be run over," shrilled wag, beginning to hop in a frenzied circle.
"stop!" cried the land in a loud voice, as wag and kabumpo started to run.
"better stop," puffed kabumpo, his eyes rolling wildly, "or it'll probably fall on us." trembling in spite of themselves, they stood still and waited for the land to approach.
"i've often heard of sailors hailing land with joy," gulped wag, "but this--well, how did it get this way?"
as the runaway country drew nearer, its peninsula fairly quivered with excitement and as it reached them it pulled up its front feet and tilted forward to get a better view. its eyes were two small blue lakes and its mouth a broad bubbling river.
"i claim you by right of discovery," cried the land in its loud, river voice and before they could make any objection it scooped them up neatly and tossed them on a little hill.
"this is outrageous," spluttered the elegant elephant, picking peg out of some bushes. "we've been kidnapped!"
"let's jump off!" cried wag, beginning to hop toward the edge.
"i wouldn't do that," said the land calmly, "because i'd only run after you again. you might as well settle down and grow up with me. i'm not such a bad little country," it added quietly, "just a bit rough and uncultivated."
"well, what's that got to do with us," demanded kabumpo, staring the country right in its lake-eyes. "we're on an important mission and we haven't time for this sort of thing at all."
"it's a matter of saving a princess," cried pompa impulsively. "couldn't you, please--"
"let someone else save her," said the country indifferently, beginning to move off sideways like a crab. "you're the first savages i've found and i'm going to keep you. not that you're what i'd pick out," it continued ungraciously. "that wooden girl looks uncommonly odd and you two beasts are even queerer. but i'm liberal, i am, and the boy looks all right so far as i can see."
"but, look here," panted wag, twitching his nose very fast, "this is all wrong. land is supposed to stand still, isn't it? you've no right to discover us. we don't want to be discovered. put us off at once--do you hear?"
"yes, i hear," said the runaway country gruffly. "and i've heard about enough. don't anger me," it shrilled warningly. "remember, i'm a wild, rough country."
"you're the wildest country i ever saw," groaned the elegant elephant, falling up against a tree. "and of all ridiculous happenings this is the worst!"
"never mind," whispered peg amy, standing on her tip toes to whisper in kabumpo's huge ear, "it's taking us in the right direction, and maybe, if we were very polite--?"
"go ahead and try it," wheezed kabumpo, rolling his eyes. "i'm too upset." he hugged the tree again.
so peg climbed to the top of the little hill and, waving her wooden arms to attract the country's attention, called cheerfully:
"yoho, mr. land! where are you going?"
at first the land only blinked his blue lake-eyes sulkily but, as peg paid no attention to his ill temper and began making him pretty compliments on his mountains and trees, he gradually cheered up.
"i'm going to be an island," he announced finally. "that's where i'm going. i'm tired of being a hot, dry old undiscovered plateau and i don't intend to stop till i come to the nonestic ocean."
"oh!" groaned wag, falling over backwards. "we're going to be cast away on a desert island."
peg held up a warning finger. "what made you want to run away and be an island?" she asked faintly for, even to peg, things looked serious.
"well," began the land, giving itself a hitch, "i lay patiently for years and years waiting to be discovered. nobody came--not even one little missionary. i kept getting lonelier and lonelier. you see how broken up i am!"
"yes, we can see that, all right," sniffed kabumpo.
"and i'm ambitious," continued the country huskily. "i want to be cultivated and built up like other kingdoms. so, one day i made up my mind i wouldn't wait any longer but would run off myself and discover some settlers. as i have ten mountains and each has a foot there seemed to be no reason why i shouldn't run away, so i did--and i have!"
the country rolled its lakes triumphantly at the little party on the hill. "i have found some settlers and i'm looking to you to develop me into a good, modern, up-to-oz kingdom. i'm a progressive country and i expect you to improve and make something out of me," it continued earnestly. "there's gold to be dug out of my mountains, plenty of good farm land to be planted and cities to be built, and--"
"what do you think we are?" exploded kabumpo indignantly. "slaves?"
"he'll get used to it in time," said the runaway country, paying no attention to kabumpo, "and he'll be useful for drawing logs. now you," he turned his watery eyes full on peg amy, "you seem to be the most sensible one in the party, so i think i shall bestow myself upon you. of course you're not at all handsome nor regular, but from now on you may consider yourself a princess and me as your kingdom."
"thank you! thank you very much!" said peg amy, hardly knowing what else to say.
"hurrah for the princess of runaway island!" cried wag, standing on his head. "i always knew you were a princess, peg my dear."
"oh, hush!" whispered pompa. "can't you see it's getting more reasonable? maybe peg can persuade it to stop."
"if it doesn't stop soon i'll tear all its trees out by the roots," grumbled kabumpo under his breath. "logging, indeed! great grump! here's the deadly desert!"
the air was now so hot and choking that pompa flung himself face down on the cool grass. the runaway country did not seem to notice the burning sands and pattered smoothly along on its ten mountain feet.
"something has to be done, quick," breathed peg, clasping her hands, "for soon we'll be in ev."
pompa, holding his silk handkerchief before his face, had come up beside her and they both looked anxiously for the first signs of the country that held ruggedo and the giant who had run off with ozma's palace.
"oh, mr. land," called peg suddenly.
"yes, princess," answered the country, without slackening its speed.
"have you thought about feeding us?" asked the wooden doll gently. "i don't see any fruit trees or vegetables or chickens and settlers must eat, you know. we ought to have some seeds to plant and some building materials, oughtn't we, if we're going to make you into an up-to-oz country?"
"pshaw!" said the runaway country, stopping with a jolt, "i never thought of that. can't you eat grass and fish? there's fine fish in my lakes."
"well, i don't eat at all," explained peg pleasantly, "but pompa is a prince and a prince has to have meat and vegetables and puddings on sunday--"
"and i have to have lettuce and carrots and cabbages, or i won't work!" cried wag, thumping with his hind feet and winking at kabumpo. "i'll not dig a single mountain!"
"and i've got to have my ton of hay a day, too!" trumpeted the elegant elephant, "or i'll not lug a single log. pretty poor sort of a country you are, expecting us to live on grass as if we were donkeys and goats."
the runaway country rolled its lakes helplessly from one to the other. "i thought settlers always managed to get a living off the land," it murmured in a troubled voice.
"not us!" rumbled kabumpo. "not enough pie in pioneer to suit this party!"
"has your highness anything to suggest?" asked the country, looking anxiously at peg.
"well," said the wooden doll slowly, "suppose we stop at the first country we come to and stock up. we could get a few chickens and seeds and saws and hammers and things."
"you'd run away," said the runaway country suspiciously. "not but what i trust you, princess," he added hastily, "but them." he scowled darkly at kabumpo and wag. "i'll not let them out of my sight."
"how our little floating island loves us," chuckled wag, nudging the elegant elephant.
"they won't run away," said peg softly. "and if they did you could easily catch them again."
"that's so; i'll stop wherever you say," sighed the country, starting on again.
"what are you going to do?" whispered pompa, catching peg's arm.
"i don't know," said peg honestly, "but perhaps if we can make it stop something will turn up. we're almost across the desert now and that's a big help."
"you're wonderful!" cried pompa, eying peg gratefully. "how can i ever thank you?"
"better get your sword ready," said peg practically, "for we may run into that giant any minute now." even kabumpo and wag had stopped making jokes and were straining their eyes toward ev.
"let's all stand together!" gasped wag breathlessly. before peg or pompa had time to plan, or kabumpo to reply, the runaway country stepped off the desert and swept over the border and into the kingdom of ev, making straight for a tall purple mountain.
"do you see anything that looks like a giant, or a palace?" asked peg, leaning forward.
"oh, help!" screamed wag just then, while kabumpo gave an earsplitting trumpet. peg grasped pompa and pompa clutched peg and no wonder! directly in front of them were the legs and feet of the most terrible and tremendous giant they had ever imagined. he was sitting on the mountain itself and only a part of him was visible, for his head and shoulders were lost in the clouds.
"what's the matter? what's the matter?" rumbled the runaway country, tilting forward slightly so it could see. one look was enough. with a frightened jump, that sent the four travelers hurtling through the air, it began running backwards and in a moment was out of sight.
peg was the first to recover her senses. being wood, bumps didn't bother her. she rose stiffly and gazed around her. pompa's feet were waving feebly from a small clump of bushes. kabumpo stood swaying near by, while wag lay over on his side with closed eyes.
"oh, you poor dears!" murmured peg, and running over to the bushes she pulled out the prince of pumperdink and settled him with his back against a tree. he was much shaken by his high dive from the island, but pulled himself together and patted peg's wooden hand kindly. by this time kabumpo had gotten his bearings and came wabbling over.
"you've got a black eye, i see," wheezed the elegant elephant bitterly.
"not so very black," said peg cheerfully. "are you hurt, kabumpo?"
the elegant elephant felt himself all over with his trunk. "well, i'm not used to being flung about like a bean bag," he said irritably. then he lowered his voice hastily, as he caught another glimpse of those dreadful giant feet. "i'll go help wag," he whispered, backing away quickly.
it took some time to rouse the giant rabbit, but finally he opened his eyes. "i shought i thaw a giant," he muttered thickly. "hush!" warned kabumpo. "he's over there." he waved his trunk in the direction of the mountain and began dragging wag firmly away.
"c'mon over here," he called in a loud whisper to peg and pompa. leaning heavily on peg amy the prince came. then he gave a cry of distress. "my sword!" he gasped, staring around a bit wildly.
"i'll find it," said peg obligingly. "you sit still and rest."
"where's the magic box?" coughed kabumpo, with an uneasy glance in the giant's direction.
now that they were actually in ev, the elegant elephant began to doubt the wisdom of his plan for killing the monster.
"gone!" wailed pompa, feeling in his pocket. "i dropped it when i fell off the land. what shall we do, kabumpo?"
"don't be a gooch," gulped the elegant elephant, but he said it without spirit.
"it's probably around here somewhere." moving quietly, kabumpo began to poke about with his trunk.
just then peg amy came flying toward them, her ragged dress fluttering in the breeze.
"look!" whispered the wooden doll, dropping on her knees before them.
in her hands was glegg's box of mixed magic and it was open!
while peg and pompa and the elegant elephant eyed the box, wag, twitching his nose and mumbling very fast under his breath, backed rapidly away. he was not going to run the risk of any more explosions. so anxious was the big rabbit to put a good distance between himself and glegg's mixed magic, that he never realized that he was backing toward the giant till a sharp thump on the back of the head brought him up short.
trembling in every hair, wag looked over his shoulder. stars! he had run into the terrible, five-toed foot of the giant himself. at first wag was too terrified to move. but suddenly the hair on the back of his neck bristled erect. he peered at the giant's foot more attentively. his eyes snapped and, seizing a stout stick that lay near by, he brought it down with all his might on the giant's toes.
"it's ruggedo!" screamed wag, hopping up and down with rage. "and i'll pound his curly toes off. i don't care if he is a giant! i'll pound his curly toes off!"
the stick whistled through the air and whacked the giant's toes again.
now of course we have known all along that the giant was ruggedo, but it was a great surprise for the rescuers. ruggedo was bad enough to deal with as a gnome--but a giant ruggedo! horrors!
"stop him! stop him!" cried peg amy, throwing up her hands and scattering the contents of the box of magic in every direction.
"what are you trying to do?" roared kabumpo, plunging forward. "get us all trampled on?"
a muffled cry came down from the clouds and, as kabumpo dragged wag back by the ear, something flashed through the air and bounced upon the elegant elephant's head.
"it's the scarecrow!" chattered wag, wriggling from beneath kabumpo's trunk. kabumpo opened his eyes and peered down at the limp bundle at his feet. as he looked the bundle began to pull itself together. it sat up awkwardly and began clutching itself into shape.
"where'd you come from?" gasped the elegant elephant. without speaking, the scarecrow waved his hand upward and rose unsteadily to his feet. then, catching sight of peg amy and pompadore, the straw man bowed politely. meanwhile wag, seeing that kabumpo's attention was diverted, began to sidle back toward ruggedo.
"stop!" cried the scarecrow, running after him. "are you crazy? don't you know ozma's palace is on his head? every time he moves everyone in the palace tumbles about. was it you who stirred him up and made him spill me out of the window?"
"i'll wake him up some more, the wicked old scrabble-scratch," muttered wag, but kabumpo jerked him back roughly.
"great grump!" choked the elegant elephant, shaking wag in his exasperation. "here we've come all this way to save princess ozma and now you want to upset everything."
"that's the way to do it," said the scarecrow, rolling his eyes wildly.
"please stop it, wag," begged peg amy, throwing her wooden arms around the big rabbit's neck, and as pompa added his voice to peg's, wag finally threw down his stick.
"who is that beautiful girl?" asked the scarecrow of kabumpo. the elegant elephant looked at the straw man sharply, to see that he was not poking fun at the wooden doll. finding he was quite serious, he said proudly, "that's peg amy, the best little body in oz. she's under my protection," he added grandly.
just then pompa and peg came over and wag, who had often seen the scarecrow in the emerald city, introduced them all.
"did i understand you to say you had come to rescue ozma?" asked the scarecrow, who could not keep his eyes off the elegant elephant.
"did i understand you to say ozma's palace was on ruggedo's head?" shuddered kabumpo, glancing fearfully in the direction of the mountain.
the scarecrow nodded vigorously and told in a few words of their terrible journey to ev and their present perilous position. how the palace had gotten on ruggedo's head, he admitted was a puzzle to him. kabumpo and pompadore listened with amazement, especially to the part where they had threatened ruggedo with eggs.
"and he's kept still for two days just on account of eggs?" gasped the elegant elephant incredulously.
"well, no," admitted the scarecrow, wrinkling up his forehead. "a little man came flying through the air the first morning and bumped into the palace and instantly everyone except scraps and me fell asleep. ruggedo was put to sleep, too; we could hear him snoring."
"why, it must have been the sand man," breathed peg amy. "i have heard he lived near here."
"are they asleep now?" asked pompa, clutching the scarecrow's arm. how romantic--thought the prince of pumperdink--to rescue and waken a sleeping princess!
but the scarecrow shook his head. "a few minutes before i fell out they began to wake up and i'd just gone to the window to look for glinda when ruggedo gave a howl and ducked his head and here i fell." the scarecrow spread his hands eloquently and smiled at peg.
"has glinda been here?" asked kabumpo jealously.
"yes," said the scarecrow. "she came this morning and she's been trying all sorts of magic to reduce ruggedo without harm to the palace."
"great grump! do you hear that?" kabumpo rolled his eyes anxiously toward the prince. "if glinda's magic takes effect before ours then where'll we be? peg! peg! where's the box of mixed magic?"
"would you mind telling me," burst out the scarecrow, who had been examining one after another in the party with a puzzled expression, "would you mind telling me how you happened to know about the palace disappearing; how you got across the sandy desert; how you expect to help us; how he (with a jerk at wag) came to be too large; how she (with a jerk of his thumb at peg) came to be alive; and--"
"all in good time; all in good time!" trumpeted kabumpo testily. "you sound like the curious cottabus! the principal thing to do now is to save ozma. will ruggedo stay quiet a little longer?"
"if he's not disturbed," said the scarecrow, with a meaning glance at wag.
"well, my hocks and woop soons!" cried the rabbit indignantly. "isn't anyone going to punish him? he shook and shook peg and he meddled with magic and blew up into a giant. he's run off with the palace. doesn't he deserve a pounding?"
"friend," said the scarecrow, "i admire your spirit but my excellent brains tell me that this is a case where an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. but have we the ounce of prevention?"
"here's the question box," announced peg, who had run off at kabumpo's first call. "what shall we ask it first?"
"how to save the lovely princess of oz," spoke up pompa, running his hand over his scorched locks. "where's my crown, kabumpo?"
kabumpo fished the crown from his pocket and pompa set it gravely upon his head as peg asked the question box:
"how shall we save the lovely princess of oz?"
these maneuvers so astonished the scarecrow that he lost his balance and fell flat on his nose. when he recovered peg was clapping her wooden hands and kabumpo was dancing on three legs.
"you're as good as married, my boy!" cried kabumpo, thumping the prince upon the back.
"what is it? what's happened?" gasped the scarecrow.
"why, the question box says to pour three drops of trick tea on ruggedo's left foot and two on his right and he will then march back to the emerald city, descend into his cave and, after the palace has settled firmly on its foundations, he will shrink down to his former size," read peg amy, holding the question box close to her eyes, for the printing was very small.
"hurrah!" cried the scarecrow, throwing up his hat. "peggy, put the kettle on and we'll all have some tea! but where'd you get all this magic stuff?" he asked immediately after.
"out of a box of mixed magic," puffed kabumpo, his little eyes twinkling with anticipation as he watched peg. first she filled the tiny kettle at a near-by brook; then she lit the little lamp and dropped some of the trick tea into the kettle. bright pink clouds arose from the kettle, as soon as peg had set it over the flame, and while they waited for it to boil pompa put another question.
"has pumperdink disappeared?" asked the prince, in a trembling voice.
"n-o," spelled the question box slowly, and kabumpo settled back with a great sigh of relief.
"i told you everything would be all right if you followed my advice," said the elegant elephant. "stand up now and try to forget your black eye. you are the prince of pumperdink and i am the elegant elephant of oz."
"but why all the ceremony?" asked the scarecrow, looking mystified.
kabumpo only chuckled to himself and, as the trick tea was now ready, peg took the little kettle and began to tip-toe toward ruggedo.
"i hope it's red hot," grumbled wag resentfully. "he's getting off easy, the old scrabble-scratch! getting off! say, look here!" he gestured violently to kabumpo. "if ruggedo returns to the emerald city with the palace on his head, where does pompa come in?" he pointed a trembling paw at the prince, his nose twitching so fast it made the scarecrow blink.
"stop!" trumpeted the elegant elephant, plunging after peg amy. he reached her just in time.
"i'm no better than pumper," grunted kabumpo, mopping his brow with the tail of his robe. "suppose, after all our hardships, i had allowed ozma and the palace to get away without giving pompa a chance to ask her--"
"but we ought to save her as quick as we can," ventured peg. "couldn't we hurry back to the emerald city again?"
"it might be too late," wheezed kabumpo. "let--me--see!"
"hello!" cried the scarecrow. "here comes glinda." as he spoke the swan chariot of the good sorceress floated down beside the little party.
"bother!" groaned kabumpo, as glinda stepped out.
"some strangers," called the scarecrow, gleefully running toward glinda, "some strangers with a box of mixed magic trying to help."
"if we could have a few words with ozma," put in the elegant elephant hastily, "everything would be all right."
glinda looked at kabumpo gravely. "it's unlawful to practice magic. you must know that," said the sorceress sternly.
"but it's not our magic, your highness," explained peg amy, setting down the little kettle. "we found it, and we're only trying to help ozma."
"well, in that case," glinda could not help smiling at the wooden doll's quaint appearance, "i shall be glad to assist you, as all of my magic has proved useless."
"aren't you the prince of pumperdink?" she asked, nodding toward pompa. the prince bowed in his most princely fashion and assured her that he was and, after a few hasty explanations, glinda promised to bring ozma down in her chariot.
"tell her," trumpeted kabumpo impressively, as the chariot rose in the air, "tell her that a young prince waits below!"
while pompa was still looking after glinda's chariot, peg amy came up to him and extended both her wooden hands.
"i wish you much happiness, pompa dear," said the wooden doll in a low voice.
pompa pressed peg's hands gratefully. "if it hadn't been for you i'd never have succeeded. you shall have everything you wish for now, peg. why, where are you going?"
"good-bye!" called peg amy, trying to keep her voice as cheerful as her painted face, and before anyone could stop her she began to run toward a little grove of trees.
"come back!" cried the prince, starting after her.
"come back!" trumpeted kabumpo in alarm.
"i'll get her!" coughed wag, hopping forward jealously. "i've known her the longest."
pompa and kabumpo both started to run, too, but just at that minute down swooped the chariot and out jumped ozma, the lovely little ruler of oz.
"at last!" gasped kabumpo, pushing pompa forward.
if ozma was startled by their singular appearance, she was too polite to say so, and she returned pompa's deep bow with a still deeper curtsey.
"glinda tells me you have come a long, long way just to help me," said ozma anxiously. "is that so?"
"princess!" cried pompa, falling on his knee. "i know you are worried about your palace and your courtiers and your friends. two drops of that triple trick tea (he waved at the small kettle) upon ruggedo's right foot and three on his left will set everything right!"
"but where did you get it--and why?" ozma looked doubtfully at the scarecrow.
"might as well try it," advised the scarecrow.
"we will explain everything later," puffed the elegant elephant. "trust old kabumpo, your highness, and everything will turn out happily."
"i believe i will," smiled ozma. "will you try the trick tea, glinda?"
glinda took the kettle and poured it exactly as directed. first ruggedo gave a gusty sigh that blew the clouds about in every direction.
"look out!" warned glinda.
next instant they all fluttered down like a pack of cards, for ruggedo had taken a step--a giant step that shook the earth as if it had been a block of jelly--and when they had picked themselves up ruggedo was out of sight, tramping like a giant in a dream, back toward the emerald city.
"you wait here!" cried glinda to ozma. "and i'll follow him!" she sprang into her chariot.
"how do you know he'll go back?" asked the little ruler of oz, staring with straining eyes for a glimpse of the giant.
"because the question box said so," chuckled kabumpo triumphantly.
"good magic!" approved the scarecrow. "but where is that charming peg? i think i'll run find her."
no sooner had the scarecrow disappeared than pompa, swallowing very hard, again approached ozma. but ozma, still looking after glinda's vanishing chariot, was hardly aware of the prince of pumperdink.
poor pompa dropped on his knee (which had a large hole in it by this time) and began mumbling indistinct sentences. then, as kabumpo frowned with disgust, the prince burst out desperately, "princess, will you marry me?"
"marry you?" gasped the little ruler of oz. "good gracious, no!"
prince pompadore jumped up quickly.
"i told you she wouldn't!" he choked, looking reproachfully at kabumpo. "i'm not half good enough."
"he doesn't always look so scratched up and shabby," wheezed kabumpo breathlessly. "we've been scorched and pinched and kidnapped. we've been through every kind of hardship to save your highness--and now!" the elegant elephant slouched against a tree, the picture of discouragement. he seemed to have forgotten the jewels that were to have won the princess for pompa and his threat of running off with her should she refuse him.
"why, you don't even know me," cried ozma, dismayed by even the thought of marrying; for though the little ruler of oz has lived almost a thousand years she is no older than you are and would no more think of marrying than dorothy or betsy bobbin or trot. ruling the kingdom of oz takes almost all of ozma's time and in any that is left she wants to play and enjoy herself like any other sensible little girl. for ozma is only a little girl fairy after all.
"i'm not going to marry anybody!" she declared stoutly. then, because she really was touched by pompa's woebegone appearance, she asked more kindly, "why did you want to marry me especially?"
"because you are the properest princess in oz," groaned the prince, leaning disconsolately against kabumpo. "because if we don't pumperdink will disappear and my poor old father and my mother and everyone."
"not to speak of us," gulped the elegant elephant.
"but where is pumperdink, and who said it would disappear?" asked ozma in amazement. "and how did you happen to have this trick tea and come to rescue me?"
"the prince always rescues the princess he intends to marry," said kabumpo wearily. "i should think you'd know that."
"well, i'm very grateful, and i'll do anything i can except marry you," exclaimed ozma, who was beginning to feel very much interested in this strange pair.
"thank you," said kabumpo stiffly, for he was deeply offended. "thank you, but we must be going. come along, pompa."
"don't be a gooch!" this time it was pompa who spoke. "i'm going to tell her everything!"
and pompa, being as i have told you before the most charming prince in the world, made ozma a comfortable throne of green boughs and, throwing himself at her feet, poured out the whole story of their adventures, beginning with the birthday party and the mysterious scroll. he told of their meeting with peg amy and wag and ended up with the ride upon the runaway country.
kabumpo stood by, swaying sulkily. he was very much disappointed in the princess of oz. he felt that she had no proper appreciation of his or pompa's importance.
"i'm going to find peg," he called finally. "she's got more sense than any of you," he wheezed under his breath as he swept grandly out of sight.
ozma put both hands to her head as pompa finished his recital and really it was enough to puzzle any fairy. scrolls, live wooden dolls, a giant rabbit, a mysterious magician threatening disappearances and ruggedo's wicked use of the box of mixed magic.
"goodness!" cried the little ruler of oz. "i wish the scarecrow would come back. he's so clever i'm sure he could help us; but first you had better bring me the magic box."
pompa rose slowly and, picking up all the little flasks and boxes that had spilled out when wag pounded ruggedo, he put them back into the casket and handed it to ozma. she examined the contents as curiously as the others had done. the expanding extract was the only thing missing, for ruggedo had poured the whole bottle over his head. the question box seemed to ozma the most wonderful of all of glegg's magic.
"why, all we have to do is to ask this box questions," she cried in excitement. "has my palace reached the emerald city?" she asked breathlessly.
"shake it three times," said pompa, as ozma looked in vain for her answer.
"yes," stated the box after the third shake, and ozma sighed with relief.
"i suppose you asked it if i were the proper princess mentioned in the scroll," she said, a bit shyly.
the prince shook his head. "knew without asking," said pompa heavily.
"do you mean to say you never asked it that?" gasped ozma in disbelief. "why, i am surprised at you." and before pompa could object she shook the little box briskly. "who is the princess that pompa must marry?" she demanded anxiously.
"the princess of sun top mountain," flashed the question box promptly. then, as an afterthought, it added, "trust the mirror and golden door knob!"
"now, you see!" cried ozma, jumping up in delight. "i wasn't the proper princess at all!"
pompa smiled faintly, but without enthusiasm. the thought of hunting another princess was almost too much. "i wish i could just take peg amy and wag and go back to pumperdink without marrying anybody," he choked bitterly.
"now, don't give up," advised ozma kindly. "it was very wrong of glegg to cause you all this trouble. i'm going to keep his box of mixed magic and take away all his powers when i find him, but until i do, you'll have to follow directions. oh mercy! what's that?"
they both ducked and turned around in a hurry, as a terrific thumping sounded behind them.
"it's the runaway country again," cried pompa, seizing ozma's hands in distress, "and it's caught all the others."
the scarecrow had climbed a tree, and was waving to them wildly as the country galloped nearer. "might as well come aboard," he called genially. "this is a fast country--no arguing with it at all."
ozma looked helplessly at pompa, and the prince had only time to grasp her more firmly when the country scooped them neatly into the air. down they tumbled, beside peg amy and wag and the elegant elephant.
"what do you mean by this?" demanded ozma, as soon as she regained her breath.
"don't you know this lady is the ruler of all oz?" cried pompa warningly.
"peg's the ruler of me," replied the country calmly. "i nearly lost her once, but now i've caught her and all the rest, and i am not going to stop until i've reached the nonestic ocean--giants or no giants."
ozma had been somewhat prepared for the runaway country by pompa's description, but she had never dreamed it would dare to run off with her. while peg amy began to coax it to stop, she took out glegg's little question box.
"how shall i stop this country?" she whispered anxiously.
"spin around six times and cross your fingers," directed the question box.
this ozma proceeded to do, much to the agitation of the scarecrow, who thought she had taken leave of her senses. but next instant the country came to a jolting halt.
"peg, princess peg!" shrieked the island. "i am bewitched, i can't move a step!"
"then everybody off," shouted the scarecrow, jerking a branch of a tree as if he were a conductor. "end of the line--everybody off!" and they lost no time tumbling off the wild little country.
"it seems too bad to leave it," said peg amy regretfully, picking herself up.
"it threw us off without any feeling or consideration when it saw ruggedo," sniffed kabumpo. "therefore it has no claims on us whatsoever."
"but couldn't you do something for it?" asked peg, approaching ozma timidly. "it's so tired of being a plateau. couldn't you let it be an island, and find someone to settle on it? i wouldn't mind going," she added generously.
"you shall do nothing of the sort," cried kabumpo angrily. "you're going back to pumperdink with pompa and me."
"she's going with me," cried wag. "aren't you, peg?"
"you seem to be a very popular person," smiled ozma. "while a country has no right to run away, and while i never heard of one doing it before, i've no objections to its being an island. it's running off with people i object to." she looked the country sternly in its lake-eyes.
"but i can't move," screamed the country, tears streaming down its hill, "and i've got to have somebody to settle me."
"oh! here's glinda," shouted the scarecrow, tossing up his hat. "now we shall know what's happened to ruggedo."
leaving the country for a moment, they all ran to welcome the good sorceress of oz. glinda's reports were most satisfactory. ruggedo had walked straight back to the emerald city, stepped into the yawning cavern, and immediately the palace had settled firmly upon its old foundations. then had come a muffled explosion, and when glinda and dorothy ran through the secret passage, which had been discovered meanwhile by the soldier with the green whiskers, they saw ruggedo, shrunken to his former size, sitting angrily on his sixth rock of history.
"i have locked him up in the palace," finished glinda, "and i strongly advise your highness to punish him severely."
ozma sighed. "what would you do?" she asked, appealing to the scarecrow. so many things had come up for her attention and advice in the last few hours that the little fairy ruler felt positively dizzy.
"let's all sit down in a circle and think," proposed the scarecrow cheerfully. this they all did except kabumpo, who stood off glumly by himself. peg was looking anxiously at pompadore, for the elegant elephant had told her of ozma's refusal, and wondering sadly what she could do to help, when the scarecrow bounced up impulsively.
"i have it," chuckled the straw man. "let's send ruggedo off on the runaway country. he deserves to be banished and, if ozma makes the country an island, he can do no harm."
here ozma had to stop and explain to glinda about the country that wanted to be an island, and after a short consultation they decided to take the scarecrow's advice.
"just as soon as i reach the emerald city i'll put on my magic belt and wish him onto the island," declared ozma. "and i think we'd better go right straight back," she added thoughtfully, "for it's growing darker every minute and dorothy will be anxious to hear everything that's happened."
"now you"--ozma tapped pompadore gently on the arm--"you must start at once for sun top mountain. i'm going to ask the question box just where it is."
pompa sighed deeply, and when ozma consulted the question box as to the location of sun top mountain, it stated that this kingdom was in the very centre of the north winkie country. "that's fine," said ozma, clapping her hands. "i'll have the runaway country carry you over the deadly desert, and as soon as you have married the princess you must bring her to see me in the emerald city."
"what's all this?" demanded kabumpo, pricking up his ears.
"the question box says i must marry the princess of sun top mountain," said pompa, getting up wearily.
"well, great grump, why couldn't it have said so before?" asked kabumpo shrilly.
"you never asked it," snapped wag, twitching his nose. "i told you ozma wasn't the princess mentioned in the scroll!"
"now don't quarrel," begged peg amy, jumping up hastily. "there's still plenty of time to save pumperdink. come along, pompa."
"that's right," said ozma, smiling approvingly at peg. "and when pompa finds his princess you must come and live with me in the emerald city, for as ruggedo was responsible for bringing you to life, i want to take care of you always."
peg amy dropped a curtsey and promised to come, but she didn't feel very cheerful about it. then, as ozma was anxious to get back to the emerald city, they all hurried to runaway country.
"you are to take these travelers across the deadly desert," said ozma, addressing the runaway country quite sternly, "and you are to set them down in the winkie country. if you do this i will restore your moving power again and give you a little gnome for king. then you may run off to the nonestic ocean as soon as ever you wish."
"i want peg," pouted the country, "but if that's the best you can do i suppose i'll have to stand it." after a little more grumbling it agreed to ozma's terms. wearily, kabumpo, wag, peg and pompa climbed aboard and then ozma spun around six times in the opposite direction and immediately the country found itself able to move again.
"good-bye!" called ozma, as she and the scarecrow jumped into glinda's chariot. "good-bye and good luck!"
"good-bye!" called peg, waving her old torn bonnet.
"good riddance," grumbled the country gruffly and, turning sideways, began running toward the deadly desert.
"is the mirror safe, and have you still got the gold door knob?" asked pompa, as the country swung out onto the deadly desert. "the question box said i was to trust them, you know."
"and by what right did ozma take that box?" wheezed kabumpo irritably, as he felt in his pocket to see whether the magic articles were still there.
"that's gratitude for you! we find glegg's box of mixed magic and rescue her, and off she goes with all our magic, leaving us to the tender mercies of a runaway country!"
"you find the box!" shrilled wag. "well, i like that!"
"oh, what difference does it make?" groaned pompa, stretching out upon the ground. they were all completely exhausted by the day's adventures and as cross as three sticks--all except peg amy, who never was cross.
"i shall marry this princess and save my country, but i'm going away as soon as the wedding is over and spend the rest of my life in travel," announced pompa gloomily.
"don't blame you," rumbled the elegant elephant with a sniff.
"ah, now!" laughed peg. "that doesn't sound like you, pompa. why, maybe this princess will be so lovely you'll want to carry her straight back to pumperdink."
"i think princesses are a great bore," said wag with a terrific yawn. "i prefer plain folks like peg and the scarecrow."
"you're all hungry, that's what's the matter," chuckled the wooden doll. "when you've had some supper you'll be just as anxious to find the princess of sun top mountain as you were to find ozma. here's the winkie country now, and there's a star for good luck."
peg waved toward the green fields with one hand and toward the clouds with the other. it was dusk now and just one star twinkled cheerily in the sky.
"i'll set you down, but i'm not going away," said the runaway country determinedly, "for if that little old gnome doesn't turn up i'm going to catch you all again."
"ozma never forgets. she'll keep her promise," said peg. "and you must do just as she told you to do for she has some powerful magic and can send you right back to where you came from."
"can she?" gulped the country anxiously.
"you might wait a while, though," suggested pompa darkly. "after i've seen this new princess a runaway country might be a very good thing."
"well, you can't expect her to marry you if you talk that way," said peg warningly, as the country came to a stop in a huge field of daisies.
"i'll wait," it said hopefully, as the four travelers swung themselves down.
"i wonder if we are in the north central part," murmured peg amy, looking around anxiously. now it happened the country had crossed the deadly desert slantwise and although none of the party knew it they were scarcely a mile from sun top mountain.
"i see a garden!" cried wag, twitching his nose hungrily. "come on, prince, let's find some supper." with head down and dragging his feet, pompa followed wag. kabumpo began jerking snappishly at some tree tops and peg amy sat down to think.
"i wish," thought the wooden doll, looking up at the bright star, "i wish i might have asked the box one little question." peg amy looked so solemn that kabumpo stopped eating and regarded her anxiously.
"what's the matter?" asked the elegant elephant gruffly, for he quite counted on peg's cheerfulness.
"i was thinking about it again," admitted peg apologetically. "about being alive before. i'm sure i was alive before i was a doll, kabumpo. i think i was a person, like pompa," she continued softly.
"you're much better as you are," said the elegant elephant uneasily, for it had just occurred to him that the magic mirror would tell peg who she was as well as the question box. but should he let her look in it? that was the question. poor, tired old kabumpo shifted from one foot to the other as he tried to make up his mind. two huge drops of perspiration ran down his trunk. what good would it do? he reasoned finally. suppose it told something awful! it couldn't change her and it might make her unhappy. no, he would not let peg look in the mirror.
"how would you like to have this pearl bracelet?" he asked in an embarrassed voice.
"why, kabumpo, i'd just adore it!" cried peg, springing up in a hurry. "and i'm not going to worry about being alive any more, for everyone is so lovely to me i ought to be the happiest person in oz."
"you are," puffed kabumpo, clumsily slipping the bracelet on peg's wooden arm, "and if we ever get back to pumperdink you shall have as many silk dresses as you want and--" the rest of the sentence was smothered in a hug.
peg amy was growing fonder and fonder of pompous old kabumpo and by the time he had recovered his breath wag and the prince came ambling back together. they had found an orchard and a kitchen garden and as they were no longer hungry, both were more cheerful.
"let's play scop hotch," suggested wag amiably. "i'm tired of hunting princesses." there was a smooth patch of sand under the trees and wag hopped over and began marking out the squares with his paw.
"scop hotch!" laughed pompa, while peg gave a skip of delight.
"play if you want to," wheezed kabumpo, shaking himself wearily, "i feel about as playful as a stone lion. besides, hop scotch isn't an elephant game."
peg, wag and pompa began to hop scotch for dear life. peg often tumbled over, for it is hard to keep your balance on wooden legs, but it was peg who won in the end and wag crowned her with daisies.
"i wish we could go on just as we are," gasped pompa, mopping his face with his silk handkerchief. "we're all good chums and, if it weren't for pumperdink's disappearing, we might travel all over oz and have no end of adventures together."
"speaking of disappearing," said kabumpo, opening one eye, for he had dozed off during the game, "i suppose we'd better be starting if we're to save the kingdom at all."
"good-bye to pleasure," sighed pompa, as kabumpo lifted him to his back. "good-bye to everything!"
"oh, cheer up," begged peg, settling herself on wag's back.
"hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" a large yellow bird rose suddenly from a near-by bush and flapped its wings over pompa's head. "hurrah! hurrah!"
"shoo! get away!" grumbled kabumpo crossly. "what are you cheering about?"
"she said to," cawed the bird, darting over peg amy's head. "hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! let me teach you how to be cheerful in three chirps. first, think of what you might have been; next, think of what you are; then think of what you are going to be. do you get it?" the bird put its head on one side and regarded them anxiously.
"he might have been king of oz, instead of which he is only a lost prince, and he's going to be married to a mountain top princess. do you see anything cheerful about that?" demanded kabumpo angrily. "clear out! we'll do our own cheering."
"shall i go?" asked the hurrah bird, looking very crestfallen and pointing its claw at peg amy.
"maybe you can tell us the way to sun top mountain," said peg politely.
"you can see it from the other side of the hill," replied the hurrah bird. "i'll give you a few hurrahs for luck. hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
"oh, go away," grumbled kabumpo.
"not till you look at my nest. did you ever see a hurrah bird's nest?" he chirped brightly.
"let's look at it," said pompa, smiling in spite of himself. the hurrah bird preened itself proudly as they peered through the bushes. surely it had the gayest nest ever built, for it was woven of straw of many colors, and hung all over the near-by branches were small oz flags. in the nest three little yellow chicks were growing up into hurrahs and they chirped faintly at the visitors.
"remember," called the father hurrah, as they bade him good-bye, "you can always be cheerful in three chirps if you think of what you might have been, what you are, and what you are going to be. hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
"there's something in what you've said," chuckled wag. "good-bye!"
the moon had come up brightly and even kabumpo began to feel more like himself. "there's a lot to be learned by traveling, eh, wag?" he winked at the rabbit, who was just behind him. "let's see--somersaults for sums--never be gormish--and now, how to be cheerful in three chirps. hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" the elegant elephant began to plow swiftly through the daisy field, so that in almost no time they reached the top of the little hill and as they did so peg gave a little scream of delight. as for the others, they were simply speechless.
a purple mountain rose steeply ahead, and set like a crown upon its summit was a glittering gold castle, the loveliest, laciest gold castle you could imagine, with a hundred fluttering pennants. all down the mountain side spread its lovely gardens, its golden arbors and flower bordered paths.
"i've seen it before!" cried the wooden doll softly, but no one heard her. pompa drew a deep breath, for the castle, shimmering in the moonlight, seemed almost too beautiful to believe.
"whe-ew!" whistled wag, breaking the silence. "the princess of tun sop wountain must be wonderful."
"shall we start up now?" gasped kabumpo, swinging his trunk nervously.
"i don't believe she'll ever marry me. let's don't go at all," muttered the prince of pumperdink in a shaking voice.
"oh, come on!" called wag, who was curious to see the owner of so grand a castle.
"but we mustn't go, wag," gasped peg amy. "how would it look to have a shabby old doll tagging along when he's trying to talk to the princess?"
"if peg doesn't go, i'm not going," declared pompa stubbornly.
"you're just as good as any princess," said kabumpo, "and i'm not going without you, either."
as the elegant elephant refused to budge and there seemed no other way out of it, peg amy finally consented and the four adventurers started fearfully up the winding path, almost expecting the castle to disappear before they reached the top, so unreal did it seem in the moonlight. there was no one in the garden but there were lights in the castle windows. "just as if they expected us," said the elegant elephant, as they reached the tall gates. pompa opened the gates and next instant they were standing before the great castle door.
"shall we knock?" chattered wag, his eyes sticking out with excitement.
"no! wait a minute," begged the prince, who was becoming more agitated every minute.
"here's the mirror and the door knob," quavered kabumpo. "didn't the question box say to trust them? why, look here, pompa, my boy, it fits!" clumsily, kabumpo held up the glittering door knob he had brought all the way from pumperdink; then he slipped it easily on the small gold bar projecting from the door.
but instead of looking joyful pompa groaned dismally. he started to protest but kabumpo had already turned the knob and they found themselves in a glittering gold court room.
"now for the princess," puffed kabumpo, looking around with his twinkling little eyes. "here, take the mirror, pompa." the room was empty, although brilliantly lighted, and the prince stood uncertainly in the very center. suddenly, with a determined little cry, pompa rushed over to peg amy, who stood leaning against a tall gold chair.
"peg," choked pompa, dropping on his knees beside the wooden doll, "i'll have to find some other way to save pumperdink. i'm not going to marry this princess and have you taken away from me. you're a proper enough princess for me and we'll just go back to pumperdink and be--"
"the mirror! look in the mirror!" screamed wag, who was sitting beside peg amy.
unconsciously, pompa had held out the gold mirror and peg, leaning over to listen, had looked directly into it. above peg's pleasant reflection in the mirror they read these startling and important words:
this is peg amy, princess of sun top mountain.
while pompa stared with round eyes the words faded out and this new legend formed in the glass:
this is the proper princess.
"i always knew you were a princess," cried wag, turning a somersault.
the big rabbit had just come right-side-up, when a still more amazing thing happened. the wooden body of peg melted before their eyes and in its place stood the loveliest little princess in the world. and yet, with all her beauty, she was strangely like the old peg. her eyes had the same merry twinkle and her mouth the same pleasant curve.
"oh!" cried princess peg, holding her arms out to her friends. "now i am the happiest person in oz!"
before pompa had time to rise, a tall, richly clad old nobleman rushed into the room.
"peg!" cried the old gentleman, clasping the princess in his arms. "you are back! at last the enchantment is broken!"
for a moment the two forgot all about pompa and the others. then, gently disengaging herself, peg seized the prince's hands and drew him to his feet.
"uncle," she said breathlessly, holding to pompa with one hand and waving with the other at kabumpo and wag, "here are the friends responsible for my release. this is my uncle tozzyfog," she explained quickly, and impulsively uncle tozzyfog sprang to his feet and embraced each in turn--even kabumpo.
"sit down," begged the old nobleman, sinking into a golden chair and mopping his head with a flowered silk kerchief.
pompa, who could not take his eyes from this new and wonderful peg amy, dropped into another chair. kabumpo leaned limply against a pillar and wag sat where he was, his nose twitching faster than ever and his ears stuck out straight behind him.
"you are probably wondering about the change in peg," began uncle tozzyfog, as the princess perched on the arm of his chair, "so i'll try to tell my part of the story. three years ago an ugly old peddlar climbed the path to sun top mountain. he said his name was glegg and, forcing his way into the castle, he demanded the hand of my niece in marriage."
peg shuddered and uncle tozzyfog blew his nose violently at the distressing memory. then, speaking rapidly and pausing every few minutes to appeal to the princess, he continued the story of peg's enchantment. naturally the old peddlar had been refused and thrown out of the castle. that night as uncle tozzyfog prepared to carve the royal roast, there came an explosion, and when the courtiers had picked themselves up peg amy was nowhere to be seen, and only a threatening scroll remained to explain the mystery. glegg, who was really a powerful magician, infuriated by uncle tozzyfog's treatment, had changed the little princess into a tree.
"know ye," began the scroll quite like the one that had spoiled pompa's birthday, "know ye that unless ye princess of sun top mountain consents to wed j. glegg she shall remain a tree forever, or until two shall call and believe her to be a princess. j. g."
the whole castle had been plunged into utmost gloom by this terrible happening, for peg was the kindliest, best loved little princess any kingdom could wish for. lord tozzyfog and nearly all the courtiers set out at once to search for the little tree and for two years they wandered over oz, addressing every hopeful tree as princess, but never happening on the right one. finally they returned in despair and sun top mountain, once the most cheerful kingdom in all oz, had become the gloomiest. there was no singing, nor dancing--no happiness of any kind. even the flowers had drooped in the absence of their little mistress.
"why didn't you appeal to ozma?" demanded pompa at this point in the story.
"because in another scroll glegg warned us that the day we told ozma, peg amy would cease to even be a tree," explained uncle tozzyfog hoarsely.
"then how did she become a doll? tell me that, uncle fozzytog," gulped wag, raising one paw.
"she'll have to tell you that herself," confessed peg's uncle, "for that's all of the story i know."
so here peg took up the story herself. the morning after her transformation into a tree glegg had appeared and asked her again to marry him. "i was a little yellow tree, in the winkie country, not far from the emerald city," explained peg, "and every day for two months glegg appeared and gave me the power of speech long enough to answer his question. and each time he asked me to marry him but i always said 'no!'" the princess shook her yellow curls briskly.
"one afternoon there came a one-legged sailor man and a little girl." even kabumpo shuddered as peg amy told how cap'n bill had cut down the little tree, pared off all the branches and carved from the trunk a small wooden doll for trot.
"it didn't hurt," princess peg hastened to explain as she caught pompa's sorrowful expression, "and being a doll was a lot better than being a tree. i could not move or speak but i knew what was going on and life in ozma's palace was cheerful and interesting. only, of course, i longed to tell ozma or trot of my enchantment. i missed dear uncle tozzyfog and all the people of sun top mountain. then, as you all know, i was stolen by the old gnome and after ruggedo carried me underground i forgot all about being a princess and remembered nothing of this." peg glanced lovingly around the room. "i only felt that i had been alive before. so you!" peg jumped up and flung one arm around wag, "and you," she flung the other around pompa, "saved me by calling me a princess and really believing i was one. and you!" peg hastened over to kabumpo, who was rolling his eyes sadly. "you are the darlingest old elephant in oz! see, i still have the necklace and bracelet!" and sure enough on peg's round arm and white neck gleamed the jewels the elegant elephant had generously given when he thought her only a funny wooden doll.
"oh!" groaned kabumpo. "why didn't i let you look in the mirror before? no wonder you kept remembering things."
"but why did glegg send the threatening scroll to pumperdink three years after he'd enchanted peg?" asked wag, scratching his head.
"because!" shrilled a piercing voice, and in through the window bounded a perfectly dreadful old man. it was glegg himself!
"because!" screeched the wicked magician, advancing toward the little party with crooked finger, "when that meddling old sailor touched peg with his knife i lost all power over her; because my question box told me that pompadore of pumperdink could bring about her disenchantment and he has. i made it interesting for you, didn't i? there isn't another magician in oz can put scrolls up in cakes and roasts like i can nor mix magic like mine. ha! ha!" glegg threw back his head and rocked with enjoyment. "you have had all the trouble and i shall have all the reward!"
everyone was so stunned by this terrible interruption that no one made a move as glegg sprang toward peg amy. but before he had reached the princess there was a queer sulphurous explosion and the magician disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. they rubbed their eyes and as the smoke cleared they saw trot, the little girl who had played with peg amy when she was a wooden doll.
"ozma," explained trot breathlessly, for she had come on a fast wish.
after following the adventures of pompa and peg in the magic mirror, and as the magician had tried to snatch the princess, ozma had transported him by means of her magic belt to the emerald city, and sent trot to bring her best wishes to the whole party.
"i'm sorry i didn't make you a prettier dress when you were my doll," said trot, seizing peg amy's hand impulsively, "but you see i didn't know you were a princess."
"but you guessed my name," said peg softly.
there were so many explanations to be made and so many things to wonder over and exclaim about, that it seemed as if they could never stop talking.
uncle tozzyfog rang all the bells in the castle tower and stepping out on a balcony told the people of sun top mountain of the return of princess peg amy. then the servants were summoned and such a feast as only an oz cook can prepare was started in the castle kitchen. the courtiers came hurrying back, for during peg's absence uncle tozzyfog had lived alone in the castle. yes, the courtiers came back and the people of sun top mountain poured into the castle in throngs and nearly overwhelmed the rescuers by the enthusiasm of their thanks.
kabumpo had never been so admired and complimented in his whole elegant life. as for wag, his speech grew more mixed up every minute. at last, when the courtiers and uncle tozzyfog had run off to dress for the grand banquet, and after trot had been magically recalled by ozma to the emerald city, the four who had gone through so many adventures together were left alone.
"well, how about pumperdink, my boy?" chuckled kabumpo, with a wave of his trunk. "are we going to let the old kingdom disappear or not?"
"it is my duty to save my country," said pompa loftily. then, with a mischievous smile at peg amy, "don't you think so, princess?" peg amy looked merrily at the elegant elephant and then took pompa's hand.
"yes, i do," said the princess of sun top mountain.
"then, you will marry me?" asked pompa, looking every inch a prince in spite of his singed head and torn clothes.
"we must save pumperdink, you know," sighed peg softly.
"three cheers for the princess of pumperdink! may she be as happy as the day is short!" cried wag in his impulsive way.
uncle tozzyfog was as pleased as wag when he heard the news, and pompa, attired in a royal gold embroidered robe, was married to peg amy upon the spot, with much pomp and magnificence.
never before was there such rejoicing--a merrier company or a happier bride. kabumpo, arrayed in two gold curtains borrowed for the happy occasion, had never appeared more elegant and wag was everywhere at once and simply overwhelmed with attention.
that same night a messenger was dispatched to pumperdink to carry the good news and the next morning pompa and peg set out for the emerald city, the princess riding proudly on wag and pompadore on kabumpo. knowing the whole four as you now do, you will believe me when i say that their journey was the merriest and most delightful ever recorded in the merry kingdom of oz.
after a short visit with ozma and another to the king and queen of pumperdink they all returned to sun top mountain, where they are living happily at this very minute.
there are only a few more mysteries to clear up before we leave for a time the jolly kingdom of oz. ruggedo, much shaken by his terrible experiences with glegg's magic, confessed everything to ozma on her return to the emerald city. you can imagine the surprise of the little fairy ruler on learning how her palace had come to be impaled upon the spikes of the wicked old gnome's gray head.
"he will nev-er re-form," said tik tok mournfully, as ruggedo finished his recital. the bad little gnome assured ozma that he had reformed and begged for another chance, but this time ozma knew better, and putting on her magic belt she whispered a few secret words. then they all hurried over to the magic picture, for they knew that ruggedo had been transported to a safe place at last. the picture showed the runaway country rushing along faster than an express train and dancing up and down on its highest hill was the furious old king of the gnomes. they watched until the country plunged joyfully into the nonestic ocean and, when it was almost in the middle, ozma stopped it by the magic spinning process and it became ruggedo's island.
"well," sighed dorothy as they turned from the picture, "i guess that will be ruggedo's last rock!"
"he's rocked in the cradle of the deep now," chuckled the scarecrow. "and i hope it quiets him down. they ought to make a good pair--that bad little island and that bad little king," he added reflectively.
then ozma proposed that they follow the adventures of peg and pompa, having so satisfactorily disposed of ruggedo. how she transported glegg just in time to save the princess you already know. but what happened to glegg himself is interesting. when the old magician had asked his question box how to regain control over peg again it had directed him to bury his mixed magic under the emerald city and in two years to send the scroll to pumperdink. so glegg had tunneled out the cave under ozma's palace and left his magic in what he supposed was a very safe place. it had been a great hardship to do without it for two years, but he wanted peg so badly that he actually did this, never dreaming that ruggedo had moved in and discovered his treasures. the question box had told the exact day peg would be disenchanted and all that long two years glegg had waited, hidden in a forest near sun top mountain.
as he knew nothing of the discovery of his magic box, no one was more surprised than he to find himself, just as he was on the point of seizing peg, transported to the emerald city.
while sir hokus of pokes held the struggling glegg, ozma asked the question box how to deal with him. everybody crowded around the little fairy ruler to hear what the wicked old magician's fate was to be.
"give him a taste of his own magic," directed the question box. "make him drink a cup of his triple trick tea." this ozma did, although it took fourteen people to get glegg to drink it. but, stars! no sooner had the liquid touched his lips than the miserable old magician went off with a loud explosion!
the box of mixed magic was carefully put away in ozma's gold safe and then the whole company--ozma, dorothy, sir hokus, the scarecrow and all the celebrities--devoted themselves to setting the topsy turvy palace to rights, for they knew by the magic picture that pompa and peg amy were coming to visit them.
"glegg, glegg, shake a leg and never more, sir, bother peg!"
shouted scraps, as she swept up the black soot glegg had left when he exploded. and he never did.
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55806.txt
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Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz
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in his big brightly lighted laboratory back of the throne room, the wizard of oz paced impatiently forth and back, his hands clasped tightly behind him. every minute or two he would glance at the clock or dart over to peer out to the already darkening garden.
"are you sure you told them all, jellia? are you sure you told them tonight?" he asked, turning to the pretty little serving maid who was setting a table near the fire, for the fall evening was quite cool and frosty.
"four--five--six--seven--." jellia, counting places, nodded her head firmly to answer the wizard's question, then stepped back to regard her handiwork with complete satisfaction. "oh, doesn't that tiny house in the center look too cute and cunningish? real smoke coming out of the chimney, too. how ever did you manage it, wiz? and having those silver slippers at each place for nuts and candies is just, plain beautiful."
"do you really think so?" the little wizard positively blushed with pleasure. "well, ye see, jellia, this party is to celebrate dorothy's first trip to the emerald city. that is an exact model of the house in which she blew from kansas to oz in a cyclone, the house that fell on the wicked witch of the west and destroyed her--all but her silver slippers. remember?"
"ho, everybody remembers that," said jellia with a toss of her head that set all her green cap ribbons fluttering. "if i live to be a million, i'll never forget the day she came to this castle with the cowardly lion, the scarecrow and the tin woodman. not if i live to be a million! will i light the candles now, wiz dear, or wait until they arrive?"
"oh, wait till they arrive, by all means. but see here," the wizard taking a last look at the party table was plainly distressed. "you've only seven places, jellia, and there are eight of us. my idea was to have everyone immediately associated with dorothy's first visit, and that would be, one--dorothy herself; two--myself; three--yourself; four--the cowardly lion; five--the scarecrow; six--the tin woodman; seven--the soldier with green whiskers, and eight--the guardian of the gate. quick, my dear! another plate for the guardian of the gate."
"he's not coming," announced jellia primly. "he says he has not deserted his post for forty years and does not intend to desert it now. but if you'll send his refreshments to the guard house, he'll take it very kindly. i've already fixed him a basket," said jellia, smoothing her apron.
"good old guardy!" the wizard absently brushed back the hair he no longer had, then, hearing voices and steps in the corridor, bounced over to open the door while jellia tripped joyously about, lighting the candles set everywhere in the big work shop. candle and fire light are much cozier for parties, and it all looked so cheery and gay that dorothy, who was first, stopped short in the doorway with an exclamation of delight.
"oh, wizard! how beautiful! oh, how i do wish ozma could see it all!"
"tut tut!" chuckled the wizard, leading her into the room. "ozma is having a fine time in glinda's palace, by now. to tell the truth, dorothy, this party is just for you and to remind us all of the old oz days when--"
"--you were nothing but a humbug," snorted the scarecrow, laughing so hard he had to lean against the door jam.
"don't forget he gave you your famous brains, friend." the tin woodman spoke reprovingly, for nick chopper did not like anyone's feelings to be hurt, even in fun. "and don't forget he gave me my splendid heart!"
"and me, my grade a, double distilled, instant acting courage," purred the cowardly lion. moving over to the fire, the big beast stretched himself luxuriously on the hearth rug.
"and don't forget our little wiz was once supreme ruler of oz!" boomed the soldier with green whiskers. marching three times round the party table the thin, immensely tall soldier brought up with a smart salute before their embarrassed little host.
"three cheers for the wizard of oz!" cried jellia jam. seizing a silver bell with an emerald clapper, she rang it so hard the cowardly lion's mane blew straight back and even the candles flickered.
"thank you! thank you very much!" the wizard bowed and rubbed his ear which still tingled from the cheers and bell ringing. "but where is toto, dorothy? i thought of course you'd bring your little dog."
"oh, toto's with ozma," explained dorothy, drawn in spite of herself to the brightly decorated party table. "you know how he dotes on travelling, so ozma took him along for company."
"then of course he cannot be here?" sighed the wizard regretfully. "now jellia, off with that cap and apron. tonight you are my guest and not a maid in waiting to ozma or anyone else. besides, i've asked fredjon to serve the supper. dorothy, suppose you sit at the head. i'll sit at the foot and the others may find their own places."
"my place will always be next to little dorothy," rumbled the cowardly lion, hoisting himself sleepily to the chair beside the little girl.
"mine will be next to the pickles. mm-mmmm! i love pickles," said the soldier, slipping into the seat next to the lion, while jellia, with a purposeful bounce, settled near a plate of green cookies. there was no doubt where the tin woodman and scarecrow would sit, for at one plate the wizard had put a silver box of metal polish and an emerald bottle containing purest oil. then, instead of a chair, he had provided a bale of freshly packed straw for the scarecrow.
"well, well, here we all are!" rubbing his hands briskly the wizard beamed on his guests as fredjon, wearing his best suit of green and silver, bustled in with the first course.
"and isn't it fun to be here?" dorothy took a long, satisfying sip of her ozade. "i'm awfully glad i came back to live in the land of oz. aren't you, wizard?"
"a country where a body grows no older, where animals talk as easily as men and where the practice of magic is not only possible but practical--a country like that has many advantages," admitted the wizard, winking at the cowardly lion who was drinking his fruit juice in a refined way from a huge, green aquarium. "i, myself, never have regretted the years spent in this marvelous fairy land. sometimes i hardly can believe i ever did live in omaha, or travel through the west with a circus."
"i know," agreed dorothy, nodding her head slowly. "kansas, when i think of it, seems very far away--as much like a dream, i suppose, as oz seems like a dream to boys and girls in kansas who read oz history."
"oh, why think of kansas?" jellia spoke scornfully. "in kansas you were only an ordinary little girl, while here you are a princess and second in importance to our ruler, ozma herself."
"and in kansas," observed the scarecrow, as dorothy rather self-consciously straightened her crown, "i'll bet you never had as much fun nor as many adventures as we have here." the scarecrow, being well stuffed with straw, never indulged in any refreshments. in fact, he just came to parties for the conversation, and to be sure of a good time he tried to do all the talking himself.
"that's right," said dorothy thoughtfully, "that cyclone was about the only thing that ever happened in kansas."
"a great blow to you, my dear, but a fortunate thing for nick and me." the scarecrow patted the tin woodman affectionately on the funnel he wore for a hat. "if you had not blown to oz, i'd probably still be hanging on a pole in that cornfield and nick would be rusting away his life in the greenwood."
"and in some ways," mused dorothy, looking dreamily at the model of her small kansas house, "in some ways that first adventure always will seem best. just imagine how surprised i was to blow all those miles and find myself in a strange, wonderful country like oz. the munchkins thought i was a sorceress because my house had killed the wicked witch of the east. then, the good witch of the north told me to put on her silver shoes and go to the emerald city to ask the great oz to send me home. and on the way i discovered you, and do you remember how astonished i was when i lifted you down from your pole and found you really were alive and could talk?"
the scarecrow nodded cheerfully.
"and remember how we travelled on together till we found the tin woodman?" went on dorothy. "and nick told us about the witch who had enchanted his axe so that it chopped off a leg here, and an arm there, and finally his head and body, too. and after each accident he'd go to a tinsmith who made him new tin arms and legs and finally even a body and a head. you didn't mind being tin at all, did you, nick? except that day you went out to chop wood and left your oil can at home. then that storm came up, your joints rusted and you couldn't move, and there you had been--rusting and helpless for months!"
"but we hustled back to your hut, fetched the oil can and fixed you up in fine shape, didn't we, old fellow?" the scarecrow flung his flimsy arm around nick chopper's shoulder and the tin woodman, at the mere mention of rust, uncorked the emerald bottle and let three drops of oil slide down his neck.
"i never shall forget your kindness," he told them earnestly, turning his head first to look at dorothy and then at the scarecrow.
"and after that, you came along so the wizard could give you a new heart," dorothy reminded him gaily. "and right afterwards, we met the cowardly lion."
"and he was more afraid of us than we were of him," teased the scarecrow, leaning across the table to give the lion a poke.
"yes, i was just a big coward in those days," admitted the lion, blinking approvingly at the rare roast fredjon had brought him instead of the chicken he was serving the others. "just a great, big coward! ho hum!"
"but not too cowardly to fight for us," said dorothy, taking quick little bites of her biscuit, "and to come with us to the emerald city."
"oh, that was because i wanted the wizard to give me some courage," roared the lion. "and weren't we surprised when we did reach the emerald city to find it all built of green marble, studded with real emeralds! and remember how the guardian of the gate gave us all green specs, even me, and then led us up to the palace?"
"you looked awfully funny in those specs!" laughed dorothy. "i'll never forget how funny!"
"but remember, it was i who carried your messages to oz," put in the soldier with green whiskers.
"of course it was," said dorothy nodding her head quickly. "you gave us some splendid advice, soldier, and jellia showed us to the grandest rooms in the castle and loaned me the loveliest dresses to wear."
"i liked you from the very first!" declared jellia, choking a bit on her seventh cooky.
"but old man wizzy wouldn't give us a thing!" said the scarecrow, waving his napkin toward the head of the table. "he told us we'd have to kill the witch of the west before he'd send dorothy home or grant any of our requests."
"but, you see--i didn't know any real magic then." the wizard looked quite unhappy for he did not like to remember the time before he was a real wizard. "and besides, i needed more time."
"ho ho! you were doing very well for yourself!" chuckled the scarecrow, "living in a splendid castle and having the whole country eating out of your hand. as it happened, we did kill the witch of the west, or at least dorothy melted her with a bucket of water and the winkies were so tickled they gave us all presents and made nick their emperor. so when we got back at last, you did give me some brand new brains, and nick a red plush heart--"
"and me some real red, true-blue courage," grinned the cowardly lion, wiping his mouth delicately with the tip of his tail.
"and you made me ruler of oz! ah!--my majesty the scarecrow, hah--those were the days!" the scarecrow thumped his pudgy chest and fairly glowed, at the memory.
"you would have taken me back to kansas, too, only your balloon flew away too fast, didn't it?" dorothy leaned all the way across the table to pat the wizard's arm.
"but don't forget it was i, who told you to go to the palace of glinda, the good sorceress of the south," interrupted the soldier with green whiskers again.
"so we all went to glinda's," rumbled the cowardly lion, half closing his eyes. "and glinda told dorothy the witch's silver shoes would carry her home and--they did!" there was a little silence following the lion's last sentence, as if all of dorothy's friends were recalling their sorrow at that first parting from their cheerful little comrade.
"but you soon came back," declared the scarecrow, balancing a fork on the edge of his tumbler. "and so did our little wizard."
"well, to tell the truth, omaha seemed rather dull after the emerald city," admitted the wizard, motioning for fredjon to bring on the dessert. this caused many admiring "oh's" and "ah's" when it arrived, for it was ice cream moulded into small tin woodmen, scarecrows, lions and all the other guests. then, out of a huge, frosted cake the footman set down before dorothy, flew four little witches riding green broom sticks, straight into the fire.
"i tell you it takes a real wizard to perform a trick like that." nick chopper wagged his head solemnly. "you certainly have made progress since ozma made you chief magician of the realm."
"well--" drawled the wizard, pushing the pickle dish away from the soldier with green whiskers who already had eaten twenty-seven and was looking rather dill. "magic is like any other science--it takes practice. of course, if you are a born fairy like ozma and the former rulers of oz, working spells and charms just comes natural--like playing the piano by ear. but if you are not a fairy, you must study witchcraft and sorcery as i have done with glinda the good. it only has been by continuous study and research that i have managed to perfect myself in the arts of wizardry."
"well, how is wizness lately?" inquired the scarecrow, wrinkling his cotton forehead at all the big words.
"fine, just fine!" the wizard assured him brightly. marching over to his desk, he returned with a long, tube-like object resembling a seaman's spy glass. "this is one of my latest inventions," he confessed modestly. "here, take a look." beaming with anticipation, he pressed the spy glass into dorothy's hands.
with the wizard's latest invention clapped to one eye and pointed straight at the wizard himself, dorothy peered through the green glass hardly knowing what to expect. certainly not what happened, for, from the other end of the instrument, a composed voice began making announcements proudly and impressively as a radio speaker.
"you are now looking at oscar zoroaster phadrig isaac norman henkle emmanuel ambroise diggs," it informed them crisply. "calls himself oz after the first letters of his first two names, as his other initials spell pinhead. born in omaha, diggs ran away as a young man to join a circus where he made balloon ascensions to amuse the crowds, his balloon bearing his initials o. z.
"one day in a storm, oscar's balloon was carried to our wonderful land of oz. at that time, the rightful king of the country and his son had been destroyed by mombi the witch, who also had enchanted and hidden away ozma, the little granddaughter of this unfortunate monarch. and four witches had divided the country between them. when the balloon bearing the name oz on its side sailed out of the clouds, the inhabitants instantly hailed the traveller from america as their ruler, supposing him to be another member of the famous fairy family of oz. unable to return to america, oz accepted the people's decision with good grace and ruled the realm for many years. under his wise direction the people built this castle and the famous city of emeralds; and the four witches, thinking oz more powerful than they, did not question his rule or authority.
"later, when little dorothy from kansas arrived in oz, the wizard decided to return with her to the united states, leaving the scarecrow to rule in his place. the scarecrow was deposed by jinjur and her army of girls. jinjur, in turn was conquered by glinda, the good witch of the south, who also forced mombi to disenchant ozma, the young and rightful girl ruler of the realm. ozma has ruled over oz ever since. not long after ozma was restored to her throne, the wizard returned to oz and our clever girl ruler made him chief magician of the realm. in this ancient and honorable capacity he has served ever since, period--stop--drop or point elsewhere!" these last words were uttered so rudely, dorothy almost did drop the spy glass.
"my! my goodness!" gasped the little girl.
"it always says that, when it has told all it knows. you see, it is a 'tell-all-escope.'" explained the wizard, reaching out for his spy glass with an embarrassed cough.
"and it certainly tells all, all right!" roared the scarecrow, pushing back his chair. "congratulations, my dear mr. diggs!"
"look out! be careful! don't you point that thing at me! please don't!" the big lion simply cowered in his chair, and no wonder he felt nervous. there had been some pretty savage incidents in that old lion's life before he met dorothy and came to live in the emerald city as a civilized citizen of oz. and the thought of the tell-all-escope telling all it knew about him made the cowardly lion positively shudder. but the others were so busy examining the wizard's spy glass, they did not even notice the lion's terrific agitation.
"you know, a thing like that would be of great value to a traveller," remarked nick chopper, tapping the tell-all-escope thoughtfully with his tin fingers.
"that's just what i figured," grinned the wizard, thrusting the instrument into his pocket. "and, speaking of travelling, i have something else to show you!"
clapping on his high hat, ozma's chief magician hastened over to the door that opened on the garden, signalling for the others to come along.
having had experience with inventors before, dorothy and jellia snatched up coats, dorothy, her own, and jellia, one of the wizard's. then, followed by the rest of the party, they stepped out into the sparkling, starlit evening. the soldier with green whiskers, who had stopped to eat the last pickle in the dish and stuff an extra piece of cake in his pocket, came last of all. at each step he gave a little groan, for--all by himself--the soldier had eaten enough for a whole army. but then, he was a whole army; he was every single man, private, corporal, captain, major, colonel and general in the entire fighting force of oz.
anxious to exhibit his latest treasure, the wizard walked rapidly along, leading the little party across the park, through the emerald city, out of the gates and into the thick woodland beyond.
"where do you suppose he is taking us?" shivered jellia, thinking longingly of the cozy fire back in the laboratory.
"no knowing," giggled the scarecrow. "but a-hunting we shall go! a-hunting we shall go! ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tah!" blowing an imaginary horn, the scarecrow pretended to gallop and fell flat on his face, his legs never being what you really could call reliable.
"sh--hh!" whispered the wizard, looking back warningly as the tin woodman jerked the straw man to his feet. "what i am about to show you has been seen by no one in oz except my faithful assistants! so please be more quiet!"
"you mean it's a secret?" whispered dorothy, skipping forward to catch up with the wizard and linking her arm through his.
"two secrets!" confided ozma's chief magician mysteriously. pushing impatiently through the last fringe of trees, the group stepped into a moonlit clearing.
"ooooooh! a conservatory!" murmured jellia, blinking at the shining glass structure that occupied the entire treeless space.
"a barn, if you ask me!" guessed the scarecrow. "but why build it of glass, mr. wiz?"
"because glass is the latest and lightest building material known. but this is no barn, as you'll soon discover." handing his flashlight to dorothy, the wizard slid back the vast doors, switched on the lights and stood back, his hands in his pockets, as the little group in silence and astonishment viewed the two shining planes housed as snugly as giant butterflys in a glass cocoon.
"airplanes!" exclaimed dorothy, when she found her voice at last.
"no, ozoplanes," corrected the wizard, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "somewhat like the planes in america, but more powerful, for remember, my dear, i had not only the scientific knowledge of aeronautics available to mortals, but the scientific knowledge of magic to help me as well!"
"well!" echoed the tin woodman, gazing approvingly at the wizard's planes, which, except for their silver wings, might have been huge, silver-and-glass torpedoes.
"not for the army, i hope," exclaimed the soldier, clutching his whiskers nervously. being the entire army himself, and quite old-fashioned and set in his ways, the soldier felt sure he never could pilot these gleaming airplanes.
"oh, no! no! no!" the wizard frowned at the mere thought of war. "these are pleasure planes for travelling and exploring the unknown regions of the upper air. as soon as ozma returns from the south, i plan to present them both to our illustrious young ruler and arrange for her to make the first triumphant flight."
"but there are two," said dorothy a little wistfully. she had hoped to make the first flight with the wizard, herself.
"of course, of course!" he answered in a matter-of-fact way. "most experimental flights fail because they depend on one ship. we shall have two!"
"we?" dorothy brightened up considerably at the wizard's plural.
"yes, we," repeated the wizard, turning round to smile at the little girl. "counting ozma and those of us here, there will be eight passengers--four for each plane."
"now please don't bother about me!" begged the cowardly lion, his tail dragging on the ground at the very thought of flying. "i'd not think of troubling you. besides, i'm much too heavy for flying."
"not at all, not at all," the wizard reassured him with a wink. "i have made exact calculations about weight, old fellow, and you and the scarecrow balance each other nicely. so don't worry about that."
"oh, i'm not worrying about that!" rumbled the lion, rearing up on his hind legs to read the names outlined in emeralds on the luminous sides of the wizard's ships.
"ozpril and oztober!" the lion spoke in a slightly trembling roar. "mmmn! mmmnnnnmn! kerumph!"
"why, those are beautiful names," exclaimed dorothy, tilting back her head to spell them out for herself.
"i thought they were rather neat," said the wizard complacently. "suitable too, one to rise and one to fall!" expressively he lifted an arm and let it fall limply to his side.
"to--to fall?" quavered the lion, dropping to all fours.
"oh, just in a figurative way, of course." the wizard shrugged his shoulders. "you will observe," he went on enthusiastically, "that these planes need no runway or special track to take off. they really are balloonaplanes. note those round packets on the top of the fusilage." the lion blinked rapidly, for he had no idea that fusilage meant the body of the plane, but the others nodded quite knowingly. "well those," declared the inventor proudly "are my own, patented, balloon attachments. at the touch of a button, the wings are depressed and the balloon inflated with a magic gas, lighter than helium, that carries the ship as high and as far as desired. then the balloon can be deflated and the ozoplane can continue under its own power. but you will readily see how my ship, with its balloon attachment, has twice the altitude possibilities of an ordinary airplane. hah! we shall fly higher than higher!" boasted the little wizard, happily.
"oh, quite!" agreed the tin woodman, mounting the ladder of the oztober, the soldier with green whiskers pressing nervously at his heels.
"but how will you move them out of here?" inquired the scarecrow, taking off his hat and scratching his cotton head.
"oh, as to that--" the wizard pulled a switch just behind him, whereupon the top of the glass airdrome lifted, like the lid of an enormous jewel box.
"hmmmmn! i see!" the scarecrow slapped his knee and grinned with appreciation. "off with the roof! up with the planes!"
"exactly!" seizing the straw man's arm, the wizard urged him toward the ladder of the ozpril, dorothy skipping cheerfully behind them. after dorothy plodded the cowardly lion, talking to himself in anxious whispers and growls.
"be sure not to touch anything over there," called the wizard, as nick and the soldier with green whiskers disappeared into the cabin of the other plane.
"i'll keep an eye on them," promised jellia, tripping up the ladder as lightly as a feather. "don't give us a thought, wiz, dear."
"jellia's so funny!" laughed dorothy.
"sensible, too," added the wizard, helping the little girl over the high door sill and into the plane. while he and the scarecrow went forward to examine the steering gear, dorothy looked delightedly 'round the snug little cabin. there were four seats upholstered in pale, green leather, along one side. the whole top was of thick glass, through which she could distinctly see the moon and stars winking down at her. the side walls of the ozpril were of a silvery grey, with all trimmings in green. at the back was a small dinette, with chairs and table locked to the floors as they are on sea-going vessels. a cabinet full of china, a wall full of charts, a book case full of books and a tiny kitchen and dressing room, completed the equipment.
"it's just as cozy as a little house," sighed dorothy contentedly, as the cowardly lion, having glanced round in a discouraged way, seated himself in one of the green chairs and pressed his nose against the round window pane. "won't we have fun, liony, when we really get off?"
"getting off will be the best fun of all," sniffed the lion, glancing briefly at the door. the lion, as you probably have guessed, felt no enthusiasm for the trip. once, much against his will, he had been carried to an island in the sky, and that experience had been more than enough. in his own mind he already had decided not to accompany the wizard on his proposed flight. yessir, when the party assembled for the trip he would just turn up missing and manage to stay behind. immensely relieved by this secret decision, he ambled forward.
"you will notice," the wizard was pointing out briskly, "that i have done away with all controls and levers. on this board are all the buttons necessary to operate the ship."
"looks like an organ," observed dorothy, squinting at the bright array of buttons set in the top of the table within easy reach of the first seat. "must you play all those stops and starters to guide the plane?"
"not quite all," smiled the wizard, "but if we wished to start, i'd first press this green button to depress the wings and inflate our balloon. next, i'd push the button marked 'up' and, if i decided to go north, this 'north' button, as well. then i'd use the wheel to hold her steady, and if i preferred to go up in a gradual way, i'd push this button marked 'zig.'"
"and i suppose if you saw something interesting, or wished to dodge a mountain, you'd 'zag,'" suggested the scarecrow, indicating the "zag" button with his pudgy finger. "or you could 'spin,' 'spiral' or 'level-off'--"
"stop! stop!" panted the cowardly lion, clapping his paw to one eye, "all this up-zig and down-zig makes me positively giddy!"
"it does seem a little complicated," said dorothy, looking dubiously at the wizard's button-board.
"why, it's perfectly simple!" the wizard assured her brightly. "all you have to do is touch the right buttons at the right time!"
"but--"
the scarecrow, who had been about to ask another question, whirled round on one heel, and flopped on his back in the aisle. the cowardly lion skidded rapidly past, to wedge under the little dining table while dorothy and the wizard clung to the steering board to keep from falling. for--a terrific roar like the tearing of a gigantic sheet had made the ozpril tremble like a leaf. there came a sudden flash of silver smoke, and the gradual dying away of all sound. then--a complete and ominous silence.
"what? what!!! why, it's gone!" shouted the wizard, racing over to the door and staring amazedly at the empty space occupied a moment before by the oztober. then he glanced up into the starlit expanse of sky.
"gone?" creeping on hands and knees, the scarecrow peered out to see for himself. "why, what right have they to go off like that?" he demanded, pulling himself up by the door jam. "april comes before october and goes before october, too. fall before spring--why, that's ridiculous! the ozpril should have led off!"
"oh, what will become of them?" cried dorothy in distress, clasping her hands anxiously. "i'm sure it was a dreadful mistake."
"mistake!" moaned the wizard, pushing back his high hat. "worse than that, dorothy! why, everything is ruined! here they've gone off before i even had a chance to show the plane to ozma. they have no directions, no supplies; they'll crash, smash or wreck themselves. i intended to teach nick chopper to navigate the plane before we started!"
"but can't we stop them? can't we go after them?" exclaimed dorothy, clutching the wizard's coat tails.
"go after them?--yes! that's the idea, go after them! of course!" panted the wizard, falling over the cowardly lion who was making a stream-lion for the door.
"i was just going back for my over-shoes," wheezed the lion, slinking rather guiltily into his seat at the wizard's reproachful glance.
"stay where you are!" the wizard directed sharply. "now then, steady--everybody steady! shut that door, scarecrow, we are about to ascend." the wizard bent over the steering board to touch the green button that would inflate the ozpril's balloon. "but i never expected to go without my black bag of magic, an extra vest, or even my bottle of hair tonic."
"haven't you any magic at all?" called dorothy, as the ozpril began to vibrate and tremble from the rush of gas into its balloon.
"a little, a little," confessed the wizard, pressing the buttons marked "up" and "south". "here, dorothy, take the tell-all-escope and see if you can catch a glimpse of the oztober when we are aloft." grasping the wheel, the wizard settled grimly into the pilot's seat. dorothy had just time to clutch the tell-all-escope before the ozpril rose straight into the air. lifted and borne by its buoyant gas bag, the graceful ship pointed toward the stars.
now the start of the oztober had been nothing like the orderly take-off of the ozpril. the first hint jellia had of their departure was when a china coffee pot from the open china closet into which she was looking with great interest, hit her a sharp clip on the chin. next moment she was rolling round on the floor of the cabin, dodging all the rest of the green dishes.
"oh! oh! dishes awful!" choked poor jellia jam, not even realizing she was making a pun.
"stop!" yelled the tin woodman, turning a complete somersault and coming down on his funnel with one leg hooked through the luggage rack. "stop! who did that?"
"pickles!" moaned a faint voice from the forward end of the cabin, "oh, those pickles!" and that was probably as correct an answer as any to nick's indignant question. even upside down as he was, and subject to the fierce rocketing of the plane, the tin woodman could see a tall, green figure sprawled across the navigator's table. as he had bent over to examine the oztober's steering apparatus, the soldier with green whiskers had been taken with a violent cramp from the twenty-nine pickles he had eaten at the party. falling heavily on the board he had pushed down ten of the wizard's bright colored buttons. following the directions of all ten, one after the other, the oztober had exploded into the air and now, whistling and whirling like a comet bound for mars, was charging into the heavens.
jellia jam was too bruised and shaken to do anything but cling to the side of one of the seats. the soldier, after his head had been whacked down three times on the board had lapsed into complete and utter silence. only nick managed to preserve a semblance of his usual calm and composure. though severely dented by the plane's take-off, the tin woodman, being of metal, felt no pain. nor was he subject to the giddiness that assailed ordinary flesh and bone bodies under such trying conditions. even standing on his head did not greatly inconvenience him, and after the first dreadful shock, he began to perceive a certain order and rhythm in their flight. this was not strange.
the soldier's fall had pressed down the button to inflate the oztober's balloon, the "up" and the "south" buttons, the "fast," "spin," "spiral," "zig," "zag," "slow" and "circle" buttons as well. so first, the oztober would shoot up, then it would go into a fast spin, and spiral. the zigs and zags were a little less terrible, and on one of the slow circles, the tin woodman managed to extricate his foot from the luggage rack. clattering full length in the aisle, he lay still, till the next slow circle. then, leaping to his feet, he rushed forward and pulled the soldier off the steering board. he had just time to prop the unconscious army into the third chair, and fall into the pilot's seat himself, when the oztober went into another fast spin and spiral. this rather upset nick.
he had taken a hasty look at the navigator's table when he entered the ship and then, more interested in the metal of which the plane was constructed, had gone tapping about, testing it with his tin knuckles--intending to return to the steering gear later. he naturally had supposed that when he pulled the soldier off the board the plane would slow down or change its course. but nothing of the kind happened. all the buttons the soldier had fallen on stayed down. grasping the wheel, nick was relieved to find he could steady the oztober a bit in this way. holding to it with one hand, he tried to pull out the "spin" and "spiral" buttons with the other. but even his strong tin fingers could not budge them. next, he glanced frantically over the board for a "stop" or a "down" button, but the "down" button when he found it, filled him with apprehension. if they shot down at the speed they were hurling upward, the plane most certainly would be wrecked. no, decided nick, drawing his fingers hastily back from the "down" button--they were much safer in the air until he learned a little more about flying, and he'd just have to hang on till he discovered how the ozoplane worked.
grasping the wheel resignedly in both hands, he glanced back to see how jellia was faring. jellia was sitting dizzily in the middle of the aisle. but she was so encouraged to see nick actually at the wheel, that she made her way to him and hung firmly to the arm of his chair. just then, the oztober whirled into its twentieth spin and spiral, and jellia--dislodged from the chair--caught at the steering table to save herself from falling.
"oh, now you've done it!" gasped nick, as the oztober gave a wicked lurch. "oh, now--" his voice trailed off into a hoarse squeak, for, as abruptly as it had started, the plane stopped, and, held aloft by its still buoyant balloon, swung easily to and fro in the faint wind that stirred above the clouds. "say! how did you do it?" letting go the wheel, the tin woodman seized jellia by the shoulders.
"what?" panted jellia. "what did i do?"
"why, you saved the ship. you stopped her. see, all the buttons are up again!" removing jellia's clutching fingers gently from the table top, nick discovered a flat bar on the under side of the board. as soon as jellia pressed the bar, all the buttons had popped back to their normal position. "so that's it!" exclaimed nick, rubbing his tin forehead anxiously. "each time you want to change the course, you press this bar and then begin all over again."
"but now we're sinking," groaned jellia. and sinking herself, into the seat back of nick, she stared at him with round, desperate eyes.
"sinking, are we? well, i'll soon put a stop to that!" pouncing on the green button to inflate the oztober's gas bag, nick pressed it quickly, for of course, as soon as jellia had touched the bar, the buttons all had sprung up and the magic gas had begun to seep out of the plane's balloon attachment. as it again filled and became taut, the slow downward drift of the ship ceased, and again it hung motionless between a cloud and a star. "now!" breathed the tin woodman eyeing the button board with grim purpose and determination, "now we can take our time and start off right."
"oh, nick! must we go through all that again?" jellia began to cry softly, drying her eyes on the sash of her party dress. "oh, nick, i never thought flying would be like this. please can't we just stay as we are?"
"certainly not," said the tin woodman briskly. "hanging 'round the sky is dangerous. we might be hit by a shooting star or even by a meteor. now, just trust yourself to me, my dear jellia. remember i am the emperor of the east!" nick smote his tin chest a resounding blow. "and after ruling the winkies all these years, i surely can handle one small plane!"
reassuring himself, if not jellia, the tin woodman searched the array of buttons for one marked "slow." after he had found it, he slowly began to map his course. he would continue to fly up, for a time. next he would take a horizontal direction until he grew more accustomed to piloting the ozoplane. then, as night passed and the sun rose, he would zig and zag slowly downward and make a safe landing near the emerald city.
the soldier with green whiskers had regained consciousness, only to fall at once into a heavy slumber. his snores blended nicely with jellia's sobs, as nick chopper pushed the "up," the "south" and the "slow" buttons. braced for a new shock, jellia grasped the arms of her seat. but this time the oztober soared gently and gracefully aloft, the motion of the plane so smooth and pleasant, ozma's little maid in waiting soon forgot all her fears. relaxing against the soft green cushions, she, too, fell asleep. this left only nick awake and alert. but if the wizard had searched all over oz, he could not have found a better pilot than the tin woodman. being practically tireless and requiring neither food nor rest, he could keep his place at the wheel for days if necessary. delighted at the way the oztober responded to his clever manipulation of the wheel and buttons, he flew up and up and on and on, scarcely realizing the distance he was putting between himself and oz. glancing out the round window beside him, nick viewed the starry expanse of the upper air with growing interest and enthusiasm. sometimes he was almost tempted to waken jellia to point out the splendid cloud mountains and cities they were passing. as he swept along, the sky turned from deep blue to grey and was now suffused with the rainbow tints of early morning. switching off the lights, the tin woodman slightly changed his course.
"i really need a lot more practice before i go back or try to make a safe landing," he observed softly to himself. "it never would do to crack up a valuable ship like this." but the truth of the matter was, the tin woodman did not wish to turn back. and after all--who was to insist? the soldier and jellia still slept on, and far ahead, between a bank of fog and an arch of platinum sun rays, loomed a long, lavender crescent. nick even fancied he could see people moving about its glittering surface.
"a new world!" gloated the tin woodman, setting his funnel at a more daring angle. if this were so, he would be its discoverer. not only that, but he could claim it for ozma and win for himself as much honor and renown as samuel salt, the royal explorer of oz. "even if it's not inhabited, it would be a good place to practice landing," reflected nick happily. so again he pressed the black bar, touched the button to deflate the oztober's balloon and raise the wings. for now he wished to fly horizontally, and the wings would be faster than the gas bag. next, touching the "straight-on" and "faster" buttons, and twirling the wheel expertly, he headed the ship straight for the tip of the lavender island.
nick waited until he was well over the crescent before he attempted to land. as he flew along he planned exactly how he would go about it and everything worked out as planned, except for one thing. the "slow," the "zig" and the "down" buttons brought the oztober within a foot of the glittering air isle, but the "stop" button functioned a bit late. instead of stopping on the surface, the plane dropped clear through with a crash like the smashing of a thousand thin tumblers. peering up through a spray of splinters, the tin woodman found he had knocked a jagged hole in the crescent.
"attention! shoulder arms! company, fall in!" yelled the soldier with green whiskers. jolted completely awake, he sprang up in the aisle, aiming his gun at the ceiling.
"yes? yes! coming, your majesty!" jellia, mistaking the musical crash for the ringing of ozma's morning bell, rolled sleepily out of her seat and started down the aisle after the soldier.
"now, now--don't be alarmed," remarked nick chopper. "i was just trying to land."
"land? where is it? quick! let me out of here!" panted jellia jam, remembering all in a rush where she was, and the dreadful experiences of the night before.
"i see no land," said the soldier pressing his nose against one of the windows.
"well, it certainly looked like land!" the tin woodman spoke in a slightly exasperated voice. the oztober, still quivering from its impact with the island, was hanging motionless about ten feet below the crescent. "can't tell about these sky countries till you try them."
"i'll bet it's nothing but a cake of ice," shivered jellia, hugging herself to keep warm. "being of tin, i don't suppose you'd notice it was freezing! i wonder if that stove lights?"
"ice?" meditated nick, as jellia hurried toward the back of the cabin. "why, i do believe you are right, my dear. in the upper stratas the air does become colder. we probably cracked through a frozen cloud!"
jellia, turning all the switches on the stove, paid little attention to nick's scientific discourse. she was too busy warming herself over the glowing burners.
"if we just had something to cook," sighed the little oz maid, staring wistfully into the cupboard beside the stove. but the shelves were perfectly empty. reflecting that the wizard had not had time to stock up for the flight, jellia, who was an orderly little soul, began picking up the china that had broken when it fell from the cabinet the night before. rather pompously, the soldier with green whiskers began to help her.
"will someone kindly explain what we are doing, flying around in this dangerous and haphazard manner?" he inquired loftily. "i understood we were to wait for ozma's return before we made a trial flight! and really, you know, i'm needed at home to guard the castle."
"oh, indeed!" sniffed jellia. "and who do you suppose started us off, mr. whiskers. nobody but yourself. a fine pickle you put us in when you fell on that steering board."
"i?" the soldier straightened up, aghast.
"yes, you!" declared jellia. "you and your pickles." sweeping the rest of the broken plates into her skirt, she marched to the end of the cabin and dumped them into the big basket beside the water cooler. "goodness knows whether we shall ever get back," she sighed, sinking despondently into the last seat and staring out the window.
"but we're backing now," muttered the soldier. this was quite true, for nick, to avoid hitting the crescent of ice again, was maneuvering the plane from beneath; then, feeling it might be dangerous to go any higher, he began slowly and cautiously to descend. neither he nor jellia paid any more attention to the soldier with green whiskers, who glanced uncomfortably from one to the other. after a little silence he remarked in a hollow voice: "i shall consider myself under arrest. i shall walk guard for two hours without a pause for rest or rations!"
"oh, don't be a goose!" giggled jellia. "you'll probably go without rations because there aren't any. but what good will walking guard do?"
"as commander-in-chief, i have sentenced myself to walk guard. as a first class private in the army of oz, i shall carry out this sentence," insisted the soldier. "discipline must be maintained!" hoisting his old fashioned blunder-buss to his shoulder, he began tramping stiffly up and down the short aisle of the cabin.
born in a small munchkin village to a family named battles who had promptly christened him wantowin, he had applied as soon as he was grown for a position in the army of oz. the wizard, then supreme ruler of the kingdom, impressed by the soldier's height and long green whiskers, had immediately hired him. later he had been promoted by ozma to fill the position of the entire staff and army of oz. wantowin had never been much of a fighter, but as war in oz is practically outlawed, and victories usually won by magic, he had got on very well. at his tenth about-face, wantowin suddenly recalled the piece of cake he had stuffed into his pocket the night before, and generously offered it to jellia.
"oh, wanny, how wonderful!" to the famished girl, the cake tasted even better than it had at the wizard's party. breaking it in half, she tried to force the soldier to eat a piece, but raising his hand sternly, wantowin continued his self-imposed sentence. seeing argument was useless, jellia ate her own share and put the other half in the cupboard for the soldier's supper.
the plane still was slanting smoothly downward. after oiling all of nick's joints and thinking how fortunate it was they had brought along the oil can, jellia began marching up and down behind the soldier, examining the pictures and charts on the wall as she went along. the cake and a long drink of water from the cooler had done much to restore her courage and cheerfulness, and an occasional glance out the window was both pleasant and reassuring. the oztober was dropping through fluffs and puffs of creamy cloud. "just like whipped cream on strawberries--if we had any strawberries!" mused jellia, withdrawing her gaze reluctantly from the window and resuming her march. "oh, nick, here are some directions!" she cried suddenly, stopping before a finely printed notice beside the water cooler.
"directions?" the tin woodman looked round rather annoyed. he felt he had almost mastered the mechanism of the ozoplane and did not care to start a new system. but the directions that jellia read off had nothing to do with the navigation of the plane. they were rules for the behavior of passengers in the strat. "the air in this cabin has been magically treated," stated the notice. "so long as the windows and doors are closed, riders may safely pass through the highest stratas. on debarking, however, it would be well to don my patent protective air helmets, see chest beneath second seat, or to take one, for each mile up, of my elutherated altitude pills, from the recess in the table leg."
jellia, whose bump of curiosity was larger than most, lost no time hunting for the helmets. dragging the chest from beneath the second seat and paying no attention to the marching soldier, who stepped over her each time he passed, she impatiently lifted the lid. the four helmets in the chest were of some pliant, glassy material resembling cellophane. they belted in at the waist and after holding one up for nick's inspection, jellia put them back and returned the chest to its place.
"now which leg of which table?" pondered the little maid in waiting, her mind turning to the altitude pills.
"oh, what does it matter?" grinned the tin woodman as jellia crawled under the navigator's table and began tapping its legs one after the other. "you'll soon be on solid earth and won't need altitude pills." nick had made up his mind to bring the oztober down to a landing wherever they happened to be. but jellia scarcely heard him for at that moment she had discovered a small hook on one of the front legs of the table. pulling it down, she disclosed a tall, triangular bottle in the hollow center. the pills were triangular too, and of every color in the rainbow.
"take one after each mile," read jellia, uncorking the bottle and taking a good sniff. the pills smelled as good as they looked and she was about to sample one, when the soldier with green whiskers gave a hoarse scream and such a leap that his head hit the ceiling.
"now what's the matter?" demanded nick chopper, turning around stiffly, while jellia hastily corked the bottle, shoved it back into the tableleg and crawled into the aisle.
"nick!" shrieked poor jellia. "what is it? what are they? oh, ozma! oh, wizard! oh, help! help!"
and well might jellia scream, for swarming round the tail of the oztober came a perfect horde of iridescent monsters. in shape each resembled an octopus, but instead of arms, they had long, horny spikes and spines. pressing close to the plane they ogled at the shivering passengers as if they were fish in some strange aquarium. then, evidently angered at what they saw, they began hurling and banging themselves against the sides of the oztober till it sounded like the rattle of machine guns. at this juncture, i am sorry to report, wantowin battles, after sounding a shrill retreat on the bugle attached to his belt, rushed into the dressing room and wrapped himself in the shower curtain.
nick chopper, who already loved the wizard's ship as if it were his own, shuddered as each spike struck the shining metal. then, deciding that flight was the better part of valor, he hastily changed course, zooming up and up, faster and faster and faster! for perhaps a thousand feet the goggle-eyed monsters pursued them, but at last, the air grew too thin and rare for the spikers and one by one they fell away. their horrid squeals and screeches still came faintly to the three voyagers, and jellia ran quickly to the back window to stare down after them.
"why, i never knew there were wild animals in the air," stuttered jellia, blinking her eyes rapidly.
"now, i wouldn't exactly call them wild animals," said nick argumentatively, twisting his neck from side to side to be sure he was not rusting.
"well, they certainly weren't birds!" declared jellia indignantly. "and how did they fly without wings? come on out, soldier, they're gone."
"ah, so we have won?" jauntily the soldier stepped out of the dressing room and resumed his marching. "give me credit for sounding the retreat, comrades," he observed cheerfully. jellia sniffed, and nick chopper said nothing.
"what are we going to do now?" inquired the little oz maid, going over to stand by the wheel. "how can we ever fly down with those awful creatures below?"
"we'll just travel horizontally till we are out of their area," nick told her, complacently. "but for a while, anyway, we'll go up. after all, one has to go up to come down, you know. and when we do come down--" nick gave a satisfied little nod, "it will be in a safe spot and far from those spiky airimals."
"so that's what they are! but how did you know?" jellia looked admiringly at the tin woodman.
"oh, it just came to me," admitted nick, with a modest cough. "beasts of the air must have names, i suppose. make a note of those monsters, will you wantowin?"
"i'm writing them up in my little green book now," mumbled the soldier, who was, in fact, scribbling away hastily as he tramped up and down. "i've made a sketch of one, too."
"good!--although i didn't suppose you'd looked at them long enough for that!" said nick, a bit sarcastically. he glanced hastily at the page the soldier held before his nose. then, deciding they had flown high enough, he pointed the oztober toward the east and after an hour's leisurely flying, again began a slow and cautious descent.
"i do wonder where we'll land?" mused jellia, trying to pierce with her bright eyes the bank of fog that lay beneath.
"somewhere in the quadling country, i should judge," answered nick, twirling the wheel deftly to the right. "and when we do--" at that instant, the soldier with green whiskers let out another panicky squawk.
"climb! climb!" he panted, running up and down the aisle so fast he almost ran himself down on the about-faces. "we're ambushed, comrades! fire in the fog! land on the stern!"
"oh, tin cups and canyons!" rasped nick chopper, losing his temper at last. "if this keeps up, how are we ever to get down? hammer and tong it! something's always getting in the way. will you stop that silly marching?" he yelled, snatching at the soldier's sleeve as he raced by.
"halt!" quavered wantowin. instantly obeying his own command, he stood trembling beside the navigator's table as nick peered desperately down through the fog.
"what is it, hippenscop?" strutoovious the seventh looked up impatiently as his first and fastest messenger came to a panting halt under the imperial canopy. instead of answering, hippenscop, his chest heaving and his eyes bulging, made a wordless gesture over his shoulder. then, catching his foot in the royal boot-scraper, he fell violently up the steps of the dais. this was not unusual, for anyone who falls in stratovania, falls up instead of down. rather relieved to find himself before the throne at last, hippenscop scrambled to his feet. sucking in his breath he announced hoarsely:
"i beg to report a strange and sonorbious monster falling through the fog over half moon lake."
"are you sure it is not a zoomer?" throwing down the morning star which he had been reading, strutoovious stared coldly at the messenger.
"ho, no! ho, no!" hippenscop shook his head positively. "it has wings and a tail, your strajesty. wings, a tail and seven eyes! but hark!!" the menacing whirr and sputter following the messenger's speech made even the ruler of all the stratovanians leap off his throne. striding rapidly after the terrified servitor, strut, followed by half the inhabitants of his irradiant tip-toposphere, reached the shores of half moon lake.
"skydragon!" he announced, after a brief glance at the gleaming shape drifting down through the fog. "quick hippen! summon the royal blowmen! back, stand back, you witless woffs! do you wish to be crushed and eaten? yon monster will alight on the north shore any moonite now!" at strut's loud warning, half of his subjects took to their heels while the rest scurried round to the south side of the lake, every head turned up toward the mysterious dragon.
only, of course, it was not a dragon. it was the silver-bodied oztober--inside of which the agitation was almost as great as the alarm of the airlanders below.
"how long have we? how long'll it be before we land?" gulped jellia. remembering the wizard's instructions, she jerked out the box of air helmets and next made a dive under the navigator's table. "here, take one--two--three. oh, how many shall we take?" groaned the little oz maid, holding up the bottle of altitude pills. "'one, after each mile up,' but how many miles have we come?"
"one hundred and one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven feet!" mumbled the soldier with green whiskers, reading the figures from a shining metal hypsometer clamped to the navigator's table. "all we have to do is figure how many feet in a mile."
"fifty-two hundred and some," puffed nick, working away desperately at his wheel and buttons to bring the oztober down without crashing. "oh, take twenty!" he directed sharply, as jellia and the soldier stood regarding him with open mouths. it was no time, as jellia later told ozma, to be doing long divisions. with trembling fingers she counted out twenty pills for the soldier with green whiskers. then, popping twenty into her own mouth and crunching them desperately between her teeth, she handed the bottle to nick chopper.
"no, no! none for me!" the tin woodman waved the bottle impatiently aside. "high altitude won't injure my metal, but keep this oil can handy, jellia, and whatever happens, don't let me rust!" choking on the pills which were dry and rather bitter, jellia nodded earnestly. tucking the oil can into the little bag that hung from her wrist, she began nervously dragging on her air helmet. wantowin battles already had adjusted his, and swallowed his pills. now, peering out one of the round windows, he trembled so violently all his weapons rattled and clanked to the dismal tune of his fright.
"th--thousands of them!" quavered the soldier. "what kind of place is this, anyway! it's so bright it hurts my eyes. oh, i just know there'll be fighting! look, i'd far better stay in the cabin, as someone must guard the plane!"
"but not you!" nick chopper spoke with great firmness. then, spinning the wheel rapidly and gauging to a nicety the distance between the ship and the sparkling airosphere, he touched the "down" and "stop" buttons simultaneously. coasting down the last little hill of wind, the oztober came to a gentle and complete stop on the shore of a rainbow-hued body of water.
"now, now! take your time," cautioned the tin woodman, as jellia started impulsively toward the door. pulling off one of the cushion covers nick began polishing himself vigorously. as the discoverer of this new and astonishing airland, he wished to make a good impression. from what he had seen, it was a country well worth claiming for ozma of oz. "here, let me go first," he said, tossing aside the cushion cover. "keep close to me, jellia, and soldier--under no circumstances are you to retreat unless i give the signal. great tinhoppers, what was that?" a long wail rather like the squall of a cat suddenly had rent the quiet air of the cabin.
"stowaway!" cried jellia, as another unmistakable meough followed the first. "sounds like dorothy's cat." but it was not eureka that jellia pulled from behind the second seat cushion. it was a small, black kit-bag. the green eyes turned off and on like electric lights, and the tail curved over the back to form a handle. round its neck hung a green placard:
"this kit-bag of magic to be used only in cases of extreme emergency. to open pull the tail.--wiz."
"well, geewhiz--is this an emergency?" jellia held the bag out, nervously.
"er--yes!" declared nick chopper after a second glance out of the window. "bring it along! and remember--you have nothing to fear! i, the emperor of all the winkies, am with you. with kind words and courteous gestures we will win the friendship and allegiance of these strange airlanders for ozma of oz."
jellia knew nick's red plush heart, given him by the wizard, was the kindest in all oz. nevertheless she took a firmer hold on the kit bag, and only after assuring herself that wantowin had his saber and blunder-buss did she follow the tin woodman down the oztober's ladder.
there was a complete and astonished silence as the three ozians stepped from the plane. and it must be confessed, jellia and the soldier in their transparent helmets, and the tin woodman without a helmet, were strange enough to startle any airbody. so it's no wonder the stratovanians were as amazed at the appearance of the travellers, as the travellers were amazed at the stratovanians. separated only by the waters of half moon lake, they confronted each other with growing alarm. strut, who had expected this dragon to roar, spurt flames and then rush forward to attack them, hardly knew what to do when these three curious beings stepped from the monster's interior. noting with alarm that his blowmen had not yet arrived, he determined to hold the invaders in conversation, if possible.
so, with his head and chest high, and walking with the queer, strutting gait that characterized all of the dwellers in stratovania, he advanced slowly around the edge of half moon lake. a few paces behind strutted the rest of his retainers. just as slowly, nick chopper and his two companions advanced to meet them.
the airlanders were a head taller than even the tin woodman. their hair grew straight up on end, sparkling and crackling with electricity in a really terrifying manner. their eyes were star shaped and shaded by long, silver lashes, the noses and mouths were straight and firm, the foreheads transparent. some shone as from a hidden sun, while across the brows of others tiny black clouds chased one another in rapid succession. watching their foreheads would be a good way, decided jellia jam, to find out whether they were pleased or angry. strut and his subjects wore belted tunics of some iridescent, rainbow-hued material, and silver sandals laced to the knee.
from the ears of the men hung huge, crescent pendants, while from those of the women, star earrings danced and dangled. each stratovanian carried a tall staff, tipped with wings. beyond, jellia saw a country of such dazzling beauty--she was almost afraid to breathe lest it vanish before her eyes. the trees were tall and numerous, with gleaming, prism-shaped trunks and a mass of cloud-like foliage. some bore fruit that actually seemed to be illuminated--oranges, pears, and peaches glowing like decorated electric light bulbs! moon and star flowers grew in great profusion, and in the distance, caves and grottoes of purest crystal scintillated in the high noon sun. so far as jellia could see, there were no houses or castles, but there were hundreds of gay canopies held up by crystal poles. jellia was just standing on tip-toe to glimpse the furnishings of the nearest canopy when nick chopper, feeling the time had come to speak, raised his tin arm and called out imperiously:
"i, emperor of the east and the winkies, hereby claim this new and beautiful airosphere for ozma of oz, and bid you, its illustrious inhabitants, pledge to her your allegiance! at the same time, i bestow upon all of you upper airians, free citizenship in the glorious land of oz!"
at this bold speech strut stopped and stood as if rooted to the spot. not only was he dumbfounded to discover he could understand the language of these curious beings, but if what he heard were correct, they actually were claiming his kingdom for their own.
"well, how was that?" whispered nick, looking down sideways at jellia.
"terrible! terrible!" moaned the little oz maid. "oh, my! we'd better look out!" catching hold of wantowin's hand, for he already showed signs of retreating, she looked anxiously at the approaching airman. black clouds were simply racing across his imperial brow; his eyes flashed red and blue lights and his hair positively crackled with indignation and fury.
"oh, my--i do hope you are feeling well?" ventured jellia, as strut took an enormous stride toward them. "if you have a headache or anything, we could easily come back tomorrow."
"stand where you are!" sneered strut. looking over his shoulder he made sure his twenty, tall blowmen had arrived and were pushing their way through the crowd. "stand where you are or i'll have you blown to atoms!"
"now, now, let us not come to blows!" begged nick chopper. "we have much to learn from you and you from us, and i assure you we have come in the spirit of highest friendship!"
"humph! so that's what it is--a friend ship! looks like a dragon to me!" folding his arms, strut scowled past the three travellers to where the oztober rested like some giant butterfly on the shore of half moon lake. then, making a secret signal to the blowmen who had lined up before him, he shouted fiercely, "i am strut of the strat and supreme ruler of all the upper areas. in daring to claim stratovania for your foolish countrywoman, you indeed aim high and will go, i promise you, still higher! three blasts and a toot, men!" as strut issued this cruel command, his twenty, stern-looking warriors lifted their curved horns and puffed out their cheeks for a tremendous blow.
jellia jam, feeling that if they ever needed help it was right here and now, frantically sought with her one free hand to open the wizard's kit-bag. as she fumbled with the curved handle, strut raised his long arm.
"wait!" he cried tensely. "not yet!" lowering their horns and exhaling their breaths in loud whistles, the blowmen stared at him in surprise. strut had been examining the strangers from oz more attentively. now he strode over to jellia, jerked off her helmet and ran his hand slowly over her smooth brown hair. jellia, expecting to faint or expire without the helmet, let out a piteous groan. but the altitude pills were evidently powerful enough to protect her, and feeling no ill effects, she glanced up timidly at the towering stratovanian. dark clouds no longer flitted across his brow. indeed, he looked almost pleasant. "ve-ry pret-ty!" he mused, stroking jellia's hair softly. "not wiry or stand-uppish like ours. hippenscop! summon her majesty the queen. she'll be delighted with this beautiful little creature! but--it is my intention to blow away these other insolent invaders from oz--keeping only this smooth-haired lassie for our starina."
"oh, no! oh, no!" begged jellia, pulling back with all her strength.
"stop! you can't have jellia," yelled nick chopper, flinging out his arms.
"ready--aim--fire!" quavered the soldier with green whiskers. and pointing his ancient gun at strut, he valiantly pulled the trigger. but wantowin's aim was very bad. the twenty marbles with which the gun was loaded, zipped harmlessly past the airman's ears, stinging quite a few of his subjects and frightening at least fifty into full flight. strut himself was not impressed. giving nick a push that sent him sprawling, and the soldier a shove, he drew jellia firmly away from her friends.
terrified as she was, the little oz maid could not help a small thrill of satisfaction to have been chosen by a monarch as high and mighty as strut of the strat, to be starina to him and his queen.
"as for you two," said strut to nick and the soldier, "blowing up is quite painless, i assure you, and if you ever do come down you'll doubtless have many interesting things to tell."
the blowmen placed a guard around nick and the soldier, and stepped back to their posts. nick chopper and wantowin, stunned by the swiftness of events, stared sadly at their little jellia as the blowmen for a second time raised their horns. but strut, intent on his warriors, had dropped jellia's hand. quick as a flash she pulled the kit-bag's tail and pulled out the first object her fingers closed on. it was a small green trumpet. without stopping to think or reason, jellia placed it to her lips and blew three frantic toots.
instantly a light green vapor flowed from the mouth of the horn, spreading like a fast-moving cloud over the entire assemblage--a light green vapor accompanied by three musical notes.
as the last note died away in a sweet, reluctant echo, strut's blowmen threw down their horns. with wild shouts and cheers they began to embrace as if each were the other's long lost brother. the behavior of the rest of the stratovanians was equally puzzling. they sang, they whistled, they laughed and stamped their feet from sheer gaiety. strut, hurrying over to nick chopper, shook him heartily by the hand.
"say, hay-hurray! how are you?" he demanded exuberantly. "how are you and all of your aunts, uncles and infant nieces?"
"wha--what's that?" sputtered nick chopper completely taken aback by this sudden show of friendliness. kabebe the queen, tears of joy streaming down her moon-shaped face, seized the hands of the soldier with green whiskers and was dancing him 'round and 'round. unnoticed in the general hubbub and hilarity, jellia managed to steal another glance at the green trumpet. printed in white letters on the handle was this surprising sentence: "this trumpet contains cheer gas." cheer gas! with a tremulous sigh, for the last few moments had been a great strain, jellia slipped the wizard's instrument back into the kit bag and zipped it shut. strangely enough the gas had not affected any of the people from oz. in fact jellia had never felt less like cheering in her whole life.
"this way! ray, ray, hurray!" shouted strut, who now had nick by one arm and the soldier by the other. "quickly! go and prepare the guest canopies, queen kabebe! these travellers are doubtless weary, and need rest and refreshment. have you any preference as to canopies?" he inquired, leaning down to look in nick chopper's face.
"do you have any tin canopies?" asked nick hoarsely. he was still dazed by strut's unaccountable change of manner. "i always feel safer under a tin roof. it is such a beautiful and dependable metal."
"tin? oh, ha-ha-ha!" strut blinked his star eyes rapidly. "i'm afraid we have no tin, but any other kind, my dear--"
"nick chopper, tin woodman of oz," put in jellia, who felt it was high time they were properly introduced. "and there--" she hastily indicated the soldier with green whiskers--"there is wantowin battles, the grand army of oz!" at jellia's introduction, wantowin dropped strut's arm to shake hands.
"and who are you, my lively little skylark?" he questioned.
"oh, i'm just jellia jam, ozma's chief maid in waiting," jellia said as she trotted uneasily along at his side. the rest of the stratovanians, still cheering and singing, but in a more subdued way, came streaming after them. rather anxiously jellia wondered how long the effects of the cheer gas would last, and how soon strut would remember about blowing nick and the soldier away again. it seemed unlikely that she would have another chance to open the kit bag without detection. the queen, who had not been as cheered by the gas as the others, seemed somewhat unfriendly as she walked along behind her royal husband. every few minutes, in fact, she would lean forward and give jellia a spiteful pinch. jellia bore this rude treatment with extreme patience, making no complaint or out-cry and merely walking a little faster to keep out of the creature's way. jellia wanted to see all she could of this wonderful, sparkling airland so she could tell ozma and dorothy all about it when she returned to oz.
the soldier with green whiskers had fallen back to a place beside queen kabebe and was gazing about him with contemptuous snorts. any country that was not green like the land surrounding the emerald city, held no interest for him. noticing that jellia was faring quite well without her helmet, and finding his rather stuffy, he took it off and slung it over one shoulder. as he did so he caught the queen in the very act of pinching jellia. disgusted by such conduct, he sternly took her arm, and each time kabebe pinched jellia, the soldier would slap her fingers. after the fifth slap the queen peered at him with astonished admiration, for on this whole tip-toposphere there was no man bold enough to strike a member of the reigning family. soon, kabebe was so fascinated by wantowin's flowing green whiskers she forgot all about pinching jellia. by this time the strange and still faintly cheering procession had reached strut's royal canopy. waving away his giggling blowmen, strut lifted jellia to one of the splendid star thrones.
to kabebe king strut spoke impatiently. "don't you remember you were to see about the guest canopies?" kabebe dared not object but looked quite displeased. "just tell bittsywittle to bring us a tray of air-ades and a wind pudding," ordered strut, giving the queen a jovial shove to help her on her way. "you'd like an air-ade wouldn't you, little lady?" poor jellia shook her head no and then quickly changed it to yes. the furnishings of the royal pavilion were so rich and dazzling and the star throne so high and grand that she felt completely bewildered. as kabebe shuffled away, jellia smiled nervously at nick and the soldier. at strut's invitation they had seated themselves cross legged on bright blue air cushions, and looked as uncomfortable as they felt.
"well, what do you think of stratovania by now?" inquired strut, settling back complacently. "i believe you will all enjoy high life as much as we do, once you are used to it."
nick chopper was on the point of saying they had no intention of getting used to it, or of staying one single moment longer than was positively necessary, when he caught jellia's worried expression and muttered instead. "beautiful--very beautiful."
"but where are the houses?" asked the soldier with green whiskers, bluntly. "these tent tops are all right for a war, or for field sports, but i should think you'd find them rather chilly for all year 'round living."
"stratovania," explained strut as he crossed his long legs, "is never chilly. it is surrounded by a rim of warm air that keeps the temperature just as you find it today. no wind, no rain, no storms of any kind," he concluded, proudly.
"and it's all so bright and shiny," sighed jellia jam, blinking down at the floor of the pavilion which was an inlay of sparkling glass, and then off to the countless bright canopies that dotted the airscape beyond. the surface of strut's curious skyland was of gleaming crystal, sometimes smooth as ice, sometimes rough and rocky, but always flashing with the brilliance of diamonds. "everything sparkles so," finished jellia, rather wishing she had brought her dark glasses.
"that's because stratovania is formed of solid air," smiled strut, tapping one of the iridescent posts that supported the silken canopy over their heads. "and i am its high and mighty sovereign, ruler of the spikers who inhabit the strata below, and of the zoomers who inhabit the strata above, and of all the other spheres and half-spheres in this particular area. strut of the strat! consider that, little one, and be proud that you have been chosen to be our starina!"
"but jellia can't stay here!" cried the soldier with green whiskers, springing indignantly to his feet. "jellia's--"
"tut! tut! now do not excite yourself! here comes bittsywittle and we'll all have a glass of liquid air." as strut leaned forward to speak to his small, electric-haired page, jellia shook her head sharply at nick and the soldier, for both seemed on the point of dragging her off the throne.
"wait!" jellia formed the word soundlessly, and with puzzled frowns her two friends sank back on their air cushions, accepting rather glumly the sparkling goblets of air-ade from the light-footed servitor. with the air-ade bittsywittle passed heaping saucers of wind pudding, a fluffy, cloud-like confection that made jellia's mouth positively water.
"you will find the diet here light, but nourishing," strut informed them blandly. "our atmosphere is so rare and exhilarating, we need little but sun and star light to keep us going. but now, friends, i propose a toast to jellia, our new starina!" as nick and wantowin rose unwillingly to their feet, for the whole affair struck them as perfectly preposterous, strut lifted his glass and downed his air-ade. then the soldier rather sulkily drank his. nick, who never partook of food or drink of any kind, set his goblet on a small tabouret and stared sadly at jellia jam. the tin woodman feared she was seriously considering strut's proposal. jellia surmised what nick was thinking, but as there was no way of explaining that she was just trying to gain time till they could find some way to escape, she smiled wanly back at him and swallowed her own air-ade.
suddenly jellia felt herself rising into the air. before she could utter a sound, her head was pressed tightly against the top of the canopy. then, dizzily, she began to float 'round and 'round like a pretty balloon just let off its string.
"ho, ho!" roared strut. "our air-ade has made you light-headed, m'lass! but wait--i'll fetch you down!" he tapped the winged staff he held in his right hand sharply on the floor. instantly it spread its wings, carrying him up beside jellia. grasping her hand he drew her down to the throne.
"there," he chuckled, handing her a heavy glass globe to hold, "that will weigh you down!" reflecting that one of these winged sticks might be a handy thing to have, jellia clutched the glass globe. still weak and giddy from her flight, she could not bring herself to touch the wind pudding bittsywittle had placed on the arm of the throne. the soldier with green whiskers, on account of his heavy weapons and boots, had not gone so high as jellia, but even he, instead of sitting on his air cushion, was now seated on nothing--three feet above nick chopper's head. he looked extremely unhappy, as indeed he was.
"don't worry," grinned strut, who seemed highly amused by the whole affair, "you'll come down presently." he tapped his winged staff on the head as he spoke, and the staff immediately folded its wings. "tell me," he urged, turning to nick chopper who was looking anxiously from the soldier to jellia. "do you come from below or be-high?"
"be-oth," answered the tin woodman, too confused by this time to know what he was saying. "taking off from the emerald city of oz, we first flew up, then over, then up and next down!"
"hmm--mmmn, oz?" two very black clouds floated across strut's transparent brow. "i seem to remember your mentioning oz before! i seem to remember--" strut's voice was no longer pleasant, and watching his brow growing blacker and blacker, jellia frantically sought to open the wizard's kit bag. unless she could release some more of the cheer gas, almost anything might happen.
out of the third point of his left star eye, strut saw what she was doing. "don't fidget, my dear," he snapped crossly. "it is unbecoming for our new starina of stratovania to fidget, or to unpack her own bag. here--" taking the kit bag from her he tossed it carelessly beneath his throne. jellia's heart sank. she hoped nick would say no more about claiming stratovania for ozma. but the tin woodman, already launched upon a glowing description of their famous fairy land, was working up to that very point.
"one hundred and one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven feet below this airosphere," began nick, taking a long breath, "lies the great, grand and incomparable fairyland of oz. oblong in shape, it is divided into four triangular kingdoms. the northern and purple land of the gillikens is ruled by jo king; the blue, western land of the munchkins, by his majesty king cheeriobed; the eastern, yellow land of the winkies is governed by myself; the southern red land of the quadlings, by glinda the good sorceress.
"but all of us are subject to the benign rule of ozma, the young fairy ruler of the whole kingdom. her capitol, the emerald city, in the exact center of oz, is one of the most beautiful cities out of the world! surrounding oz and protecting it from invasions is a deadly desert, and in ozma's possession are more jewels and treasure than you doubtless have seen in the whole of your air existence."
"humph!" growled strut, looking fiercer than ever. but paying no heed to the ominous storm clouds forming on his brow, nick loftily proceeded. "not only is ozma possessed of more jewels than any other sovereign known, but in her castle are magic appliances that make her the most powerful of rulers. for instance, ozma has a magic belt with which she can transport anyone anywhere. on her wall hangs a magic picture in which she can see what is happening to her friends or foes--right while it is happening. in her safe is a magic fan to blow away her enemies, and so many other strange instruments of magic, i have not time to describe them. among her advisors is the famous wizard of oz, who spends all his time studying magic and perfecting new inventions. the ozoplane in which we made this perilous flight is his latest masterpiece. and now that you know a bit more of ozma and her famous country, i am sure you will be delighted to become a part of our happy realm and acknowledge ozma as the supreme sovereign of stratovania."
"what?" screamed strut, bounding off his throne and furiously confronting the tin woodman. "how dare you suggest such a thing? this is the second time you have done so! why should i, strut of the strat, acknowledge this miserable earthlander as my supreme anything? i am a thousand times richer and more important than any belowlander below. oz! oz! indeed!"
as nick backed off in some alarm, strut shook his long staff over the tin woodman's head. "why, you can't even pronounce the name of your own country!" he sneered. "it is not oz, as you say it, but ohs--the zone of ohs, to be more correct. and if ohs is in the zone of ohs it is ozone, which means air--and that makes it belong to me! so i, strut of the strat, hereby do claim ozonia for myself and my people, and you, my fine mr. funnel top, shall take me there!"
"don't you do it! don't you do it!" plumping down on his air cushion, for the effects of the air-ade had worn off at last, the soldier with green whiskers wildly sounded retreat on his green bugle. jellia, knowing he would run as fast as he could and perhaps wreck the ozoplane before she and nick could reach it, jumped off her throne and seized him by the coat tails. as she did so, strut gave the glass gong beside him a resounding whack. before any of the three travellers could take another step, the twenty blowmen tramped back into the royal pavilion. the cheer engendered by the cheer gas had entirely evaporated by now, and they looked very grim indeed. at a signal from strut, one seized nick, a second the soldier. a third was taking hold of jellia, when strut sternly waved him aside.
"no no! not that one! she is our new starina!" he told the blowman roughly. "now you are to stay right here, jellia, my dear, and help rule over stratovania while i descend to ohs and take possession of that rich and prosperous country. and, sooner than soon, i will return, bringing you the magic treasure and jewels and the crown and scepter of this ohsma!"
"oh, but you mustn't!" wailed jellia, clasping her hands desperately. "ozma is a real princess and much more beautiful than i!"
"in that case, i shall bring ohsma back and make her a starina also!" promised strut.
"now hippenscop," he directed, shaking his finger at the odd-looking page, "you and junnenrump are to obey jellia in everything. i'll leave three blowmen here to protect our starina. the others, and all of my able-bodied fighters, shall fly with me to ohs."
"the ozoplane holds only four!" cried jellia, looking desperately over at nick who was struggling angrily to free himself from the blowmen. but they had his arms pinioned behind his back, and the poor tin woodman was unable to help himself.
"oh, that's all right!" answered strut, "i and this tin emperor will ride in the friend-ship, and the others will follow on their flying sticks and soon i will return with all the treasures of ohs!" as the blowmen started away, shoving nick and the soldier ahead of them, jellia felt so frightened and alone that she burst into tears.
"oh, please, please--couldn't you leave the soldier to keep me company?" she sobbed, wiping her streaming eyes on her sash.
"of course, if you wish!" motioning to the blowmen, they picked up wantowin as if he had been a sack of potatoes, and tossed him roughly back into the royal pavilion. he landed with a clatter at jellia's feet.
"but see here! i am not sure i can find the way back to oz!" protested nick chopper as strut fell into step at his side. "i happened upon this airosphere by the merest chance, and have no idea in which direction oz now lies."
"just the same--i think you will take me there!" strut grinned wickedly, tapping nick on the shoulder with his staff. he already had sent junnenrump to summon the army, and, glancing over his shoulder, nick saw a thousand young airmen strutting along behind them. as they came to the shores of half moon lake, hippenscop came panting and gasping into view.
"her skyness the new starina, bade me give you this," he puffed, handing the tin woodman the small oil can the wizard had given him at the party. nick had forgotten all about his oil can and without it he was likely to rust and become perfectly helpless. taking it thankfully from the messenger, he hung it on a hook beneath his arm and headed reluctantly for the oztober. nick had no intention of flying strut to the emerald city. even if he had to wreck the plane, he would find some way to keep the greedy airman and his legions from conquering oz. then he would return and rescue jellia and the soldier.
but, without a word to strut, for argument at this point would have been useless, he mounted the ladder, walked through the cozy cabin and seated himself in the pilot's chair. strut paused on the top rung of the ladder before he entered.
"follow us closely, men," he commanded gruffly, "no matter how far or fast we fly." strut's young warriors raised their flying staffs to show that they understood, and with a few final directions, the stratovanian stepped over the sill, slammed the door of the oztober and walked rapidly forward, examining everything with lively interest.
"so this dragon-body really flys?" he said, bending curiously over the navigator's table. "ho, what's this? i thought you told me you had no way of finding the route back?" nick chopper, much more surprised than strut, picked up the tidy map that lay on top of the buttons. it certainly had not been there when he left the plane, but here it was now, showing the complete course they had taken since leaving the emerald city. concluding this was some of the wizard's magic, nick examined the map attentively. each turn up or down, each mile east or west, was charted accurately.
"all you have to do is follow this in reverse," exclaimed strut. unaccustomed as he was to flying except by staff, he was nevertheless sharp enough to realize the value of a good map when he saw one. "and remember now--no tricks!" he warned, sternly. "land me safely in ohs and you will be suitably rewarded. but land me anywhere else and you will be completely obliterated!"
nick said nothing. weary of strut's threats and boasts, the woodman touched the button to inflate the oztober's balloon, and the "up," "south" and "fast" buttons. in the whirr and splutter of their take-off, the airlander's further remarks and directions were completely drowned out.
for a long time after the departure of the tin woodman and of strut and his legions, jellia sat forlornly on the star throne, trying to stem the tears that coursed slowly down her cheeks. to be stranded on this high and dangerous airosphere was bad enough, but the thought of strut flying off to destroy ozma and steal all her treasures was more frightening still.
"what on airth shall we do?" questioned jellia with a rueful smile, of the soldier with green whiskers who was tramping morosely up and down the pavilion. halting in his march, wantowin shook his head dubiously.
"that i cannot say!" he murmured, taking off his cap and staring gloomily inside. "i have no standing in this country at all! but you, jellia, are a starina. therefore you must decide what is to be done. and whatever your majesty's orders may be, i will carry them out to the letter. to the letter!" declared wantowin, standing up very straight and tall.
"oh, bother 'my majesty!'" scolded jellia. "you know perfectly well i didn't ask to be a starina of this terrible place!"
"it is not what you want but what you are, that counts!" insisted the soldier, stubbornly. "and there's no getting round it, jellia, you are a starina! so while you are deciding what is to be done, i'll just do a bit of reconnoitering. it might be well to know the lay of the air!"
"wait!" cried jellia as wantowin started smartly down the steps. "whatever you do, wanny--don't run!" she implored earnestly. "you might easily run off the edge and then where'd you be? so do please be careful, and if anything frightens you run straight back here! do you promise?"
"nothing ever frightens me!" said the soldier in an offended voice. marching sternly down the steps he was off at a double-quick, without even a glance over his shoulder. feeling more alone than ever, jellia sighed and folded her hands in her lap. but wantowin's words, foolish as they were, had done her good. after all she was a starina, for the time being anyway. so, straightening her crown, and drying her tears, jellia tried to think how she should act under such bewildering circumstances. how would ozma act, for instance, if she were sitting on the throne of this singular airtry? even thinking of the gentle and dignified little girl ruler of oz, steadied jellia. holding her head very high, she stepped down from the dais and began pacing slowly up and down the pavilion, switching her green skirts in such a regal manner that the two messengers who had returned quietly to their posts, stared at her with new interest and admiration.
"is there anything we might bring your strajesty?" asked junnenrump, bowing from the waist and clicking his heels smartly together. at his question jellia paused and eyed the two, speculatively.
"why, yes," she decided after a moment's thought. "you, junnenrump, may send some one to amuse me, and you, hippenscop, may bring me two of those winged staffs. it is neither safe nor proper for a starina and her army to be without them!"
"but, your skyness!" hippenscop leaped into the air and spun round and round in an agony of embarrassment. "there are no extra staffs!" he blurted, finally coming to a stop before her. the little fellow looked so distressed, jellia was on the point of letting him off. then, remembering just in time that she was bound to be obeyed, she raised her arm.
"go!" she commanded haughtily. "and do not return without two winged staffs!" junnenrump already had started, and at jellia's stern command hippenscop backed dejectedly down the steps, his eyes bulging with dismay and consternation.
"if wanny and i had flying sticks, we'd at least be as well off as the rest of these airlanders," reasoned jellia, resuming her walk. "but what funny names," she mused, as the messengers disappeared in two different directions and at two different speeds. "they make me think of--" here jellia took a little run and jump, following it with a skip and a hop. "i suppose" she continued, talking conversationally to herself, "that is what their names really mean, everything is so mixed up here." regaining her throne in one long slide, jellia brought up with a slight start. this, she decided, was no way for a starina to act. smoothing down her dress, she walked sedately to strut's throne and reached underneath. the real reason she had got rid of the messengers, of course, was so she could recover the kit-bag and have a chance to examine its contents without being observed. the cheer gas had saved them on one occasion, and perhaps there was magic powerful enough to enable her and the soldier to escape from the airosphere before strut returned. the bag was still there and snatching it up in her arms, jellia climbed back on the throne. but just as she was about to zip it open, junnenrump bounded up the steps of the pavilion, dragging a lean old skylander by the hand.
"his majesty's piper!" announced junnenrump, giving the piper a shove forward and seating himself expectantly on the messenger's bench. jellia was annoyed to have junnenrump return so soon. but since she had sent for someone to amuse her, she could not very well object. so, resting her chin in her hand she looked curiously at the royal piper. the old skylander was tremendously tall and thin. his tunic was short and plaited, and under his arms he carried a pair of enormous bag pipes. jellia never had cared for bag pipes, but on an airosphere she supposed wind instruments such as this naturally would be popular. the piper, however, did not immediately play on his pipes. instead he struck a few light and pleasant chords on the top buttons of his tunic.
"shall i do a buck and wing, or a little skyland fling? shall i sing a little sing, for you, dear?"
bawled the piper cheerfully. he looked so funny that jellia burst out laughing. thus encouraged, the piper proceeded to sing, punctuating his song with extraordinary leaps and toe tappings.
"when we skylanders feel low, we just dance the stratispho; step it high, kick and fly, toss the partner up ski-high. high ho!
"would you care to try it?" he asked politely, holding out his hand to jellia.
"no, no! not today!" gasped the oz maid, backing as far as the star throne would allow. "but i've really enjoyed watching you very much, and your singing is lovely," she added, generously.
"ah, but wait until you hear me play," puffed the piper. raising his pipes he blew forth such a hurricane of whistles, squeals and fierce thunderings that poor jellia clapped both hands to her ears. "tell him to go away," she screamed above the awful din, wildly motioning to junnenrump who was tapping his foot in time to the pipes and looking highly diverted. "tell him to come back tomorrow." the fierce music of the bag pipes had brought airlanders running from every direction. crowding round the pavilion they waved and bowed to the new starina. realizing she never would have any privacy under the imperial canopy, jellia slipped off her throne. the messenger had the piper by the tunic tails and was easing him gently down the steps. jellia waited till they reached the bottom, then, as all the airlanders began to run after the still furiously pumping piper, jellia started in the opposite direction. surely somewhere, she thought, clutching the kit-bag close to her, somewhere she could find a quiet corner or cave or clump of bushes where she could examine the contents of the wizard's bag without interruption.
so anxious was jellia to be by herself, she broke into a run. failing to notice a crystal bar stretched across the path, she tripped and fell violently up a tune tree. falling down is bad enough, but falling up is worse still. jellia not only had barked her shins on the crystal bar, but had bounced into the air so high she lost her breath and plunged down so abruptly among the top branches of the tune tree that she was somewhat scratched and shaken. she knew it must be a tune tree because plump black notes grew in clusters like cherries between the leaves. several, dislodged by her fall, broke into gay little arias and chords. at any other time jellia would have been quite interested, but now she was too agitated and upset to care.
"such a country--or airtry!" groaned the oz maid, rubbing her left ankle and her right knee. "one can't even fall down in their own way!" parting the branches the ruffled little girl looked crossly out. it was quite a long way to the ground, but nevertheless jellia decided to climb down. but suddenly it occurred to her that the top of the tune tree was as good a place as any, to open the kit-bag. easing herself to a larger limb, she balanced the bag carefully in her lap and stretched out her hand to pull the tail. then a piercing scream and the thump of a hundred footsteps made her draw it back in a hurry. parting the branches of the tree for a second time, she saw wantowin battles running toward her like the wind.
"help! help! save me!" yelled the soldier with green whiskers. and he had reason to yell for just two leaps behind him panted kabebe, waving an enormous crystal rolling-pin. after the queen pounded the three big blowmen, and after the blowmen came nearly a hundred men, women, and children. before jellia had time even to guess why they were chasing the army, wantowin tripped over the same crystal bar that had caused her upfall, and landed with a terrific grunt in the branches beside her, scattering half and quarter-notes in every direction. the airlanders stopped short and watched with breathless interest as the soldier disappeared into the thick foliage of the tune tree.
"what's the matter? what happened?" whispered jellia reaching out to steady the soldier who was bouncing wildly up and down on a nearby limb.
"you?" gasped wantowin, almost losing his balance at the shock of seeing her. "oh, jellia! we must leave at once! at once! as i was passing the cooking caves, kabebe rushed out and grabbed me. she has decided to blow us away most any minute now. she has persuaded the airlanders that strut is lost and never will return. oh why, why, did we ever fly to this terrible place?"
"be quiet!" hissed jellia, frightened almost out of her wits at this new turn of affairs. "how can i think with you making all that noise?"
"come down! come down!" bawled kabebe. "come down before i shake you down!" grasping the trunk of the tune tree she gave it a playful shake.
rolling his eyes up, the soldier glanced desperately at jellia, and jellia, as desperately, glanced back.
"you might as well go down," she whispered resignedly, as the queen gave the tree a tremendous shake that nearly dislodged them both.
"not without you," shivered wantowin, hugging his branch for dear life.
"oh, well--let's get it over with," said jellia despairingly. "blowing away may not be so bad, and i'd rather do anything than stay up here." tucking the kit-bag under one arm, jellia swung herself down by the other and dropped lightly to the ground.
"what is the meaning of this outrageous behavior?" she demanded, as wantowin dropped fearfully beside her. "his majesty shall hear of this, i promise you!"
kabebe, astonished to see jellia as well as the soldier with green whiskers drop out of the tree, took a hasty step backward. jellia quickly followed up her advantage. "i'm amazed!" she said sternly. "i thought you knew that i was to help you rule while king strut is away!" at this bold speech, wantowin looked at jellia in round-eyed admiration. though her cheeks were scratched and her crown slightly askew, the little waiting maid looked every inch a ruler's helper, if not a ruler. even the blowmen began to shift uneasily from one foot to the other, their mouths falling open at jellia's indignation. but kabebe raised both arms and fairly screeched at the little oz maid.
"how dare you speak to me like that?" she shrieked. "king strut is lost and never will return! i am queen here--and i don't need your help! blowmen! seize this impudent pair, march them to the edge of the cliffs and blow them away." the crowd of stratovanians looked uncertainly from kabebe to jellia.
"his highness left you here to protect me!" jellia reminded them sternly. but even as she spoke, she knew they had decided to obey kabebe. she was flashing her star eyes so threateningly, and waving her winged stick so close to their heads, that the blowmen were afraid to defy her.
"come along, now," grumbled the first blowman, taking jellia roughly by the arm. "you've made enough trouble here!"
the other two blowmen seized the trembling soldier and began marching sternly toward the edge of strut's skyland. jellia pulled back with all her strength, as also did wantowin, but, hustled along by the huge skylanders, they could do little to help themselves. relentlessly, with the jeering citizens of stratovania running along after them, the unfortunate oz pair was dragged on.
"just wait till your master hears about this," sobbed jellia, as the blowmen shoved them as near to the edge of the cliffs as they dared go themselves. then they stepped back to lift their horns. jellia had managed to retain her hold on the wizard's kit-bag, but even so she felt that their last moment had come.
jellia gave a final sad little wave to the soldier, who really was quite brave now that his doom had arrived. the blowmen pointed their horns straight at them, but before they even could inflate their cheeks, a fierce roar and splutter from the clouds caused every head to turn upwards.
"the ship--the ship! the flying ship!" cried the first blowman, letting his horn fall disregarded to the ground.
"it's strut!" screamed the stratovanians, treading on one another's toes in their sudden frenzy to be out of sight of their master when he landed.
"'tis the master himself!" cried the first blowman, yanking jellia and the soldier back from the edge of the skyland. pulling kabebe along with them, the blowmen ran as never before, closely followed by strut's scurrying subjects. one moment later there was not a single airbody in sight. convinced that their cruel and brilliant ruler had returned, they ran like rabbits. some even flew, helping themselves along with their winged staffs, while jellia, sinking on a large, crystal boulder, stared dazedly at the silver-bodied plane dropping rapidly toward them.
"it can't be the oztober!" cried jellia, delightedly. "it couldn't have come back so soon!"
"it's not!" cried wantowin battles, tossing up his cap and waving his arms exuberantly. "it's the other one, the ozpril, and that means--" in his extreme excitement, the soldier tripped over a balloon bush and fell seven feet into the air. "it means the wizard himself has come to help us," sputtered wantowin, blinking rapidly as he landed hard on the rock beside the young oz maid. "three cheers, jellia! the wizard of oz has saved us!"
it was indeed the ozpril, just as the soldier with green whiskers had said. even at a distance, jellia could spell out the name on the gleaming body and, as the silvery plane came swooping toward them, she could not repress a shout of joy.
too exhausted by the dreadful ordeal she had just been through to run to meet the ship, she jerked off her scarf and waved it wildly over her head.
about ten feet from the crystal boulder on which she had been sitting, the ozpril came to a gentle and perfect landing. scarcely had the whirr and sputter of its engine died away before the door of the cabin burst open and down climbed the little wizard of oz, followed by dorothy and the scarecrow. the cowardly lion, last of all, had difficulty fitting his paws on the rungs and, after a trembling descent, rolled over on his back, his four feet straight up in the air. the trip had not agreed with the cowardly lion at all. weak and dizzy, he made no attempt to rise.
"here you are at last!" cried the wizard happily, rushing over to jellia and seizing both of her hands. "so this is where you've been! well i must say it's a fine place. why it's beautiful, beautiful!" swinging round so he could look in all directions, the wizard positively glowed with interest and enthusiasm.
"what's so beautiful about it?" growled the lion without turning over. "is there any grass? are there any trees? is there anything to eat?" dorothy, on the point of embracing jellia, gave a little scream, for the tell-all-escope, which she had picked up just before leaving the plane, was making terse announcements. at this point it happened to be pointed at jellia. clearing its throat it remarked in a superior way: "you are now looking at miss jellia jam, formerly of oz, at present new starina of the strat, by edict of strutoovious the seventh. miss jellia jam, starina of stratovania! period! stop, drop or point elsewhere!"
"why, jellia!" gasped dorothy, letting the tell-all-escope fall with a crash, "are you, really? oh my! i don't suppose you'll ever want to return to oz, now. why, you must be having a wonderful time!"
"humph!" sniffed jellia, with a slightly wan smile. "if being pinched, chased and nearly blown to atoms is having a wonderful time, then i guess i've been having it all right!"
"tell me," requested the scarecrow, who had been walking in a slow circle around jellia. "does one prostrate oneself before a starina, or does one merely kiss her hand?"
"neither," laughed jellia. jumping up she gave the scarecrow such a hug he was out of shape for hours. "but quick!--let's all hop in the ozpril and fly away before something terrible happens."
"fly away?" cried the wizard, shoving back his high hat. "but, my dear--we've only just come! i've been flying all night and need a little rest and refreshment before we start off again. besides, i would like to see more of this interesting airland and its people, and add to my data on the strata."
"that's what nick thought," observed jellia, putting both hands on her hips. "and look what happened to him!"
"what did happen to him?" demanded the wizard, realizing for the first time that nick was not among those present.
"you tell him," sighed jellia to the soldier. sinking back on the boulder she held her aching head in both hands. all eyes turned toward the soldier with green whiskers who opened and closed his mouth several times without saying a word. the wizard, now thoroughly alarmed, began shaking him on one side and the scarecrow on the other, until finally wantowin took a tremendous swallow and gave them the whole story.
when the narrator reached the part where strut had ordered nick and him blown away, the scarecrow hurried over to the balloon bush and began picking the almost ripe balloons as fast as his clumsy cotton fingers would permit. not till he had about twenty did he even pause. so light and flimsy was the straw man that the bunch of balloons on their long stems kept jerking him into the air. after each jerk he would give a little grunt of satisfaction.
"these are just to keep me aloft--in case of accidents," he explained hastily to dorothy who was watching him intently.
"but what of us?" asked the little girl, looking anxiously toward the canopied city which, at present, seemed absolutely deserted.
"you say that this wretched strut, after naming jellia starina, forced nick to fly him to oz?" exclaimed the wizard, grasping wantowin battles by both arms and gazing into his face.
"not only that," wantowin told him hoarsely, "but he's taken his blowmen and a thousand fighting men to conquer the country! he intends to bring back ozma's crown, scepter, jewels and all the treasures in our castle!" finished the soldier, dolefully.
"oh, can't we do something wizard?" cried jellia determinedly. "i simply won't be starina! i won't! i won't!"
"just the same--you make a very pretty one," murmured the scarecrow, patting the little oz maid consolingly on the shoulder. "but of course, we cannot allow this bounding airlander to take oz!"
"if nick had not 'taken possession' of stratovania for ozma, he'd never have thought of it," groaned jellia. rising stiffly, she picked up the kit-bag from the crystal rock beside her.
"ah--so you still have my magic kitty!" in spite of his anxiety the wizard smiled.
"indeed i have," said jellia firmly. "it saved us from being blown away. i used some of your cheer gas, wiz, but i didn't have time to try out any of the other magic. here, you'd better take it now and do let's be starting. no telling when kabebe and those three blowmen will be coming back."
"forward march! forward march!" wantowin battles started off all by himself for the ozpril. "hurry, hurry!" he called over his shoulder. "if those fearful people return they'll surely make trouble!" yelled the soldier, his voice growing more emphatic.
"well, it's certainly a mix-up," said dorothy, moving closer to the wizard.
"what do these people look like, jellia?" she asked curiously. "really i'd enjoy seeing a few."
"they look like nothing you ever have imagined!" jellia told her with a slight shudder. "goochers! here come some now! and oh--it's those blowmen--and all the others! look, wizard! could we reach the ozpril before they reach us?"
"let's not try," decided the wizard, as the blowmen broke into a run. "even if we made the plane, they might blow us to bits before i could get her started. let's stay here and reason with them till i find something in this bag to help us."
"oh, woe is we! oh, woe is we!" gulped the scarecrow, taking little runs and leaps into the air, hopeful that his balloons would lift him out of the danger zone as the threatening company drew closer. the queen was marching grimly ahead of her subjects. in some way, decided jellia, she had discovered strut had not been in the silver plane. as the wizard opened his kit bag the little oz maid rushed over to the cowardly lion.
"get up!" directed jellia, giving him a desperate prod with her toe. "get up! we need your growl--and listen!" she begged, as the big beast rolled over and blinked sleepily at the approaching airlanders. "do everything i tell you or we are lost, lost!"
dorothy concluded jellia had been quite right about the inhabitants of stratovania. they certainly were like no one she ever had seen, and she could not help admiring the bold way jellia stepped out to meet her dangerous adversary.
"just what are you doing here?" demanded jellia, folding her arms and tilting up her chin. "did i not order you to leave us strictly alone? blowmen, take this kabebe woman away!"
"kabebe's our queen," muttered one of the blowmen, scowling at jellia. "at least," he corrected, glancing at his comrades, "she is our queen until strut returns."
"what makes you think strut has not returned!" questioned jellia, grandly. "do you not recognize your master!" with a regal wave, jellia pointed to the cowardly lion. "do you not believe that this is strut--changed to this great beast by ozma of oz? but he is as powerful and able as ever, to rule this kingdom! strut!" imperiously jellia appealed to the cowardly lion. "am i the starina of stratovania?"
the poor lion was as startled at jellia's question as the stratovanians. from sheer shock, he rose on his hind legs and let out a perfectly awful roar--which was perhaps as convincing an answer as he could have given.
"there! you see?" jellia shrugged her shoulders as queen kabebe and the blowmen turned white as ghosts and began to move away.
"it does sound like the master," stuttered the blowman, as the cowardly lion followed up his roar with a reverberating growl.
"what are your majesty's wishes?" inquired jellia, inclining her head graciously toward the trembling lion.
"take that woman away, and have our supper prepared and served at once in the royal pavilion!" directed the lion in his most commanding roar!
the effect of the cowardly lion's speech was astonishing, indeed. the stratovanians behind the queen turned and ran for their lives. they started backing away so fast they fell up at every step, so that their progress was curious enough to watch. there were few animals on the airosphere and certainly none that talked. thoroughly convinced that the cowardly lion was strut and strut was the lion, his terrified subjects fled in all directions.
"whew!" exclaimed the wizard, snatching out his green handkerchief and mopping his moist forehead. "that was quick thinking, my dear. good acting, too," he puffed, leaning down to give the lion an approving pat.
"oh, wasn't he wonderful?" jellia hugged the lion so energetically he fairly gasped for breath.
"not so hard for me to play king," he wheezed when he managed to escape from jellia's embrace. "after all--i am king of the forest!"
"well, however that may be, jellia is certainly starina of the strat!" declared the scarecrow. "i'm beginning to think strut was right in choosing her! you've been wasting your talents in oz, my dear, and you surely have earned a crown today!"
"but i don't want a crown!" asserted jellia with spirit. nevertheless she was quite pleased at such high praise. "now, look! since the cowardly lion ordered supper in the royal pavilion, perhaps we'd better go. it will be as good a place as any to rest while we plan our next move."
"hi, there--is everything all right?" wantowin battles, who had hidden himself behind a crystal rock at the blowmens' approach, now peered out nervously.
"for the present," called the wizard, waving his kerchief, "for the present. come along, soldier, we're going to have supper in the royal pavilion!"
"not i," said the soldier, falling in step with the scarecrow. "count me out of that!"
"i'm sure i'll not be able to eat a bite," sighed dorothy, picking up the tell-all-escope. "how can you even think of supper with those awful airmen flying to the emerald city. oh, why don't we go after them now?"
"because i do not believe nick will take them to the emerald city," said jellia, straightening her crown. "he'll lose them somehow and then come back here for wanny and me."
"my own deduction, exactly," agreed the wizard walking briskly along beside jellia. "but wherever nick is, we'll find him--same as we have found you."
"how did you find us?" asked jellia, stopping short and staring up into the wizard's face. "i've been wondering about that."
"well, you see," explained the little magician impressively. "on the ozpril there is a magnetic compass that shows the exact course taken by the oztober, provided both planes are in flight. by following the compass, i followed your exact route. the delay in our arrival was caused by the difference in speed!"
"why, then you saw the very same things we did," cried jellia, nodding distantly to several airlanders who were bowing to the ground as the little procession passed.
"the very same," said the wizard. then, as a little afterthought--"by the way, what did you see?"
"oh, nothing much but clouds, fog, an icecloud, and some flying airimals with spikes," jellia told him briefly, as she started up the long steps to the royal pavilion.
"the same with us," said the wizard, taking out a little book and squinting hastily at the precisely written entries, "'clouds, fogs, spiked monsters,' ah!" he closed the book with a little exclamation of admiration. "so this is the seat of government?"
"i must say i prefer a castle," observed the scarecrow, jumping up the steps three at a time. "still, all these columns are very pretty. very pretty indeed!"
"is my throne comfortable?" inquired the cowardly lion with a lordly sniff.
"that's right," giggled jellia, "you will have to sit on the throne--that is, if wanny doesn't mind?" the little maid turned mischievously to the soldier with green whiskers. "after all you are a kind of king, too!"
"not on your life!" declared wantowin violently. "i wouldn't trade one button on my uniform for all the jewels in strut's crown, nor one blade of oz grass for all the rocks in stratovania!"
"bravo! bravo!" applauded the scarecrow. having tied his balloons to one of the pillars, he was bouncing up and down on a blue air cushion. "try one," he invited, shoving a couple toward the wizard. instead of one, the wizard put three of the air cushions together and stretched out at full length.
"you can't imagine how tired a fellow grows after sixteen hours of flying," he murmured drowsily. "hah, hoh, hum! i hope you girls will excuse me if i take a little nap?"
"i wouldn't mind a nap myself," yawned dorothy. though she had dozed part of the night before, she felt extremely sleepy. without much urging from jellia, she curled up on a couch at the back of the pavilion and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillows.
"best thing in the world for them," grinned the scarecrow, as jellia looked rather nervously from one sleeper to the other. "we'll probably have to fly all night--if we get away from here at all! the wiz needs a good rest before he does any more piloting."
"yes," agreed jellia with a sigh, "i suppose he does. but i hope the lion's not going to sleep, too?" climbing to her throne, jellia gave him a good poke in the ribs. the lion, who was leaning back against the cushions with both eyes closed, shook his head.
"i never sleep on an empty stomach," he declared firmly. "besides, a lion can go for days--if necessary--without rest or refreshment."
"didn't you have anything to eat, at all?" inquired jellia. being terribly hungry herself, she could sympathize with the hungry beast.
"oh," answered the lion without opening his eyes, "we did have a few square meal tablets the wizard happened to have in his pocket. but, while they fill you up, they don't seem to satisfy."
"same with the food here," said jellia.
"food!" the cowardly lion's nose began to twitch with eagerness. "where is any?"
"if i am not mistaken, supper is approaching now!" announced the scarecrow, peering out through the side draperies of the canopy. "is this one of your many servants, my dear?"
"oh, i suppose so," said jellia, as bittsywittle trudged up the crystal steps balancing a huge tray on his head. he had been warned of the change in strut, but the sight of the huge monster on the throne unnerved the little fellow and he began to tremble so violently, the dishes on the tray danced a regular jig.
"just put the tray on the table," directed jellia, patiently. "and don't jump, bittsywittle! strut won't bite you."
"how do you know i won't?" roared the cowardly lion, opening his eyes so wide bittsywittle set down the tray and scuttled off like a hare. without much enthusiasm, jellia noted kabebe had sent them six saucers of wind pudding and six glasses of air-ade.
"don't touch it!" warned the soldier with green whiskers, as the lion slithered off the throne and ambled to the table. "it will make you feel very funny."
"well, i'd rather feel funny than sad," said the lion, sniffing the pudding delicately, "and i'd rather feel funny than starve. aren't you having any, jellia?"
"no, thank you!" jellia shook her head sharply and exchanged a quiet wink with wantowin. but the cowardly lion did not notice the wink. or at least, he pretended not to and hurriedly lapped up all six saucers.
"why, it's delicious!" he murmured rapturously, "deli--"
"hey, where you going?" the scarecrow had been watching him enviously, for the pink pudding looked so good he almost wished he found it necessary to eat. but now he spun round in alarm, for without any warning at all, the lion had swelled and puffed up like a carnival balloon and gone wafting upward to soar in dizzy circles over their heads.
"oh, he's just putting on airs because he's king," teased jellia, wishing dorothy were awake to enjoy the fun.
"but he might easily float off," worried the scarecrow, pursuing the luckless lion with outstretched arms. "wait--i'll save you!" he puffed, and snatching the cord from a long bell pull, he leaped on strut's throne. after several unsuccessful attempts he managed to lasso the lion and tie him fast to the arm of the throne. "how do you feel?" he called solicitously, for the lion, with closed eyes and a desperate expression, was paddling his legs like a drowning dog.
"oh, take it easy!" advised jellia, relenting a little, "you'll float around all by yourself and come down presently, as light as a feather. i know 'cause i've tried it. hello--here's hippenscop! now i wonder what he wants? oh! my goodness! he's actually brought me two of those flying sticks!"
"flying sticks?" exclaimed the scarecrow, sliding off strut's throne. "you don't tell me?" the messenger, by this time had reached the top step of the pavilion. after a fearful look at the people from oz, he advanced timidly toward jellia.
"i have brought the flying sticks, your majesty!" explained hippenscop, holding them out with great pride and satisfaction. "i stole them from two sleeping watchmen, and managed to bring them here without kabebe seeing me."
"kabebe?" said jellia, with an uncomfortable start. "why, where is kabebe?"
"in star park," whispered the messenger, hoarsely. "she's got all the people worked up and excited! they're coming here presently to blow you away!"
"what?" gasped jellia in an exasperated voice, "again? why she knows strut will never allow that."
"but kabebe says he isn't strut!" said the messenger with an apologetic bow toward the cowardly lion, who, paying no attention to the conversation, was floating in distracted circles above the throne. "now junnenrump and i believe your majesty, and consider you the best and prettiest starina stratovania ever had! but no one else does, so first they are going to blow away the friend ship and then they are coming here to blow you all away! so--while i do not presume to give orders--if i were in your majesty's place, i'd fly, this very instant and while there still is time!"
"the boy is right," declared the soldier, grabbing up his blunder-buss. "company! fall in! forward march!"
"wake up! wake up!" cried the scarecrow, pummeling the wizard with both hands. "the airlanders are destroying our ozoplane!" while jellia, really touched by the messenger's loyalty, gave him one of her emerald rings, wantowin battles lifted dorothy off the sofa and set her hastily on her feet.
"forward! forward!" he urged, pushing her ahead of him. "kabebe's coming to blow us away!" dorothy--blinking her eyes after a look at the cowardly lion floating over the throne--concluded she still was dreaming. but the soldier kept shaking her till she finally realized she was awake and in danger.
"this way!" cried jellia, as the wizard bounced off his cushions. "this way! the thing for us to do is to run to the other side of the airosphere. then, while those villains are blowing the ozpril away, we can be reaching the edge--and--"
"and what?" queried dorothy, looking at jellia with round, scared eyes. jellia, for reasons of her own, did not answer. the scarecrow already had retrieved his balloons. now he pressed the cord, still attached to the cowardly lion, into wantowin's hand.
"you must pull him along with you," directed the scarecrow, earnestly. "i am too light. and do let's be starting!" the angry buzz of the crowd on its way to half moon lake, already could be heard. so, without stopping to plan or reason, the travellers from oz slipped through the back curtains of the royal pavilion and began running as fast as they could toward the other side of strut's curious air realm. the wizard, grasping his kit bag in one hand and dorothy by the other, went first. next came jellia, carrying the two flying sticks; the scarecrow clutched his bunch of balloons. last of all ran wantowin, dragging the growling and disgusted lion after him through the air. fortunately stratovania is long and narrow. in less time than they had dared hope, the little cavalcade came to the edge. forbidding cliffs stretched along the whole coast and the moist, blue air seemed actually to be breaking in great waves against the rocks. as they all gazed unhappily outward, a terrific "boom" made them all shudder.
"well--there goes the ozpril," mourned jellia, patting the wizard compassionately on the shoulder. the wizard, looking very angry and grim, nodded his head. "come on," puffed jellia stepping closer to the cliffs, "unless we want to go up with the ship we've got to jump! and really--it's not so bad as it sounds! i've seen the airlanders fly with these winged staffs, and these two will have to do for us all."
"how do they work?" asked dorothy in a faint voice.
"why, you tap them once on the ground to start, and once on the handle to stop," explained jellia breathlessly! "now, suppose dot and i and the scarecrow ride one, and wiz and the soldier, the other. and for cake's sake--don't let go our lion!" added jellia.
"but suppose he deflates and pulls us all down with his weight," groaned the soldier. "why can't he float along by himself?"
"because i'm not going to have it!" said jellia determinedly. "you must hold on to him and risk whatever happens! and if anything does happen, the wizard will think of something!"
"i have thought of something!" said the wizard, composedly. "but first we must do as jellia says. hark! isn't that kabebe calling you?" as a matter of fact, it was. the stratovanians, after witnessing the blow-off of the ozpril, had rushed back to the royal pavilion. furious at the disappearance of their victims, they now were rushing toward the crystal cliffs, the screams of kabebe rising above all the rest.
"what do we do--ride 'em like broomsticks?" jabbered the scarecrow, as jellia with shaking hands held out one of the sticks to the wizard.
"a good idea!" approved the little magician, watching with deep interest as the wings on the tip of the staff opened and spread. "come along, soldier, or the mob will get you yet!" with wildly beating hearts, dorothy and jellia watched the wizard and the soldier mount the flying stick and boldly leap from the cliff's edge. the cowardly lion let out a terrified howl as he was dragged after them, but jellia, dorothy and the scarecrow, without further hesitation, mounted their own staff and hurled themselves into space, just as the queen and her cohorts came panting into view.
keeping the flying sticks in a more or less level position so they would not slip off, and at the same time pointing them downward, required no little skill. the wizard, being used to magic appliances, mastered his in double quick time. but jellia, who sat in front on the other staff soared up for seventy feet and across for fifty before she learned the trick of flying it. during the first twenty minutes of their flight, not a word was spoken. each had enough to do to hold on, and the cowardly lion, hurtling through the air beside the soldier with green whiskers, looked the picture of despair and discouragement. a dozen times dorothy, after a glance downward, gave herself up for lost. but gradually the strangeness of their situation wore off. passing out of the moist, clammy strata just below strut's kingdom into a dryer and less clouded area, the spirits of the little band of adventurers rose. the wings of each flying staff, though not large, were powerful as airplane propellers, and they flapped as rhythmically as the wings of a bird.
"not exactly like riding in an ozoplane!" called the wizard, waving cheerfully to jellia! "still--it's better than falling, eh?" jellia, who had maneuvered her staff to a position close to his, nodded emphatically.
"what worries me, is--the--altitude!" she called back presently. "somewhere or other we lost our air helmets. will the effects of those altitude pills wear off before we're out of the strat?"
"no, we'll be all right," promised the wizard. "my altitude pills condition one for the upper areas for several days at a time!"
"oh! then everything's splendid!" sighed jellia, pushing back her curly locks and smiling at dorothy.
"unless we meet a meteor, and then our flight will soon be o'er," quavered the scarecrow, waving his arm in a doleful circle.
"now, now, don't anticipate!" advised the wizard, guiding the staff with one hand and opening his kit bag with the other. for several moments he had been anxiously regarding the cowardly lion. the buoyancy resulting from the wind pudding was at last subsiding, and the swelled and bloated appearance of the unfortunate beast was fast disappearing. at almost any time now, the lion would become a dead weight. his poundage--added to the wizard's and the soldier's--would be too much for the flying staff and they all would plunge like plummets to the earth. feeling hurriedly around in the kit-bag, the wizard pulled out a small, black bottle. uncorking it with his teeth, he turned it upside down and held it out at arm's length until not a drop of its oily contents remained.
"now, don't be alarmed at a sudden bump!" he warned, as his companions watched him with surprise and curiosity! "whatever happens--hold on to your staff!" scarcely had the wizard issued his warning when the air directly beneath them froze into a solid block of blue ice on which they landed with a series of bumps, and began sliding around in great confusion. "nothing to worry about! nothing to worry about!" panted the wizard, keeping a firm hold on his flying stick and at the same time managing to extract a large envelope from the kit-bag. "hold on to that stick, jellia, and keep it down!"
the cowardly lion, completely deflated by his smack against the ice, was sprawled flat as an animal skin in the center of the berg. dismounting from his own staff, the wizard scurried perilously round the edges of the rapidly falling block of ice scattering seeds from his envelope with a lavish hand. instantly, or so it seemed to dorothy, a thick green hedge sprang up, enclosing them snugly inside.
"to keep us from tumbling off," explained the wizard, sliding anxiously after wantowin battles, who was galloping round and round on his flying stick like a child on a merry-go-round. "whoa, whoa!" cried ozma's chief magician, grabbing the soldier's coat-tails. "we need these sticks to act as brakes to stop our fall!" unseating the soldier, the wizard lifted the flying stick and stuck it through the top branches of the hedge. bidding the others dismount from their staff, he thrust it through the hedge on the opposite side. the wings of both staffs kept up their steady beating and, as the wizard had predicted, acted as strong brakes on the plunging cake of ice.
"i was afraid we'd lose the lion," explained the wizard as the little company of adventurers gathered breathlessly round him.
"i'd just as lief be lost as frozen!" sneezing plaintively, the lion pulled himself to his feet and slid over to the hedge, bracing his back against its stouter branches.
"it won't be long before we strike solid earth now, old fellow," the wizard observed brightly.
"strike the earth!" roared the lion. "well, good-bye, friends! i'll say it now--before i'm squashed and scattered to the four points of the compass!"
"never mind, you'll make a lovely splatter!" teased the scarecrow. "better stamp your feet, girls, to keep from freezing!"
"here, stand on my coat," offered the wizard, gallantly. "not you!" indignantly he pushed the soldier with green whiskers aside. "you can stand on your own coat!"
"but it's against regulations for a soldier to appear without his jacket," shivered wantowin, piteously. "the manual of arms says--"
"how about the manual of feet?" snorted the scarecrow, thankful he was stuffed with cotton and incapable of feeling the cold. "say, wiz, i guess this is about the oddest flying trip a band of explorers ever had?"
"did those magic drops freeze the air into ice?" called dorothy. "and how'd you grow the hedge so fast?"
"yes, the drops froze the air," the wizard bawled back, for the rush of air as they shot downward made it difficult to hold polite conversation, "and i just happened to have some of my instant sprouting saplings in that kit-bag."
to keep up their spirits they continued to shout back and forth as they fell. "i don't suppose we'll ever catch up with strut and nick chopper now," screamed jellia, hooking her arms securely through the hedge.
"why not?" cried the wizard. "as soon as we land, we can fly these flying sticks straight to the emerald city, and be there before the oztober arrives. remember now, the first one up after we hit the earth is to snatch a winged staff."
"and how do you suppose we will be able to rise, after striking the earth at one hundred and forty miles an hour?" roared the lion, a trifle sarcastically.
"well, it won't hurt me!" boasted the scarecrow, holding to his hat with both hands. he had lost the balloons long ago. "and i promise to pick up the rest of you as soon as possible. is--there--anything in that kit-bag for breaks, sprains and bruises, wiz?"
"oh, hold your tongue!" snapped jellia, trying to peer over the hedge. "we're not going to crash at all! we'll probably get stuck on a steeple or tower!"
"how'd nick manage with his flying?" shrieked the wizard, who was anxious to change the subject. the less said about their landing the better. of course, they could take to the flying sticks and abandon the cowardly lion, but that did not seem exactly sporting. so he resolutely put the thought of it out of his mind.
"grand, just grand!" answered jellia, making a megaphone of her hands. "nick had the oztober going smoothly as a swallow."
"that's good!" boomed the wizard, beating his arms against his breast to keep warm. "maybe he'll get the best of strut yet and bring the oztober safely down. i'd certainly like to have one ship left to present to ozma!"
"how long'll it be before we do get down?" called dorothy, as the wizard paused for breath. "seems to me we're falling faster. faster and faster!"
"any minute now," predicted the wizard, popping his head over the top of the hedge. "oh! it's going to be all right!" he shouted joyfully. "we're coming down right in the middle of a great big--"
splash!!!
before the wizard could finish his sentence, the block of ice struck the smooth surface of a large, mountain lake, and went completely under. as it came bobbing to the top, its drenched and shivering passengers looked at one another with mingled dismay and relief. dorothy, picking up the wizard's coat, handed it back and then went slipping and sliding over to help the scarecrow, who was too water-soaked and sodden even to move.
"wring me out! hang me up to dry, somebody!" gurgled the straw man dismally.
"grrr--rah!" the cowardly lion, outraged at the cold plunge after all the other shocks and indignities of the day, jumped over the hedge and began to swim grimly for the shore. the soldier with green whiskers, better at carrying out orders than the others, already was pulling one of the flying sticks from the hedge. as it came loose he took a brief glance over the top, gave an agonized shriek and fell backward, stepping all over the wizard who was just behind him.
"an army!" shivered wantowin, clutching his dripping beard--"thou--sands of them!"
"it is an army, too!" echoed jellia, who had parted the hedge to have a look for herself.
"what do they look like?" demanded the wizard, shoving past the soldier and grabbing the winged staff which was on the point of flying off by itself.
"like trouble!" said jellia, reaching for dorothy's hand. "they have long bows and pointed red beards and--my goodyness--their beards are pointed straight at us!"
"bearded bowmen, eh?" grunted the wizard. "well, that doesn't prove they're unfriendly." the wizard stuck his head over the hedge, barely avoiding the arrow that sped past his ear.
"i suppose you'd call that friendly," sniffed jellia, flopping on her stomach and pulling dorothy down with her. the wizard had no time to answer, for wantowin battles had one of the winged staffs and was preparing to ride by himself.
"drop it! drop it at once!" commanded the wizard sharply. "how dare you fly off without us? why it's plain desertion, that's what!"
"i was just going to do a bit of reconnoitering," mumbled the soldier, looking terrible abashed and then diving to a place beside jellia as three more arrows came hissing over the hedge. quickly recovering the staff, the wet little wizard crouched down.
"now girls!" he directed, panting from the exertion of holding down both sticks. "when i give the signal, you and the scarecrow mount one staff, and wantowin and i will mount the other, and fly high over the enemy lines!"
"the higher the better," said jellia, as a perfect shower of arrows whizzed over their heads.
the wizard's plan worked very well, at first. he and the soldier astride one stick, dorothy and jellia, holding the poor, sodden scarecrow between them on the other, shot high into the air, across the lake and over the amazed ranks of bowmen drawn up on the bank. before the red beards had recovered from their surprise, the travellers were winging strongly toward the turretted red castle that crowned the mountain top. the cowardly lion, to escape the flying arrows, had swum under water. now, scrambling up the bank, he neatly skirted the enemy and ran swiftly beneath the two, flying staffs.
"as soon as we're safely past this castle, we'll descend, rest, dry our clothes and then proceed to the emerald city," called the wizard, turning to wave encouragingly at the two girls.
but at that moment a dreadful thing happened. sprawled on a huge camp chair on the sloping terrace before the castle, its huge, red-bearded owner suddenly sighted the flying sticks and their riders. seizing the long bow that lay beside him on the grass, he sent two arrows speeding upward, one right after the other. each arrow found its mark and splintered a flying stick. with spine-shattering suddenness the travellers crashed to earth. dorothy, describing it to ozma later, explained that although she never had been in a battle, she knew exactly how a warrior felt when his horse was shot from under him. except, of course, that a horseman would not have had so far to fall. the scarecrow, tumbling off first, softened the bump for both girls. the wizard and soldier plunged headlong into a red-pepper bush. while not seriously injured, they were grievously scratched and shaken. but the worst was not the blow to their pride and persons, the worst was to see the upper and winged halves of their precious sticks flying away without them.
"oh! oh!" groaned the wizard, leaping out of the pepper bush and running for an anguished yard or two after the vanishing staffs. "this is awful, awful! come back! come down!" he implored, realizing even as he shouted that the sticks could neither hear nor obey.
"noo then, whew are yew?" the startled red beard hoisted himself out of his camp chair. "w--itches riding on br--hoom sticks? noo then, call off yewer dog!" the cowardly lion, noting the mischief already done by the red king's bow, had seized it in his teeth and backed rapidly into the bushes. the wizard, reluctantly withdrawing his gaze from the sky, now stamped over to the astonished owner of the castle.
"just see what you've done," he cried angrily. "destroyed the only winged staffs in oz. we flew them all the way from the strat and now, how are we to reach the emerald city in time to stop the airlanders? don't you realize--but how could you?" in sudden discouragement the wizard broke off and stared despondently around the rugged mountain top. "i must tell you," he began again in a hoarse and desperate voice, "that ozma and the emerald city are in great danger. strut of the strat and a host of his flying stratovanians are descending to conquer oz and carry off ozma's treasure. if we fail to warn her the city is lost--doomed--i tell you! since you have shattered our flying sticks you must quickly supply us with some other means of travel. we must reach the capital before morning!"
"must!" roared the bearded bowman. "are yew shouting 'must' at me?"
"be careful!" cried dorothy. for the wizard, in his earnestness, had stepped closer and closer to the red king. but her cry was too late. without any warning, the king's pointed beard, rising with his wrath, pointed straight out and struck the valiant wizard to the earth. for a whole minute he lay perfectly still, staring up at this curious phenomenon. though he had seen many a beard in his day, he had never been knocked down by one before.
"whew are yew?" demanded the burly mountain monarch again. "how dare yew fly over my castle and swim in my lake without permission?" stroking his beard which gradually resumed a vertical position on his chest, he stared from one to the other of the adventurers. "no use to run," he sneered as wantowin battles began to back toward the bushes. "my bowmen will be here any moment now! but whew are yew?"
"wheww!" groaned jellia, propping the bedraggled scarecrow against a rock. "a body'd hardly know, after such a welcome. whew are yew, yewerself, yew old redbeard!"
"i?" roared the bowman, taken completely by surprise. "why, don't yew know? i am bustabo, king of the kudgers and red top mountain."
"i don't believe it," said the wizard, leaping agilely to his feet and shaking his fist under bustabo's long nose. "a real king would not treat travellers as you have done, shoot away valuable flying sticks and keep two lovely girls standing out here in the wind."
"how dew yew know what a king would dew?" demanded bustabo, puckering his forehead in an uneasy frown.
"because," stated the wizard, folding his arms disdainfully, "i personally know all the most important rulers in oz, and none of them would behave as you have done. if you are a king, act like a king!"
"whew are yew?" repeated the ruler of red top, walking around the little group with hands clasped behind his back.
"oh, for oz sake--tell him!" snarled the cowardly lion, poking his head out of the bushes. "if he asks that question again i might eat him up, pointed beard and all!"
"well, this is the wizard of oz," explained dorothy, as the lion stalked grimly out of the bushes, "chief magician for ozma of oz. this--" dorothy, with a wave of her hand, indicated the trembling soldier, "this is wantowin battles, the grand army of oz. beside him is our famous, live scarecrow. i am princess dorothy of oz and this is jellia jam, first lady in waiting to ozma. coming toward you is the cowardly lion of oz."
"he doesn't look very cowardly to me," muttered bustabo, putting the camp chair between himself and the approaching beast.
"oh, but i am cowardly," growled the lion growlishly, "and when i'm frightened i never know what i'll do. i might even chew up the king of this mountain! whoever heard of a king pointing his beard at harmless travellers! whoever heard of a king with a beard as hard and red as yours, anyway! it's hard as iron from the looks of it."
"harder!" agreed the king, evidently considering the lion's remark a compliment. "all we kudgers have red beards--not of soft hair like his--" the red king gazed contemplatively at the soldier with green whiskers, "but of hard hair like mine. i don't suppose yew've ever seen a beard like this before. the point's sharp as a dagger, too," he warned, as the lion sprang a pace closer.
"oh, i'm sure it is," said dorothy nervously. "and it's dreadfully handsome, too. but could your majesty please let us dry out in your castle and then could you show us the quickest route to the emerald city? if you don't," finished dorothy, clasping her hands anxiously, "the ruler of this whole country of oz may be captured and carried to the strat."
"what do i care about the ruler of oz?" sniffed bustabo, scratching his head in a most unkingly manner. "ozma never does anything for me! even if she were conquered i'd still have my mountain. why should i help yew or her or them?" his scornful wave included the whole little group. "what can yew dew for me?" he asked sullenly. "can yew sing?" his dull eye brightened momentarily as it rested inquiringly on dorothy.
"well, a little," confessed dorothy, smoothing down her damp dress. clearing her throat and fixing her eye on the top of a red pine, she started in rather a choked voice:
"oh, bright and gay is the land of oz we love its lakes and hills becoz--"
"there, there! that will dew!" bustabo snapped his fingers impatiently, and taking out a little book scribbled hastily: "can't sing."
"can yew dance?" he demanded, addressing himself to jellia. "we are short of good dancers on this mountain." jellia by this time was in such a state of cold and temper, she stamped her foot and turned her back on the unmannerly monarch. "can't dance," wrote bustabo under the first entry.
"well, then--what dew yew dew?" he asked, turning in exasperation to the wizard.
"i?" said the wizard, twirling his water-soaked topper, "i, am a wizard. naturally i supposed a king like yourself would have everything he desired. but if that is not the case, tell me what you wish and perhaps i can help you. only be quick!" he added earnestly, "for we have no time to lose."
"sooo, yew really are a wizard!" bustabo's expression became almost agreeable. "well, then," he drew himself up pompously. "the princess whom i wish to wed has unaccountably disappeared. find and return her to this castle, and i will speed yew and yewer friends to the emerald city by the safest and swiftest route!"
"but that would take too much time," objected the wizard, rubbing his chin anxiously. "who is this princess? why has she gone? what is her name and what does she look like?"
"if yew were a real wizard yew would know all these things without my telling yew," answered bustabo, looking suspiciously at ozma's chief magician. "i'll tell you this much, though. the princess whom i would marry is called azarine, the red. not three days ago she was in this castle, but on the morning of our wedding day she ran off into the forest, and though all my bowmen have been searching ever since, not a trace of her have they found!"
"humph, the girl showed very good sense, if you ask me," sniffed the cowardly lion, shaking his mane, "what did you do? point your beard at her? come on, wiz! let's go. we're just wasting time here."
"aha, but yew cannot leave! look behind yew!" bustabo, with an enormous laugh, pointed over his shoulder. silently as indians the bearded bowmen had crept up and entirely surrounded the little company on the green. standing in a circle with bows raised and beards pointed, they fairly dared anyone to take a step. "soo, then, it's all settled!" the red king clapped the wizard heartily on the back. "don't think i have not heard of yewer skill, mister weezard. even here on red top we've heard rumors of the wonderful weezard of oz. now all yew have to dew is walk into that forest, find the princess and bring her back to me. meanwhile, i shall treat these others as my guests. they shall rest and warm themselves and have all they wish to eat. if by morning yew have failed to return, i shall regretfully be forced to throw them off the mountain. if yew dew return, yew will find that bustabo will keep his word and bargain."
the wizard hardly knew what to say.
"if he knows so much, why does he not help himself?" demanded one of the red beards, stepping insolently out of the circle. "people who can fly through the air on icebergs and sticks do not need help from ordinary folk like us. why doesn't he fly to the emerald city if he's so smart? i'll tell you why--because he's not the wizard of oz! he's a fraud, that's what!"
"if he's a fraud then you're a rascal!" cried jellia jam, remembering suddenly that she recently had been a starina. "your princess is as good as found, mister king! isn't that so, wizard?" meeting jellia's firm gaze, the wizard nodded quickly.
"this young oz maid is right, your majesty! before the sun rises azarine will return to this castle!"
"yes--and now bid your vassals lead us into the castle!" ordered jellia sharply. "bring us soup, meat, bread, vegetables, salad and plenty of fruit and cake!"
bustabo, after a long look both at jellia and the wizard, motioned for the bowmen to lead the visitors into the castle. the cowardly lion trailed suspiciously along in the rear, keeping a sharp watch to see that no beards were pointed at his friends. the wizard accompanied them part way, conversing in earnest whispers with jellia and dorothy. wantowin battles supported the dripping and still helpless scarecrow, and each tried not to show the anxiety he felt when the wizard finally turned to leave them.
"goodbye, all!" he said, lifting his dripping hat. "goodbye, jellia--here is your bag!" tapping the kit-bag significantly, he pressed it into jellia's cold hands. then, without a word to bustabo or his henchmen, he strode resolutely toward the dark forest that covered the sides and more than half of the top of the mountain. relenting a little, the red king sent a bowman running after him with a basket of provisions. taking the basket with a brief nod of thanks, the wizard waved again to his friends and marched straight into the gloomy and forbidding woods.
the late afternoon shadows made the forest seem even gloomier. the little wizard, trudging along under the rustling red trees, hands thrust deep into his pockets, never had felt more depressed or unhappy. he had hated to leave his friends with a monarch as cruel and untrustworthy as bustabo. still, he had the utmost confidence in jellia jam. the young oz miss doubtless had some plan in her clever little head and had chosen this way for him to escape, meaning to follow with the others at the first opportunity. anyway, he reflected, dropping down on a heap of fallen leaves and resting his back against a tree, they had the kit-bag to help them, if worst came to worst. perhaps if he concentrated and thought very hard, he could recall the powerful incantation for locating missing persons and articles.
but a wizard without his books and equipment, is almost as helpless as a doctor without his pills and medicine bag. try as he would, the wizard could not remember the proper combination of words to bring back the missing princess. his short nap in stratovania had rested him a little, but he still was dreadfully weary from his gruelling flight and the recent shocks and mischances. the loss of the ozpril had been the worst blow of all and now his tired brain simply refused to work. so, sitting sadly under the tree, he munched the sandwiches from the basket, drank from the bottle of cold tea and wished fervently for a fire to warm himself, for his clothes were still damp and clammy from the dive in bustabo's lake. it comforted him a little to know that the others were drying out and enjoying a good supper in the castle. but it was no comfort at all to realize that strut and his legions were winging their way toward the emerald city--the city he had built and lived in so long it seemed more like home than any place he had known in america.
the wizard crammed the rest of the sandwiches into the basket and started recklessly through the forest, tripping over tough vines and rocks, bumping into trees and peering desperately about for traces of a princess, or for any sign that might tell him in which direction the emerald city lay. from the slant of the ground he knew he was travelling down the mountain, and the deep, red foliage told him he was somewhere in the quadling country of oz. but with night coming on and the shadows growing deeper and darker, he probably would lose his way entirely and never get out of the forest at all. he felt uneasy at leaving his comrades behind in the red king's castle. was it better to try to save ozma and the emerald city, or to stay in this forest and help dorothy and jellia and the devoted friends who had embarked on this unexpected adventure with him?
stopping short, the wizard pressed both hands to his forehead in an effort to make up his mind. night already had overtaken him and it was now so dark, it was impossible to see more than a foot or so in any direction. occasional roars, the snapping of twigs and the gleam of yellow eyes from the thicket, caused him no little anxiety. at an especially savage roar, he suddenly stopped worrying about ozma and the others and began to do considerable worrying about himself.
how humbling for a wizard to be devoured by a hungry beast. backing softly away from the approaching monster, he began looking sharply about for a hollow tree, a cave or even a clump of bushes where he might conceal himself. on the tip of his tongue and ready for instant use was the magic word which would render him invisible. fortunately he did remember that. but the wizard never wasted words, magic or otherwise. resolving to wait till the last possible moment, he continued to back rapidly and cautiously. then, unexpectedly from behind him came another distraction--the clear ringing of a silver bell. at the same time the gloom was pierced by a dancing ray of light. swinging round, the wizard flung up both arms and not knowing whether to dash into the teeth of the monster in front of him, or risk the lowered horns of the huge beast behind him, the startled magician uttered the word that rendered him invisible.
"brr--rah!" raged the burly, bear-like creature, rearing up on his hind legs. "where is that pesky man-creature? i saw him a moment ago, but now, though i still catch his scent, he has hidden from me. and why must you, shagomar, come horning in to spoil my supper? why cannot you mind your own business, br-rrah!"
"i am minding my own business," roared the creature addressed as shagomar. "away--you entomophagus monster! haven't i told you time and again to keep away from the cave of the princess? the very next bug-bear that comes prowling 'round shall have a taste of my antlers! get on with you now, and after this--leave harmless travellers alone!"
the great red stag made a short rush at the ugly beast blocking his path. large as a grizzly, half insect and half bear, it held its ground uncertainly for a moment, then shuffled off into the darkness, grunting angrily.
the wizard, who had jumped hastily from between the two beasts, had listened to the stag's words with lively interest and astonishment. huge and sandy, with antlers of tremendous breadth, the huge creature now stood quiet as a statue. from one antler prong hung a flashing silver lantern. from another dangled the bell which had so startled the wizard.
"well, friend! are you still there?" whispered the stag, softly. instead of answering, the wizard uttered the word that would make him visible. "come with me!" directed the stag, showing neither surprise nor curiosity at the wizard's sudden reappearance. "you will be safer with us in the cave. surely you are a stranger on red top or you would know it is dangerous to wander in this forest at night."
"oh, i don't mind danger," said the wizard, striding sturdily beside the stag. "i am used to danger--and i must reach the emerald city before morning! ozma and her whole capitol are threatened by a band of ruthless airlanders, and unless i can give them some warning, the emerald city certainly will be captured by strut of the strat. i am ozma's chief magician, fallen by great misfortune into this forest."
"i thought you might be a wizard," murmured shagomar, pausing to nibble at a few tender leaves. "and you say the ruler of the whole land of oz is in danger? hah, well--we all have our troubles." exhaling his breath noisily, shagomar looked off between the trees with a troubled frown. "i cannot direct you to the emerald city, but i'm sure the princess can help you."
"what princess do you mean?" asked the wizard, curious to hear what shagomar would say.
"azarine!" whispered the stag, looking around carefully to see that no one was listening. "azarine the red--ruler of red top mountain!"
"but i thought bustabo was ruler of the mountain! i just came from his castle!" sputtered the wizard. "he certainly told me he was king of the kudgers."
"king of the kudgers--pfui!" the stag shook his head as if a bee were in his ear, while his bell played a regular roundelay. "bustabo was, till a week ago, chief bowman in her majesty's guard. using his position and his men to help him, he has wickedly seized azarine's throne, insisting that azarine permit him to be the king of all the kudgers. when our little princess refused, she was locked up in the tower. but, with the assistance of a faithful servant, she managed to escape, and has been hiding in this forest ever since. i, being an old and trusted friend, have been looking out for her and will protect her with horn and hoof until her own loyal subjects unseat this miserable imposter!"
"whew--so that's the way it is?" the wizard thrust his hands more deeply into his pockets. "well, that settles that! i won't do it--no matter what happens!"
"won't do what?" questioned the stag, looking down sideways at the little man.
"oh--nothing!" kicking at a stone, the wizard walked along in a depressed silence. surely no one ever had been in a worse dilemma. if he managed by a trick or by force to carry azarine back to the red castle, dorothy and his friends would be released instantly and all of them speeded on their way to the capitol. if he did not return the princess to the castle, his brave and faithful companions would be flung off the mountain, strut would conquer the emerald city and everything would be lost. lost!
but when, a few minutes later, the stag pushed through a cluster of bushes that concealed the entrance to the cave, and the wizard stepped into the presence of azarine herself, he knew he never would force her surrender to the infamous bustabo.
seated pensively on a rough boulder beside a small fire was the prettiest little princess the wizard had almost ever seen. her hair, long and red as glinda's, fell in satiny waves to her feet. she wore a little mesh cap of pearls and a white satin, princess dress. a long, red velvet cloak hung loosely from her shoulders. not exactly the costume for a cave, but vastly becoming. azarine's pale and flower-like face was sweet and gentle and, when she saw the wet and weary traveller with shagomar, she jumped up to welcome him as graciously as though she still were mistress of her castle.
"why, it's the wizard of oz!" she cried joyfully, after a second look at the guest. "oh, we all know the wizard of oz! i have a picture of you right over the grand piano in my castle. wherever did you find him, shaggy dear? has he come all this way to help us?"
"it will be a great pleasure and privilege, if i may," said the wizard, sitting on a rock opposite the princess and placing his high hat between his knees. "just now, i happen to be in as much trouble as your highness. but perhaps--" the wizard looked thoughtfully at the stag standing motionless at the entrance of the cave--"can shagomar run?"
"oh, yes! terribly fast!" azarine assured him, eagerly. "faster than eagles can fly, than water can fall down the mountain, faster than any creature on red top. shaggy can do anything!" jumping up, the princess ran over to lean her head against the red stag's shoulder. "he goes to the village each day and returns with food. he has brought me blankets for my bed, pillows for my head, and has kept away the fierce bug-bears and all other wild beasts that roam the red wood. i don't know what i should have done without him!" the princess added softly, "shaggy's such a dear!"
"you're both dears!" agreed the wizard.
"are we?" azarine twinkled her eyes at the wizard, "but shaggy's the biggest, and we've always been friends, haven't we?" the stag, looking down at azarine with his bright, steadfast eyes, nodded so vigorously that the bell on his antlers rang a veritable medley, and the rays from the silver lantern danced into every corner of the dreary cavern.
"well then," the wizard rubbed his hands briskly together, "shaggy shall carry us straight to the palace of glinda, the good sorceress of the south. as red top mountain is in the quadling country, her palace must be somewhere quite near."
"oh, it is! it is!" beamed azarine. "i've often seen her lights, from the towers on red top. it's just a mile or two from the base of this mountain. i never have seen glinda, but i have heard she is very good and a powerful sorceress. do you think she can force bustabo to give me back my castle and my kingdom?"
"i know it!" declared the wizard, picking up his hat and clapping it on the back of his head. "but before we start for glinda's, i must go back and rescue my friends from that thieving red beard."
marching forth and back before the fire, the wizard related all that had happened since he and his party had started off in the two ozoplanes. hearing the strange tale, azarine almost forgot her own troubles. when the wizard told how bustabo had broken the winged staffs on which they hoped to ride to the emerald city, and of the wicked bargain he had driven, the little princess generously offered to return to the red castle so that ozma and oz might be saved. but the wizard would not hear of such a thing. "no!" he decided--"shaggy and i will go back and manage, somehow, to release my comrades from the castle. then, we all can start for glinda's together."
"wait," whistled the stag, who had been listening to the wizard's story with distended eyes and nostrils. "wait, first i will fetch dear deer."
"who in oz, is dear deer?" inquired the wizard, as shagomar melted like a shadow through the dark opening of the cavern.
"his wife," explained azarine with an excited skip. "and that will be just splendid, for dear deer shall carry all of your friends, and we can ride shaggy!"
and now let us peek into the doings of jellia, dorothy and the others, after they mournfully watched the wizard stalk off into the forest.
with bowmen ahead of them and bowmen closely following, the prisoners marched slowly into the castle. afraid not to hurry on account of the sharp-pointed beards of the guards, the little party progressed almost at a run.
hurrying them through the beautiful throne room and other cheerful apartments on the first floor, the bowmen lead them to a covered stone stairway curving up from the back courtyard. up, up, and up, tramped the bowmen, and up, up, and up trudged the weary travellers. it seemed to dorothy they had climbed a thousand steps before they reached the top. both girls were frightened, but holding their backs straight and their chins high, they stepped haughtily along without even a glance at their red-bearded captors. unlocking an iron door at the head of the stair, the guards gruffly ushered them into a round, stone-walled room at the very top of the tower. relocking the door just as gruffly, they took their departure.
"thank gooseness, there's a fire!" shivered jellia, running across the room to hold out her hands to the crackling blaze. "as soon as we're warm and dry we can decide what to do. pull up a couple of those benches, wantowin, and for cake's sake, don't look so glum! nobody's been hurt yet!"
"ah--but what of the morning?" the soldier with green whiskers wagged his head, dismally. "that rogue of a red beard will pitch us off this mountain quick as that!" wantowin snapped his cold fingers. "one toss from this tower and we're done!" groaned the army, turning away from one of the barred windows with a positive shudder. glancing out the window nearest her, dorothy saw that the tower had been built at the very edge of the mountain. jagged rocks far below, and long-dead trees jutting out from the sides of the sheer precipice, made it even more formidable.
"i'm going to sleep," mumbled the lion, settling himself near the fire. "what i don't see, won't make me feel more cowardly."
"how true," thought dorothy. backing away from the window and resolutely keeping her mind off the precipice, she began to help jellia drape the scarecrow over a bench close to the fire.
"not too close, girls," begged the straw man nervously. "fire's almost as bad for me as water. one little spark and--pouff! nothing but a bonfire of your old friend and comrade!"
at this point a sharp tap on the door made them all jump, but it was only a servant carrying a large tray. at least, bustabo was keeping his promise about supper. the servant was round and jolly. he looked sympathetically at the little company, but evidently was afraid to speak to them. placing his tray on a table in the center of the room, he bowed stiffly and withdrew, locking the door carefully behind him.
"not bad," said jellia, lifting cover after cover from the silver serving dishes. "not bad at all! give us a hand, wanny, and we'll pull the table over to the fire. my gooseness, this is almost as good as a party!"
seating herself next to dorothy who already was busy, jellia bit rapturously into a crisp roll. "mmm--mmm! this is the first food i've tasted since we left the emerald city. draw up, liony! this roast lamb will make you forget that wind pudding. you may have all the roast, and we'll manage with the vegetables, the soup, salad and dessert!"
dusk was falling and the tower room was hardly cheerful, but sitting on their hard benches close to the fire, the prisoners dined almost as well as though they had been in the emerald city. now that his hunger was satisfied, even the soldier with green whiskers began to look less desperate. the scarecrow, now completely dry though a little wrinkled, was his old, witty self again.
as it grew darker, jellia lit the rusty lantern on the stone mantel, and wantowin placed another log on the fire. there was a heap of blankets on one of the benches. no other beds being visible, the girls spread several on the hearth. resting their backs comfortably against the sleeping lion, they conversed in low and guarded whispers. wantowin, considering it his duty to stand guard, dragged a bench across the doorway. wrapping himself up in a blanket, he was soon snoring louder than the cowardly lion. the servant had removed the tray, and sounds from below had long since ceased. they knew it must be way past midnight, but dorothy and jellia were unable to relax.
"i wonder how the wizard's getting along!" mused dorothy, pulling the blanket a little closer. "it must be awfully dark in that forest."
"oh, wiz'll be all rights--depend on that!" jellia spoke with a heartiness she was far from feeling. "he'll have that princess here before sun-up. if he doesn't, we'll just light out and find him!"
"light out?" inquired the scarecrow, drawing back still further from the fire. "how do you mean?"
"yes," echoed dorothy, moving closer to jellia as a board creaked somewhere below. "how do you mean?"
"oh, i don't just know," admitted jellia, frankly. "but there might be something in this kit-bag to help! let's have a look, anyway." dragging it from under a bench where she had stowed it on their arrival, jellia zipped it open and began feeling inside, curiously. "i never have had a chance to examine it properly," jellia said. "but that cheer gas certainly came in handy, and the freezing fluid and sapling seeds were pretty neat, too! my, whatever are these, now?" folded neatly on the very top were four suits of blue pajamas, with hoods and feet attached like those in an infant's sleeping garment.
holding one near to the blaze so she could read the pink placard on the pocket, jellia gave a little gasp. "oh, listen!" she whispered, catching dorothy's sleeve. "it says:
'these falling-out suits have not been tested, but i believe they will work and prove safe and practical in case of accident.--wiz.'"
"i suppose the wizard meant them for his ozoplane passengers to use, instead of parachutes," decided dorothy, fingering one rather doubtfully. "well, i should hate to be the first to try one!"
"oh, i don't know," jellia, her head on one side, pensively considered the blue pajamas. "i think they're real cute. i think--hark! what was that?" dropping the pajamas, she clutched dorothy as the unmistakable tread of a heavy boot came stamping up the stair.
"bustabo!" shivered dorothy. "oh--he's not going to wait till morning! he's coming for us now! oh, jellia, jellia--what shall we do?" dorothy's voice, rising almost to a shriek, roused the cowardly lion. cocking one ear and arriving at exactly the same conclusion as the little girl, the lion sprang over to waken the soldier with green whiskers. the scarecrow already was hurrying from window to window, trying the bars with his flimsy, cotton fingers. at the window nearest the fireplace he gave a joyful little grunt, for some former prisoner had managed to saw through three of the iron bars. as the scarecrow pushed, they moved creakily outward.
"quick! come help me!" urged the scarecrow, dragging the terrified and only half-awake soldier to the window. "on with those parachute suits, girls! we'll jump before we're tossed out!" dorothy and jellia exchanged desperate glances and then--as the steps on the stair thumped louder and nearer--each grabbed a falling-out suit and zipped herself tidily inside.
"here!" panted jellia, down on her hands and knees beside the cowardly lion, "you can put your front feet in anyway--and anything will be better than nothing, when you fall!" to her relief and surprise, she discovered that the pajamas would stretch! even the lion could wear them without too much discomfort. except for a cramp in his tail which was coiled tightly on his back, the lion fitted into his pajamas nicely.
as the soldier with green whiskers was trembling too violently to help himself or anyone else, jellia jerked and pushed him into one of the falling-out suits. then, picking up the wizard's kit-bag and looking solemnly back at her anxious comrades, jellia climbed to the window sill. "i'll go first," she announced, closing her eyes so she would not see the rocks below, and her mouth, to keep her teeth from chattering.
"no! let me! i insist on going first," cried the scarecrow, springing nimbly up beside jellia. "falling does not hurt me at all."
"oh, hurry! hurry!" begged dorothy, glancing fearfully over her shoulder. the footsteps were now so loud and near, she expected the door to burst right open and bustabo's red face to appear.
"goodbye! i'm off!" before the scarecrow could stop her, jellia was off, indeed! clutching the kit-bag to her bosom, she squeezed through the opening between the bars and dove headlong into space! next, the scarecrow, with a sad little wave to dorothy, dropped out of sight. "help me push this so-called soldier out!" puffed dorothy, as the cowardly lion signalled for her to go next. "if we leave him till last--he'll never jump at all!"
"halt! about face! help! mama! papa! help! help! help!" wailed wantowin battles. but dorothy relentlessly forced him to the sill and through the opening. as his wildly thrashing legs disappeared over the edge, whoever was coming up the stairs, broke into a run. thump, thump, thumpety-thump! trembling in every muscle, dorothy climbed to the sill. spreading both arms, she launched herself into the air.
she heard the grunt of the cowardly lion as he forced his way through the opening. then the fierce rush of wind past her ears as she pitched downward, drowned out all other sounds. at first she was sure the wizard's falling-out suits were failures, for the lion plunged past her, falling like a plummet. she, too, was whirling downward so fast she felt sure she would be crushed on the rocks below. closing her eyes, she tried to resign herself to whatever was coming. then, suddenly, the pajamas filled with air, ballooning out till she floated lightly as a feather. the question now was--would she ever come down?
there was no moon, and in the faint starlight she could make out three other, bulky shapes spinning through the air just beneath her. by kicking her legs and flapping her arms, dorothy managed to miss several jutting rocks and tree limbs. as she floated lower, the suit began gradually to deflate, finally letting her down as softly as could be, on a strip of sand at the base of the mountain. a little distance away she could see jellia, already stepping out of her falling-out suit, and the cowardly lion, waiting impatiently for someone to help him out of his. wantowin battles, very brave now that the danger was past, already had stripped off his flying suit and was shaking and patting the scarecrow into shape, for the poor straw man had been completely flattened out by his fall.
"well, how did you like it?" called jellia, hurrying over to help the lion untangle himself. "after the first swoop, it wasn't bad at all. really, i quite enjoyed it!"
"enjoyed it!" choked the lion, looking indignantly from dorothy to jellia. "i'll never set foot in a plane again as long as i live. brrrrah! ever since we left the emerald city we've been falling--flying and blowing about like yesterday's papers. now that i'm on solid ground at last, i intend to stay there! the rest of you may do as you please, but i shall walk home if it takes a year!"
"i don't blame you," said jellia, patting the lion soothingly on the nose. "but we can't start without the wizard. we'll have to hide here till morning and then try to find him."
"let him find us," growled the lion, lashing his tail experimentally to see whether there was any wag left in it after the shameful way it had been cramped in the suit, "the whole trip was his idea--not mine!"
"oh, hush," warned dorothy. "someone will hear you! ooooh! someone has!" and sure enough, the faint tinkle of a bell come mysteriously through the gloom.
"mercy, do you suppose those red beards have started after us already?" cried jellia looking around for the kit-bag. "but how could they have come down the mountain as fast as we fell?"
"they couldn't," whispered the scarecrow, picking up the bag and handing it to jellia. "but don't worry, my dears! it's probably a herd of goats or cattle. these mountaineers often put bells on their animals. just keep still and don't move and they won't notice us at all." flattening themselves against the rocks at the foot of the mountain, the five adventurers waited tensely. but when a huge, shaggy shape loomed out of the darkness and came charging straight toward them, all five screamed and started to slither sideways.
"wait! don't run! don't be frightened!" begged an agitated voice. "don't you know me? it's i! it's me! the wizard!"
as the great stag came to a sliding halt, the rays from his silver lantern cast a wavering light over the little group crouched against the rocks.
"hello! how ever did you escape from the castle?" demanded ozma's little magician, sliding recklessly off the high back of his steed and embracing them jubilantly. "we were just coming to help you. girls, scarecrow, soldier, lion--may i present azarine, the real princess of this mountain, and shagomar and dear deer, her friends!"
dorothy and jellia were so stunned by the unexpected appearance of the wizard, they were able only to manage a couple of breathless bows. and indeed, the lovely picture azarine made, seated demurely on the huge, red stag, was enough to render anyone speechless. shaggy himself was breath-taking, too. not only the lantern and bell hung from his antlers now, but perched unconcernedly on the tallest prong, was a lovely, white pigeon with a key in his bill.
"this pigeon was going to fly up to the tower with the key to the door," explained the wizard, as his five comrades continued to gaze at him in stupefied silence. "fortunately azarine, who was imprisoned there before you, had an extra key. she said bustabo would lock you up in the tower!" exclaimed the wizard with a nod at the princess. "but since you already are out and down, we'll not need the key. tell me, how did you manage to escape? what did you do? break down the door?"
"no--we just stepped out the window," the scarecrow told him with a nonchalant wave upward.
"you mean, you jumped all this distance?" gasped azarine leaning forward to peer between shaggy's branching antlers, while dear deer trotted closer to nudge dorothy with her soft, moist nose.
"well--sort of," explained jellia, putting an arm around the cowardly lion, who still was looking extremely sulky. "but first we put on those falling-out suits, wiz, and you'll be glad to know they really worked."
"splendid! splendid!" beamed the wizard, with a satisfied shake of his head. "you know--i'd completely forgotten them, but i felt sure you'd find some useful magic in the kit. did bustabo keep his promises?"
"well, he locked us up in the tower, and he gave us a pretty good supper," answered dorothy. "but we didn't like being prisoners, and we didn't feel safe in that castle. then, a little while ago when we heard him thumping up the stair--we just decided to leave! and so--we left!"
"so we see! so we see!" the wizard grinned appreciatively, delighted by the spirit of the two girls. "but perhaps we'd better be off! no knowing when bustabo and his bowmen will be coming to look for you. shagomar and dear deer have kindly agreed to carry us to the castle of glinda the good. once there--with glinda's magic to help me, i'll find some way to deal with strut, and to force bustabo to give up azarine's throne.
"now suppose you two girls and the scarecrow mount dear deer, and the soldier and i will ride with the princess." dear deer, at the wizard's words, moved over to a flat rock. without any trouble at all, jellia and dorothy climbed to places on her back. then the scarecrow vaulted up behind, clasping his arms 'round jellia to keep from slipping off. when wantowin and the wizard had mounted behind azarine, the two deer swung away from the mountain. with the cowardly lion loping easily between, they ran swiftly toward the southlands.
their gait was so smooth it seemed to jellia they were flying like figures in a dream through the shadowy forest, with only the twinkle of the silver lantern to light their way. as they raced along azarine again told the story of bustabo's treachery and how shagomar had brought the wizard to her hidden cave. then the two girls amused the little princess with the story of their experiences in the strat. they told her all about their life at home in the emerald city, and of the curious celebrities who lived in the palace with ozma. azarine already was charmed with the scarecrow and the cowardly lion, and kept leaning down to have a better look at the tawny beast trotting so unconcernedly between the two deer.
"i tell you," she proposed generously. "i tell you--if strut destroys the emerald city--you all can come back and live with me. that is--if glinda and the wizard can make bustabo give my castle and kingdom back?"
"but i do hope we'll find some way to stop strut! how long will it take him to reach the capitol?" dorothy called across to the wizard.
"well, it took us a night, and half a day to fly to stratovania," calculated the little magician, wrinkling his forehead. "so i'm afraid if strut and the tin woodman left yesterday, they'll be in the emerald city tomorrow. that is--today."
"and it's almost morning now," shivered jellia, glancing off toward the east where the sky already showed the first streaks of lavender and rose.
"now, don't you worry," begged the wizard, holding fast to his high hat, "as soon as we reach glinda's castle and i have some proper magic to work with, i'll find a way to make both strut and bustabo behave. the few trifles in this kit-bag are a help, but not nearly powerful enough for rascals like those. look, girls, isn't that glinda's castle now?"
"oh, it is! it is!" cried dorothy, clasping dear deer around the neck she was so relieved and happy. and the silver trimmed towers and spires of glinda's lovely, red castle, shimmering through the early morning mists, were enough to make anyone happy. flashing through the beautiful gardens and parks, leaping hedges and flower beds as lightly as swallows, the stag and his mate brought the little band of adventurers to the very door of the castle.
"goodbye, now," breathed the stag, as the wizard and soldier slipped off his back and the wizard lifted azarine down. "take care of my little princess!"
"oh, don't go!" cried dorothy, for dear deer seemed on the point of vanishing, too. "do stay and see how it all turns out. later on, wouldn't you like to go to the emerald city and meet the famous animals who live in the capitol?" shagomar looked questioningly at dear deer, and as his pretty little wife seemed interested, he allowed himself to be persuaded.
"we'll wait in the garden," he whistled softly. "houses and castles are too stuffy and shut in for deer people. if you need me, princess, just ring the silver bell." lowering his head so the princess could slip the bell from his antlers, the stag stood looking at her solemnly.
"i will," promised azarine, waving her little red handkerchief as the two deer sprang away. they actually seemed to float off above the flowers, so lightly and easily did they run.
"please announce us to your mistress at once!" directed the wizard to the sleepy little castle-maid who presently came, in answer to his loud knock.
"but her highness and princess ozma are not here!" stuttered the maid, her eyes popping at sight of visitors so early in the morning. "they left yesterday to visit prince tatters and grampa in ragbad!"
"ha, well," the wizard turned to the others with a little shrug. "looks as if i shall have to manage alone. a fortunate thing ozma did not start back to the emerald city. at least she will not fall into strut's hands. here, here! don't shut the door!" the wizard quickly pushed past the little serving maid. "glinda will wish us to make ourselves comfortable in her absence. now then, miss--miss--?"
"greta," mumbled the girl, looking bashfully at her feet.
"oho--a greta to greet, eh?" chuckled the scarecrow, taking off his hat and bowing to the ground. "well, now, my dear miss greta, will you kindly show these young ladies to suitable apartments, and tell the cook to prepare breakfast for six."
"make it twelve!" growled the cowardly lion, with a little bounce toward the maid. "i could eat six all by myself!"
"yes sirs! yes sirs!" quavered greta, running off so fast she lost one of her red slippers.
"never mind," laughed dorothy. "jellia and i know this castle as well as our own. we'll show azarine about and have time for a short nap before breakfast." the hundred pretty girls who acted as glinda's maids in waiting were still asleep. in fact no one was stirring in the castle except a few servants. waving briskly to the girls as they started up the marble stairway, the wizard went striding toward the red study where the sorceress kept all her books on witchcraft, her magic potions, her phials and appliances.
the exquisite palace of glinda, over which azarine was exclaiming at every step, was an old story to the cowardly lion. throwing himself down on a huge bearskin, he soon was in a doze and making up the sleep he had lost on the two, previous nights. wantowin battles had at once gone off to waken an old soldier crony of his who drilled glinda's girl guard, and the scarecrow, about to follow the wizard into the study, paused to look at the great record book.
this book, fastened with golden chains to a marble table in the reception room of the castle, records each event as it happens, in the land of oz. when glinda goes on a journey, she usually locks the record book and takes the key with her. but this time, she had neglected to do so, and sentences were popping up, row after row on the open pages. as he bent over to peruse the latest entry, the scarecrow's painted blue eyes almost popped from his cotton head.
"fierce airlanders from the upper strat are descending on the emerald city of oz," read the straw man, nearly losing his balance. "if measures of defense are not taken at once, the capitol will fall under the fierce attack of the invaders!"
"wiz! yo, wiz!" yelled the scarecrow, taking a furious slide into the study. "hurry! hurry! for the love of oz, hurry--or strut will blow ozma's castle into the strat! the record book says so!" he panted, grabbing the wizard's arm to steady himself. the wizard, working over the delicate apparatus on a long table, looked up with an anxious frown.
"now, now, you must be a little patient," he told the scarecrow, earnestly. "i'm hurrying just as fast as ever i can."
"but what do you propose to do?" demanded the scarecrow, puckering his forehead into almost forty deep wrinkles. "can't you whiz these stratovanians away, or send them back where they came from?"
"not without ozma's magic belt," sighed the wizard. "and you know perfectly well that the belt is back in the emerald safe in the castle!"
"then can't you transport the safe here?" asked the scarecrow, playing a frantic little tune on the edge of the table.
"just what i'm trying to do!" admitted the wizard, turning a lever here and a wheel there. "but this triple-edged, zentomatic transporter of glinda's does not seem to be working as it should. i'll probably be able to fix it in a little while, but meantime--i tell you what you can do. post yourself beside that record book and the minute it announces strut's arrival in the emerald city, rush straight back here to me!"
before he had finished his sentence the scarecrow was gone, and for the next two hours the faithful straw man, without once lifting his eyes, bent over the great book of records, reading with tense interest and lively apprehension of the progress of the oztober and the airlanders toward the capitol of oz.
for several hours after leaving stratovania, nick followed the wizard's map implicitly. with strut leaning over the back of his seat, eyes glued to both map and board, there was nothing else he could do. if he deviated from the course so much as a hair's breadth, the airlander would tap him on his tin head with his staff. the tin woodman had not expected strut to be so clever about navigating and as time passed, he grew less and less hopeful of outwitting the wily airman.
if he increased the speed of the oztober in an effort to outdistance strut's flying warriors, they also increased their speed. try as he would it seemed quite impossible to lose them. but nick chopper did not despair. he was counting on the night to help him. never tiring or needing sleep, he would have the advantage of strut, then. as soon as the airlander relaxed in his seat, the tin woodman meant to fall upon him, hurl him from a window, put all the plane's lights out and speed off in the dark so swiftly the stratovanians would be unable to follow. that failing, he depended on the difference in altitude to subdue the enemy. perhaps when they reached the lower areas, strut and his airmen would faint, wilt, and become harmless.
so, bolstering his spirits with these heartening hopes, nick bore as patiently as he could the long afternoon and the unpleasant taunts and company of his captor. repassing the ice crescent without meeting any spikers, the tin woodman zoomed along, not even bothering to answer strut's many questions about oz and its inhabitants.
night, when it did come, was especially dark and murky. no moon and only a few stars dotted the arching skyway. the darker the better, rejoiced the tin woodman, taking quick little glances over his shoulder to see whether strut was falling asleep or showing any signs of drowsiness. if it were just dark enough, he'd rid himself of these flying pests in a hurry. but all his plans proved futile. as the oztober rushed on and on, and the hours dragged slowly by, strut grew even more alert and watchful. his star-shaped eyes twinkled and glowed with sulphurous lights and he showed no more signs of weariness than the tin woodman himself. the endurance of the airlander and his warriors was positively uncanny, and nick, maneuvering the buttons and wheel of the plane, grew increasingly discouraged and gloomy. flying at this rate they would arrive in the emerald city early in the morning, and to think that he was leading this band of savages upon the defenseless city almost broke nick chopper's heart. as it was a red plush heart, it could not really break, but it fluttered up and down in his tin bosom like a bird beating against the bars of a cage. to nick's suggestion that he rest, strut gave a contemptuous snort.
"i'll rest in ohsma's palace," he sneered maliciously. "d'ye think i trust you enough to sleep? ho no! just attend to your flying, mr. funnel top, and i'll take care of the rest of this little adventure." after this, nick made no further remarks, and morning found the oztober sailing high above the hammerhead mountains in the quadling country of oz. all too soon the tin woodman made out the glittering green turrets and spires of the emerald city itself.
"quite a pretty little town," observed strut condescendingly, as nick, his thoughts in a perfect tumult, tried to think of some excuse for not landing.
"why are you not flying over the castle?" demanded strut sharply. "it's the castle i am most anxious to reach. there--you can come down right inside the walls. my, my! so this is the wonderful land of ohs. well, it owes me its crown jewels and treasure to pay for your insolent invasion of the strat. collecting them should prove pleasant! very pleasant indeed!"
"i wouldn't be too sure of that," snapped nick, turning his head stiffly. "i suppose you realize you are in great danger? if ozma sees you before you have time to storm the castle, you and your silly flock of flyers are likely to be turned to crows or sparrows! the chances are, she has seen you," concluded nick, slanting the oztober sharply downward. at nick's warning, the few clouds flitting across the airman's forehead became positively thunderous.
"pouf!" he sniffed, snapping his fingers scornfully. "do you suppose a mere girl like this ohsma of ohs can frighten me? my blowmen will soon attend to her and anyone else who stands in our way!"
"that," shouted nick, raising his voice above the roar of the engine,--"remains to be seen!" as a matter of fact, the oztober and the swarm of flying warriors had been sighted almost as soon as they appeared above the green lands edging the capitol. long before they reached the emerald city itself, terrified messengers had brought word of the approaching airmen. ozma being absent, bettsy and trot, the two little mortal girls who lived with dorothy and the supreme ruler in the emerald palace, were in charge.
after one glance at the flying army, they had called all the celebrities, servants and courtiers together and bade them flee for their lives. then bettsy, trot, and the patchwork girl, climbed into the red wagon. with the saw horse to pull them, they set off at a gallop to hide in the blue forests of the munchkin country till the invasion was over. tik tok, the machine man, carrying all of ozma's loose jewels and valuables, marched rapidly after them. the medicine man rode the hungry tiger and the rest of the palace inmates ran helter-skelter down the yellow brick highway from the capitol.
the inhabitants of the emerald city itself, never having seen the wizard's ozoplanes and having no way of knowing that nick chopper was inside this one, were almost as afraid of the oztober as of the stratovanians. pelting into their houses and shops, they bolted windows and doors and waited in terror-stricken silence for whatever was to come. only the guardian of the gate stayed bravely at his post, waving his bunch of keys defiantly as the ozoplane and the airlanders swooped over the castle wall.
"ho! no you don't!" cried strut, as nick, having brought the plane to a landing, started to run for the door. "you'll stay with me, as a hostage!" he rasped, gripping the tin woodman's arm. furious but helpless in the iron grasp of the stratovanian, nick was forced to lead him into ozma's beautiful castle.
strut's warriors, after fluttering like curious birds from tree to tree and alighting in chattering groups on the wall, finally furled the wings of their staffs, formed ranks and marched, singing and shouting, up the steps after their jubilant leader.
in vain nick watched for any signs of weakening among them. the airmen seemed as comfortable and carefree in this lower altitude as they had been on their own airosphere. the tin woodman's only consolation was that he had brought back the wizard's ozoplane in as good condition as when it had started away so unexpectedly. it was also a great relief to him to find the castle deserted. not a courtier, servant or celebrity was in sight--not even the glass cat or dorothy's little kitten eureka. strut and his rude army stamped through the first floor from end to end without encountering a single soul.
"very good," sniffed the ruler of all the stratovanians, shooting his eyes sharply to left and right, "so this powerful fairy ohsma of ohs has run off and left us her castle, and we win the war without blowing a blow! ho, ho! i shall spend my summers in this enchanting palace," he added, with a malicious wink at the tin woodman. "but now," his grasp on nick's arm tightened. "where are these famous, magic treasures and jewels you were boasting of--this belt and fan and all the other foolishments and fripperies?"
"in a safe in ozma's own apartment," nick told him, reluctantly. now that strut was in complete possession of the castle, little was to be gained by concealing the location of the treasures.
"take me there at once," he commanded nick, and--because the thousand airlanders were a bit too numerous for comfort--strut ordered them out to the garden, bidding them man the walls, guard the gates and all entrances, and give the alarm should any of the ozlanders approach. then, with lowered head and dragging feet, the tin woodman led the way to ozma's private sitting room. the safe, sparkling with emeralds imbedded in metal more valuable than platinum, stood in an alcove behind a pair of silk curtains. giving little heed to the elegant appointments of the apartment itself, strut knelt before the safe, fairly panting with impatience and curiosity.
"how does it open?" he asked, spinning the little knob on the door, round and round without any results whatsoever.
"i am sure i cannot say." resting one elbow on the golden mantel, the tin woodman looked indifferently at the kneeling airman. "only ozma and our wizard ever open that safe."
"oh, is that so!" strut straightened up angrily, "we shall see about that. all i have to do is call one of my blowmen and blow it open."
"suit yourself," said nick, with a shrug of his shoulders. "only if you do, the safe probably will blow away--and all the treasures with it!"
"then how in the dix shall i open it?" screamed strut, giving it a spiteful kick with his silver-shod toe. worn out by his long vigil of the night and the excitement of taking possession of the castle, he lost his temper completely, and stamped and raged up and down before ozma's jewelled strong box. but thump and bang at the door as he would, it still remained shut. "ha!" he puffed at last, "i'll call my swordsmith! he can hammer it open!" racing over to the window he yelled loudly for the swordsmith to come up.
but strut's swordsmith had no more success than his master. kindling a fire in the grate, he heated a poker red hot and tried to burn a hole in the door, but the poker did not leave even a scratch on the glittering surface. "stop! stop! you witless woff. i'll do it myself," raged strut. "i'll blow it open with star powder!"
"surely you wouldn't do that," protested nick, who up to this time had been watching the effort of the two airmen with quiet amusement. "if you blow up the safe you might set fire to the castle and destroy all the treasures you have won."
"oh, hold your tongue!" advised strut. dragging two smouldering logs from the grate, he shoved them under the safe. then, unscrewing the end of his flying stick, he sprinkled a fine, black powder that smelled and looked like gun powder, over the logs. lighting a twisted paper, he stuck it beneath the logs and jumped back, waiting impatiently for the safe to fly apart.
nick chopper waited not a moment longer. darting into the dressing room he hastily filled a pitcher with water. but before he could return, an ear-splitting explosion rocked the castle and flung him and the pitcher through the doorway of the sitting room.
without stopping to recover his breath, the tin woodman jumped up and hurried across the room. the two airmen, with blackened clothes and faces, stared dazedly at the spot where the safe had been. where it had been--because it was no longer there! not a sign, emerald or single splinter of it! there was no hole in the ceiling, so it could not have blown up; there was no hole in the floor, so it could not have blown down. the windows were unbroken, the walls, intact. only the two logs, smoking sullenly on ozma's priceless rug, remained of the airlander's bonfire--unless we count the expression on strut's face, which simply blazed with wrath, bafflement and unadulterated fury.
"i told you not to do that," said nick, running over to strut and the swordsmith. "i warned you! now see what you've done!"
"but where is it? where did it go? where did it blow?" screamed the airlander, his electric hair standing more on end than ever and crackling like summer lightning.
"ask ozma! ask the wizard!" suggested nick, folding his arms and surveying the two quite calmly. "but if you take my advice, you'll hustle right out of this castle before the same thing happens to you!"
"who asked for your advice?" cried strut, streaking over to the window to see whether the safe had blown into the garden, though how it could have done so without knocking a hole in the wall or ceiling, he could neither imagine nor understand. drawing aside the curtain he gave a great gasp. nick, who had hurried after him, uttered a loud shout of joy.
"see! i told you!" cried nick, and unhooking his oil can the tin woodman let four drops of oil slide down his neck. "i told you!" strut made no reply. he just hung on to the curtain as if he were drowning and the flimsy portiere, a life preserver. "see!" shouted nick again.
but it was what strut didn't see that upset the airman! what he didn't see was his entire army of nine hundred and ninety-nine splendid fighters! the garden below was as empty and quiet as a park on a rainy sunday. "calm yourself, man! calm yourself!" advised nick as strut, turning from the window and noting the disappearance of his swordsmith, began running in frenzied circles, overturning chairs and tables and tripping over rugs and foot-stools.
"quick," he hissed, making a dive for the tin woodman. "fly me back to the strat. at once! at once! do you hear?"
"oh, yes! i hear you--quite well!" said nick, eluding strut easily. "but i'll never fly you anywhere again! besides, don't you realize you cannot fly from magic! you'll have to stay, my good man, and face the music!"
nick's words seemed to bring the airlander to his senses. remembering, even in defeat, that he was a powerful king and ruler, he straightened up proudly and, with one hand resting on an emerald-topped table, stood looking tensely from nick chopper to the door. he did not have long to wait, for in less time than it takes to count ten, nine excited ozians burst into the royal sitting room.
"oh, nick! are you really safe? is everything all right?" jellia jam rushed over to the tin woodman and took both of his hands in her own.
"so that's the fellow i was supposed to impersonate!" roared the cowardly lion, thrusting his head between dorothy and the soldier, "well, goosengravy, girls--i'm insulted!"
"and is this really strut--the high and mighty stratovanian who has come to conquer us?" ozma, who was just behind the soldier, gazed so steadily and sorrowfully at the airman that he uncomfortably averted his gaze. he was, to tell the truth, astonished at the youth, beauty and regal manner of the young fairy. he cast a questioning look at the others, crowding through the doorway. he already knew the soldier with green whiskers, but the scarecrow, the cowardly lion, the small, high-hatted gentleman talking earnestly to a cheerful little girl, the little, red-cloaked princess and the tall, imposing, red-haired glinda were all new and bewildering strangers. for the first time since they had met, nick felt sorry for his discomfited foe, and as each of the celebrities approached, he called out the names.
"our famous live scarecrow, his majesty the cowardly lion, glinda the good sorceress, the wonderful wizard of oz, princess dorothy of kansas and the emerald city and--"
"azarine, the red," finished dorothy, helping him out. for nick, completely at sea, looked inquiringly at the pretty little princess in the red cloak. at each introduction strut bowed stiffly. if he could have reached his flying stick which he had left standing beside the mantel, he would have flown out the window--regardless of the fact that he might never find his way back to the strat. but as he could not reach the staff, he stood stonily waiting for whatever was to befall.
"how'd you find jellia and the soldier? what became of the ozpril? where's the emerald safe?" questioned nick, leaving strut's side and hurrying to seize the little wizard by both lapels, for he could restrain his curiosity no longer.
"quite a story--quite a story," puffed the wizard, closing one eye, "ask me again some long winter evening." jerking away from nick, he ran off to fetch his black bag of magic, from which he had been separated far too long.
"i suppose you are quite anxious to return to your own country," said ozma, addressing herself to the ruler of the strat as she seated herself on a small, satin sofa.
"not without my army," blustered strut, defiantly. "it is neither fair nor honest for one ruler to destroy by magic the fighting forces of another!"
"your army is not destroyed," ozma told him evenly. "it already is in stratovania, transported there by this magic belt." lightly, the dark-haired fairy touched the gem-studded girdle she was wearing. "and--speaking of honesty and fairness," she went on seriously, "did you think it honest or fair to come here, take possession of my castle, and try to steal all my treasure and jewels?" strut had the grace to blush, and as there was no good answer to ozma's question, he looked haughtily over the heads of the company regarding him so accusingly.
"well, have you anything to say?" inquired ozma sternly. "whether or not you return to your kingdom depends entirely upon yourself and how you treat kabebe." at mention of his queen, strut started, involuntarily.
"by the way--here's that silly crown you made me wear!" said jellia, handing over the star-tipped circlet she had been wearing since her visit to the strat. "remember me to the piper when you see him and to junnenrump and hippenscop."
"are you sure you'd rather not live in the strat as a starina, than stay here with us?" asked ozma, smiling mischievously, as jellia backed away from the frowning airman.
"never! never! never!" cried jellia, taking a long step backward at each word. "i've had enough of kings to last me the rest of my life!"
a little ripple of laughter followed jellia's blunt refusal, and taking pity on the mortified airlander, ozma touched her belt and whispered the magic word that would transport him to his own country.
"but can you trust him?" worried nick chopper, as the stratovanian vanished before their eyes. "how do you know he won't blow things up as soon as he returns?"
"because i've removed all power from his blowmen's horns," ozma told him quietly. "he'll be all right, and for the kind of people he rules--strut probably is the best sort of ruler they could have."
"if you ask me," observed the cowardly lion, shaking his mane vigorously, "the worst punishment anyone could have would be to live on wind pudding and air-ade. wooof!"
"oh, what a shame!" dorothy ran over to the mantel where the flying stick had been standing. "the winged staff's gone! i rather had hoped we could keep it for hallow'een or new year's or something!"
"haven't you had enough flying?" grinned the scarecrow, settling on the green sofa beside ozma. "by the way, where's the tell-all-escope?"
"oh, i'm so sorry," dorothy felt ruefully in the pocket of her coat. "i must have left it in strut's royal pavilion!"
"never mind! i'll bring it back with the magic belt," smiled ozma, "and i presume it's all right to bring the safe back, too?" as glinda nodded in agreement, the ruler of oz touched her belt twice, and with two thumps--one louder than the other--the safe and tell-all-escope thumped down on the floor beside the sofa. the tell-all-escope was pointing directly at ozma, and it immediately began broadcasting her whole history. so the little fairy, with a chuckle of amusement locked it up in her desk drawer.
while ozma had been meting out her gentle justice, jellia had been telling nick all that had happened since he was forced to fly strut to oz. she told him of the arrival of the ozpril, the escape of the whole party from the angry kabebe, their fall to red top mountain, their rude treatment by bustabo, their meeting with azarine and the red deer, and their final journey to glinda's castle.
spellbound, nick learned how the wizard finally had mastered the intricacies of glinda's zentomatic transporter and brought the safe to her red castle just as strut was on the point of taking violent measures. with the safe in his possession, it had been an easy matter for the wizard to open it, take out the magic belt and transport both glinda and ozma from ragbad. after listening to the whole, exciting story glinda, ozma and the wizard had sent the stratovanian army back to the strat and returned to the emerald city to deal with strut, personally.
"it's certainly handy to have a fairy around," sighed dorothy, slipping an arm around ozma's slim waist. "one little wave of ozma's wand and we soared right into this castle! isn't it grand to be home again? not that i didn't enjoy the trip," she added hastily, as the wizard came briskly into the room with his black bag. "oh, ozma! just wait till you see the beautiful ozoplanes our wizard has built for you!"
"she'll need pretty strong glasses to see the ozpril," observed the wizard, looking rather sadly at the ceiling. "i expect it's hanging to the tip of a star by this time! and i suppose strut made hash of the oztober!"
"hash!" sputtered nick chopper, indignantly, "i should say not. i've taken splendid care of your ship, wiz, and you'll find the oztober below in the garden, as bright and beautiful as the night she was launched!"
"hurray for nick," shouted jellia, waving the duster she already was flipping briskly over pictures and books. "he should have a medal, your majesty! no one could have flown that plane better than the tin woodman!"
"he shall have a medal!" promised ozma, with a special smile for nick chopper who was one of her special favorites. "and when he needs a vacation from the winkies, he can come here and be our official pilot answerable only to me and to the wizard!"
"and i hereby present your majesty with my two, splendid ozoplanes--for exploring, for pleasure, or for warfare!" announced the little wizard, extending both arms, dramatically. "but now you will have to excuse me, as the tin woodman and i are leaving at once!"
"leaving!" wailed jellia, plumping down on a foot stool. "but you've only just returned!"
"can't help it," panted the wizard, who seemed in a perfect phiz to be off, "i'll show you the ozoplanes later, ozma, but now--goodbye! goodbye, dorothy! goodbye jellia! take good care of azarine till i return!"
"but look--where are we going?" demanded nick chopper, as the wizard seized his arm and marched him rapidly toward the door.
"to find the ozpril, of course!" explained the wizard impatiently, as if that should have been clear to everybody! "to find the ozpril and bring her back to the emerald city!"
"but think how high those blowmen may have blown it?" worried dorothy. "they may even have blown it to bitz!"
"then we'll bring back the pieces," declared the wizard, firmly. "how about coming along?" with a wink at jellia jam, he paused beside the lion who was busy licking his front paws.
"what?" roared the lion, springing up as if someone had shot him. with a thoroughly indignant glance at ozma's little magician, he bolted through the curtains and was gone.
"just not a flyer!" mused the wizard, shaking his head in amusement. "well, goodbye, friends! farewell--all!" with an energetic nod he stepped through the door, pulling nick along with him.
"couldn't you bring the ozpril back with your magic belt?" questioned dorothy, hurrying over to the window to watch the plane's take off.
"i suppose so," answered ozma, thoughtfully. "but they both are so fond of flying, they'd much rather bring it back, themselves! i'm sure of it!"
from the castle window, the whole party cheered wildly as the ozoplane, roaring with power, soared over the wall, over the tree tops and up, up, and up, till it vanished into the cloudless, blue sky.
"my pie! i do hope nick doesn't start claiming any more countries," sighed jellia, drawing in her head reluctantly. "and for cake's sake why couldn't they have waited a few days? of course the tin woodman is never tired, but wiz certainly needed a rest after all we've been through!"
"never you mind about that!" glinda patted the kind-hearted little jellia on the shoulder. "the wizard has his black bag along this time, and in that bag there is a cure for almost everything--even lack of sleep!"
"look!" called dorothy, pulling jellia back to the window. "shaggy and dear deer are running races round the pond and here come all our servants and celebrities! hiah, tik tok! hello, scraps! see, azarine! that's the patch work girl! you'll simply love her! we all do! someone must have sent word that strut had been defeated!"
"i did--i dispatched one of my doves," explained glinda. "and now, my dear," the tall and lovely sorceress motioned significantly to ozma, "is it not time to deal with bustabo, and restore this little lady to her castle?"
"oh, not yet! please, not yet!" begged dorothy, as azarine looked expectantly from glinda to ozma. "we want azarine to stay here a long time, don't we, jellia? come on azzy, dear, i'll lend you an old dress and we'll all go for a ride before lunch! you, on shaggy--jellia and i on dear deer--bettsy and trot on the cowardly lion, and the scarecrow on the hungry tiger!"
"it's all right, go ahead," ozma nodded indulgently as the little princess hung back. she did want so much to stay and meet all the interesting people in the garden, but she felt it her real duty to return to her subjects, now suffering under the cruel rule and temper of bustabo.
then:
"i've already turned bustabo into a red squirrel!" ozma told the princess, gravely. "in that form he still can enjoy himself, but do no harm to others. i've also sent a message saying you will be home in a few days, and placed archibald the archer in charge till you return!"
"oh, how did you know archy is the one i trust most?" marveled azarine, her eyes shining with happiness and astonishment. "bustabo threw archy into a dungeon a week ago, because he tried to help me!"
"ozma knows everything," confided dorothy, with an adoring glance toward the little ruler of all oz. "and everything's going to be lovely! come on, azzy! i'll beat you to the fountain in the garden!"
so now, with her last worry removed, the little princess of red top skipped off with dorothy to meet all the exciting celebrities in the garden. the two deer, alarmed by the strange appearance of some of the ozlanders, had hidden themselves in a snow-ball bush. but azarine soon coaxed them out and in no time at all, they were chatting like old friends with the hungry tiger and the saw horse.
jellia stayed in the garden only a short while, for jellia had other things to do. the little oz maid was determined to have a party to celebrate their home coming and soon, in deep conference with the castle chef, she was planning the most gorgeous feast the green castle ever had known.
it began at noon and lasted till nightfall. even long after the tall candles had burned low, the cheery company sat around the royal table while dorothy, jellia and the scarecrow told and retold their amazing adventures in the strat and on red top mountain.
so delightful did azarine and the two deer find life in the capitol, they stayed on and on. each evening, the girls and ozma, and her most important counselors, would gather in her private sitting room. there, looking at the magic screen, they followed the progress of nick and the wizard as they flew on and on through the strange highways and byways of the stratosphere.
what a story they will have to tell us when they return.... what a story!
the end
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55851.txt
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The Wishing Horse of Oz
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"is this all?" the king of skampavia frowned at the great stack of bags, bales, crates and carriers heaped around his throne. leaning forward, he gingerly extracted a fig from one of the baskets and popped it into his enormous mouth.
"pah, dry as a blotter," spluttered the red-faced ruler, gritting his teeth with disgust, "and look at those cocoanuts, no bigger round than a baby's rattle!" leaping off his throne, he began kicking at the baskets of vegetables and bales of cotton and other merchandise. "what dusty junk is this?" he raged, glaring furiously at pinny penny, his patient prime minister. "how dare they send me such stuff?" clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, pinny penny nevertheless spoke up boldly.
"because they have nothing better, your majesty. what can our poor subjects do with land so unprofitable and barren? then, not only must they produce enough for their own needs, but are required by the law to give one-third of all they raise to the crown."
"and why not?" blustered skamperoo, settling back argumentatively on his throne. "i am the king! you can't get around that, you know."
"no," sighed pinny penny, and drawing aside one of the shabby curtains he looked sorrowfully out into the courtyard.
"what's all that racket?" demanded his master, as a medley of shouts, roars, and dull thuds came rolling up to them. forgetting his anger for a moment, he bounded to his feet and came across the room to look over pinny penny's shoulder.
"a slight argument seems to have arisen among the supervisors," murmured pinny penny resignedly.
now skampavia, i must tell you, is roughly divided into seven counties, and over each county skamperoo had set a supervisor whose duty it was to govern the province and to turn over to him one-third of all produce and merchandise in that county. to save time, and easily identify them, the supervisors were known by the size of the counties they governed. for instance, the supervisor of the first county, which was one mile wide and ten miles long, was called onebyten; the supervisor of the second county twobyfour; and the others were variously known as threebysix, ninebyfive, eightbyeight, fivebynine and fourbyseven. twice a year the supervisors rode into the capital with their tribute, and now, down in the courtyard, the seven tremendous skampavians were in a perfect pitched battle, helped out by all the guards and palace servants.
"argument!" roared the king, slapping pinny penny rudely on the shoulder. "it's a fight, and you know it! ho, ho! just look at the good-for-nothing rascals. i tell you, old two pins, however poorly they serve us as farmers and merchants, our skampavians can certainly fight. and who says i'm too hard on them? have i not given every man jack a dress uniform and gun and made them learn military drilling and marching at the royal college?"
"and what use is all this drilling and marching?" inquired pinny penny wearily. letting the curtain fall, he hurried away, for well he knew, if he did not put a stop to the conflict in the courtyard every window in the palace would be broken.
"now what did he mean by that?" muttered skamperoo peevishly as his little prime minister whisked out of sight. pursing his lips, he seated himself heavily on his throne. after all, pinny penny had only spoken the truth. why had his father or his father's father ever picked out this pesky little country in the first place? located in the southern part of the desert of noland, between the kingdoms of ix and merryland, skampavia, he was forced to admit, had neither riches, beauty, nor interest. his castle, though poor and shabby, was comfortable enough, and having lived in it all his life, he was used to it. he had put up with the hot dry climate and the poor quality of the food, but after all, why should he continue to do so? in those long ago days in the school room he had studied of energetic rulers who had taken their armies and gone forth to conquer richer and more desirable lands from their neighbors. well, then, why should not he take his men, push over the border into a more fertile and kindly land? the idea pleased but at the same time annoyed him. skamperoo was fat and lazy. he loved quiet and ease and the thought of a hard military campaign made him shudder with distaste. still, he reflected, remembering pinny penny's reproachful face, a king should do something for his subjects and the more he did for them--ho, ho! the more he could make them do for him. a rich and prosperous country meant a rich and prosperous ruler. discontentedly fingering the rough cloth from which his royal robes were fashioned, he began to picture himself decked out in splendid satins and velvets heavily encrusted with jewels. jewels. pah! all the jewels he had were his plain gold scepter, badly dented and bent from hurling at pinny penny. taking off the crown, he scowled at it critically and began considering the realms on either side of his own dominions.
to the north there was nothing but a sandy strip of desert and the tossing waters of the nonestic ocean. east lay the kingdom of ix, and zixie the little queen he considered too pleasant and friendly to conquer. besides, the climate of ix was not much better than that of his own country. to the west of skampavia was merryland and at one time a band of his roistering skampavians had crossed over into that country bent on theft and mischief. recalling the way they had been welcomed and entertained by the cheerful king of merryland and sent home simply laden with presents, he hastily dismissed that country too. how could he fight a monarch like that? to the south lay the burning sands of the deadly desert, which no man in his own kingdom had ever succeeded in crossing.
so, having exhausted all the possibilities in the immediate neighborhood, skamperoo tapped his foot in vexation and began casting about in his mind for some fair and faraway country to conquer. he closed his eyes in order to think better and was just on the point of falling into a pleasant doze of riches and conquest, when pinny penny came noisily into the room.
he was preceded by two of the king's supervisors, who, urged forward by the fearless little prime minister, stood sulkily and defiantly before the throne.
"well, what now?" demanded skamperoo, blinking his eyes sleepily. "can you not handle these arguments yourself, pinny penny? is a king to have no rest or privacy at all?"
instead of answering, pinny penny took a small cotton bag from the tallest of the supervisors and handed it silently to the king. still half asleep, skamperoo untied the draw string of the small bag and emptied the contents into his fat hand. what he saw there made his eyes fly open--wide open! jewels! the very thing for which he had been wishing.
"emeralds!" gasped the king, rubbing the glittering necklace between his fingers. "where did you get this, twobyfour?"
"they were sent to your majesty by a merchant in the second county, who got them from a traveling peddler. the peddler had got them from a gilliken, who had got them from a quadling, who had got them from a munchkin, who had once lived in the emerald city of oz."
"oz!" snapped the king, sitting up very straight. "where is oz?"
"oz is a great and powerful kingdom on the other side of the deadly desert," answered twobyfour, looking uneasily over his shoulder at pinny penny.
"then how did this peddler cross the desert?" demanded skamperoo, holding the necklace up to the light and feasting his eyes greedily on its gleaming emeralds.
"that, i cannot say." twobyfour cast a longing glance at the door, heartily wishing himself on the other side.
"then perhaps you will tell us why you did not turn this necklace over to the king?" suggested pinny penny mournfully.
"yes, how dared you keep it?" panted skamperoo indignantly. "and what are you gaping at, threebysix? i'll wager you were in this, too."
"he was," shouted twobyfour hoarsely. "he tried to steal the jewels from me. that's how he got the black eye."
"but you tried to steal them from me, and what about that my fine fellow?" twobyfour turned a painful and uncomfortable scarlet under the king's accusing eye.
"in skampavia we have so little, your majesty," he stuttered miserably. "with these emeralds i thought i might buy a bit of land in some cooler and more comfortable country where my wife and two boys could be happy--a country where flowers would grow in a garden, and where a man would not have to spend his whole life wrestling with rocks and weeds and drilling for hours in the hot sun for no reason whatsoever."
"hah!" exclaimed pinny penny, looking meaningly at the king.
"hah, yourself!" grunted skamperoo wrathfully, then as the emeralds continued to sparkle and glitter in his hand his anger subsided.
"you did very wrong to keep the necklace, twobyfour," he stated mildly. "but i have decided to forgive you. return now to the second county and explain to the merchant who gave you this necklace that i must have all three."
"all three!" exclaimed twobyfour. "but he's entitled by law to two of them."
"my word is the law here, and you can choose between a broken law or a broken head," skamperoo told him calmly.
"he is the king," murmured pinny penny in a quiet voice. there was nothing sarcastic in the manner of his speech, but something in the prime minister's expression made the king prickle all over with discomfort.
"yes, i am the king," he shouted explosively, "and moreover i have spoken. begone, both of you, and you, twobyfour, have two days to return with those two necklaces. the necklaces or your head, do you understand? and--er--er--you may tell that merchant in your county that he need send no more of his wares to the capital, the three necklaces will suffice," he bellowed as the two supervisors went bolting through the door.
"how nice--they will suffice. you are the king," sniffed pinny penny with a sour smile.
"are you a parrot or a prime minister? stop repeating that silly stuff and tell me about oz," commanded skamperoo, clasping the emerald necklace around his fat throat. "have you ever heard of this place, pinny penny? it must be a rich and marvelous country if peddlers can trade emerald necklaces as carelessly as we trade wooden beads."
"it is a marvelous country," answered pinny penny thoughtfully. "i remember my father telling me about the capital of oz, an emerald city, where even the streets were inlaid with jewels and every tower and wall was studded with emeralds."
"well, why have i never been told about this?" wheezed the king peevishly. "a country like that just a precious stone's throw away, so to speak."
"your majesty has never cared for reading or study," pinny penny reminded him a bit maliciously. "in our library there is a whole history of oz."
"fetch it! fetch it, bring it to me at once!" panted the king, bouncing up and down on his throne like a big bad baby (which in truth he was). "i must discover why oz is so rich and prosperous while we are so poor and unfortunate."
"not so unfortunate and poor as we are unwise and greedy," stated pinny penny, stalking calmly across the room. "if your majesty would study ways to improve skampavia and allow your own subjects to keep a fair share of their crops and merchandise, we might be a powerful country, too."
"nonsense! what can we do with a rocky little desert like this?" blustered skamperoo contemptuously. "skampavia is a dull little kingdom, a dumb little kingdom--a kingdumb, that's a good name for it."
"and you?" murmured pinny penny under his breath as he hastened away to fetch the book on oz. returning, he plumped the fat volume down on the king's knees and stood back with folded arms.
"well--well? do you expect me to read all this?" wailed skamperoo in dismay. "why, it would take a year or more. explain it to me, pinny penny. just give me the gist of the matter. just give me the gist--there, i've made a joke. ha! ha! ha! i've made a joke."
"but oz is no joke," said the prime minister shortly, "your majesty had better get that through your head at once. now attend closely and i will endeavor to give you the most important facts about this rich and enchanting country across the desert. in the first place," pinny penny looked severely over his specs, "oz is about fifty times as large as skampavia, a great oblong, undulating country divided into four triangular kingdoms. each of these kingdoms has its own ruler, but all four are subject to the rule of ozma of oz, whose capital, the emerald city, is in the exact center of oz."
"a girl?" exclaimed skamperoo, leaning forward excitedly. "how can a mere girl rule over an important country like that?"
"by using her heart as well as her head, by encouraging thrift and rewarding industry," announced pinny penny in a tone that made the king wince. "your majesty would do well to read of her wise laws and plans for the betterment of her country."
"you may just skip all that," sniffed skamperoo, closing his mouth stubbornly. "tell me who are the rulers of these four kingdoms and the general customs and characteristics of the people."
closing his eyes and putting his finger tips together, pinny penny began solemnly: "the northern-most country of oz is the land of the gillikens, famed for its luscious grapes, plums, wisteria, and heather. it is a purple country and is ruled over by joe king and queen hyacinth, who live in an amethyst trimmed castle high in the gilliken mountains. the eastern empire of oz is a yellow country, known for its wheat, corn, butter, pumpkins, daffodils, and gold mines. nick chopper is emperor of the winkies and this singular ruler is entirely made of tin plate and celebrated in song and story as 'the tin woodman of oz.'" pinny penny paused a moment to catch his breath and then continued quietly:
"the southland is red and noted for its strawberries, tomatoes, beets, red birds, red wood, and red-heads. glinda, the good sorceress, governs the quadlings, who make up its inhabitants, and she knows as much magic as ozma herself--"
"oh, it's one of those magic places where one just snaps the fingers to get what he wants," sighed the king discontentedly. "well--well--go on--"
"the western country of oz is blue," continued pinny penny obligingly, "and everyone has heard of its famous blue ridge mountains, its blue birds, its violets, its blue skies and its capital, the sapphire city. cheeriobed is king, and orin is queen of the munchkins, and they live in the sapphire city, in almost as much magnificence as ozma in the emerald city. is that all you wish to know?"
"about the army?" muttered skamperoo, wrinkling up his forehead. "has this girl ruler a great army stationed at her capital?"
pinny penny grinned in spite of himself. "the young fairy ruler of oz is opposed to all wars and fighting and has at her court an army consisting of one tall soldier with green whiskers," he explained hurriedly.
"one soldier with green whiskers!" shouted the king, nearly tumbling off his throne. "i never heard anything more ridiculous in my life. i thought you said oz wasn't a joke and yet you stand there and tell me about an army of one soldier. why, that's the funniest thing i ever heard. ha, haw, haw!"
"laugh if you wish," said pinny penny resignedly, "but don't forget that ozma has more magic appliances at her finger tips than we have pebbles on our desert. in her palace lives the famous wizard of oz, who can work every sort of transformation and enchantment, but does so only for the good of the country."
"humph!" exclaimed the king. "well, how many fighting men have we?"
"seven hundred skampavian soldiers in each of the seven counties," answered pinny penny reluctantly, "but let me warn your majesty that the idea you have in your head is sheer madness and will lead to nothing but ruin. take off your crown, put on your night cap and dream away this foolishness."
"and a fine looking crown it is," snapped the king, snatching off his crown and looking at it angrily. "but these emeralds will brighten it up a bit, eh, pinny penny?"
"it is not the sparkle of gems in a king's crown that count, it is the jewels of wisdom in the head under the crown that make him happy and well beloved--"
"stop! enough!" yelled the king, hurling the crown with all his might at pinny penny. "when will you stop this infernal lecturing and scolding?"
"when your majesty stops talking nonsense," sighed pinny, catching the crown with one hand and pulling a long bell cord with the other. "come now, let us have our tea and forget about oz," he proposed calmly. "lemon or cream, your highness?"
"lemon!" growled the king sourly, and slapping open the book of history on his knees, he stared long and enviously at a picture of the emerald city of oz.
two days had passed since skamperoo had come into possession of the emerald necklace. he had never taken it off for a moment. he even wore it to bed, and spent most of the daytime admiring himself and it in the palace mirrors. now, as the afternoon of the second day drew to a close, he kept bouncing over to the windows that commanded a view of the highway.
"if that rascal does not turn up soon, i'll--i'll--"
"explode, probably," predicted pinny penny, who was playing solitaire with the only pack of cards the castle afforded. "calm yourself, skamper, what good are these emeralds when you come right down to it?"
"good? good? they are worth more than this whole miserable castle," answered the king indignantly. "i can sell them and buy--no, no, i'll never part with them," he corrected himself hastily. "they give me a feeling of importance and power. our star has risen, pinny penny. great days are ahead. hark! listen! is that a footstep in the courtyard?" darting back to the window, the portly monarch flattened his nose against the pane. "it's twoby! it's twobyfour!" he shouted hopping up and down like a school boy. "and there's a tall bearded stranger with him."
"if your majesty will quietly seat yourself, i'll endeavor to announce them," reproved pinny penny, gathering up his cards. "remember you are a king and not a jumping jack."
"oh--all right." skamperoo flung himself heavily down among his cushions and presently the tramp of feet along the corridor proclaimed the arrival of the long awaited supervisor. pinny penny advanced stiffly to meet him and after a whispered conversation he called out in a bored voice:
"twobyfour, governor of our second province, and matiah, the merchant, your majesty!"
"yes! yes? but where are the emeralds?" panted skamperoo, leaning forward eagerly as the two travelers advanced respectfully to the throne.
drawing a small bag from his leather jerkin, twobyfour held it sullenly out to the king.
"here, your majesty, and here also is the merchant who goes with the necklace." twobyfour haughtily indicated the turbaned skampavian beside him.
"yes! yes, the merchant." the king, intent upon the jewels, did not even look up. "he goes with the necklaces, you say? well, ha! ha! now he may go without them. that is all i require of you, my good fellow, your presence here is not necessary or desirable. you may go. go, do you understand?"
"go?" matiah drew himself up to his fullest height, which was pretty high, i can tell you. "perhaps your majesty will suggest where? for these three necklaces i traded my house, my shops, and all my other possessions. you say that is all, and it is indeed. since you have taken all i own and possess, your majesty must take me also. you owe me a living and i am here to say so."
"say no more," put in pinny penny soothingly.
"matiah is right, skamperoo, and well within his rights as well. we must make a place for him in the palace. what can you do?" he inquired practically.
"do?" the merchant opened his eyes very wide. "do? i am a merchant accustomed to dealing in jewels, china, cloth, and basket wear."
"then you'll be the very one to help out in the kitchen and laundry," proposed pinny penny brightly. "there are no jewels, but we have onions and potatoes a-plenty, and with the dirty dishes and hampers of soiled linens you will be right at home."
"what?" screamed matiah, as twobyfour snickered behind his hand. "you require this mean-ial toil of me--matiah, son of metorah, son of metanic--merchants for these thousands of years? this is preposterous! an outrage! i will go! i will go indeed. i will start a war, an uprising--a revolution! help! help! help!" yelled the merchant shrilly. "the king has stolen my emeralds."
"stop! stop! not so loud," begged skamperoo, leaping agilely off his throne and pattering anxiously after matiah. "you may leave us, pinny penny, i think i can find something better than kitchen work for this honest citizen."
"humph!" snorted pinny penny, and motioning for twobyfour to follow him he marched disapprovingly from the royal presence.
"you mustn't mind old pinny," puffed the king, dropping a bit breathlessly on his throne. "there, there, now, sit down and make yourself comfortable. as i was saying, pinny penny has very odd notions at times."
"very odd," agreed matiah, and seating himself on a chair opposite the king, he fastened his eyes greedily on the sparkling chains now clasped firmly about the monarch's fat throat.
"now, then, we must find something easy and pleasant for you," went on the king, scratching one ear reflectively. "you might, er--you might spend your time entertaining me. i'll wager you are just full of good stories, songs, and amusing tricks?"
"tricks?" exclaimed the merchant, elevating his nose disdainfully. then a sudden gleam came into his small black eyes. "tricks!" he repeated more pleasantly. "ah, your majesty is right. how well you have guessed my secret." leaning forward, he held his hand up to his mouth and looking furtively over his shoulder, whispered hoarsely. "i am a magician, king, and well versed in the arts of sorcery."
"sorcery!" cried skamperoo, clasping himself delightedly about his middle. "how perfectly panormick! magic is the very thing we need around here. tell me quickly, what can you do? how much magic do you know?"
"is there some place where we can be quite alone?" matiah held up his hand mysteriously. "no one must know i am a magician--it must be a secret between us."
"of course! of course!" agreed the king, rolling off his throne with more speed than dignity. "come to my private walled garden. no one can hear us there."
"no one?" asked matiah sharply. "are there then no guards upon the wall?"
"no guards--no servants--no one at all is allowed in my garden," the king assured him proudly.
"and is there a door in the garden's wall?" matiah stroking his long beard stood regarding the king thoughtfully. "my first trick requires a door."
"of course there's a door, or how should i get out and in myself? come along, come along!" waddling into the corridor, skamperoo started off at a quick trot for his private garden. matiah, grinning wickedly to himself, stepped softly after the king. once in the garden, he meant to have his necklaces, even if he had to take off the king's head to get them.
"one sweep of my scimiter," murmured the merchant to himself. "ho, ho! this is too easy!" the king's garden when they reached it was no more than a small sandy square with some cactus plants in the center and a rickety bench against the wall. seating himself heavily on the bench, skamperoo made room for the merchant beside him.
"now, then," he grunted hurriedly. "begin. show me what you can do. prove that you are a magician."
"first i must have the necklaces," stated matiah calmly. "without the emeralds i cannot do a single trick."
"but--but--if the magic is in the emeralds, i can be my own magician," answered skamperoo, clutching the chains with both hands.
"but your majesty is not a magician," matiah told him reasonably. "you do not know the proper words or incantations. no, i myself must wear these magic jewels. and what harm is there in that? as soon as your wish is granted i will hand them straight back to you."
"what's that? can you really grant wishes?" skamperoo's eyes began to snap and dance with greed and interest.
"certainly," promised matiah, blinking shrewdly across the square and estimating with his eye the distance he should have to run to reach the door in the garden wall. "all you have to do is to think of something you want, close your eyes, count slowly to a hundred, and i, wearing the three necklaces, will easily grant your wish. i thought you trusted me and that we were going to be friends," he finished reproachfully.
"we were--er--that is--here, take them!" unclasping the heavy chains, skamperoo, who already had a wish in mind, thrust them into the merchant's hands. closing his eyes, he made his wish and then began to count hysterically, "one--two--three--four--five--six." at six, matiah was half way across the garden, when horrors! a great white horse with a golden tail and mane dropped like a plummet from the sky. pawing up the sand in matiah's path, he flashed his yellow eyes so wickedly, the merchant fell back into the cactus bushes, where he lay screaming with shock, pain and amazement. but skamperoo, thinking all the noises he heard were but magic incantations, went calmly on with his counting. he had reached sixty before matiah had recovered himself enough to crawl out of the cactus and make his way cautiously back to the bench. the immense white horse continued to stare at him threateningly, but as it made no attempt to spring forward he began to regain a little of his usual assurance and courage.
"great garoo! then there was magic in the emeralds. this horse was undoubtedly the king's wish come true, a beastly wish!" shuddered the merchant as he stared in fascination at the pawing monster and wondered what to do next. he was afraid to run past the white horse and escape with the jewels, but hah! he could make a wish for himself, a wish that would carry him and the emeralds far from skampavia, the farther the better. closing his eyes, he muttered a hurried sentence and waited tensely to be transported to ev, a country he had once visited in his youth. but nothing at all happened, and gritting his teeth with vexation, matiah opened his eyes just as skamperoo finished counting a hundred.
"so!" beamed the delighted monarch, embracing him heartily. "you have done it. you really are a magician. behold my horse, a horse in a thousand. a golden maned charger fit for a king, for a conqueror--"
"of all the dumb things," fumed matiah, wriggling fiercely away from skamperoo, "of all the dumb things to wish for, a horse is about the dumbest of all!"
"dumb?" whinnied the white steed with an indignant snort.
"i'm not a dumb beast, i can laugh, i can talk, that's becoz i'm from oz and my full name is chalk."
"cha--lk?" quavered skamperoo, who had never heard an animal speak a word in his life. "he--he says his name's chalk." the king looked appealingly at the merchant and seeing he would have to live up to the role of magician, matiah assumed an air of careless superiority.
"well, he doubtless knows his own name, your majesty. if he says his name is chalk it probably is chalk, and the reason he can talk is because he comes from oz, land of the magic necklaces, where all animals speak as well as we do."
"better," sniffed chalk. then, taking an experimental nibble at the cactus, he gave a terrific squeal of pain and displeasure--flung up his heels and began to race around the garden at such a furious pace, matiah and the king jumped behind the bench and cowered miserably against the wall.
"well, there you are!" panted the merchant angrily. "you have your horse and what now? he's yours, you know, and you'll have to control him." matiah ducked behind the king as chalk thundered past, covering them both with dust and sand. "if you ask me, you simply wasted a wish. why, you might have wished yourself a ton of emeralds--or a kingdom ten times as large and prosperous as skampavia--or--"
"but there's plenty of time for that," sputtered skamperoo, holding desperately to the bench, "since you are a magician you can grant all of my wishes."
"oh, no, no indeed!" matiah spoke hastily, remembering the way the emeralds had failed to grant his wish. "i can grant only one wish a week," he explained breathlessly, "and i trust next time you will think before you wish. whoa, there, you ozian brute! you silly monster. stop that! whoa! ho! whoa, i tell you!"
"are you my master?" leaping lightly over the cactus, chalk came to a sudden halt before the bench.
"no, this king is your master," answered matiah thankfully enough. "speak to him, skamper," he urged in a lower voice as chalk reared curiously up on his hind legs to have a good look at the king.
"be--behave yourself," commanded skamperoo tearfully. "how do you expect me to ride on your back if you act like this?"
"ah--so you expect to ride me?" chalk came down with a thud and grinned broadly at his new master. if you have never seen a horse grin, you have no idea how upsetting it can be. "well, i suppose i shall have to put up with you," he neighed finally. "just call a groom or a servant, old rub-atub, and see that i'm served my evening oats, three apples, and a measure of corn."
"certainly, certainly," agreed the king, starting off on trembling legs.
"well, i must say this is splendid, splendid!" protested matiah, hurrying nervously after the king. (he was afraid to stay in the garden with chalk.) "where do you expect to get, taking orders from a horse?"
"i suppose you'd prefer me to take them from you!" puffed skamperoo, beginning to grow a little angry himself. "here, give me my necklaces." snatching the emeralds from the merchant's neck, he went charging into the palace hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry for the sudden change in his fortunes.
but by the time he reached his throne room, he had calmed down considerably. seating himself hurriedly on his throne, he pondered how he could keep all these strange occurrences from pinny penny. he felt sure pinny penny would never approve of magic necklaces or a talking horse. well now, he'd just tell his meddlesome prime minister that the stamping, snorting steed in the garden belonged to matiah and must be fed and stabled. when he made another wish--and he had a whole week to think about that--when he made another wish he would be careful to wish for everything he needed. as for this whiskery wizard--he would flatter him along until he discovered the right magic to use with the emeralds. then he would wish him away like that. like that! snapping his fingers spitefully, skamperoo pulled the long bell cord that summoned pinny penny. his royal charger should be fed. not many monarchs had a talking horse with a golden mane. aho, but he was coming on! he'd show pinny penny yet what a smart ruler he was!
now matiah, following the king slowly into the palace, had done some reflecting, too. he resolved not to lose his temper again with this provoking simpleton of a sovereign. he would simply humor him along and before the week was out he would have another chance to steal the necklaces and escape to some far country. there at his leisure he would experiment until he discovered the right way to use them. he could not understand why the king had got his wish and his own wish had gone for nothing. what was the secret of the magic emeralds? with his forehead still wrinkled in thought, matiah entered the throne room and quietly seated himself in a chair opposite skamperoo. much to his relief, the king neither reproached nor upbraided him.
"ah, so there you are?" he cried in his best meant-to-be-cheerful voice. "i have just sent pinny penny to feed your horse."
"my horse?" barked matiah, starting up in dismay, then catching a meaning wink from the king, he quickly winked back.
"it seemed wisest," murmured skamperoo, "to say nothing of your magic powers for the present. all this will be our secret," he finished playfully.
"oh, yes, yes--indubitably!" while skamperoo was still wondering what "indubitably" meant, matiah hurried out of the room and took a long drink of water from the old-fashioned fountain in the hall.
"our secret!" he repeated bitterly to himself. "our secret, indeed!"
skamperoo had not slept a wink. he tossed from side to side of the royal bed, his head simply buzzing with enchanting plans for the future. with the magic emeralds he could have everything he desired, and his desires and wishes were multiplying so rapidly he scarcely knew where to begin or what to wish first. the necklaces pressed uncomfortably against his throat, but he would not take them off. he was so weary he ached in every bone, but still he could not stop thinking, and just as the castle clock tolled seven the very thing he should wish for first came suddenly to him.
ah, that was it--too bad he had to wait a whole week, but a week would pass and perhaps during that time he would discover for himself the magic secret of his sparkling new treasures. then he could be his own magician and put that meddlesome merchant in his place. as he was running over in his mind possible places to send matiah, the door of his room opened cautiously and pinny penny stuck in his head.
"well! well? and did i ring?" grunted skamperoo fretfully. "this is a fine time to awaken an emperor."
"emperor?" exclaimed pinny penny, coming all the way into the room and closing the door. "since when has skampavia's king become an emperor?"
"oh, go away and don't bother me." turning his back on pinny penny, the king thumped his pillow and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.
"it's all about the horse," whispered pinny penny, coming around to the other side of the bed. "a strange and magnificent animal for a mere merchant, if i may be permitted to say so. not only that--it talks. it's ordering the stable boys around in a shocking manner and it even told me to mind my own business."
"well, why don't you?" suggested skamperoo, rolling over on his back. "of course he talks, pinny; he's an oz horse, and all animals from oz talk. i thought you knew that."
"well, if this merchant has a talking horse, he is not so poor as he pretends," persisted pinny penny, shaking his finger under the king's nose. "my advice is to set the fellow on his horse and send him about his business as quickly as possible. i don't like his looks, skamper. he's mean and mischievous, and mark my words, no good will come of him or his necklaces."
"i don't like his looks any better than you," agreed the king, clasping his fat hands on his stomach. "but if i keep the emeralds i must keep the merchant, and besides i've a notion i could ride that talking horse myself."
"oh, good goats and gravy! then i'd best go and lay in a supply of splints and liniment." pushing his specs up on his forehead, pinny penny cast a disgusted glance at his huge reclining master and rushed hurriedly from the royal presence.
now matiah, as you can well imagine, had slept no better than the king. in the small room to which pinny penny had taken him, he paced restlessly up and down. after all, he knew only two facts about the magic emeralds, the first that they really could, under certain conditions, grant wishes; the second, that they must not be worn by the person making the wish. this much the merchant had reasoned out for himself. as the king had got his wish while he, matiah, was wearing the necklaces, and he himself had not got the wish he made with the emeralds around his own throat, that much seemed certain. snapping his fingers joyfully and feeling sure the king was now wearing the jeweled chains, matiah made a second wish, counting slowly to a hundred. but the hearty supper he had ordered as a test failed to appear and flinging himself down on the bed he began to rack his brains for some other solution of the mystery. perhaps the magic power rested in a single stone which he had luckily touched as the king made his wish.
holding his head with both hands, he tried to remember exactly what he had done as skamperoo began to count. but it was no use. he could not recall a single thing after he had started to run across the garden. and how, concluded the infuriated fellow, was he ever to discover the way to use the emeralds without arousing the king's suspicions or revealing the fact that he knew no more about them than skamperoo himself? muttering with vexation, he kicked a foot stool all the way across the room and sat staring morosely at the worn carpet. the short, uneasy nap he finally got before morning did him no good, and cross and jumpy as a cougar, he made his way to the dingy dining hall of the palace.
the king had already breakfasted, and looking out of the window, matiah saw a terrified servant leading the talking horse around the courtyard, skamperoo following at a safe distance. the sight of the stamping white charger made matiah shudder anew. what a waste! he reflected bitterly, and if the king grew fond of the saucy monster it would make his own task even more difficult, for until he succeeded in stealing the necklaces, matiah did not intend to let skamperoo out of his sight. gulping down the weak coffee and cold eggs a shabby servant grudgingly placed before him, he hastened outside.
"good morning, your majesty!" he called out heartily. "and may i have a word with your royal highness?"
"what kind of a word?" snickered chalk, rolling his yellow eyes roguishly round at the merchant. "give him a word, old rub-atub, if that's all he wants. the right word for him, i should say, would be 'go!' or 'no!' and then we all could be happy."
"it is about the necklaces," confided matiah, ignoring the horse utterly, and falling easily into step with the king. "they must be cleaned every day to keep them in good wishing condition."
"but i was just going for a ride," objected skamperoo with a little frown, "won't this afternoon do?"
"no, now is the proper time," answered matiah impressively, thinking how clever he was to have invented this ruse to get hold of the emeralds. "if your majesty will just give them to me, i'll polish them up while you are--er--exercising."
"no--no--er--that is, i'd better come and help you," skamperoo spoke quickly. "i can ride this afternoon."
"you think so?" with an exuberant prance, chalk rose on his hind legs and spun around like a pinwheel. "well, see you later, old sos!" and with the terrified stable boy hanging to his bridle he went galloping off to the stable.
"if you take my advice, you'll have that creature knocked on the head," said matiah savagely. "surely you won't endanger our lives by riding on his back?"
"our lives!" exclaimed skamperoo, looking at matiah in surprise. "you do not have to ride him; in fact, he's really my horse," he stated jealously.
"so long as your majesty wears the magic necklaces i must go wherever you go and do whatever you do!" explained the merchant loftily.
"how--how very awkward!" in spite of himself, skamperoo groaned as he thought how tiresome it would be with matiah trailing after him from morning till night. "i should think a magician like yourself could arrange things more sensibly."
"but consider what is at stake," matiah reminded him earnestly. "together we can have and do anything we wish. is that not worth a little inconvenience?"
"yes, yes, i suppose so. but if we are to do everything together, i think i should know the magic wishing formula as well as you." skamperoo looked defiantly up at his newest advisor.
"that is impossible." striding along stiffly, matiah shook his head. "the incantation once revealed becomes powerless. only one versed in magic is permitted to use the emeralds. have you thought at all about your next wish?" he asked, anxious to direct the king's mind into more cheerful channels. "we should plan and consult about it together, you know. but wait until we are in your majesty's throne room," he added quickly, as skamperoo began to open and shut his mouth like a fish without saying anything. "while i am cleaning the necklaces we can talk it over, yes?" matiah's fingers fairly itched for the sparkling jewels, but restraining a mad impulse to snatch them from the king's throat, he walked along quietly beside skamperoo talking so calmly and convincingly that he soon had the skampavian monarch not only willing but anxious to reveal the wish that had kept him awake most of the night.
first assuring himself that they were alone and locking the door so they would not be disturbed, the king seated himself at a small table. matiah drew up a chair opposite and held out his hand for the necklaces. reluctantly skamperoo handed them over, keeping a jealous eye on the jewels as the merchant began polishing them with a small square of silk he had taken from his pocket.
as he rubbed the silk over the emeralds, matiah carefully examined each one for some mark or sign that would give him a clue to their magic power. intent as he was upon this task, a few low spoken words of skamperoo made him sit suddenly erect and regard the king with new respect and attention. how in thunderation, thought matiah wonderingly, had this fat silly monarch ever managed to hit upon such a magnificent and breath-taking wish, and as skamperoo explained and elaborated upon his plans and schemes for the future, the merchant's interest grew apace. quicker and cleverer than the king, he saw not only the possibilities of this splendid wish, but all the difficulties and problems that must be met and disposed of before it could be reasonably granted.
leaning forward, the emeralds for the moment forgotten, he put his mouth close to skamperoo's ear. "there are three things that must be done before your wish can be realized." matiah spoke tensely. "first, ... second, ... third, ...." after each short whispered direction skamperoo nodded to show that he understood.
"then it will take four wishes to do it," he sighed, resting his elbows heavily on the table. "that will be four weeks, won't it?"
"no, perhaps if we are careful we can work it all into one," answered matiah thoughtfully, and taking up his bit of silk he began polishing the emeralds with renewed vigor. the king, watching him, forgot his former dislike and distrust. matiah's enthusiastic approval of his plans made him feel that perhaps he had misjudged this long-faced, whiskered stranger. perhaps he would not wish him away, after all. he might prove very useful in the strange and magnificent future that stretched ahead.
matiah, on his part, had no such kindly intentions toward the king. he merely meant to make skamperoo's wish his own, and so grand and daring was the prospect that he grew more impatient than ever to discover the way to accomplish it. holding all three necklaces up to the light, he squinted at them anxiously. the chains seemed identical in every respect, but no--what was this? one had a diamond clasp, while the clasps on the other two were of flattened emeralds. this, then, was the solution. the magic wishing power undoubtedly rested in the diamond clasp. revealing in no way his satisfaction and elation over this important discovery, matiah handed the necklaces back to the king.
somehow, decided the merchant, he must make skamperoo touch the diamond clasp while he silently repeated the king's wish, but before that he needed a little time to prepare himself for the grand and glorious years that were to be his. as skamperoo, exhausted by so much thinking early in the morning, waddled wearily over to his throne, matiah strode to the book shelves located in an adjoining alcove.
"while your majesty rests i will have a look at this interesting library," he murmured ingratiatingly, "and at the same time store up some useful information for the future." skamperoo sleepily returned the merchant's broad wink, then, sinking back among his cushions, closed his eyes.
from his chair in the alcove, matiah could keep the king in view, and satisfied that skamperoo was really asleep, he began hurriedly turning over the pages of the large volume pinny penny had but that morning returned to the shelves. soon he became so absorbed he forgot all about the king. and that was a pity, for had he taken the trouble to look, he would have discovered that the king was no longer there.
now it is true that the king had closed his eyes as matiah settled himself in the alcove to read, but he was very far from asleep. in fact, no more than five minutes had been ticked away by the old-fashioned clock, in the corner before skamperoo straightened up as if suddenly struck by lightning. casting a cautious look at the quiet merchant, he began to slide rapidly toward the door. opening it without a sound, he slipped out into the corridor and, closing it just as softly, went puffing away to the quarters of the white wishing horse at the back of the courtyard. though usually unenterprising and dull, we must credit skamperoo with one brilliant idea. as chalk had been brought to skampavia by the magic emeralds, why should he not know the trick of using them? fairly panting with eagerness and impatience, skamperoo jerked open the door of the stable and stepped recklessly into chalk's stall.
"ah, the little kingaling!" whinnied chalk, tossing his mane gaily. for some reason or other he found his fat master tremendously amusing, and while he had an immediate desire to trample on matiah and frighten off the stable boys, he felt only an affectionate tolerance for the tubby little ruler of skampavia. "have you come for your ride?" he inquired, giving the king a playful poke with his soft nose.
"no, i've come to talk to you," wheezed skamperoo, seating himself carefully on an overturned water bucket. "quick, tell me all you know about these magic emeralds." touching his three necklaces with a trembling forefinger, the king looked imploringly into the face of his new and powerful steed.
"humph!" chalk shifted a mouthful of hay to his other cheek. "well, as to that, or rather them, all that i know is nothing. you forget that i only came into existence yesterday afternoon."
"of course, of course! i was the one who wished you here," explained the king impatiently.
"you wished me here?" mused chalk, staring meditatively at the comical figure on the water bucket. "well, i hardly know whether to thank you or to jump on you with all four feet. even without any experience at all, i can see that this is no place for me."
"you're right," sighed skamperoo, clasping his knees dejectedly. "it's no place for me, either. that is why i must know about the emeralds. they can satisfy our every wish, and if we just knew how to use them we could go away together."
"you think you could manage that!" sniffed chalk, who had his own opinion as to what would happen once the king mounted on his back.
"yes, together!" insisted skamperoo. "try to think," he begged earnestly. "you say you know nothing, then how did you know you came from oz and your name and all that?"
"that's right, how did i?" putting one ear forward and one ear backward, chalk swallowed his hay with a quick gulp. "there must be a lot of stuff in my head that i practically know nothing about," he reasoned thoughtfully. "suppose you tell me exactly what happened and then i'll tell you what i think of it." so, hunching forward, skamperoo recounted the whole story of the merchant and the necklaces, how he and matiah had retired to his private garden, how there, with the merchant wearing the emeralds, his first wish had been granted.
"and a splendid wish it was, too," sighed skamperoo, looking fondly up at his white horse. "never forget that you were my first wish, fellow."
"i'm hardly likely to forget myself," snickered chalk loftily, "but attend closely, old crown and scepter, when i dropped down into that garden yon whiskered merchant was running for the gate as if his life depended on it. he only stopped because he was afraid to pass me, and from the way he fell into those cactus bushes, i'll wager he was as astonished as you were that the emeralds had granted your wish." chalk wrinkled his forehead shrewdly. "i don't believe he knows any more about the necklaces than we do. if he did, he would never have sent you one in the first place, and he would have granted all of his own wishes and been in some splendid other place. matiah's a fraud!" finished the king's horse vehemently, "and means to steal back the emeralds."
"of course! of course! oh! oh! why didn't i think of that myself? what shall we do now?" wailed skamperoo, jumping up so quickly he overturned the bucket, for chalk's frankly spoken opinion confirmed his own suspicions of the merchant.
"sit down," advised the white horse, not unkindly. "i may not be a magician, but i have a little sense, and horse sense is what your majesty needs more than anything else." as skamperoo righted the bucket and meekly sat down again, chalk closed his eyes, standing silent and motionless for so long the king thought he had fallen into a trance. but just as he began to fidget nervously about on the uncomfortable edge of the bucket, the white horse opened his eyes and flashing a triumphant smile at skamperoo, began calling in a loud, lordly voice. "boy! boy! boy!"
while the king regarded him with mingled misgivings and admiration, chalk snapped out directions to the clumsy little groom who came running in answer to his summons. when his mane and tail had been thoroughly brushed and he was decked out once more in the splendid saddle and trappings he had worn on his first appearance in skampavia, he dismissed the groom with a haughty toss of his head.
"come!" he breathed mysteriously. "climb up, skamperoo, and we'll skamperoodle before that rascally merchant even misses us. have you decided upon the place we are to go?" he questioned curiously as the king made seven frantic attempts to put his foot in the golden stirrup. "heh! heh! heh! the other foot, master. how do you ever expect to mount that way? stand on the bucket, kingaling, catch hold of the saddle and pull. it's easy as oats once you get the hang of it."
"is it?" lying mournfully on his back where he had fallen after his last effort, skamperoo gazed mournfully upward and chalk himself began to champ, snort and switch his tail with irritation.
"you wished me on yourself and now it looks as if you would have to wish yourself on me," he muttered savagely. "here, give me those necklaces--hang them over my ear and let's have done with this shameful exhibition."
"you mean--if i wish myself upon your back i will really be there?" panted skamperoo, bouncing up like a rubber ball. "you mean you have discovered the secret of the emeralds?"
"certainly!" the white horse regarded him scornfully through half-closed eyes, and the king, all too willing to be convinced, unclasped his three necklaces and, standing on tip toe, hung them over chalk's right ear.
"i--i wish to be upon this creature's back," puffed skamperoo, his cheeks swelling out with suspense and importance. "one, two, three, four, five, six--" and scarcely had he begun to count before he found himself firmly seated in the saddle.
"now, now, not another word," commanded chalk sternly. "before you dare to speak, take those emeralds off my ear." with shaking hands the king did as he was told, his heart pounding so violently it almost kicked a hole in his shirt.
"that's right," directed the white horse more mildly. "now suppose you tell me where you intend to wish us and what we do after that? wishes are pretty quick, you know, and it is best to be prepared."
"but--but i cannot understand how you made them work," spluttered skamperoo. "it's wonderful--it's marvelous, do you understand what this means?"
"perfectly." chalk rolled his eyes triumphantly round at his greedy little master. "my head seems to be full of magic, which is not strange, seeing that i was magically brought into existence and the trick of the necklaces once i got to thinking about them is quite simple. now i am what i am--a horse, and quite satisfied, but you with these emeralds may easily make a jackass of yourself, so you had better tell me what you wish before you wish it. for instance," he went on reprovingly, "if instead of wishing yourself upon my back, you had wished yourself a good horseman, how much wiser that would have been. there's a lot more to riding than getting into the saddle, you know. but never mind that now, what was this great big wish you and matiah were planning together?" leaning so far forward he almost lost his balance, skamperoo hurriedly whispered into chalk's left ear his grand and glorious wish for the future, being careful to add to his own wish the three crafty suggestions made by the clever merchant.
"you are sure this is what you desire?" chalk looked sharply and a little sadly at the rotund and royal figure on his back. "you mean to go away and leave your own people without a thought or care? isn't there anyone here you would like to take along or give a share of your good fortune?" the king shook his head violently.
"i might make a wish for pinny penny," he added rather sheepishly.
"good idea," sniffed chalk. "what are you going to give old skinny pins? you know i rather like that old codger." without delay and a bit spitefully the king told him, and as this time chalk found no fault with the wish, skamperoo again placed the emeralds over chalk's ear and quickly spoke nine words. then, without waiting to see whether pinny penny got his wish, chalk again took command.
"if you do exactly as i say, we'll get off before matiah discovers you are gone and comes down here to slice off your head to get his necklaces," said the white horse severely. lowering his voice to a whisper, he slowly enunciated four brief sentences. tingling partly with fright and partly with anticipation, skamperoo repeated the four sentences after chalk and began his counting. but, stars! scarcely had he reached ten before he felt a great lift and lurch, had just time to snatch back his emeralds and seize the reins before he and the huge white wishing horse, without leaving even a rustle in the quiet air, had gone, vanished and completely disappeared from skampavia.
"why all the crown jewels, old toz?" resting his chin on the window ledge, highboy looked inquiringly into the dressing room of joe king, ruler of the gillikens and all of the purple countries of oz. the king's apartment was on the tenth floor of the royal palace, but this made no difference to highboy, for highboy was a giant horse whose telescope legs could be raised or lowered to any level, making him one of the most amazing and amusing animals in oz. "i say, are we going anywhere in particular?" he drawled curiously as the king, decked out in his best braided traveling coat and amethyst crown, surveyed himself cheerfully in the long mirror.
"we!" chuckled the merry monarch, turning round with a hearty roar. "ho, ho, ho! and how do you know you are going?"
"well, i see you are wearing your best purple boots, and when the king of all the gillikens wears his best purple boots, he usually rides his best purple horse, does he not?"
"right," admitted the king good naturedly. "and i might as well tell you at once that we are going to the capital at the express invitation of her imperial highness, queen ozma of oz!" the king cleared his throat importantly. "there is to be an immense festival to celebrate the discovery of oz by mortals, the honors to be equally divided between the famous wizard who arrived here in a balloon from omaha many years ago, and little dorothy, who came by way of a kansas cyclone somewhat later. not only will the rulers of all four oz kingdoms be present, but many other important and royal personages as well."
"well? well, indeed!" trumpeted the giant horse shrilly. "there you stand all shined up like a door knob and never a word to me. how'll i look? why wasn't i told before? when do we start?"
"just as soon as her majesty decides what to wear and what to take with her," answered the king with a solemn wink.
"oh, then i'll have bushels of time." highboy sighed heavily with relief. "so we're invited to the emerald city, eh? how perfectly perf, how simply magnif. billy! tommy! jim!!" as he called the name of each little groom, highboy let himself down a couple of stories and by the time he reached a usual horse height and level on the ground, he had ordered himself a bath, a mane wave, an oil shampoo, and a hooficure. indeed, highboy's plans for the party went on apace and with the three grooms pattering after him with buckets, brushes, and sponges, he trotted anxiously up and down his great airy stable picking out his most splendid saddle and bridle and silver-braided blanket for the journey. the giant horse wished to make an impression that would uphold if not enhance the honor and reputation of the gillikens. he was eager to renew his friendship with trot, a little mortal girl who lived in the palace and with herby, the medicine man, and the many other interesting characters he had met on a former visit to the capital.
in the munchkin, quadling, and winkie kingdoms there was also a lively bustle and stir of preparation, and in many of the lesser kingdoms the kings, queens, and potentates made ready for the great spring festival in the emerald city. and you can imagine the fun and excitement in the capital itself. everyone had some special part in the program, even the dogs and cats ran importantly about on countless errands like small messengers, their ears and tails quivering with interest and expectancy. after the visitors had been officially welcomed at the gates of the city, there was to be an imperial procession with bands, floats and favors for everybody. then there were to be games, races, and other exciting athletic events and a grand banquet in the royal palace. a magic lantern ball in ozma's garden would complete the festivities for the first day. for the second, pageants and tableaux depicting the important and historical events of ozian history had been arranged for the morning. notta bit more, a circus clown who had come to oz from philadelphia, was putting on an outdoor circus in the afternoon, helped by bob up, the orphan who had come with him, and all the famous animals in the emerald city. from the squeals, shouts, and hilarious chuckles issuing from the huge white tent set just beyond the city wall, it promised to be an unqualified success.
after the circus, ozma had planned a picnic supper on the banks of the winkie river, to be followed by demonstrations in magic by the wizard of oz and glinda, the good sorceress of the south, and last, but not least, a lavish display of fireworks sent especially for the grand occasion by happy toko, emperor of the silver isles. no wonder the children in the emerald city could think of nothing but the coming celebration. no wonder dorothy, trot, and bettsy bobbin, the little mortals who lived in the great palace and were princesses in their own right, were too busy to think of their titles or bother with their crowns. dorothy, the first of the three to reach the capital, was ozma's favorite companion, and dorothy was perhaps the busiest of all. not only had she planned all the tableaux and pageants, but had entire charge of decorating the palace and the emerald city as well. the scarecrow, whom dorothy had discovered on her earliest trip to oz, was her most willing and tireless assistant. this lively straw-stuffed gentleman had brains given him by the wizard and was in high favor and constant demand because of his natural cheerfulness and amiable disposition.
at the moment, he and dorothy were superintending the erection of a floral arch over the great jeweled gates of the city. this arch, grown and tended by the wizard, was so magically compounded that as each visitor rode through the gateway a ribbon-tied bouquet of fragrant spring flowers dropped lightly into his or her lap. dorothy and the scarecrow had tried it out to their complete delight and satisfaction, and now clasping their large bouquets, watched three energetic little gardeners tie up the last tendrils of the magic vine to the gaily painted arbor.
"you know," said dorothy, peering over the flower tops at the scarecrow, "i can hardly wait till tomorrow. to think we'll be seeing sir hokus and ojo and unk nunkie and urtha and prince tatters and all the others--"
"and they'll be seeing us, too, remember that," beamed the scarecrow, closing one cotton eye. "and now, if you think you can manage for a few minutes without me, i had better go and study up on my speech of welcome."
"oh--are you making the speech of welcome? how grand! how thrilling!" dorothy gazed admiringly up at her oldest friend in oz.
"yes, and i'm also making the speech awarding medals to the discoverers of our country," confided the scarecrow, thrusting out his chin and striking an attitude. "how will you feel when i pin that medal on your chest, my girl?"
"well," sighed dorothy, looking dreamily over her bouquet, "i couldn't feel any happier than i do now, but it certainly will be a great honor, scarecrow."
"a great honor! well, i should snickerty wicker. but what if i forget my speech right in the middle of a word!" the scarecrow pushed back his old blue hat and puckered up his forehead anxiously. "how will i feel with all those kings and queens staring right at me? really, i think ozma had better have someone else make the speeches."
"oh, go along with you," laughed dorothy, giving him a little push. "haven't you magic brains? you'll be a splendid speechmaker."
"do you think so? well, i'll do my best." somewhat reassured, the scarecrow patted dorothy on the shoulder and started off through the park. dorothy could tell from the way he flung his arms about that he was rehearsing, and with an amused little smile she hurried back to the palace to put the finishing touches to the decorations for ozma's throne room. half way there, she met the hungry tiger carrying a large basket in his teeth and followed by ten little kitchen boys, also bearing enormous baskets.
"good gracious, tige, what's this?" dorothy stared at the little procession in surprise. the hungry tiger and cowardly lion have lived in the emerald city almost as long as dorothy and though the tiger's appetite is tremendous and he is always threatening to eat a fat baby, he has never yet done it and is tame as dorothy's pet kitten eureka.
"oh, hadn't you heard?" the hungry tiger set down his basket and smoothed back his whiskers complacently. "i'm the head of the reception committee for all visiting animals and am on my way now to buy refreshments for the great banquet and picnic. and trust me," he gave dorothy a broad wink, "to do it right. just let me see that list, kapo." taking a long slip from the first kitchen boy, he began to drone off the names of the capital's famous four-footed citizens and then the list of visitors.
"of course, there must be meat for the cowardly lion and myself," mused the tiger, blinking his eyes sleepily. "then there's hank, bettsy bobbin's mule, and doubty, that dromedary you and sir hokus brought back from one of those strange journeys; and we mustn't forget peter's iffin, though he doesn't eat much. put down a box of violets and geraniums for the iffin, kapo, my lad. ozma's saw horse and the woozy being of wood don't care for food, but that fine pink pig pigasus eats enough for a dozen horses, and toto, your little dog, and billina must be taken care of too, and scrap's bear, grumpy."
"of course," agreed dorothy, leaning her elbow on the tiger's back so she could read the list over his shoulder. "but they all live here. who's coming from foreign parts, tiger?"
"well," confided the tiger, "you'll be glad to know our old friend the comfortable camel is making the trip with hokus, i mean the yellow knight, and marygolden, the princess he married, is riding a warhorse named stampedro. the king and queen of the gillikens will make the trip on the giant horse (quite a lot of horses, aren't there), and i hope highboy keeps his legs in bounds. it makes me nervous to see a creature one height one minute and another height the next. you knew the prince of pumperdink was bringing kabumpo, the elegant elephant?"
"don't you mean that kabumpo is bringing him?" put in dorothy mischievously, "and won't you be glad to see him again?"
"yes, i'll be glad enough to see him," murmured the tiger, "but feeding him is quite a big problem."
"well, you're just the one to do it," said dorothy, smoothing away the wrinkle between the tiger's pointed ears. "you have such a big appetite yourself, you'd know just how hungry an elephant would feel. i see you've got roger down, too."
"i'm pretty sure king ato will bring his read bird, so i'm ordering a dozen boxes of animal crackers for roger and a barrel of apples for snufferbux."
"i wonder if he'll dance for us." dorothy's eyes brightened, for she had taken a great fancy to the faithful bear with whom ojo had traveled all over oz. "he's bound to be jolly and full of fun."
"and hungry as a bear," sighed the tiger with a worried frown. "but that is easy compared to a dragon. king cheeriobed is bringing a dragon, and this dragon's on a diet of mustard and sulphur--think of that, my child, and say--i'd best get along or i'll never get my marketing done."
"and i must go, too," said dorothy, reminded of her many responsibilities. so, giving the tiger's ear an affectionate pull, she ran all the way back to the palace. in the throne room she found ozma and tik tok in a quiet conference.
"i've made tik tok master of ceremonies," said ozma, looking up with a smile of welcome, "because he never forgets what he's wound up to remember."
"and i'll be sure to keep him wound up," promised dorothy, patting the machine man on his copper shoulder. tik tok was another of dorothy's discoveries and had been manufactured by a magician to be a slave of the king of ev, but here he was, thanks to dorothy, enjoying a life of interest and ease in the capital. tik tok could talk, think, and move about as well as anyone when he was wound, and was much more reliable and tireless than a real person.
"i am to an-nounce the vis-i-tors as they en-ter the pal-ace and per-son-a-al-ly con-duct them to their roy-al quar-ters," tik tok told dorothy in his slow and precise manner. "oz-ma can de-pend on me ab-so-lute-ly and ev-e-ry thing will go like clock-work." with two stiff bows and ticking with importance, the metal man marched proudly from the room.
"like clock-work. ha, ha! did you hear that, and why not with a clock-work man in charge? oh, ozma, doesn't it all look grand and gorgeous?" clasping the little queen around her slender waist, dorothy gazed around the beautiful throne room. every window and doorway was garlanded with flowers, while hundreds of palms, ferns, and fluttering silk pennants gave it an unwonted look of pomp and ceremony. "let--me--see," mused dorothy, straightening the folds of a white satin curtain. "i'm to stand on your right, bettsy bobbin and trot on your left, and the patchwork girl is to hold your train at the grand reception. do you think you can trust her, ozma? she'll probably try to jump rope or wave it like a handkerchief."
"oh, scraps is pretty good, considering her giddy make up," observed ozma with a little smile, "and she would be so disappointed not to be with us. i'm sure i can trust her--at least for a little while."
"trust me? trust me? you disgust me," shouted a merry voice and scraps, who had been peeking through the curtains at the back of the room, took a long running slide, landing in an unladylike heap at the foot of the dais leading to the throne. scraps, made from an old crazy quilt and stuffed with cotton, had been brought to life by a magician to serve his wife, but the patch work girl had come to the emerald city with ojo and never returned to her creators, scorning the humble career of a maid servant. she was so gay and amusing ozma had allowed her to remain at the palace.
"must i go in training to hold a train?" she demanded, springing to her feet and striking so comical an attitude both dorothy and ozma had to laugh.
"of course not," said ozma kindly, "just be careful and do not do any gymnastics during the reception."
"oh, i'll be careful and so dignified i'll probably split a seam, but wait till you see the grand-aerial-balance-defying stunt i'm to put on for the big show," puffed scraps, snapping her button eyes boastfully. "i'm to walk the tight rope in notta's circus, so so long, girls, i must go and practice."
"well, even if she falls it won't matter," remarked dorothy with a slight shudder as the patch work girl jumped recklessly out of the window, and picking herself up set off for the circus grounds on the edge of the park.
"oh, ozma, with all the interesting people here already and with all the grand and exciting ones who are coming, i believe we'll have the best time we've ever had since oz was discovered."
"are you glad you discovered us?" giving her an affectionate squeeze, ozma linked her arm through dorothy's. "let's see how the wizard is getting on with his tricks for the picnic."
dorothy nodded eagerly, and hand in hand the two girls hurried across the corridor to the laboratory of the wonderful wizard of oz.
the first day of the grand celebration dawned clear and bright. the emerald city had never seemed more sparkling or fair. flags fluttered from every tower and turret of the palace; each house wore a garland of flowers and flaunted a dozen silken banners in the fresh spring breeze. the streets were alive with ozma's subjects suitably costumed for the big parade, and when, shortly after noon, the royal visitors began to arrive, the castle bells broke into a joyous tolling, the hundred bands struck up the oz national anthem and the magnificent and beautiful floats began to swing into line.
the scarecrow's address of welcome at the city gates had been greeted with wild enthusiasm and applause, and now, happy but somewhat breathless, the indefatigable straw man mounted on the saw horse was leading the illustrious guests into the city, where they were to join the royal procession and proceed in triumph to the west gardens of the park. what shouts and cheers went up from the happy throngs as that impressive company in their glittering coaches or riding their favorite steeds moved majestically through the emerald-studded streets of the capital. directly following the scarecrow, all in red and wearing her tallest ruby crown, was glinda the good sorceress of the south, her swan-drawn chariot seeming to float by itself. marching cheerfully after the ruler of the quadlings came nick chopper the nickel plated emperor of the winkies, polished to the highest degree but democratically afoot, marching in the center of his ten splendid uniformed winkie guards. a few steps behind the tin woodman, and prancing along in hardly restrained exuberance, was the giant horse, proudly bearing joe king and queen hyacinth, king and queen of the gillikens. and highboy not only carried his own head high, but he had elevated his sovereigns above everyone else in the procession so that none could miss the happily smiling rulers of the north.
a dazzling blue dragon had pulled the coach of king cheeriobed, queen orin and prince philador all the way from sapphire city, and an eye-filling sight was the royal family of the munchkins. kabumpo, the elegant elephant, resplendent in his jeweled robe, swayed haughtily along after cheeriobed's blue coach, waving his trunk in a dignified way to his friends in the crowd. in the canopied seat on his back rode prince pompadore and peg amy of pumperdink, easily the handsomest young couple in oz.
peering mischievously out the side of his gaily painted jinrikisha was the merry red jinn, himself, and no one could view the rotund little wizard of ev without feeling happier. jinnicky's body was a great red jar. he wore the lid for a hat and when he grew bored or sleepy he would simply retire into himself like a turtle. but now he did not feel at all like retiring and was showering ginger cookies right and left and simply beaming with interest and jollity. the king and queen of ragbad rolled briskly along in their shabby but comfortable open coach. with them were prince tatters, urtha, his flowery little princess, and grandpa, an old soldier with a wooden leg, who had gone through many wars and hardships for the sake of his country. but the shout that greeted the yellow knight was loudest and longest of all. the prince of corumbia had lived in the emerald city for many years as sir hokus of pokes, before he was disenchanted and became the young and charming husband of princess marygolden of corabia. sir hokus rode the comfortable camel, and camy, who had also spent part of his life in the capital, came in for his full share of the cheering. princess marygolden was mounted on stampedro, the knight's great stamping war horse, and stampedro was a sight to make any little boy's heart beat faster.
ato, king of the octagon isles, and samuel salt, a reformed pirate, now royal discoverer and explorer for the crown, traveled together in ato's octagon chariot drawn by eight prancing black horses with eight footmen in eight-sided hats on the high seat behind his merry little majesty. roger, the read bird, perched proudly on the king's shoulder, reading out the signs and street names as they bowled merrily over the gold paving stones, and chuckling to himself in eight different languages.
last, but by no means least, came the king and queen of seebania, the king's uncle, better known in the emerald city as unc nunkie, and the king's son ojo. the king and queen were seated sedately in the silver coach of seebania, but ojo and his pet bear snufferbux were proudly mounted on the back of roganda, queen of the unicorns. this handsome snow white beast, who had happened to be visiting ojo at the time, could not only send her horn darting out like a lance, but could blow it as well. the sound of its clear, bell-like notes made many a trumpeter in ozma's band turn round with surprise and envy. drawn up to meet her impressive visitors was ozma herself. the royal float of her imperial highness was formed like a sea shell. on an uncut emerald in the center sat the little ruler of all the ozians dressed in a shimmering white robe, wearing her flashing emerald crown and never in all the thousand years of her young life had this lovely young fairy looked more beautiful. also in white were her attendants, dorothy, bettsy, and trot, each wearing an emerald circlet and carrying a long wand draped with spring flowers.
as the scarecrow brought his bright cavalcade to a triumphant halt, ozma's float, drawn by the hungry tiger and the cowardly lion, swung into place at the head of the line. the other emerald city floats, first waiting for the royal equipages and mounts of the visitors to pass, swept after them in a burst of music and color. the wizard of oz had chosen a huge revolving green ball on which the nimble little necromancer ably kept his balance as he propelled himself along. after him came jack pumpkinhead, riding the iffin. herby, the medicine man, clinging precariously to the doubtful dromedary's hump, the pills and boxes in his medicine chest rattling like castanets, was another figure of interest. the float of notta bit more represented a circus ring, and the antics of the clown, pigasus, bob up, scraps, hank and grumpy, the patch work girl's bear, kept the onlookers in a gale of hilarity.
tik tok had rigged up a mechanical handcar, which he operated himself. benny, the live statue of a public benefactor, who had come to oz from boston, strode solidly along, an expression of pride and deep satisfaction on his well-carved features. beside benny marched the soldier with green whiskers, looking neither to the left or right, as became a man who represented in his own person the whole and entire army of oz. i have only mentioned the most outstanding of the emerald city paraders. besides these, there were countless marchers and hundreds of miniature castles, ships, huge make-believe sea serpents and dragons, and in a blaze of color and harmony they wound through the streets of the capital, ending up in the west gardens of the palace, where the boys and girls from professor wogglebug's athletic college distinguished themselves in a series of gymnastic displays and the scarecrow established an all-time record for pole vaulting.
by the time ozma had awarded the cups and trophies, the sun had begun to slip down behind the treetops, and in high spirits and with splendid appetites the royal party and the royal guests turned toward the castle. here tik tok, who had hurried on ahead, nobly discharged his duties as master of ceremonies. the cowardly lion did the honors for the four footed visitors, leading each to an airy shower-equipped stall in the royal stable, so they could rest and refresh themselves before the grand banquet. and how shall i do justice to that dazzling affair?
for the first time in its history the magnificent dining hall was filled to capacity. easily as large as a city park, there was just room for the two long, sparkling, flower-laden banquet tables, the first for ozma's courtiers and guests, the second for the palace pets and visiting animals. the scarecrow caused a roar of hilarity as the diners took their places by donning a pair of dark spectacles to prevent eye-strain from the flashing of so many jewels and crowns. with each course of the long delicious dinner ozma had a different king, queen, or celebrity at her side, and so cleverly had it all been arranged, each guest had the honor of sitting for a time beside the kingdom's little fairy ruler. soft music floated down from the balcony where the royal orchestra was concealed behind a bower of palms. the bright robes and jewels of the banqueters and the emerald and silver dinner service twinkled and sparkled in the magic glow of a thousand candles. the hundred footmen were swift and skillful, the speeches were short and merry, "and never," thought dorothy, looking around with a little thrill of satisfaction, "never has there been so grand and yet delightful a party!"
the hungry tiger had remembered the tastes and appetites of each of his guests, and not only were they served with the same dainties enjoyed by the two footed visitors, but every one had a special dish of his own. even the dragon seemed to enjoy immensely his matches and mustard, then called in a hoarse voice for three pails of hot coals, after which he blew a whole series of smoke rings and went comfortably to sleep.
dorothy and the wizard had with due modesty accepted their medals for their discovery of oz and the whole company on its feet for this impressive ceremony were suddenly startled by a shrill scream from the patch work girl.
"his beard! his beard! look at his beard!" yodeled scraps. (yes, i think "yodel" best describes the excited noise made by this irrepressible maiden.)
"his beard, i said, it's turning red!" at the word "beard" every eye turned to the soldier with green whiskers, for his beard was the longest and most celebrated in oz.
"why, so it is!" exclaimed dorothy in astonishment.
"red?" choked the solider, desperately clutching his famous whiskers. "oh! oh! my beautiful green beard--it's red as fire. oh! oh! how can i ever be the soldier with green whiskers if my beard stays red? who did this? wizard! wizard, are you playing a trick on me?"
"certainly not, soldier. i'd be the last person to tamper with your sacred beard. quiet, please! quiet! this is extremely odd and disturbing." jumping on his chair, the little wizard of oz looked anxiously around the room.
"do they hurt? are red whiskers painful?" asked scraps, while the royal guests, hardly knowing whether to laugh or sympathize, gazed curiously at the blazing beard of the army of oz.
"they--they hurt my feelings," blubbered the poor soldier, holding out his bristling whiskers in disgust. "i'll never get used to a red beard. never! never!"
"why not cut it off?" inquired prince pompadore, with some difficulty controlling his chuckles.
"what? cut off my beautiful whiskers? why, why, i'd rather lose my head," moaned the soldier with a horrified shudder. "how would i look? how would i fight? oh! oh! this is ridiculous!" burying his face in his napkin, ozma's distracted army rushed violently from the room.
"red-iculous, if you ask me," observed the scarecrow in his droll voice.
"no, no, it's magic!" muttered the wizard, stepping briskly down from his chair. "wait, i must consult my book of red magic and portents."
"and i'll go with you," offered jinnicky, rolling quickly out of his cushioned seat. "you know red magic is my specialty." so, arm in arm, the wizard of oz and the wizard of ev bustled away together.
"well, i can tell you what it means without consulting any books," said the scarecrow as ozma, looking rather troubled, again took her place and motioned for the others to do the same. "it is a warning," declared the scarecrow, raising his arm stiffly. "someone is coming to beard us in our den (pardon such an informal reference to your castle, my dear,)" he made an apologetic little bow to ozma and then continued seriously, "a danger from without threatens the kingdom of oz."
"who would dare threaten the sovereignty of our country?" demanded the yellow knight, brandishing his sword.
"what's up? what's up?" neighed highboy, elevating himself so suddenly he cracked his head against the ceiling.
"you should know, being so high," chuckled the scarecrow, who could not resist a joke even when he was most serious. "but calm yourself, my good horse, you are not in danger yet." danger! the short, ugly word dropped like a bomb into that gay and carefree assemblage. dorothy, with a little pang of dismay, saw the cowardly lion creeping under the table, and feeling in her pocket for her handkerchief drew out instead one of the wizard's wishing pills. he had given it to her so she could visit the corn ear palace of the scarecrow the following week and do it by simply wishing herself there instead of making the journey. dorothy fingered the pill thoughtfully for a minute or two, then with a sudden quick motion popped the small tablet into her mouth.
"whatever happens, help me to save ozma and oz," murmured dorothy, and swallowing the pill, she looked sharply around the room for further signs of warning or disaster.
at first, everything seemed as usual. then, turning to ask the tin woodman a question, dorothy was annoyed to discover that his chair was pushed back and he was nowhere in sight.
"oh, he's probably helping the wizard," decided dorothy, and had no sooner come to this comforting conclusion before she gave a second start of alarm. glinda, the good sorceress, was no longer in her seat at the foot of the table, and running her eye hurriedly down the glittering board, dorothy saw five more empty places. pressing a finger to her forehead, dorothy tried to remember who had been sitting in the five deserted chairs. surely joe king and queen hyacinth had been there between bettsy bobbin and trot, while prince philador, queen orin and king cheeriobed had been directly opposite.
"good gillikens!" gasped the little girl, jumping quickly to her feet. "the rulers of all four oz countries are gone and highboy's gone, too." and strangely enough, nobody seemed to have missed them. instead, they were listening with broad smiles and appreciatively tapping toes to the loud and hilarious singing of the patch work girl. scraps, thinking it a shame to let a mere change of whiskers spoil a good party, was enlivening the company with her newest and most comical rhymes. so loud was her voice and the applause of the banqueters, dorothy found it impossible to make herself heard, so, running around to the back of the scarecrow's chair, she tugged him anxiously by the arm. "scarecrow! scarecrow!" whispered dorothy hoarsely, "where are the four rulers of oz, and whatever can be keeping the wizard so long?" tearing his gaze reluctantly from the patch work girl, the scarecrow looked dreamily over his shoulder.
"what wizard?" he inquired blankly.
"the wizard, our wizard, the wonderful wizard of oz." dorothy stamped her foot and almost shouted with surprise and vexation.
"never heard of him," declared the scarecrow, smiling blandly down at her. "now, why not sit quietly down and listen to scraps? she's never been funnier. ha! ha! ha! never funnier!" dorothy was so stunned and dumbfounded by the scarecrow's statement about the wizard, she opened and closed her mouth several times without saying anything.
"mercy, i'd better tell ozma about this," she thought distractedly, and swinging round abruptly she scurried along back of the diners till she came to the head of the table. "oh, ozma!" panted the little girl breathlessly--then stopped short. there was no one in ozma's great dragon armed chair of state. the yellow knight and prince pompadore, who for the last course were in the seats of honor beside the little queen, leaned unconcernedly across her empty place, engaged in a long, earnest argument about horses. they looked up in surprise as dorothy, her crown by this time very much on the side, bounced suddenly between them. "where's ozma?" demanded the little girl, thumping her fist sharply on the table.
"ozma?" the yellow knight and prince pompa exchanged an uneasy glance. "who is ozma?" asked prince pompadore curiously.
"oh! oh, i think you all are perfectly horrid. stop joking! stop teasing me!" cried dorothy, and as both princes in frank amazement jumped up to try to comfort her, she rushed angrily from the room. as she fled along the green corridor she could still hear scraps singing and the shouts and cheers of her listeners. "this is terrible--terrible!" wailed dorothy, and running blindly down the long hall she burst through the swinging doors of the wizard's laboratory. what she had expected to find dorothy hardly knew. really, she was hoping to see ozma and the four other rulers grouped around the wizard's green table. but only a blank suffocating silence answered her frantic call for the wizard. frightened into silence herself, dorothy tiptoed from one end to the other of the long, curiously appointed apartment, peering into cupboards, under sofas and back of screens. where was the red jinn? where was the little wizard of oz? not here certainly. not in the banquet hall. but the throne room! there she would find all of her missing friends conferring with ozma over the threatened danger to the realm. with a little gasp of relief, she darted across the corridor into the vast and magnificent hall of justice where ozma received visitors, settled disputes, and carried on all the important business of governing.
they were not in the sumptuous presence chamber, but at least the throne was not empty. no--no, indeed! dorothy looked once, rubbed her eyes--looked again, and then, giving a shrill scream of terror, flung both arms round one of the emerald studded pillars. an immense white horse was sitting on the throne of oz. a great fat king was sitting on the horse, or rather, clinging desperately to his neck. dorothy knew he was a king by the crown perched ridiculously on the side of his head. that crown seemed oddly familiar, and after another horrified glance dorothy screamed again, for it was the splendid emerald circlet belonging to ozma of oz.
her screams seemed to rouse the two occupants of the throne, who, to be perfectly frank, looked as dazed and stupefied as dorothy herself.
"go away!" sputtered the fat king, waving his arms irritably. "go away, little girl, and don't bother me."
"and kindly bow as you leave," directed the white horse, lifting one foot sternly. "you are looking at the emperor of oz and his imperial charger." bowing more from astonishment than intention, dorothy backed a few steps, then turned round and ran madly toward the royal banquet hall.
"here, give her water! give her air! stand back, everybody. now, then, what's the matter, child?" the scarecrow bent solicitously over the little girl who had rushed into the banquet hall screaming hysterically about disappearances and white horses and fallen breathlessly into the chair beside him. "come, tell uncle all about it," begged the scarecrow, patting dorothy clumsily on the head.
"tell you!" choked poor dorothy, twisting her best handkerchief into a hard knot. "do i have to tell you? can't you see for yourselves that ozma is missing, that the wizard and jinnicky are gone, that glinda and the tin woodman, that the king and queen of the gillikens and the king and queen of the munchkins have vanished entirely! and yet, here you sit, singing and laughing as if nothing at all had happened. can't you understand that something dreadful has happened to ozma and that a big, fat, funny-looking man and a white horse are sitting on the throne of oz?"
"ozma, ozma--who's she?" murmured the banqueters, looking vaguely at dorothy and then at each other.
"she's feverish, that's what." herby, the medicine man, leaned over to touch dorothy expertly on the forehead. "i'd advise you to go upstairs and lie down, my dear."
"yes, why don't you?" urged bettsy bobbin, coming over to put her arm around dorothy's waist. "i'll go up with you and lend you my very best smelling salts."
"lie down--with that big fat interloper on the throne of oz!" wailed dorothy. squirming out of bettsy's embrace, she started indignantly to her feet. "you must be crazy! camy! kabumpo! snufferbux! toto! you--you'll believe me, won't you?" hurrying over to the second table, dorothy looked pleadingly down the long board from the hungry tiger at the head to the cowardly lion at the foot.
"there, there," mumbled kabumpo, lifting dorothy up in his trunk. "don't go on so, my dear, we all have these little funny spells. here, sit up on my back so you'll have a good view of the emperor when he arrives. hi--there he comes now! ray! ray! way for skamperoo, emperor of oz!" waving dorothy in his trunk as if she had been a flag, kabumpo plopped down on his knees and banged his big head three times on the polished floor. from her precarious position dorothy saw the same fat imposter who had been in the throne room riding his white charger pompously into the banquet hall, the horse nodding to the left and right and grinning like a cheshire cat.
cheers, bows and a loud burst of applause and music made his entry so noisy dorothy's angry protests and cries were entirely drowned out. disgusted, confused and completely bewildered by the behavior of ozma's subjects and her own best friends, dorothy jerked away from kabumpo and darted through a long french window into the garden. what could it mean? what could have happened? had all her former memories of oz been a dream? no, no! violently dorothy decided against such an idea. rather was this fat emperor a dream--a maddening nightmare from which she would presently awaken. leaning dizzily against a golden faun set near a crystal garden pool, dorothy tried to find some reasonable explanation of the whole dreadful mixup. and here, several minutes later, pigasus, the winged pig, found her.
"thought a little fly over the tree tops might help your head," grunted pigasus, looking unhappily down his pink snout. "nothing like a little fly for a headache, my girl!"
"my head's all right," answered dorothy sullenly. "it's the rest of you who have lost your heads or your senses. how in oz you could stand in there cheering that big, fat fraud, i'll never, never understand. piggins, piggins, dear--" dorothy bent coaxingly over him--"surely you remember ozma and the wizard and glinda." instead of answering at once, pigasus stared thoughtfully at his reflection in the pool.
"suppose you sit on my back and then we can talk without being heard," he suggested brightly. "up in the air we can air our views in safety, as it were."
"to tell the truth, i don't much care where i go now," sighed dorothy, seating herself disconsolately on the pig's broad back.
"hey hey, we're bewitched and enchanted, i knew it! with you on my back, i can think and see through it!"
squealed pigasus, and flapping his huge wings he soared high over the flowering plum trees in ozma's garden.
"of course ozma's queen, not this big skamperoo the ruler of oz and the whole royal crew have been kidnapped--bewitched, or put out of the way-- we'll fly off for help and we'll start right away."
"oh, piggins!" dorothy threw both arms round the pig's neck and almost wept for joy:
"oh pigasus to think you remember them, too, but where have they gone? what in oz shall we do?"
"we'll find them, wherever they are they'll be found, but we'd best make our plans with our feet on the ground,"
muttered pigasus, looking below for a likely spot to land. there was one disadvantage about pigasus, though some did not regard it as such. like the winged horse pegasus, whoever caught him and rode on his back at once became a poet and unable to speak anything but rhymes. the poetic pig could not only tell what they were thinking, but he often spoke his own mind in verse as well. at times this grew terribly tiresome, but except for his jingles, a more cheerful loyal little fellow could not be found in the length or breadth of the country. raised and bred by the red jinn, he had been given to the duke of dork. the duke had given him to the philadelphia boy, peter, who in the course of a voyage with samuel salt, the pirate, had captured the duke's splendid castle boat. the capture had been quite a social and friendly affair and the duke had traded pigasus for a bananny goat. peter had later brought the flying pig to the emerald city, where he was petted and admired by the whole court.
now, slanting down into a quiet grove, pigasus came to a gentle stop and dorothy tumbled jubilantly off his back.
"oh, pigasus, isn't it lucky you were in the emerald city? nobody else can remember ozma or the others at all."
"and i only remembered them because you sat on my back," confessed the pig, twitching his nose thoughtfully. "it was my thought-reading gift that did the trick, and i am more than ever convinced that we are under some mischievous spell or enchantment. what i don't understand, my dear, is how you yourself escaped or chanced to remember things as they were. you know, before i came out here, it seemed perfectly right and natural for that roly poly pudding of an emperor to be sitting at the head of the table. i knew no more about ozma, or glinda, or my former master jinnicky than a new-born baby. by the way, jinnicky's gone too, isn't he?"
"yes," dorothy shook her head sorrowfully, "and without him or the wizard to help we'll have a hard time, i guess. what shall we do first, piggins?"
"how about having a try at some of the wizard's magic?" proposed the pink pig, daringly, "then we might look in ozma's magic picture and ask it to show us where all of our missing friends are now."
"now, why didn't i think of that myself?" cried dorothy, and springing up she started off on a run.
"wait! wait!" grunted pigasus, pattering breathlessly after her. "remember, we must be very careful, my dear. no questions about ozma, no remarks that will arouse the anger of this scalawag emperor, or we'll both be clapped in a dungeon. we must pretend that we have forgotten, too, and get away quietly later tonight."
this seemed so sensible a plan, dorothy readily agreed to it, and without attracting any attention at all they re-entered the palace and hurried immediately to ozma's small sitting room. but if they expected the magic picture to solve their problem they were soon doomed to disappointment. the picture was gone from its accustomed place and the safe where ozma kept her magic treasures and other valuables was wide open and quite empty. a quick search of the wizard's laboratory proved equally discouraging. the wizard's famous black bag was nowhere in sight, the little hanging closet where he stored his transformation powders and wishing pills was bare as the cupboard of old mother hubbard.
"whoever planned this thought of everything," wheezed pigasus, sitting heavily back on his haunches. "there is nothing here for us, dorothy. if i were you, i'd get a few things together and we'll leave right away before anyone misses you." from the cheers, shouts, and hilarious singing coming from the banquet hall it seemed probable that the celebration would go on for hours. no one in that gay and foolish company even thought of or missed the little girl and the pink pig stealing so quietly through the dim halls of the palace.
"ozma's palace," reflected dorothy, looking resentfully over her shoulder; but now it seemed strange, alien and completely unfriendly. with a little shiver dorothy drew her cloak more closely about her and stepped resolutely out into the night. pigasus pattered on ahead, snorting a bit from sheer nervousness.
"maybe we'd better fly," he grunted uneasily as dorothy caught up with him. "it's safer and it's faster, and the faster we get away from here the better, i'm thinking."
"i've been thinking, too," answered dorothy in a low voice, "perhaps only the people in the emerald city are under this forgetting spell, pigasus; perhaps if we fly to the winkie country, the winkies will remember their emperor, the tin woodman, and will help us raise an army so we can come back, conquer this old skamperoo, and make him tell where he has hidden all the proper rulers of oz and the other celebrities."
"that's the talk! that's the talk!" approved the pig, twinkling his little blue eyes joyfully. "up with you, up with you, my girl, but remember, if you grow sleepy, let me know at once, so i can descend. if you fall asleep, you might fall off my back, and think how i'd feel then."
"think how i'd feel!" laughed dorothy, her spirits lifting a bit at the pink pig's comical conversation and enthusiastic seconding of her plans. seating herself carefully on his plump back, she quickly gave the signal to start. then up soared pigasus, over the palace garden, over the city walls and away toward the east and the yellow lands of the winkies.
"oh, i believe everything is going to be all right," thought dorothy, settling herself cozily between his wings.
"so do i," sniffed the pink pig, peering mischievously over his shoulder.
"i forgot you could read all the thoughts, goodness gracious! of those on your back, do you mind it pigasus?"
"not when they're nice thoughts like yours," puffed the little pig in answer to dorothy's surprised rhyme, and winking his eye jovially he zoomed like a small pink zeppelin through the sky.
for several hours pigasus flew without slackening his pace. then, as several suspicious little yawns and sighs floated past his keen upstanding ears, he solemnly slanted downward. if he had chosen it on purpose he could not have found a more comfortable place for dorothy to spend the night. they had already crossed the border and penetrated far into the land of the winkies, and were now landing in the quiet garden of a prosperous winkie farmer. set in the center of a dancing bed of yellow daffodils and tulips stood a small summer house, and with dorothy rubbing her eyes sleepily, pigasus trotted briskly into the rustic cottage. the door was invitingly open and the moon lit up its cozy one-roomed interior. snorting with satisfaction, pigasus pattered over to a broad couch piled high with yellow cushions and, rolling drowsily from his back, dorothy burrowed contentedly into the center of them, falling asleep before the pig reached his own bed, a soft woolly rug on the hearth.
pigasus slept lightly but well, and waking around six began to gaze rather anxiously at the round yellow farm buildings just visible from the door. the pink pig had had several unfortunate experiences with farmers. they had a way of looking at his plump body that seemed to reduce him at once to slices of bacon and sides of ham. one enterprising fellow had actually caught him and shut him up in an untidy pen. from this foolish prison pigasus had escaped by spreading his wings and flying away, but the mere mention of farmer gave him the shivers. so now, moving impatiently about the little room, he waited for dorothy to awaken, and as she continued to slumber on, he flew up over the mantel and swept a large yellow jug to the floor with his wing. the crash of the falling jar aroused dorothy at once, and without stopping to explain, pigasus suggested that they start off, and dorothy, not even noticing the broken jug, readily consented.
"we'll probably find a much better place to have breakfast as we fly along," murmured pigasus as dorothy seated herself between his wings, holding her small basket of supplies in her lap.
"would it do any harm to stop at the farm and enquire about ozma and spread the alarm?"
asked dorothy, who had rather counted on a cheerful breakfast at the farm house.
"no, it wouldn't do any harm," answered pigasus, rising in a straight line from the tulip bed and winging rapidly over the yellow fields and fences, "but neither would it do any good. farmers never know what's happening or going to happen. i tell you, though, we'll ask the first person we meet."
"who would we meet in the air but a bird? now really pigasus, that's simply absurd."
"some of the smartest people i know are birds," insisted the pig stoutly. "take roger, for instance, he knows more than most of us have forgotten. but look! a brook, a quiet wood! stop! listen! look! for i crave food!" making a swift downward curve, pigasus landed cleverly by a rippling stream edged by some tall butternut trees. there were yellow raspberries along the bank and the berries, with some of the sandwiches dorothy had brought with her, washed down by cool water from the brook made a splendid breakfast.
"i wonder whether they'll have the tableaux and pageant without me," sighed dorothy, biting slowly into a sardine sandwich, "and how'll they manage the circus without you, piggins, or the picnic supper without ozma, or the magic and fireworks without the wizard."
"they've probably forgotten all about today's doings," mumbled pigasus, nosing busily among the leaves for ripe butternuts. "they'll probably spend the time bumping their noses on the floor when that fat emperor comes waddling through the palace, and bending the right knee every time his white horse sneezes or coughs. pah!" choking with indignation, pigasus began gobbling up so many butternuts, dorothy feared he would never be able to fly or walk again.
"let's stay on the ground for awhile," she proposed, eyeing him rather nervously as she packed the remaining sandwiches neatly back in the basket. "i believe there's a path beyond those trees. maybe it leads to a town or village where we may meet someone who can tell us what we want to know."
"you don't expect to find out where ozma and the others are hidden--straight off, do you?" rubbing his back lazily against one of the butternut trees, pigasus looked quizzically at his earnest little companion.
"no, i don't really expect that," said dorothy, slipping the basket over her arm, "but it would be pretty nice if we met somebody who even remembered them, after all we've been through."
"i can hardly remember them myself unless you are sitting on my back," admitted the pink pig, trotting soberly along at her side. "this emperor's magic must be strong medicine. hello! here comes a fisherman." pigasus pricked up both ears and his wings. "shall i question him or will you?"
without bothering to answer, dorothy ran eagerly toward the tall winkie who was coming leisurely along the path. he carried a basket and had a fishing rod over his shoulder, and though his clothes were rough, dorothy could tell by his manner and bearing that he was a person of some importance.
"oh, please, mr. winkie," cried the little girl as he nodded politely and would have passed them without stopping, "could you tell us who is king here?"
"king?" answered the fisherman, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking kindly down at his small questioner. "why, no one in particular, my dear, but of course, we winkies and the inhabitants of the three other countries of oz are governed from the capital by emperor skamperoo, a great fellow, our emp, and have you seen his white horse?"
"yes, i've seen it," said dorothy, shutting her mouth rather grimly.
"but i thought ozma was queen?" wheezed pigasus out of breath from running after dorothy and too many butternuts.
"ozma? what a curious name," mused the fisherman, looking pensively at the winged pig. "what gave you the idea that ozma was our ruler? perhaps you are strangers here?"
"well, it would seem so," puffed pigasus, sitting down and panting a little from sheer discouragement.
"oh, you'll get used to us," laughed the fisherman with a breezy wave. "fine country, this; sorry i can't show you 'round, but as i've promised my wife some fish for dinner, i'll have to be moving along. good day to you. good day, little girl!"
"good day," echoed dorothy in a rather flat voice, as the fisherman, lifting his hat, strode briskly into the wood. "you see!" she groaned. "even here everyone is bewitched. oh, piggins, what'll we do? no one in oz will help or believe us."
"goose-tea and turnips! what if they don't!" pigasus shook his head impatiently. "there are other countries, aren't there? take ev, for instance, or rinkitink, or the rose kingdom. why, there are lots of places whose rulers will remember ozma, my poor old friend jinnicky and the others. come along, my girl, we've only just started.
"while people roar for the emperor we'll seek our rightful ruler from coast to coast from door to door though foes grow cruel and crueller!
"what we need is some magic," finished pigasus shrewdly. "know a good place to look for some?"
"the gnome king has plenty of magic," reflected dorothy, leaning thoughtfully against a tree, "and ozma and i really helped put him on the throne, so surely he'll help us."
"well, maybe, but i don't set great store by gnomes. they're tricky, nevertheless we'll go to ev and everywhere else till we restore this country to its proper rulers." pigasus looked so impressive with his chest and cheeks puffed out with purpose, dorothy gave him a quick hug. "down with the emperor!" snorted pigasus, though almost suffocated by dorothy's embrace. "and up with you, my patriotic young princess."
"now you make me feel like a real one. i'd almost forgotten i was a princess," smiled dorothy, climbing obediently on his back. "i believe everything will be better from now on."
"well, it could be a lot worse," chuckled pigasus, and flapping his wings in a business-like manner, he rose gracefully into the air and headed for the east. rolling hills dotted with castles, villages and towns, valleys, farm lands and forests flashed in an ever-changing pleasant panorama below. at noon they came down beside the winkie river, finished up the rest of the sandwiches for lunch, and then looked eagerly around for someone else to question. but the yellow-bearded ferryman who presently came into sight poling his old-fashioned raft across the turbulent river knew no more of ozma and the other rulers of oz than the fisherman. but he told them many long and boring stories of skamperoo and his white horse chalk. dorothy and pigasus had to make such an effort to listen politely they were relieved when he finally shoved off and began poling himself back to the other side.
"have you any idea how far we've come?" asked pigasus, rolling over and over in the cool grass as dorothy made a face at the ferryman's back.
"yes," said dorothy, dropping full length beside him. "this river is in about the center of the winkie kingdom, so we are easily half way. we could reach the deadly desert by night, fly over tomorrow morning, and either go north to ev or stop at the underground castle of the gnome king. even if kalico won't lend us his army, he might lend us some magic."
"speaking of armies, they must have whisked the soldier with the green whiskers off with the others. i don't remember seeing him after he left the banquet hall, do you? which just goes to show this skamperoo must be a stranger in oz, for who else would have been afraid of our precious old army? why, he wouldn't even tread on a caterpillar. by the way, has kalico any magic that might tell us where to look for our vanished friends and rulers?"
"i'm not sure of that," dorothy told him dubiously, "but he has a wizard, and ruggedo who was king before kalico had many magic treasures and powers. he could make floors and walls spin round and round, open yawning caverns at your feet or drop rocks down on your head without even moving."
"sounds lovely," sniffed pigasus, coming to his feet with a short grunt. "say, haven't we trouble enough at home without going to look for it? do you really propose to visit this tricky little metal monarch?"
"but kalico is not nearly so bad as ruggedo." dorothy sat up and smoothed her dress earnestly.
"well, just as you wish," pigasus shrugged his wings, "with me, people are like eggs, either good, or bad. there's no such thing as a nearly good egg, it's got to be completely good or it's just as bad as a bad egg. d'ye see? and if this gnome king is only as good as a nearly fresh egg, i wouldn't trust him with my second best tooth brush. my idea would be to go to the ruler of ev."
"that's evardo, a boy king. ozma helped him, too," dorothy explained importantly. "but i tell you, piggins, let's not decide till we cross the deadly desert. something might turn up before then. you never can tell."
"no," agreed the pig, shaking his head sagely. "in oz, you never can. suppose we continue a ways on foot? my wings are a bit stiff and we really should be on the lookout for a friendly house or castle where we could have supper and spend the night. i could eat a peck of spinach or a bushel of apples right now, so hop up, my dear, and i'll stretch a leg for the good of the coz and oz!" chattering away like the good fellow he was, pigasus trotted briskly across the fields and presently came to a deep rustling forest. "shall we fly over or walk through?" questioned the pig, sniffing appreciatively the cool air drifting out to them.
"let's go through it, in a wood there might be witches, some are good, a good witch with her magic powers could solve this mystery of ours!"
"but suppose we meet a bad one," muttered pigasus, stepping gingerly into the forest and picking his way with great care between the giant trees.
"then we'll say goodbye and simply fly," laughed dorothy, snapping her fingers joyfully.
"yes, but flying would not be so easy in here," objected pigasus with a troubled glance aloft, "these branches are interlocked so closely i'd stick in a tree like a kite."
"oh, we probably won't meet anyone," said dorothy. slipping off his back, she walked along beside him, one arm flung cozily around his neck. she was rather tired of making verses and thought she could think better if her head were not continually buzzing with rhymes. after the hot sunny meadows the cool shade of the forest was very welcome, but as they advanced farther and farther into the shadows, it grew so dark and grim the two began to look at each other in real alarm.
"must be a squall or thunder shower brewing," observed pigasus in a faint voice.
"yes, it couldn't be night time so soon," agreed dorothy, looking fearfully over her shoulder. the crackling of twigs as some large animal made its way through the brush sounded like gun fire, and while they were trying to make up their minds whether to run back or push forward, a long hollow roar sent them scittering forward practically as one. missing trees by mere inches, they pelted at breakneck speed into the dense and even gloomier stretch of woodland ahead.
"b-b-b-better climb on my back," directed pigasus, halting at last from lack of breath rather than inclination.
"but where are you? i can't even see you!" wailed dorothy, feeling about wildly.
"here, here," grunted the frantic pig, making short dashes in four or five directions and finally bumping violently into the groping little girl.
snatching at a wing, dorothy pulled herself thankfully up and clasped both arms round his neck. in a tense and breathless silence they waited for it to grow lighter. they could not see even an inch before their noses now, and the darkness and silence grew more oppressive and unbearable every minute.
"j--j-j-just a cloud passing over," croaked pigasus, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "j-j-j--j-j-j--say, what's that? dorothy, do you hear anything? f--f-footsteps--not four, two. someone's coming. hello, there. who are you? watch out now, we're here."
"i see you," answered a flat, matter-of-fact voice.
"oh! he sees us yet we can't see him, i'm frightened deaf and dumb, oh, try to fly, pigasus, why oh why'd we ever come?"
"that's what i'd like to know," went on the voice sternly. "now, then, will you come quietly or must i drag you along?"
dorothy and her companion were too stunned to answer, and in two thumping steps the owner of the voice was upon them.
"do you dare to defy a member of the invincible black watch?" breathed the stranger, grasping pigasus roughly by the right wing.
"no! no! we don't exactly defy you," squealed the pig, flapping his other wing frantically, "but how can we follow a blackguard whom we cannot even see?"
"then how do you know i am a blackguard?" demanded their captor suspiciously.
"from your voice," screamed pigasus, jerking this way and that way in an effort to free himself. "i'd know you for a blackguard anywhere. unhand me, you surly black monster."
"you talk a lot for a fellow who cannot see," scoffed the guard, tightening his grip on the pig's wing. "is the girl blind too?"
"we're not blind at all and why should we be, in this horrid black forest how could we see?"
cried dorothy, her indignation getting the better of her fright.
"well, what color are your eyes?" dorothy felt the hot breath of the guardsman on her neck as he leaned over to find out for himself. "blue!" he murmured in evident puzzlement. "and the pig's eyes are blue, too. so that's the reason."
"what has the color to do with it?" grunted pigasus, growing a little calmer as the conversation progressed without either of them coming to actual harm.
"everything," explained the guard impressively. "in the black forest one must have black eyes to see. see? even a pig should know that."
"well, i suppose i could run into a tree and black my eyes," sniffed pigasus bitterly. "but thank you, no. i prefer blue eyes and, now, if you will kindly conduct us to the edge of this deep, dark, dangerous and disgusting domain, we'll be delighted to go, leave, depart, and bid you farewell forever."
"oh, keep all that for gloma," drawled the guard indifferently. "i'm a plain man and prefer plain language. furthermore, no one leaves this forest unless they break the black laws. if you break the law you are cast out into the utter and awful light of eternal day. now, then, come along!" and giving the pig's wing a cruel tweak, he tramped doggedly forward. pigasus to save his precious feathers was obliged to come, suiting his gait to the guard's strides.
"the best thing for us to do is to break the law at once," he whispered mournfully to dorothy as he blinked about in a desperate effort to penetrate the gloom. dorothy was too depressed to answer, and after clearing his throat several times the blackguard began to question pigasus.
"why the wings?" he asked inquiringly. "i've seen many a farmyard creature in my day, but never a pig with wings. are you a pig or a kind of balony bird? what right has a pig to wings?"
"let go and i'll show you," puffed pigasus, hoping the fellow's curiosity would cause him to loosen his hold. but the guard only laughed at such an idea.
"let you go? i should say not," he exclaimed with a little chuckle. "you can show all your little tricks to gloma and she can decide whether to ride or roast you. this girl on your back will make a splendid slave."
"slave!" shrilled pigasus, stumbling angrily along in the dark. "i'll have you know that she is a princess of oz and lives in the palace of
"then why did she not stay there?" observed the guard reasonably enough. "anyone coming into this forest comes under the rule of gloma, witch of the black forest."
"witch?" coughed the pig, as dorothy, tightening her clutch on his neck, almost choked him.
"yes, witch," repeated the forester calmly. "now, then, hold up your heads, you pale and pinky skins, for you are in for a good blacking." and before pigasus knew just what was happening the ground slipped away from under him and he and dorothy were plunged into the rough chilly waters of a tumbling forest stream. striking out with all four feet, pigasus managed to breast the flood, when he felt himself and dorothy being forced completely under. as a matter of fact, the guard swimming beside him had simply put his hand on dorothy's head and pushed her and the squealing pig beneath the surface. as they rose, gasping and sputtering, he again seized pigasus by the wing and pulled him quickly to shore.
"there, now you're all right," he boomed heartily as dorothy rolled off the pig's back and began shaking the water from her eyes and hair and wringing out her dripping skirts. "just blot yourselves on the bank!"
"bl-blot ourselves?" gurgled pigasus, giving himself a violent shake. "do you take us for letters? you--you'll be sorry for this!" but right in the middle of his angry sputters he gave a loud and astonished squall. "dorothy, dorothy, i can see!" panted the pink pig exultantly.
"so can i," cried dorothy, running excitedly toward him. "but everything looks black--everything is black, even you. oh, oh! you're perfectly coal black, piggins, am i black too?"
"of course," answered the guard in a bored voice, "and much better so. since you are black yourselves, you can see in the dark like the rest of us, and what do you think of our forest now?" but dorothy, instead of telling him, held up her shiny black hands, touched a few strands of her perfectly black hair, and then dropping her head on the pig's shoulder began to weep bitterly. like drops of ink the tears coursed down her ebony cheeks, and though pigasus did what he could to comfort her, she continued to sob as if her heart would break.
"well, i must say i call this ungrateful," the guard shifted from one foot to the other. "what's the matter with you, anyway? black is a splendid color, doesn't show dirt, doesn't fade or streak. besides it's against the law to be any other color in this forest."
"how dare you blacken us against our will?" burst out pigasus furiously. "wait till i get loose, i'll--why, i'll tear you to pieces and pitch you into a tar barrel."
"oh, don't make me snort!" the huge black forester stared contemptuously down at the winged pig, and now that pigasus had a better look at him he saw the folly of his threats, for the black guard was well over six feet and lean and tough as black leather. evidently feeling he had wasted enough time on the pair, he gave them a very black look and, jerking the pig's wing roughly, started walking stolidly through the forest. never had dorothy felt so blue, or rather so black and blue--so wet, so discouraged, so thoroughly miserable! and when, sticking out her tongue to see if it was still pink she discovered that it, too, was black, she began sobbing softly to herself.
"no one will know us any more," she decided dejectedly. "we're as badly off now as ozma and the others. why, oh why, did we ever come into this terrible forest?" she could feel pigasus sniffing with sympathy, and suddenly realizing that she was not behaving very well, she straightened up. after all, she still was a princess, even though she was black. princesses did not cry even when they were captured and enchanted. ozma was probably in a worse fix than this, and if ozma was being brave, she would be brave, too. so, with a great effort, dorothy stifled her sobs and began to look around her. to her surprise and astonishment she discovered that the black forest was not dark and gloomy as it had seemed before, but really quite beautiful. there were many shades and degrees of blackness in the trees and flowers that thickly carpeted the ground.
black birds twittered musically in the branches overhead, and every now and then a deer peered timidly out at her from the woodsy depths between the tree trunks. the guard, glancing over his shoulder and catching her interested expression, ventured a smile.
"why, he is not bad looking at all," thought dorothy, with a pleased start. "and maybe this witch may be a good witch--her name sounds rather pretty." quite comforted by these reflections, dorothy whispered a few rhymed remarks in the pig's ear. pigasus, it must be confessed, was as interested in what he saw as dorothy, and when a sudden break between the trees revealed a great black circular wall with a hundred black flags floating from its many turrets, he gave an involuntary grunt of admiration.
"you are about to enter the royal circle of gloma, witch of the black forest," announced the guard, raising his hand solemnly. "i trust you will conduct yourselves in a fitting manner."
"don't worry about our manners," shrilled pigasus, tossing his head airily. "we are accustomed to royalty and move in exclusive circles at home."
"and talk in circles, too," muttered the guard impatiently. "well, well--do the best you can and bow three times as you approach the throne."
"throne?" queried dorothy, slipping off the pig's back so she would not have to talk in rhyme, for what she had to say to the black witch was very serious indeed. "is gloma a queen?"
"certainly our witch is a queen, a bewitching queen," retorted the guard, taking dorothy firmly by the hand and tightening his hold on pigasus. "now, then, smile and look pleasant and perhaps she'll allow you to be her slave."
"she wouldn't dare make me a slave," cried dorothy, trying her best to pull away from her captor.
"just let her try it!" blustered pigasus, scuffling unwillingly along on the other side. but paying no attention to their struggles, the guard lifted his foot and kicked three times on a black ebony door in the wall, and a tall watchman dressed in a black leather suit admitted them to the royal circle. it was all so different from what dorothy had been expecting she almost forgot her anger. enclosed by the black marble wall was a strange and enchanting garden. now, dorothy had never seen a black garden, nor dreamed one could be so beautiful. here sable willows mirrored their feathery branches in long shining pools, here black plum and cherry trees flaunted their fragile black blossoms, and jet black fountains sent their smoking waters high into the quiet air. vast satiny expanses of lawn were dotted with a hundred beds of dusky roses, tulips, velvety pansies and daffodils. built all round the circular wall was a low but sumptuous black castle, and seated on an ebony throne in the center of her stately black garden was the black queen herself, looking, dorothy was thankful to discover, much more like a queen than a witch. gloma's face was sweet and serious, her hair fine and glossy as a raven's wing. she was dressed in a trailing robe of black chiffon that billowed in lacy clouds round her feet. a sparkling crown of jet and long jet earrings were her only ornaments. on each side of the black queen crouched a sleek black leopard and behind the ebony throne stood ten tall foresters with gleaming axes. "like headsmen in a medieval history book," thought dorothy as she and pigasus were dragged rapidly forward. gloma, gazing dreamily into a black crystal set on a marble stand before the throne, seemed entirely unaware of their presence till the harsh voice of the black guard announced them.
"hail! black and imperial majesty!" called the guard deferentially, approaching the throne. "two prisoners, a pig and a princess, whom i found wandering unlawfully in our forest, and whom i took the liberty of blacking."
dorothy, jerking away from the guard, was about to explain how she and pigasus had lost their way, when gloma jumped to her feet with a sharp, agonized scream.
"blotz, general blotz, what have you done?" panted the black queen, beating her hands wildly together. "your stupidity has ruined us all! you have blackened and insulted my most dangerous and mortal enemy! go! leave! begone and never darken my doors again! oh, why--why did you do it? why have you brought her here? after all these years must i too be destroyed and obliterated?" sinking back on her throne, gloma covered her face with her hair and began rocking backward and forward in agitation and sorrow.
"why, why--i believe she's afraid of you!" puffed pigasus, twitching his tail with excitement and interest as general blotz, looking quite dazed, began to move unhappily toward the gate in the wall.
"quick!" he grunted as the ten foresters back of the throne rushed forward to surround them. "do something, dorothy, while she is still afraid of you. make her unblacken us. tell her to set us free. hurry! hurry, before she discovers you are only a harmless little girl." but dorothy, only half listening to the pig, boldly thrust aside the foresters and ran over to the black queen.
"why are you afraid of me?" asked dorothy, speaking rapidly but distinctly. "i did not come here on purpose. pigasus and i are lost and need your help."
"help?" shivered gloma, shrinking as far away from dorothy as possible. "why should i help you? are you not dorothy, the mortal girl who destroyed the powerful witches of the east and west?"
"but that was long ago," explained dorothy breathlessly as two of the queen's henchmen seized her roughly by the arms. "and they were bad and wicked witches. why should i wish to destroy a good and beautiful witch like you?"
"do not listen to her. do not let her touch you. she means to destroy and ensnare you," hissed the foresters as they dragged dorothy away from the throne. "down with all mortals! away to the dungeons with her! wing that pig! chop off their heads!" at these loud savage cries, startled faces appeared at the windows of the black palace, and struggling in the midst of the foresters dorothy heartily wished she had taken the pig's advice.
"shall we take off her head now or later?" puffed the fellow who had hold of her left arm.
"now!" roared the axman who had hold of her right.
"stop!" commanded the queen, rising suddenly. "you cannot harm this girl. do you not see the star of protection on her forehead?" at these words the woodsmen stared fearfully down at dorothy, and sure enough, shining in the center of her black forehead was a pure white star. pigasus, who had not noticed it before himself, gave a grunt of relief and began kicking out in every direction.
"how about the pig?" yelled a forester, leaning down to rub his shins. "shall we take off his head?"
"if you dare touch pigasus," screamed dorothy, resolved to use the powers she was supposed to have, "i'll turn you all to bats and beetles and horrid black ants." a breathless silence followed dorothy's threat. the foresters still kept their hold on the prisoner, but at as great a distance as they could manage.
"do as you wish, comrades," the tallest of the axmen solemnly broke the silence, "but i'm for letting them alone. i've never been an ant yet and don't intend to begin now. come--away to the dungeons with them. this is not for us to settle with axes, it is a case for witch work."
"you are right." the queen, who had been standing motionless as a statue, took a decisive step forward. "take them away, but not to the dungeons! take them to the dark room in my imperial palace. they shall see what happens to those who defy gloma, witch of the black forest."
"aye! aye! they shall see," muttered the foresters, pushing dorothy and pigasus roughly along ahead of them.
dorothy and pigasus were hustled into the black castle, rushed down its shiny black corridors and thrust into a great, dark, dome-shaped room, so quickly they had no opportunity to exchange a word.
"well, anyway, even if it is a dark room we can still see," whispered dorothy, as the foresters in their haste to get away from such dangerous prisoners fairly tumbled over each other to get through the door.
"yes," puffed pigasus glumly as the key rasped in the lock, "and the first thing i see is that there are no windows. if there was a window we could fly off. as it is, this witch will make short work of us."
"i wonder how much magic she really knows," sighed dorothy, seating herself wearily on a black velvet stool.
"i wonder!" said pigasus, flinging himself crossly on the floor beside her. "and what's all this stuff about your being her worst enemy? did you really destroy two witches, and could you destroy her?" although pigasus had lived in the emerald city for several years, he was not familiar with all of the history that had taken place before his arrival.
"oh, all that happened when i first came here," explained dorothy, clasping her knees with both hands. "you see, when the cyclone blew me from kansas to oz, my house fell on the wicked witch who ruled the munchkins and killed her. the munchkins, supposing i had done it on purpose, came out and thanked me and gave me the witch's silver shoes. then, when i reached the emerald city and begged the wizard, who was ruler of oz at that time, to send me back to kansas, he promised to do so if i killed the wicked witch who ruled the winkies."
"and did you?" asked pigasus, rolling over and looking up at dorothy with real admiration.
"well, that was sort of an accident, too," admitted the little girl honestly. "when the tin woodman, the scarecrow, and the cowardly lion and i reached the witch's yellow castle, the witch captured us all and made me work hard from morning till night. but one day," dorothy with an anxious eye on the door hurriedly continued, "one day when she tried to steal my silver shoes, i got so mad i picked up a bucket of water i'd been using for scrubbing and flung it right over her head."
"and did that destroy her?" pigasus demanded incredulously.
"yes," said dorothy, "it melted her down to nothing at all."
"but what about the star? i never noticed that before?"
"that's where the good witch of the north comes in," answered dorothy proudly. "right after my house fell on the wicked witch of the west, she appeared and when she discovered i was a mortal she kissed me on the forehead to keep me from harm all the time i was in oz. it only shows now because i'm black, i suppose."
"well, why didn't it keep you from turning black, if it's so wonderful?" pigasus switched his curly tail resentfully.
"i don't know," dorothy looked thoughtfully around gloma's strange laboratory, "maybe the spell has worn off, maybe there's no harm in being black."
"humph! there may not be any harm in it, but it's pretty sad and mournful, if you ask me," grunted pigasus, glaring savagely at his satiny black sides. "i prefer myself pink and you pink and white the way you were. tea and turnips, first thing i know you'll be powdering your nose with ashes and soot! but, after all--" pigasus swung himself energetically to his feet, "that is the least of our troubles. what do you suppose this witch will do to us now? and what can we do to her? sa--hay!" spreading his wings, pigasus spun round in a triumphant circle. "all we have to do is to find some water. why, it's simple as soup. quick, dorothy, look and see whether there is any water around here, then as soon as gloma pops her nose in the door we'll put her out as neatly as you did that other witch."
"but those other witches were bad and gloma seems really good and beautiful," objected dorothy, looking around without much enthusiasm.
"beautiful or not, she's a dark and dangerous lady," insisted the pig, beginning his search in a methodical way, "and it's her beauty or ours, remember, this black queen is quite determined to destroy us, if we don't destroy her first."
"yes, i suppose so," agreed dorothy. slowly following pigasus, she pulled aside black velvet curtains, peered behind cupboards and screens and looked under sofas and chairs. there were many ebony cabinets standing against the wall, but each one was securely locked and except for a great black crystal ball on a table in the center of the room, there seemed to be no magic apparatus at all. a dark lantern swinging from the domed ceiling cast its curious luminous black rays into every corner of the witch's laboratory. after circling the room three times, pigasus and dorothy were forced to admit there was no water of any kind or even a pail available.
"we'll have to think of something else," grumbled the pig, as dorothy again sat down on her stool.
"are you thinking?" he demanded sharply, as the little girl stared absently at the tips of her boots.
"no," confessed dorothy frankly, "i was just wondering why gloma calls this a dark room. she must know since general blotz ducked us under the black river we can see in here as well as in the forest."
"i wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered the pig, coming over and crowding as close to dorothy as he could. it almost seemed as if someone had heard him, for scarcely were the words out of his mouth before the dark lantern over their heads sputtered ominously and went out, leaving them in a perfectly pitch black total darkness.
"i--i--i felt something like this would happen," faltered pigasus, throwing his left wing protectingly around dorothy. "listen! someone is coming."
a light sure footstep sounded in the passage--came closer, then a sudden puff of air told them that someone had opened the door.
"remember, piggins dear, no matter what happens, we must be brave," whispered dorothy, trembling a little in spite of herself.
"it's hard to be brave in the dark, but i'll do my best. here, lean on me." and though the happenings of the next ten minutes were enough to try the courage of a dozen lions, pigasus kept his word and never uttered a sound. as the two prisoners clung desperately together the crystal on the center table received a sudden shattering blow.
up spurted a perfect fountain of fire coming down over dorothy and pigasus in a shower of red hot sparks. but the sparks fell harmlessly as raindrops on the winged pig and the little girl, and after a great hiss and sputter went out, leaving the laboratory in darkness again. scarcely had they recovered from this shock before a second blow was struck, and this time a hundred huge, hideous, black snakes came writhing out of the crystal, their green glittering eyes lighting up the room with a terrifying sulphurous light. the great twisting mass grew more and more menacing, sending out its long curving bodies like arms to encircle them. this, thought dorothy, burying her head in pigasus' wing, was black magic at its worst. now she could feel the clammy coils all around her and waited breathlessly to be crushed and broken. but the cold, heavy bodies seemed powerless and without weight and presently they, too, slipped away and vanished. a shower of silver arrows followed the snakes and a cloud of choking green smoke, the arrows. but each blow on the crystal only seemed to prove further the potency of the kiss set on dorothy's forehead so long ago by the good witch of the north. and because she clung so tightly to pigasus, he, too, came unharmed through the hair-raising ordeal. as they both, almost afraid to breathe, waited for the next blow on the dark crystal, a long, tremulous sigh came mournfully through the darkness.
"it is no use," murmured a discouraged voice, "my black magic is of no avail. come, then, destroy me if you must, but do it quickly, and i pray you will spare my people who have never harmed or hurt a living soul in oz."
with a little thrill, dorothy recognized the voice of the black queen, and as the dark lantern again shed its twinkling rays over the circular apartment, gloma rose and came calmly and rapidly toward them. dorothy and pigasus, who had just had their own bravery so severely tested, could not but admire the spirit and bravery of the witch of the black forest. even though she was sure she faced certain destruction, she walked proudly erect, her head flung back, her great mass of dusky hair billowing behind her.
"stop!" cried dorothy, on whom the queen's dark beauty had made a deep and lasting impression. "why should we wish to destroy you? we came through the yellow wood and from there into the black forest, but we only wished to go through as quickly as possible. we are in trouble ourselves. did you know that ozma of oz, the wizard of oz, the four rulers of oz, and many others have vanished? there is a false emperor on the throne in the emerald city and under the magic of his enchantment all the people have forgotten ozma ever was their queen. pigasus and i, escaping this enchantment, are trying to find ozma and someone to help us restore her to power." dorothy spoke with such earnestness and feeling, gloma could not help believing her.
"then--then you did not come here to destroy me at all?" she exclaimed with an unhappy and embarrassed glance at her two prisoners. "forgive me for using my magic powers, i only wanted to save myself and my foresters from obliteration."
"oh, that's all right." dorothy dismissed with a careless shrug the danger and discomfort of the last hour. "you thought we were going to destroy you, so, of course, you tried to destroy us first. that was fair enough and i don't blame you, but now that we understand each other better, perhaps you will help us? do you, yourself, remember ozma, and is your magic powerful enough to tell us where she is?"
seating herself in a chair near dorothy's footstool, gloma stared thoughtfully at the velvet carpet.
"i know or remember nothing of the present history of oz," she told them after a short silence. "at the time the wizard of oz ruled oz i ruled by royal right and inheritance the entire southern part of the winkie empire. although the wicked witch of the east claimed dominion over the whole country, she only succeeded in bringing the central and northern parts under her control. we in the south were free, but when word came that a mortal girl had destroyed both the witch of the east and the witch of the west, i, being a witch, naturally supposed i would be the next one to suffer destruction. so, calling together the strongest and most faithful of my subjects, i begged them to retire with me to a safe and hidden spot where we could live in safety and tranquillity far from the wars, dangers, and changing fortunes of the times. many of my southern winkies cast their lot with the new order, marching off to the north, but many came with me, and retiring to this hidden forest, we cut ourselves off from all intercourse with the other kingdoms of oz, living the free and happy life of foresters and enjoying all the beauty and benefits of outdoor sport and activity. of the rulers in oz since the wizard, i know nothing whatever."
"and were you always black?" inquired pigasus, peering inquisitively up into gloma's face, and wondering whether the two small black wings on each side of her forehead were as useful as his own.
"no," admitted the queen, smiling graciously down at her plump questioner. "that was part of our disappearing plan, in a dark forest we were so much less likely to be found or discovered, so with my knowledge of the black arts i turned myself and my subjects as black as you now see us."
"what a shame! what a pity!" dorothy jumped up and perched cozily on the arm of the black queen's chair. "if you had just come to the emerald city, we could have been friends all this while."
"why not begin now?" smiled the queen, putting her arm affectionately round dorothy's waist. "and you must not be sorry for us, for here we have been perfectly happy and content and i have grown so fond of my black forest and castle i would not change their lovely sable for all the other colors in the rainbow. but tell me quickly again all that has happened in oz and perhaps i can make amends for the shabby treatment you have received at our hands."
contritely the black queen leaned down to pat pigasus, and as dorothy sketched in most of the important happenings in oz since the reign of the wizard, the little pig pressed closely against her side. with many interested nods and exclamations gloma listened, and when dorothy described the great festival that had been planned to celebrate the discovery of oz by mortals, how ozma and all her most important visitors and advisers had vanished at the banquet, and a false emperor taken possession of the palace, the queen rose and walked solemnly over to the black crystal. but after a long look into its inky depths, gloma turned sadly away.
"my black magic cannot help you," she told them regretfully. "the rulers of oz and your other friends have been enchanted by green magic, and only by green magic can they be released and restored to power. but i can assist you in other ways," added the queen, noting the disappointed expressions on the faces of her two new friends. "one tap of my scepter will transport you to any country and here--" from a drawer in the ebony table the queen drew a small black round box--"in this container you will find a most powerful powder of darkness. one pinch of this powder tossed into the air will cause a black cloud a mile square to envelop and totally darken a city or country. while no one in this darkened area will be able to see you, it will be perfectly possible for you to see them as clearly as in the usual daylight. in case of danger it affords a safe way of escape from the enemy. to dispel the cloud you merely close the box."
"that ought to be just the thing to use if we ever get back to the emerald city," observed pigasus, scratching his left ear with his right hind paw. "why, we could swoop down on this emperor, bind him fast and tweak him by the nose before he even knew what was happening."
"why, so we could!" beamed dorothy, brightening up at once. "and now, though of course black is a perfectly beautiful color, could you change us back to the colors we were when we came?" dorothy spoke timidly, for she did not want to hurt gloma's feelings.
"as soon as you leave the forest you will resume your natural coloring," the witch assured them with a little smile. "and where, may i ask, were you planning to go first?"
"well," said dorothy slowly, "i thought perhaps the countries outside of oz might not be under this forgetting spell and that we might find in one of them a king who would lend us his army and help us to chase skamperoo out of the emerald city. could you transport us as far as ev, your majesty?"
"as easily as i could invite you to dinner," gloma assured them with an energetic little nod, "and i hope you will not only have dinner but rest yourselves before you start again on your dangerous journey."
"pigasus--pigasus, did you hear that? she can transport us all the way to ev! didn't i tell you we might find a good witch in this forest? now everything will be all right!"
"so glad we met and got acquainted, you're not so black as you are painted!"
chuckled pigasus, breaking into rhyme from sheer good humor and relief. "and did i hear your majesty invite us to dinner?"
"you certainly did," said gloma, and dropping them a little bow, she swept gaily through the door.
"d'ye suppose it will be a black dinner?" whispered pigasus, trotting briskly along beside dorothy. "i've heard of light repasts, but never of dark ones. but i don't care. i'm hungry enough to eat tar pudding with cinder sauce."
"sh--hh!" warned dorothy with a little laugh. "she'll hear you."
although the dinner in the black castle was as dark a repast as pigasus had predicted, never had he or dorothy dined more royally nor partaken of more delicate fare. the black bean soup was followed by a black fish course, then came the dark meat of some superbly cooked fowl, "probably cinder-roosters," as pigasus remarked in one of his humorous asides. the licorice was the most delicious of the vegetables, though the black asparagus and potatoes were appetizing, too. black bread was served with the black grape salad and plum cake with black frosting with the black ices and blackberryade. the members of gloma's household, now that their fear of dorothy had been explained away, proved so interesting and merry, the time simply flew. the black lace frocks of the women and children and the soft leather suits of the black foresters were simple but elegant, and the black queen herself, so lovely just to look at her gave one a curious thrill. general blotz, recalled from banishment by blackjack, the queen's pet jackdaw, proved a singer of no mean ability, and regaled the company with many famous black ballads and hunting songs. pigasus, too, contributed to the general fun and gaiety with some of his best songs and verses and ate so many slices of the black plum cake, dorothy began to feel positively uneasy.
interesting and delightful as it all was, the little girl could not help thinking of ozma and her other unfortunate and captive friends, and as the black banjo clock in the corner of the hall struck a musical ten, she lightly touched the arm of gloma. the black queen had graciously placed dorothy beside her.
"i think we had better go now," whispered dorothy earnestly. "if pigasus eats any more he'll fall asleep and we'll have to wait till morning." gloma smiled and nodded understandingly, then pressing dorothy's hand for "goodbye," stole quietly off to her workshop. dorothy tried to signal pigasus across the gleaming black table, but before she could catch his eye he had vanished, and she herself was whirling dizzily through space.
"maybe it would have been better to have spent the night in the castle," mused dorothy, spreading her arms like wings as she sailed through the air. "i don't suppose we'll be able to see in the dark now that we are out of the black forest, and goodness knows where we'll come down." there was no moon, and peer about as she would, dorothy could not even catch a glimpse of the flying pig. "of course," dorothy went on conversationally to herself, "we could have flown all this distance on piggin's back, but this is quicker and less trouble, but oh, dear, i do hope he's all right." her worry about the pink pig ended rather abruptly, for at that very moment she began to somersault over and over in a headlong drop to the ground. a painful grunt as she landed assured her of the pig's presence.
"what you trying to do? puncture me?" puffed pigasus, as dorothy with an embarrassed little gasp of apology rolled off his back. "such rudeness!" grunted her companion, scrambling to his feet with an angry snort. "flinging us out of her castle as if we'd been garbage. yes, garbage," he repeated, winking rapidly.
"it was my fault," cried dorothy, moving over to smooth out his ruffled wing feathers. "i asked her to transport us to ev, and oh, piggins!" by the light of a crooked lamp set in a crevice of the rocky path on which they found themselves dorothy regarded him rapturously. "you're pink again!"
"am i? well, that's something." waddling closer to the lamp, pigasus examined himself with careful attention. "you're pink, too," he said a little more pleasantly, "but these magic transportations are a bit sudden, if you ask me, and i'm not at all sure i like this spot. where are we, anyway?"
"oh, it's all right and now we don't have to travel at all. we're here," announced dorothy, who had hurried on a few steps ahead.
"and where is here?" grumbled pigasus, following pompously, more from too much plum cake than from a desire to be disagreeable.
"why, at kalico's mountain!" exclaimed dorothy, pointing excitedly to a small door in the rocky surface before them. "now we don't have to decide between the gnome king and the king of ev. since we are here, we'll try kalico first."
"trying him is all very well, but i hope he does not try any magic on us," yawned pigasus, squinting sleepily up at the brass sign hung on the stout wooden door. "what does it say there?" a green lantern hung over the door and by its flickering light dorothy read slowly:
"back door of the gnome king's underground castle. no dogs, babies or chickens allowed. no gold fish wanted. no peddlers or snailsmen need apply. keep out and stay out. this means you."
"oh, that's all right," laughed dorothy as pigasus looked rather alarmed at the sternly worded notice. "we're not babies or chickens or gold fish, and kalico's a friend of mine. come on!" lifting the knocker and smiling confidently, dorothy knocked three times on the gnome king's back door.
"what is it, shoofenwaller?" kalico, the thin and gray little king of the gnomes, peered impatiently down from the great carved gem-studded rock that served him for a throne. "shoo--go away--you know this is my hour for retiring! go away, i tell you! and if you never come back it will still be too soon."
"yes, but your majesty!" while obediently backing toward the door, the king's royal chamberlain extended his arms imploringly. "something has come up, the long eared hearer reports footsteps on the south mountain. two visitors are about to enter the back door of our castle."
"visitors!" exclaimed kalico, getting up with an impatient flounce. "at this hour! well, tell them to go away and come back tomorrow. here, wait a moment." as shoofenwaller, shrugging his narrow shoulders, turned to carry out his orders, kalico changed his mind. "just hand me my expectacles," commanded the king crossly, "i may as well have a look at the prowling pests."
with another shrug, shoofenwaller stepped to a small cabinet, and taking a pair of smoked glasses from the top drawer, handed them up to the king. now kalico's expectacles were very useful, enabling him to see who was coming before they arrived, and clapping them hurriedly on his thin nose, he stared intently off into space. at what he saw, the king's expression changed from irritation to vague uneasiness. "botheration!" he muttered morosely. "it's one of those mortals from the emerald city. why can't those girls stay home--always poking their noses into other people's affairs and trying to save somebody from something."
"which one is it?" asked shoofenwaller, blinking.
"it's dorothy," sighed kalico, taking off his expectacles and putting them absently into his pocket, "and there's a queer kind of winged pig with her. a pig with wings, mind you. rooks and rockets! wonder what they want?"
"why not find out?" suggested shoofenwaller reasonably.
"no! no, not tonight," kalico waved his hands determinedly. "just conduct them to the red guest cave, shoofenwaller, and bring them to me in the morning." with a stiff bow the royal chamberlain backed out the door and pattered away to admit the visitors.
"and about time, too," thought dorothy as the rock door opened cautiously and the little crooked gnome thrust out his head.
"in the name of king kalico the first, i hereby welcome you to gnome man's land," began shoofenwaller pompously.
"oh, that's all right," yawned pigasus wearily, "what we want is a place to sleep, and remember--no trickery!" he added sharply as the gnome stood aside so that they could enter the narrow rock passageway.
"i suppose your highness comes on a matter of state?" remarked shoofenwaller, turning from pigasus with an involuntary grimace. pigs reminded him of ham--ham reminded him of eggs, and eggs were immediate death and destruction to gnomes.
"well, yes," admitted dorothy, adjusting her step to the short, crooked legs of the king's little counselor. "what i really need is an army!"
"an army?" groaned shoofenwaller, realizing what bad news this would be for his master. "our army?"
"oh, let's talk about all that in the morning," wheezed pigasus as dorothy briskly nodded her head in answer to shoofenwaller's question. the pink pig was taking sleepy sidelong squints at the elegantly excavated and gem-encrusted corridors of the gnome king's underground dwelling.
"just what his majesty suggested," muttered the chamberlain, sweeping open a red iron door with a ruby knob. "i trust you will be comfortable here and rest well. if your highness wishes a cup of kalicocoa, or your friend a mud pie or pudding, just ring the bell. goodnight, princess! goodnight--er--er pig!"
"sa-hay--i resent that!" pigasus cocked his ears belligerently as the king's crooked little messenger bowed himself out the door. "did you notice the way he said 'pig,' dorothy?"
"yes," said dorothy with a little yawn, "i did, but then all gnomes are sassy and you'll have to get used to them. if kalico helps us, that's all we care about."
pigasus nodded rather grimly. "i suppose this is what you call getting down to bed rock," he murmured, looking around the red rock apartment with his amused blue stare. "hope the beds aren't rock, too." punching a red sofa experimentally and finding it surprisingly soft, the pink pig jumped up and settled himself cozily among the cushions. pigasus had lived in castles and palaces all his life and was so accustomed to comfort and luxury that without bothering to look around kalico's richly appointed guest cavern he closed his eyes and fell asleep. dorothy, tiptoeing through a curtain into an adjoining red rock cavern that served as a bedroom, undressed quickly and putting out the ruby lamps, slid thankfully between the red silk sheets and was soon as soundly asleep as pigasus.
they were just having breakfast, served by two small gnomen in their red sitting-cave, when shoofenwaller came hurrying in to announce that kalico was ready and waiting to see them. earlier the gnome king and his chamberlain had discussed the possible purposes of dorothy's visit and kalico had been extremely annoyed to learn that she wanted to borrow his army.
"and you will lend it to her, all our hundred thousand trained gnomen yoemen?" questioned shoofenwaller anxiously.
"what else can i do?" kalico snapped his little gray eyes unhappily. "remember it was dorothy who stole the former gnome king's magic belt and really was the means of my becoming king."
"that's so," muttered shoofenwaller, pulling his ear reflectively. "but why not use a little strategy in this conference, king? why not pretend to help her and at the same time safeguard your own interests? lending our army is a dangerous experiment. suppose an enemy threatened us while our fighting forces were in the emerald city? anything could happen. put her off--make excuses," urged shoofenwaller craftily. this suggestion fell in exactly with the gnome king's wishes, and curious to know what really had brought dorothy to his castle, he sent his little chamberlain hurrying off to bring her to the throne room.
"and now for a little kalicoaxing," sniffed pigasus, waddling unconcernedly along beside dorothy under magnificent arches, over artificial terraces and rock gardens, gazing down long vistas of yet unmined shafts where hundreds of gnomes worked busily with picks and shovels to further enrich the already enormously rich and powerful little metal monarch. kalico, as they entered the beautifully furnished and lavishly carved cave that he used for a throne room, came hurrying to meet them.
"so charming of you to come all this way just to see me," murmured the gnome king, taking both of dorothy's hands in his own and bowing graciously as she introduced pigasus. "always delighted to entertain a princess from the court of her royal highness, ozma of oz!"
"oh, kalico--then you do remember her! oh, please, dear kalico, will you help us to find her?"
"find her? why, what under the earth do you mean? is ozma lost?" kalico's long face at dorothy's excited greeting grew visibly longer, and after the little girl had explained the disappearance of ozma and the others, the enchantment of all the people in oz, and the coming of skamperoo to the emerald city, kalico climbed wearily back on his throne and sat down.
"this--this is shocking!" faltered kalico, mopping his forehead with a long gray cobweb, "and just what do you and this--this--pig intend to do about it?"
"what do you intend to do about it?" rather tired of being called a pig, pigasus planted all four feet and stared defiantly up at the perturbed metal monarch.
"well--er--that is--er--i don't see that it is my affair at all!" mumbled kalico with a rueful nod of his head. "anyone powerful enough to conquer ozma and oz would pay small attention to opinions of mine."
"but we don't want your opinions," stated pigasus bluntly. "what we want is your army and any magic you can conveniently spare!"
"please, kalico, do help us," begged dorothy, running up the carved rock steps of the throne and seating herself coaxingly on the arm. "with all your thousands of gnomes and many magic powers, we can certainly drive skamperoo out of the emerald city."
"well, of course," sighed kalico, flattered by dorothy's reference to his magic powers, "i'll do what i can, but if what you say is true, it will take more than one army to reconquer oz." as he said this, kalico looked across at shoofenwaller, and the little chamberlain, well pleased with his master's strategy, gave him an encouraging wink. "i tell you what i'll do," kalico crossed his legs and regarded dorothy through half-closed eyes. "if you find another king willing to send his army into oz, i will also send mine. remember, even ozma's closest friends and retainers have forgotten her and the entire population, now fully convinced skamperoo is their rightful ruler, will rise to oppose us."
"yes, yes, but have you no magic that will dispel this wicked enchantment or help us to locate our friends and sovereigns?" demanded pigasus, not wholly satisfied with the gnome king's offer.
"gnome magic may be of no use in this case; nevertheless, i will send for my wizard and see what can be done." remembering their last experience with magic, dorothy stepped down from kalico's throne and seated herself quietly on the pink pig's back, and pigasus, grunting with relief, squinted suspiciously at the small, ugly wizard of the underworld, who presently came shuffling into the royal presence chamber. as quickly as possible kalico explained to the wizard all the dire happenings in oz.
"do you think our magic spyglass could locate ozma and her missing friends and associates or tell us whether they have been utterly and completely destroyed?" demanded the gnome king gravely.
potaroo, the king's magician, stood pulling his straggly whiskers for several moments after kalico had finished speaking, then he stamped four times on the flagged floor with his right foot. almost instantly four gnome wise men in peaked hats came into the throne room wheeling a huge telescope before them. dorothy and pigasus, prickling with suspense and terror, watched the wizard screw his eye to the end of the twisting spyglass. after several snorts and surprised exclamations, potaroo straightened up.
"the missing ozians and the wizard of ev are hidden away in thunder mountain," he stated in a hoarse whisper. an electric little silence followed potaroo's disclosure, and as no one uttered a sound, the wizard continued, "as the spyglass is now pointing north, i believe you will find thunder mountain in that direction, but i must warn you that it will be a long and exceedingly dangerous journey."
"danger? well what do we care for that quick somebody fetch me my coat--my hat--"
"this hardly seems a time for jokes and verses," murmured kalico, looking at dorothy in mild disapproval.
"she has to make verses and rhymes when she rides me i'm a poetry pig and a lucky star guides me!"
grunted pigasus, too overcome by the wizard's awful news to realize he was speaking in verse himself.
"oh, what difference does it make?" cried dorothy, jumping quickly off his back, "we must go to thunder mountain at once. pigasus can fly there."
"here, here, not in such a hurry," exclaimed kalico, secretly delighted at the prospect of being so easily rid of his troubles. "we must pack you a lunch basket, and tell me, potaroo, have you any magic that will make the journey less dangerous for these brave young adventurers?"
"m--agic?" stuttered potaroo, his eyes growing glassy at the mere thought of parting with any of his magic treasures. "well--er--i could lend them a box of my famous triple action stumbling blocks. they will overthrow any enemy, no matter how numerous."
"splendid!" beamed kalico, rubbing his hands briskly together, "and don't forget, in the course of your journey north, if you find a king willing to lend his army, my army also will be ready and at your service."
"oh, kalico, how kind you are!" running up the steps of the throne again, dorothy gave the gnome king an impulsive hug.
"come on, come on!" squealed pigasus, who had seen the various winks between kalico and shoofenwaller and was convinced that the little gnome king was doing as little as he possibly could. "give us our lunch and our stumbling blocks and we'll be off, and i must say they'll be an enormous help when we reach thunder mountain." spreading his wings, pigasus began to fly in angry circles round the gnome king's head.
"humph, pork's going up!" sniffed shoofenwaller as he hurried away to see about packing the lunch basket.
"he ought to be dried, smoked and salted," muttered potaroo, going sulkily off to fetch the blocks. dorothy, in earnest consultation with kalico, heard neither of these remarks, and when a few moments later the two returned with two boxes and dorothy's hat and coat, she thanked them politely, called pigasus down from a rocky ledge where he had flown and climbed happily on his back. then pigasus, not giving her time for any lengthy farewells, zipped through the tunneled caverns and corridors of the gnome king's underground dominions and burst thankfully out the back door of south mountain.
"now, let's see, which way is north?" mused pigasus, twirling his curly tail around like a propeller. "all we have to do is to fly north to thunder mountain, unlock its thunder bolts, restore the rulers of oz, toss tumbling blocks at all enemies, raise a grand army and then, then king kalico will help us. isn't it just too magniferous!"
"why piggins, how mean of you, surely you know the gnome king's our friend, don't you like kalico?"
"no!" said pigasus fiercely, hurling himself into the air.
"well, anyway, we're better off than we were before," thought dorothy after several rhymed attempts to draw pigasus into a conversation. "at least we now know where ozma is and have two kinds of magic and the promise of an army. really we're getting on quite fast." but perhaps had she seen the king and his chamberlain nodding their heads like two little china mandarins as she and pigasus left the throne room, she would not have felt so cheerful.
"that's the last we'll ever see of her," chuckled shoofenwaller, dropping a dried lizard instead of a lump of sugar into his tea. (gnomes always flavor their tea with lizards.) "no one yet has ever come safely back from thunder mountain. but what about this new emperor of oz?"
"oh, that will be all right!" kalico waved one hand airily. "i would much rather have a man on the throne of oz. ozma is always involving me in wars or demanding the rights of smaller kingdoms, so long may she stay in thunder mountain and long skamperoo rule in oz!"
"long live the emperor!" echoed shoofenwaller, and clicking their teacups gaily together, the two bad little gnomes drained to the last drop their black and bitter tea. and we should not be too hard on kalico, i suppose, for like all the dwellers under the earth, his heart is gray and flinty as the rock that forms his cavern, the blood in his veins cold and sluggish as the leaden waters of the underground rivers that wind sullenly through his dark domain.
the same morning dorothy wakened in the rustic summer house of the winkie farmer, skamperoo opened his eyes upon the unaccustomed grandeur of ozma's royal palace. the banquet had lasted till long after three o'clock, then still chuckling and yawning, he had waved goodnight to his hilarious and amiable subjects and led chalk off to bed. twenty footmen with twenty lighted tapers preceded him to ozma's own apartment, but dismissing this as too plain and simple, he had taken the immense green guest suite across the hall. chalk would have much preferred a stall in the royal stable with the other four-footed members of the castle party, but skamperoo would not hear of such a separation. he wanted his white wishing horse close at hand, not only because through him and the magic emeralds he could satisfy every wish, but because for the first time in his long, lazy, selfish life he had found someone he liked better than himself. in skamperoo's eyes chalk was absolutely perfect, and as his own wish had brought the golden-maned charger into being, he felt proud and important as a parent with his first child.
after a few regretful sniffs out of the window, a few short turns up and down their immense and elegant sleeping apartment, chalk leaped lightly on one of the large green beds and settled himself gracefully for the night. covering chalk tenderly with a green satin quilt, skamperoo hastily disrobed, and clutching his precious necklaces, climbed wearily into the other bed. there, without even stopping to wish himself goodnight, he fell into a deep and tranquil slumber. indeed both, in spite of the strangeness of their surroundings, slept soundly till morning.
about eight o'clock, chalk, lifting his head from the embroidered pillow, looked indulgently across at the new emperor of oz. sitting up in bed, skamperoo was busily counting the gems in his three magic chains.
"ho, throw those silly beads away!" advised the white horse, jumping out of bed with a gay toss of his golden mane. "you have nothing else to wish for, kingaling, nothing more at all! m--mmm, this green carpet looks good enough to eat, but i've a fancy to nibble the clover in your majesty's garden while it is still fresh with dew."
"say it again," begged skamperoo, closing his eyes and clasping himself blissfully around the middle.
"your majesty's garden! your majesty's palace, your majesty's kingdom of oz!" whinnied the white horse, rising on his hind legs and pirouetting round with mischievous little prances. "but come, emp! what are your wishes for today? i think we will have to use the necklaces after all. you must certainly have some new clothes. it would never do to appear this morning in the suit you wore last night. you had better have some sleeping garments, too. i've a notion that emperors do not sleep in their raw hides like horses." skamperoo, giggling self-consciously, dragged the satin sheets up to his chin, for to tell the truth, he had arrived in the emerald city with only one suit to his back, and an extremely shabby one at that.
"maybe i'd better change my face, too," he murmured, "to go with all this, you know." dreamily skamperoo waved his hands about, and then, leaning forward, slipped the chains over chalk's ear.
"what's the matter with the face you have?" demanded chalk, gazing fondly at the red, rotund countenance of his master. "i like you just as you are, and if you change i wouldn't even know you, but i'll tell you what you can wish after you've ordered yourself some new clothes--wish yourself a seasoned rider and then we can go far and wide, kingaling, far and wide at a furious gallop and none shall say us nay--hey, hey!"
"and none shall say us nay," trilled skamperoo, rolling out of bed, covers and all. to wish himself fifty jewel-encrusted robes with boots, crowns, and all the undergarments to go with them, fifty splendid sleeping robes, and fifty suits of riding clothes took but a moment. he and chalk could hear them landing with little thuds on the hangers in the many closets as skamperoo finished speaking. then, being naturally lazy, the new emperor wished that he had already had his bath and was dressed in his green riding clothes. so, immediately he was, and winking at his clever assistant adviser, he next wished himself the best rider in oz. then, taking back his necklaces, he buttoned them carefully in a little pocket over his heart and went over to the mirror to have a look at himself.
"how about this governing stuff?" puffed the self-made emperor, turning this way and that to get a good view of his new clothes.
"oh, i shouldn't bother about governing," answered chalk carelessly. "a well-governed country like this should be able to run itself for a few weeks. by that time we'll be ready for more serious matters, but right now i'm all for enjoying myself. a splendid idea, that, of putting all the rulers and the wizard and his magic out of the way. the rest of your court and subjects are exceedingly sensible and jolly, and if we are pleasant and sensible too, everything will be 'what ho and so cozy!' so let's go below and start our first day of emperoaring!" impatiently chalk pranced away toward the door.
"you're sure i look all right?" asked skamperoo with another anxious squint at his reflection. "seems to me i'm a bit too fat."
"oh, don't worry about that," said chalk, rolling his eyes wickedly. "come along, come along, and i'll soon shake some of that fat off you. up with you, kingaling, and let's to our oats!" to his delight and pleasure, skamperoo had not the slightest trouble mounting, and once in the saddle he felt perfectly at home, even when chalk bounded through the door, took the long circular steps between a canter and a gallop, and ran madly three times round the royal gardens.
on fine days ozma always had breakfast in her private garden, and it being an especially fine day, the palace servants without thought or question had placed the royal table under the trees. it was still fairly early and none of the guests or members of the household were down, but this did not spoil skamperoo's excellent appetite at all. ordering chalk a breakfast of oats, bran and quartered apples, he seated himself gaily at the head of the table. the green riding hat, set well over one ear, became him vastly well and chalk, regarding him proudly from the foot of the table, thought him every inch an emperor, even if round the waist there were a good many too many inches.
"i wish pinny penny could see you now," sighed the horse, sinking contentedly back on his haunches, "and how i should have enjoyed seeing matiah's face when he finally discovered you and the necklaces were gone. by the way, perhaps we should do something about matiah?"
"pinny penny will attend to him," said skamperoo, popping a huge cherry into his mouth and nodding his head reassuringly. "i'll wager pinny penny sent the fellow packing the moment he found himself king. wonder how pinny is making out, anyway?"
"but suppose matiah should follow us here?" went on chalk. having been in existence only two days, he knew little of oz or geozophy.
"he can't come here," skamperoo told him triumphantly. "there's a deadly desert between skampavia and oz that no one in my father's lifetime or in mine has ever crossed, that is with the exception of ourselves, and we were wished across, which doesn't count." then as four footmen with heaping trays appeared, he winked at chalk and the white horse lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
and skamperoo had been perfectly correct in his conjectures about pinny penny. when, with a resounding clunk, the king's gold crown had fallen upon the astonished prime minister, his head had gone entirely through so he was forced to wear it much as a dog wears a collar. but even so, he was not slow to realize the significance of this odd happening or the power it brought with it. gripping the scepter which had forced itself into his hand, he rushed into the throne room to find out what strange whim of his master had made him acting king of the realm. a glance around the throne room was enough to show him that skamperoo was not there, and when he saw matiah sitting so unconcernedly in the book alcove, a sudden rage and conviction seized him. whatever had happened, matiah was to blame.
"leave this palace at once!" shouted pinny penny, stamping first one foot and then the other. "at once, do you hear, or i'll call out the guard!" matiah, still deep in the history of oz, looked up in astonishment, and when he saw the little prime minister wearing skamperoo's crown round his neck and brandishing his scepter, he gave a perfect bellow of anger and dismay.
"where's the king?" he roared, looking wildly around the throne room, "and why are you wearing his crown? where's skamperoo--where're the necklaces?"
"ask yourself!" raged pinny penny, shaking the scepter threateningly. "everything was quiet and peaceful till you and your necklaces arrived at this palace; there's some magic trickery about them and about you. don't think i was fooled by that horse story, a horse does not appear out of the air. well, now the king's gone--the horse is gone and unless you are gone in ten seconds i'll have you thrown out of the window. ten seconds--do you hear? this crown and scepter came to me through no wish or choice of my own, but since they did come to me i am the king! and i intend to rule this country. my first official act will be to rid myself of your filthy presence. now, then, start walking, merchant, and don't stop till you reach the border. twenty guards will follow to see you safely out of the country."
"you wait till skamperoo hears about this!" blustered matiah, backing away in alarm from the determined little prime minister. "i'm more important to him than anyone else."
"then why aren't you with him?" inquired pinny penny shrewdly. "no, wherever he's gone he has gone without you. i am the king and i do not need you, so be off!" clapping his hands, pinny gave a sharp command to the guards, who came hurrying in answer to his summons. retiring rapidly to escape the tips of their sharp spikes, matiah sullenly began his long march. it was nightfall by the time the little company reached the edge of skampavia. here, in a wilderness of rock and rubble, the guardsmen left him with food enough for a couple of days and stern warnings never to return to skampavia. far to the west the miserable merchant could see the comforting lights of merryland, but he had no desire to go there or east to the kingdom of ix. instead, he stared hopelessly across the wilderness to where the heaving sands of the deadly desert gleamed like molten silver in the moonlight.
"how had that rascally monarch ever escaped without his seeing him? how could he ever safely cross the deadly desert and hope to reach oz? how had skamperoo, who seemed so dumb and foolish, ever discovered the secret of using the magic emeralds when he himself had failed to do so? how? how? how?" crouched on a flat rock, munching one of the sandwiches left by the guards, matiah scowled evilly across the grim desert, his thoughts as treacherous and shifting as its deadly sands.
all day, with only a short pause for lunch, pigasus had flown north, dorothy keeping a sharp lookout for thunder mountain or mountains of any sort, but the wild, desolate country through which they were flying was flat, desert-like and apparently perfectly uninhabited.
"a fine healthy chance we have of finding an army here!" snorted pigasus as the afternoon drew to a hot, weary close, "and what we'll do when we find thunder mountain, i haven't the faintest notion, have you? even if i butt my nose black, blue and blunt, and you break both knuckles beating on its rocky exterior, how can we ever hope to enter such a place, much less release our unfortunate sovereigns? i told you kalico was a scoundrel; i'll wager he's sent us on a wild goose chase just to get us out of the way."
"ah, don't say i told you so, there's always some way, you know,"
said dorothy almost as down-hearted as pigasus, though she would not admit it. the pink pig, rather ashamed of himself, flew for several miles without saying anything, then, in rather a gruff voice, he called dorothy's attention to the changing nature of the scenery below.
"notice the hills?" he snorted, more hopefully. "maybe there is a mountain, after all, but the sun's going down and i'm ready to sink myself, so let's descend and see whether we can find a soft rock on which to lay our heads."
"not hills, dunes!" cried dorothy, bouncing off as soon as pigasus touched the earth. "sand dunes; we must be near the coast and the nonestic ocean."
"it does smell salty," agreed pigasus, sniffing the air eagerly, "but suppose we save the ocean for tomorrow, my feet ache, my wings ache, and i'm hollow as a drum."
"then we'll have supper," decided dorothy, sensibly. so seating themselves comfortably with their backs against a dune, the two weary explorers finished up all the cold meat, fruit, pie, and sandwiches shoofenwaller had packed up for them. after a long, wistful sniff into the box convinced him there was not another crumb, pigasus folded his wings, lay down in the soft sand at the foot of the dune, giving only indistinct grunts and snorts to dorothy's questions and observations. finally, getting no answer at all, dorothy discovered he was asleep. the regular rise and fall of the pink pig's sides, the soft drowsy singing of the west wind lulled dorothy into a pleasant state of dreaminess, and presently, with her head comfortably pillowed on the pig's plump shoulder, she fell asleep too.
it must have been hours later when terrified squeals from pigasus and the patter of a hundred hurrying feet made her start up in alarm. still only half awake, she was startled to find herself and pigasus surrounded by a horde of savage-looking sandmen. in the pale and watery moonlight they looked like creatures out of some very bad dream. their bodies were roughly moulded of sand, their eyes strangely green and phosphorescent, while their hair, rising like beach grass from their pointed heads, waved about their lumpy faces.
clutching the basket that contained her small store of clothing, the black witch's powder of darkness, and potaroo's box of stumbling blocks, dorothy pressed back against the dune. her first idea of leaping on the pig's back and bidding him fly was useless. pigasus lay helplessly on his side, his wings and legs bound tightly with long strands of tough, strong seaweed. thankful to find that she at least was free, dorothy went a step closer to her struggling, squealing, furious little comrade. as she did so, a perfect shower of sand balls came flying toward them. the sharp sting of the sandmen's missiles not only awoke her completely, but goaded her into instant and angry action.
"stop that! stop that at once!" she cried, stamping her foot indignantly, but her words only brought another shower of sand balls down on their heads.
"you have dared to invade the sacred domain of the dooners," yelled the rasping voice of the leader, rattling a long string of sea shells he wore round his neck. "and therefore you shall be sand balled, sand bagged and made into sandwiches for the sand crabs!"
if the dooner had not looked so wild and dangerous, his foolish threat might have been amusing, but as he and his bandy-legged sandmen came leaping forward, pigasus gave a squeal of sheer terror, and dorothy, raising the basket over her head, hurled it with all her might into the midst of the advancing army. the effect was immediate and astonishing. cowering down beside pigasus and expecting to be seized or trampled on, dorothy saw the first line of dooners going down like a row of tenpins, then all the others began tumbling and tripping and falling in heaps. no sooner would a sandman rise than he would instantly tumble down again, and their squalls and screeches of rage were so piercing dorothy put both hands over her ears.
"it's the blocks," wheezed pigasus, managing to lift his head a few inches. "kalico's stumbling blocks are flying like fur and fury. now if they just keep 'em down for a while longer, we might get away."
dorothy, peering sharply into the midst of the tumbling dooners, saw the fifty magic squares released from their box when she flung her basket, fairly exploding with activity, and scramble up as they would after each tumble, the sandmen could not advance an inch, nor even manage to stand erect. the leader, attempting to crawl forward on his hands and knees, was caught by a dozen of the whirling missiles and rolled back like a log among his churning comrades.
"hurray! three cheers for kalico!" puffed pigasus. "quick, my girl, see if you can untie these wretched seaweeds and we'll be flying and be off in a pigwhistle."
"i had a pair of scissors in my basket if it hasn't fallen out, and anyway i'm not going without my things," declared dorothy, now quite bold since the enemy had been overcome by magic. and in spite of the pig's anxious squeals of warning, she rushed forward, grabbed her basket and began picking up her scattered belongings, noting with a sigh of relief that the box containing the powder of darkness was still closed. with the scissors, still safe in the little pocket in the side of the basket, she soon clipped the seaweed trusses from pigasus, and clasping the basket in her arms climbed swiftly on his back. pigasus, without one backward glance, rose straight into the air and again headed north. dorothy, peering fearfully over his left wing, saw the dooners spring suddenly to their feet and then, like frightened prairie dogs, disappear into many holes in the sand.
funny, mused dorothy, that they had not noticed these openings before. funny that the dooners had stopped stumbling as soon as she and pigasus had taken to the air. funny--but then, everything was funny. right in the middle of her conjectures the box of stumbling blocks, now closed and tied with a red ribbon, dropped "plink" into the middle of her basket.
"someone's throwing things," gasped pigasus, flapping his wings a bit faster and looking rather wildly over his shoulder.
"no, just our box of stumbling blocks," yawned dorothy. now that the excitement was over she felt dreadfully tired and even the sight of the nonestic ocean rippling and gleaming a few yards ahead did not arouse or interest her.
it did not interest pigasus, either. he was far from pleased to find himself so near the coast.
"i don't like this, i don't like this at all," muttered the pig, perking up his ears and wiggling his nose rapidly. "we've flown straight north and instead of striking thunder mountain, we strike the sea, and how could a mountain be in the middle of the sea?"
"there are mountains on islands and i have a notion there are plenty of islands out there in the ocean,"
said dorothy sleepily, recalling the days she had studied geography in the united states.
"take japan, for instance, over there mountains are simply everywhere!"
"i don't care if they are," answered pigasus fiercely, "i won't go to japan and i'll not go a wing's breadth over this ocean tonight, islands or no islands. sa--hay! there's the north star to our left, so we're not going north at all. we're off our course, that's what we are!"
"north star? north star, of course we are!" mumbled dorothy with a drowsy nod.
"you're asleep," scolded pigasus in a worried voice. "i'd better land."
"if you land too soon, you'll strike a dune," warned dorothy with another yawn. and after a quick glance below, and convinced they were still over the dooner's domain, pigasus spread his wings a bit wider and swung along the coast looking carefully for a safe place to land and spend the rest of the night. he was so busy squinting downward that he never saw the long curious tube-like shadow shooting after him with incredible accuracy and speed. a terrific blast of air as it rushed by them on the right was his first warning of danger. dorothy, too, caught unaware, gave a faint shriek as an immense snake-like body curved back and began to coil round and round them like some gigantic air serpent.
"it is a snake!" thought poor dorothy, as pigasus hung helplessly in the little circle of air left in the center of its coils. neither spoke, for truly there seemed nothing to say or do. then just as the suspense grew too awful to be endured, the monster opened its mouth and dorothy, backing as far along the pig's back as she possibly could, almost lost her balance. instead of a tongue or long tusks, out popped the head and shoulders of a little old man no larger than dorothy herself.
"pardon me," he murmured politely, "i was looking for a sea serpent."
"do i look like a sea serpent?" snorted pigasus in a quivering voice, for he was still half choked from shock and fright. "if you and that monster you're riding are looking for a sea serpent, go ahead--look for one, but leave honest travelers alone!"
"monster?" exclaimed the little man in a hurt voice. "oh, i say now, you have us all wrong. this is no monster, this is the long, strong, flexible, stretchable shooting tower of my private castle, and i, myself, am bitty bit, the seer of some summit."
in the short silence that followed bitty bit's astonishing announcement, dorothy, examining more closely the tube-like coils encircling herself and pigasus, saw that they really were of stone with rubber-like sections between. what she had taken for a mouth was really a window. with his elbow resting on the ledge, bitty bit was regarding them fixedly.
"well, even if you are a seer and have a shooting tower," grunted pigasus, gathering courage as he went along, "there is no reason for you to come towering over us this way!"
"but a seer must be constantly looking for things," explained bitty bit, spreading his hands expansively, "that, you know, is his business. i am always looking for something and tonight it happens to be sea serpents."
"sorry to disappoint you," said pigasus, more mildly, "but since we are not sea serpents, perhaps you'll be good enough to unwind your tower. as it happens, i have a little looking to do myself. as a matter of fact, when you and your tower overtook us i was searching for a safe place for this young princess and myself to spend the night."
"look no more!" begged bitty bit, leaning so far over the sill dorothy involuntarily put out her hand to save him from falling. "you shall both spend the night in my castle. come!" grasping dorothy by one hand and pigasus by one wing, the little seer with superhuman strength for one so small and wrinkled dragged them both through the open window of his shooting tower.
since coming to oz, dorothy had traveled in many strange ways, but to find herself shooting through the midnight sky in bitty bit's tower was surely the oddest of all. both she and pigasus stared from the window in wide-eyed wonder as the tower uncoiled and started shrinking rapidly backward.
"we may as well go home at once," observed bitty bit, rubbing his little hands briskly together. "you are much more interesting than sea serpents and i can easily look for sea serpents some other night. now don't be alarmed when we bump."
"bump?" repeated dorothy rather nervously.
"of course," the sage told her calmly. "as i go forward, the tower stretches out in any direction i wish to go; when i return, it shrinks, contracts, and retires within itself like a telescope, and by the time we reach the castle it is no larger than an ordinary tower. mm--better hold on to something, we're almost there!" running around the circular room a few feet from the wall was a gold railing. pigasus had just time to hook his wing around this railing and dorothy to seize it with one hand, when bitty bit's tower with a resounding crash snapped back, but up to a vertical position, so that what had been the floor of the little room became the east wall and the window a skylight. dorothy and pigasus, describing a complete circle on the bar, landed in a more or less upside down position on what had been the back wall. "that's why i have it cushioned," explained the seer, who also had executed a neat somersault. hopping up, as if landing on his head was a perfectly usual and ordinary occurrence, bitty bit opened a trap door in the floor and motioned for dorothy and pigasus to follow him down a long winding stair.
"these magic contraptions will be the death of me," wheezed pigasus, picking himself up with a groan. the cushioned floor had made his fall painless, but he was considerably jolted and upset from the shock, or rather the series of shocks that had so far punctuated their evening.
"but if he's a seer," whispered dorothy, recovering her basket and trotting eagerly after bitty bit, "he ought to be able to help us a--"
"bitty bit," sniffed the pink pig. "well, if he'll just help me to a bed, i'll be satisfied!" and grunting and grumbling, he clumped sleepily down the stairs behind dorothy. the room into which the stone stairway led them was evidently the cozy and comfortable study of the comical little seer. its walls were of oak, lined from floor to ceiling with books, and all its furnishings were tan or brown. dorothy considered this extremely suitable as bitty bit himself looked like a very wise and merry brownie. on his little round head was a round cap with a yellow quill and he wore a brown wrinkled robe rather like a monk's, tied tightly round the waist with a yellow cord. his bright, black, sharp little eyes danced with good humor and interest in his sun-tanned, honest little face. while pigasus stood sleepily and somewhat disapprovingly on the hearth rug, dorothy sank into a snug brown arm chair and looked expectantly up at their singular host.
"no, no, not a word," begged bitty bit, raising his hand pleadingly. "remember, i am the seer of some summit, a seer who can see and foresee; a seer who can tell and foretell. just by closing my eyes i can tell who you are, whence you came, and whither you are going."
"fancy that, now," observed pigasus in a mocking voice.
"you," retorted bitty bit, pointing a skinny brown finger at the pig, "you are a creation of my friend, the red jinn, whose taste for low verse i always knew would lead him into some mischief."
"low verses?" retorted pigasus indignantly, while even dorothy looked a little shocked.
"yes, low verses," insisted bitty bit solemnly. "you are so constructed that he who rides must rhyme and break into foolish jingles. is this not so?"
"they may be jingles, but they are not low verse," protested pigasus, flapping his ears angrily.
"well, then, let us call them simple verses," amended bitty bit with a generous wave of the hand, "at least they are verses that anyone can understand, which, of course, makes them of no value whatever. people never appreciate what they can understand."
"dorothy does," declared pigasus, now mad enough to fly right out the window.
"dorothy? ah, yes, i was coming to her." swinging around, bitty bit, his eyes still tightly shut, wagged his finger at the astonished little girl. "you are the mortal girl who came to oz by cyclone. you live in the emerald city of oz and are--"
"oh, tell us something we don't already know," interrupted pigasus with a bored yawn. "where is ozma of oz now--how could a scalawag emperor steal her throne?"
"wait! wait! give me time! not a word more--not a word!" panted bitty bit, advancing with short dancing steps toward dorothy. "i--i see a necklace," he muttered mysteriously. "one--two--three necklaces! i see a white horse and a fat, red-faced fellow wearing a small emerald crown. great sea bass and sassafrass! oz has been conquered--its inhabitants enchanted--its rulers banished, and the king of skampavia sits on the throne."
"so that's where he comes from!" breathed dorothy, forgetting bitty bit's request for silence. "oh, quick, tell us more--tell us more, and help us to restore ozma and the other lost sovereigns to power!"
"i am only a seer," answered the sage, opening his eyes wide and suddenly. "i can see and foresee, tell and foretell, but i cannot change that which has happened or is about to happen."
"but where is ozma?" demanded pigasus, edging closer. "if you are a seer and can see 'er, at least you can tell us where she is." in this way pigasus hoped to check up the information given them by potaroo, the gnome king's wizard.
so again bitty bit closed his eyes and pressing his fingers to his forehead spoke: "ozma, my old friend jinnicky, the wizard of oz, a soldier with green whiskers, a purple horse, two queens, two kings, a prince, the tin woodman, and glinda the good sorceress are lying at the bottom of lightning lake, which is on the top of thunder mountain," bitty bit told them solemnly.
"lightning lake?" cried dorothy, seizing the little seer frantically by the shoulders. "why, then, they must be drowned, burned and destroyed altogether!"
"no, no--they are quite calm and as usual," bitty bit assured her hastily, "in fact, they are, i should say, in a trance of some kind."
"but what'll we do, how'll we disenchant them or find thunder mountain?" loosing her hold on bitty bit, dorothy spun round three times and then started firmly for the door.
"my shooting tower will take you to thunder mountain or any other place you decide you must go," promised bitty bit, hurrying anxiously after the little girl, "but not tonight, dorothy--not tonight. we are all tired and i must have time to think. the conquering of oz is a great shock to me. i would like time to look into the matter more fully and consider all of these strange events in their proper order. this problem shall be my pillow. i'll sleep on it, my dear, and in the morning will doubtless have something helpful to suggest."
"well, then, where're the beds?" yawned pigasus, who heartily approved of bitty bit's suggestion. "or are we to sleep on our problems, too?" at this, bitty bit, who seemed to find pigasus terribly amusing, laughed right out loud, then taking dorothy's arm he led the way to a snug little bedroom all done in yellow. pigasus had a gentlemanly apartment in tan next door and both were so weary they spent little time examining their new quarters, but instead went directly to bed and to sleep.
when dorothy wakened next morning she looked out the window and saw pigasus flying in slow circles round the tidy castle. bitty bit's brown stone palace, though small and unpretentious, perched, right on top of some summit, and the view was so fine and the mountain air so fresh and invigorating, dorothy, in spite of all her anxiety and worry, began to feel happy and reckless and ready for anything. with cheerful little glances round her cozy yellow room, she dressed, brushed her hair till it shone, then skipped merrily down the brown marble steps and out into the garden. the garden, really a series of sloping terraces, was bright with hardy mountain posies, with spicy sage bushes and gnarled old trees which clung like acrobats to the steep rocks and dangerous crevices. pigasus, catching a glimpse of dorothy seated on a smooth rock near a little waterfall, came swooping down to wish her a merry morning.
"not a bad little palace," remarked the pig considerately. "not a bad little palace at all, though so far as i can see there's not a man servant nor a woman servant or even a ladybug about. i imagine this fellow is a hermit and from the looks of him probably lives on tobacco and snuff. what do you suppose are the chances for breakfast?"
"i don't know," said dorothy, refusing to allow such a small matter as breakfast to dash her spirits. "have you seen bitty bit this morning?"
"yes," sniffed pigasus, beginning to poke his nose hungrily round the roots of a dwarf oak, "before i flew out my window, i saw him going into his brown study. seer goes into brown study. how's that for the first announcement of the day?"
"you're awful," laughed dorothy, giving pigasus a little push.
"no, just awfully hungry," grinned pigasus. "now i've been thinking--"
"no?" stepping out from behind a sizable bush, bitty bit regarded the pig with an air of assumed amazement. "he says he's been thinking," he repeated, turning solemnly to dorothy. "must be the air up here."
"that's about all i've had," retorted pigasus, savagely crunching an acorn between his teeth, "that and a nibble from one of your sage bushes."
"sage bush, eh?" chuckled bitty bit, winking at dorothy. "that's good, and we'll make a sage of you yet, a sausage!" he whispered in an undertone that pigasus heard quite distinctly. "and speaking of sausage, how about breakfast?"
though bitty bit's remark about the sausage still rankled, pigasus was too hungry to let it keep him from following the seer into a small walled garden that opened out from the larger dining hall of his castle. here, on a small table covered with a gay yellow cloth, was assembled the most appetizing breakfast dorothy ever had tasted. ripe melon and apricots, cereal and eggs, tiny meat pies, pancakes and honey, hot rolls and steaming brown cocoa. there was a huge bowl of mush and cream for pigasus and another of buttermilk, and under the soothing influence of his favorite foods, pigasus completely forgot his annoyance and they were soon chattering away like old friends at a sunday school picnic. bitty bit's chef, whom the pig had overlooked in his grand tour of the palace, served them with skill and speed. no wonder pigasus had not seen him, for he was even smaller than his wrinkled little master and almost completely enveloped in a great brown linen apron and tall brown cap. dorothy could not possibly eat all the dainties pressed upon her by the kind little seer and his chef, but she nibbled at each course, and when bitty bit saw that neither she nor pigasus could down another bite, he swallowed the rest of his cocoa and bounced briskly to his feet.
"now," he cried, tossing away his gay napkin with a flourish. "now for the emerald city and oz!"
"but i thought we were going to thunder mountain," exclaimed dorothy, pushing back her chair so hurriedly she bumped her head on the wall.
"that," exclaimed bitty bit, looking over his shoulder, for he was already half way through the door, "that will not be necessary. all we need to save the celebrities of oz is the long lost wishing emeralds of lorna the wood nymph."
"lorna?" coughed pigasus, rolling out of his seat and falling a bit sideways. "for pretty sake, who's she?"
"oh, come along!" urged dorothy, and without wasting another second she pelted into the brown palace after bitty bit.
with a groan pigasus followed, and groaned again when he realized he would have to climb three flights of marble steps and a flight of stone to reach the famous shooting tower. then, suddenly and joyfully remembering his wings, he spread them wide.
"wings, hold me up," mumbled the pink pig stuffily, "we're carrying entirely too mush mush!" rising rather uncertainly, he breathlessly flapped his way up to the tower room where dorothy and bitty bit impatiently awaited him.
in the company of scraps, the scarecrow, the royal visitors, and all the amusing members of ozma's court, the emperor and chalk passed a gay and hilarious morning. the tableaux and pageants proceeded without a single hitch and no one seemed to miss dorothy or pigasus at all, nor did anyone notice the omission of the carefully planned groups showing the wizard's arrival in oz, dorothy's first visit to the emerald city or the victory of nick chopper over the wolves. these interesting and historical events might just as well never have happened. notta's circus later in the afternoon went off with a bang, even without pigasus to jump through hoops and fly round the ring waving flags while scraps did her balance-defying acts on the trapeze and tight rope. the picnic supper was even more fun than the circus, and the fireworks, set off by tik tok, who was in no danger of scorching himself, the best of all. indeed, skamperoo's first day in the emerald city had been so full and so interesting he had not made a single wish or once thought of his magic emeralds.
"funny we never had jolly times like this at home," mused skamperoo, putting out the emerald stars in the ceiling that pleasantly lighted his green apartment, and burrowing happily down into his splendid green bed. "oh, chalk! are you asleep there, old horse?" as no answer came from the other bed, skamperoo let himself sink a bit deeper into the luxurious nest of silken covers and soon was asleep himself, puffing and whistling like a steamboat.
but the strange and frightful snoring of the emperor did not seem to stop nor scare away the shadowy figure that presently came stealing into the royal chamber. once--twice--three times, long skinny fingers reached out toward the thick neck of the snoring ruler of oz. the fourth time there were three distinct little clips, and when the curving talon-like claw withdrew, it had in its clutching grasp the three powerful wishing chains. then, without waking the occupant of either bed, the thief stole quietly into the shadows.
now the scarecrow, delighted with the success of the celebration so far, had suggested a series of athletic contests and obstacle races for next day and skamperoo had heartily agreed to his plans. his first thought on waking was the race to be run by the straw man and himself, the scarecrow on the wooden saw horse, he on his splendid white charger.
"i'll wear the white leather breeches and shirt," puffed skamperoo, bounding out of bed like a school boy. he had taken a shower and donned his showy riding clothes before he missed his magic emeralds. then, all at once, as he stood before the mirror to comb his hair, he gave a loud squall of anguish. "chalk! chalk!" roared the distracted emperor, racing over to the balcony and leaning so far out over the railing he nearly fell on his crown. "they're gone! they're gone! my emeralds! my necklaces! my necklaces! my emeralds!"
now chalk, who had risen early to nibble the clover while it was still fresh with morning dew, looked up in alarm, then as his master's voice grew louder and louder and his gestures more spectacular and desperate, the white horse rose up on his hind legs and shook his head in violent warning and displeasure.
"hush!" he directed in a low voice. "i'll be right up." making his way quickly but cautiously so as not to arouse the curiosity of any of the palace servants, already at work in the lower hallways, chalk hurried up to the agitated emperor.
"they're g-g--gone!" blubbered skamperoo, sitting on the edge of the bed and crying like a baby. "g--g-g-gone! now everything is ruined and i'll have nothing left at all!"
"well, you still have me," murmured chalk, resting his head affectionately on skamperoo's shoulder. "brace up, kingaling, and for oats sake be quiet! no one here knows about the necklaces and until the rascal who has stolen them learns how to use them we are as safe as soap. that rascal, of course, is matiah. somehow he has managed to cross the deadly desert. yes," chalk shook his mane wrathfully, "i am convinced that matiah has the necklaces, but what good are they to him when we alone know the secret that makes them work? he'll have to come to us in the end and when he does! hah!" chalk expelled the air from his nose in a terrific snort. "just let me take care of him."
"but shouldn't we give the alarm, have a search made for him, and try to recover the emeralds?"
"let him alone," counseled the wishing horse firmly. "the thing for you to do is to sit tight on the throne of oz. remember you are still the emperor!"
"but how can i be, without those emeralds?" skamperoo dabbed at his eyes with the satin bed sheet.
"we got along all right yesterday," said chalk calmly. "come, cheer up, skamper, everything will be all right."
"i rather counted on beating the scarecrow in that race this morning," muttered skamperoo wistfully. "how can you run as fast as that tireless wooden creature who was magically brought to life?"
"well, wasn't i magically brought to life?" the white horse shook his mane roguishly. "come along, kingaling, we'll not only win that race, but we'll have back our necklaces and chase matiah out of oz before we are through."
"i--i really believe you can do anything," sighed skamperoo, getting almost cheerfully to his feet. "but just the same, i shall keep a sharp outlook for matiah. he might start a revolution."
"he'll revolute pretty rapidly if i once get my heels on him," promised chalk with a wicked grin. "come on--heads up, and who's afraid?" however, in spite of the white horse's valiant attempts to comfort him, skamperoo spent a troubled and uneasy day, casting fearful glances behind him when no one was looking, searching the happy holiday crowds with haggard glances for a glimpse of the long, thin face of matiah the merchant. even when chalk beat the sawhorse in their long, exciting race through the park, and the crowds cheered themselves hoarse with delight and approval, the victory was spoiled by the knowledge that somewhere in the emerald city lurked his most dangerous and relentless foe.
chalk, too, though he pretended to regard the matter lightly, was almost as worried as his master and spent every free moment poking his head into doorways and peering down side streets and rearing up over walls. and while skamperoo was having his afternoon nap, the white horse systematically searched the palace from top to bottom, even the cellar.
but in the cellar chalk did not go quite far enough, for it was in a hollowed out chamber under the cellar that the merchant of skampavia was really hidden. here, with a goodly supply of food, stolen from the pantry, matiah had seriously settled down to work out the problem of the emerald necklace. he had meant to conceal himself in the cellar itself, but when his foot brushed against an iron ring in the floor, he had lifted it up and discovered to his delight and satisfaction this still more secluded and safe retreat.
the tunnels and rocky chambers below the palace had been constructed and used by ruggedo, the old gnome king, when he was plotting to capture the emerald city. ruggedo himself had been captured, but the underground caves and passageways had been left pretty much as they were. there were a number of chairs, a rough bed and table, and numerous candles and lamps. altogether it made an ideal workshop for the merchant to try out his experiments. in the cellar he might easily have been discovered by any of the kitchen boys sent down for supplies, but in ruggedo's old hideout he could be sure of complete privacy. lighting the largest of the lamps that hung on its rusty chain over the table, matiah seated himself on a rickety old chair and prepared to concentrate with all his will power on the glittering emeralds. in the sickly green light he made a strange and sinister figure as he bent over the table, mumbling and chattering to himself. but after a whole day, during which he tried every known formula and combination, touching each gem in succession as he made his wish and counted to a hundred, he was still no nearer the solution of the mystery than he had been in skampavia. first he had tried the diamond clasp of the third necklace, sure that that was the key to their power. but nothing at all had happened and the trick of the magic emeralds continued to elude him. to have in his fingers the means to immense power and good fortune and still be unable to benefit was so infuriating, matiah began to stamp, splutter, and beat his chest with rage and disappointment. was it for this he had bribed a red eagle with the promise of three wishes to carry him across the deadly desert? even now the mammoth bird was waiting impatiently on the edge of a little wood near the city ready to tear him to pieces if he failed to fulfill his part of the bargain. no daylight penetrated into the tunneled chamber, and hardly realizing that it was now midnight, matiah from sheer weariness and exasperation finally gave up and fell asleep, his head on the table, his hands still clutching the provoking chains. footsteps pattering overhead wakened him at last, and also told him someone had come to the cellar for supplies. stretching wearily, he rose and, going over to the stone steps, cautiously ascended and lifted the trapdoor. now thoroughly convinced that the necklaces would not work unless worn by someone else, he determined to seize the first person entering the cellar and compel him to help.
the merchant did not have long to wait. all unconscious of the part he was to play in matiah's dark schemes, a young kitchen boy came whistling his way toward a great golden bin of potatoes. the bin was just beyond the trapdoor, and lowering it to a mere crack, matiah let the boy pass. then, as he leaned down to fill his basket, the wily merchant flung up the trapdoor, fell upon the boy and carried him kicking and screaming down the stairs. here, with threats, promises and innumerable shakings, he finally reduced the poor lad to a state of frightened submission. with the sparkling necklaces round his neck, he touched one and then another of the emeralds as matiah wished and counted and counted and wished. after each unsuccessful trial the merchant would rage and stamp and shake his fists, till the boy was quite convinced he was in the presence and power of a mad man, and frantically waited for someone to overhear matiah's ravings and come down to rescue him. but nobody did!
while the unfortunate kitchen boy was spending a miserable morning in the underground chamber, skamperoo and chalk were going through the motions of enjoying themselves above stairs, but without any real zest or pleasure. only half-heartedly skamperoo laughed at the jokes of the scarecrow, and chalk, for all his bright interest in the long recital of kabumpo's adventures, was really in a fidget of uneasiness, trying to keep an eye on all the doors and windows in the throne room at once. something was going to happen. the white horse felt it in every bone. and just as the soft musical gong sounded the call for luncheon, his worst fears were realized. suddenly, without reason or warning, the castle was plunged into total darkness. thumps, bumps, hysterical shouts and screams followed closely on the heels of this disconcerting event. chalk, who had been standing back of skamperoo, immediately leaned forward and grasped his impetuous little master by the seat of his royal breeches.
"be still!" commanded the white horse through his teeth and the white leather of skamperoo's riding pants, and he held on for dear life as the emperor, like all the rest of the court and guests tried to rush in every direction.
"he's done it! he's done it, and everything, is ruined," wailed skamperoo, struggling in vain to pull away from chalk. "matiah has discovered the secret of the necklaces and now we are ruined--do you hear--ruined!"
"i hear," hissed chalk, giving skamperoo a little shake, "and so will everyone else unless you shut your mouth. be quiet, i tell you, do nothing till the right moment, unless you want to dash out your brains against a pillar in the dark." too frightened to argue or struggle further, skamperoo at last subsided. all about courtiers, servants, and guests were screaming and bumping into each other or the furniture, and when a stern hand suddenly seized his bridle, chalk trembled violently in spite of himself.
"follow me," directed a firm, stern little voice, "and no harm will come to you." now chalk had been expecting to see or hear matiah, and the sound of this small strange voice was a welcome relief and surprise. taking a firmer hold on skamperoo, he thrust out his head in an endeavor to touch or feel the newcomer. as he did so, the hand on his bridle began to tug him gently but firmly forward.
"look out there, mind what you are about, the emperor of oz is just ahead!" whinnied chalk, now thoroughly alarmed. "we are not used to taking orders from strangers."
"oh, we won't be strangers long," promised the strange voice pleasantly. "so this is the emperor of oz, and is this the way you usually carry him?"
"come on bitty bit, what's the use of all this arguing?" put in another voice impatiently. "let's get out of that confusion. the wizard's laboratory is right across the hall. tell him to come there."
"a girl!" decided chalk with another gulp of relief. "maybe we are not so badly off, after all!" and lifting his head, in spite of skamperoo's great weight, he spoke proudly and confidently, "whoever you are, we welcome you to oz, and if you can explain this unearthly and unexpected darkness we will gladly follow you and do as you say."
"good!" chuckled bitty bit, tugging manfully at his bridle, "this way, please." there was still so much screaming and confusion in the throne room no one had overheard the conversation between the newcomers and the emperor's horse, and, guided by the invisible hand, chalk crossed the room without bumping into anything or anybody. a moment later they were in the dark, quiet laboratory that had once belonged to the wizard of oz.
bitty bit's shooting tower had made a record trip to the emerald city, and guided by the little seer of some summit, had come to a deft and dexterous stop right outside the windows of the great throne room. after a short, anxious look inside, and before anyone was aware of their arrival, dorothy removed the lid from the box of the powder of darkness and threw a generous pinch into the air, plunging the emerald city into an instant and thunderous dark. under cover of this magic darkness, dorothy, pigasus, and bitty bit boldly entered the palace and singled out the white horse and his terrified master. they had fully expected some resistance--dorothy had brought a long piece of rope and pigasus carried a stout club under his wing--but they were delighted to find the emperor too frightened and his white horse too clever to resist an invisible foe. being able to see in the dark themselves, they had chalk and skamperoo at a decided advantage. dorothy's plans, now that they had actually returned to the emerald city, were rather vague, but bitty bit knew just what he hoped and intended to do. his seerish powers had enabled him to discover that all the changes in oz had been brought about by the magic emeralds which in some way had fallen into skamperoo's hands, and these emeralds bitty bit meant to have at the earliest possible moment.
so first, he ordered all the windows and doors in the laboratory closed, then, annoyed by the screams and crashes still issuing from every room in the castle, he advised dorothy to put the lid back on the powder of darkness.
"but supposing someone disturbs us before we finish," objected pigasus, looking doubtfully at the tremendous war horse, who stood with feet braced and ears back ready to listen or defy them. somehow chalk had managed to toss skamperoo back into the saddle and with both hands fixed grimly in the horse's mane, the emperor was blinking his eyes in a vain attempt to see them or catch a glimpse of matiah, for he was convinced that the merchant was at the bottom of the whole procedure.
"if we agree to lift this pall of darkness, will you agree to grant us an uninterrupted hour of your time?" asked bitty bit, turning toward the emperor, but really addressing the horse, whom he considered the better man of the two.
"i think we can, without undue danger, promise that," answered chalk guardedly, while skamperoo hemmed and hawed with indecision. "of course, you must promise to use no more magic against us."
"well, the same goes for you too, remember," put in pigasus quickly. "an hour's time and conversation and no trickery."
"but who--who are you?" muttered skamperoo, finding his voice at last. "i seem to hear three different voices."
"you'll soon see," answered dorothy, clapping the lid on her powder of darkness. with a suddenness that made them all gasp, the laboratory was again flooded with the bright noon sunshine, and in a determined row before him skamperoo saw a pretty little girl in green, a fat pink pig with white wings, and a small wrinkled old gentleman in brown.
"w-why--" whinnied chalk, drawing in a deep breath of relief, "at first i thought you were enemies, but now i see that you are merely visitors and friends."
"that depends," observed bitty bit, seating himself on a tall stool that brought him on a level with chalk's nose. "i am the seer of some summit, but these others are princess dorothy and pigasus, the winged pig. they really belong in this palace and are close friends of the rightful ruler of this country, ozma of oz!"
"i am the rightful ruler of oz!" shouted skamperoo, growing red in the face and thrusting out his three chins belligerently.
"oh, don't bother putting on a show for me," exclaimed bitty bit, waving his arms impatiently. "remember, i am a seer, i know all, i see all, and what is more, i tell all! you, my pretty fellow, are really the king of skampavia, a small, no-count country on the other side of the deadly desert. in some way the long-lost necklaces of lorna the wood nymph have come into your possession. with these necklaces you have enchanted the people of oz into believing you are their ruler. you have wickedly banished ozma and her allies and counselors and unlawfully made yourself emperor of oz."
"that seems to cover everything," drawled chalk, as skamperoo turned from red to purple.
"not everything!" went on bitty bit, shaking his finger sternly under chalk's nose. "kingdoms are not won and held by trickery, my friends, and we are here to see that those necklaces are returned and the kingdom of oz restored to its proper rulers."
"and suppose we refuse!" suggested the white horse in a bored voice. "what then?"
"why then," bitty bit threw back his shoulders and spun round several times on his shiny stool, "why then it means war!" bitty bit did not say who were his friends or allies or where he should get his armies, but he spoke with such firm confidence, both skamperoo and chalk were taken aback and completely dismayed. matiah had been bad enough, but this strange and determined little seer was worse.
"perhaps we can make a bargain, or come to some agreement?" suggested chalk, resolved to save what he could for himself and his master. "suppose king skamperoo and i agree to return the emerald necklaces, which undoubtedly belong in oz, will you grant us the privilege of using them twice for ourselves?"
"but--but--" skamperoo was about to blurt out the fact that they no longer had the necklaces when chalk gave him a savage nip on the leg which silenced him effectively.
"why should we do that?" inquired pigasus, fluttering his wings nervously. "after all the grief and worry you have caused us, you are lucky to get off with your skins."
"where are the necklaces now?" asked dorothy, stepping close to chalk and looking eagerly up into the face of the discomfited emperor. skamperoo's face grew long as a balloon suddenly punctured, but remembering chalk's last bite, he managed to keep silent.
"when you have answered our question, we will answer yours," stated chalk, firmly but pleasantly. "you can, of course, appeal to the court and members of the household, but i think you will find them entirely satisfied with their present emperor and ready to stand by him to the last man." at chalk's words, bitty bit looked rather crestfallen. as the white horse had so quietly stated, they were perfectly powerless to take the necklaces by force and a quick inspection of the emperor, when he first reached the palace, had convinced him skamperoo was not wearing the precious emeralds. at this rather embarrassing moment a series of thumps, kicks, and knocks on the door made not only the rescuers, but the emperor and chalk turn rather pale.
"oh! oh! it's matiah!" quavered skamperoo, whose nerves were completely shaken by the shocking disclosures of the last few moments. "oh! oh! what'll we do now?"
"hold your tongue," advised chalk, and swinging round he trotted briskly over to the door.
"who's there?" he demanded in a dignified voice.
"'tis i-iva the kitchen boy!" stuttered a frightened treble. "i must see the emperor at once."
"well, shall we let him in?" bitty bit looked uneasily at pigasus and dorothy and then rather thoughtfully at chalk.
"suit yourselves," yawned the white horse indifferently. "it's probably a messenger telling us the pudding is cold with all this delay and darkness. you asked for an hour's time and conversation and we agreed to that demand, so it is for you to decide what to do, not us."
"oh, let him in," fumed pigasus, "and tell him to stop this hammering and yammering. what harm is there in a kitchen boy?"
so bitty bit, taking the key from the lock and squinting through the keyhole to assure himself there was only a small boy outside, quickly admitted him. now in darted iva, screaming loudly of a mad man in the cellar and bursting into tearful and incoherent recital of his woes. scarcely had he got out two sentences before skamperoo fell bodily off his horse and made a desperate snatch at the kitchen boy's throat. but bitty bit was too quick for him. his eyes, too, had caught the glimmer of emeralds, and jerking the three chains from the lad's neck as chalk made a savage lunge forward, he tossed them to pigasus. catching them on his nose as cleverly as a trained seal, the pink pig spread his wings and flew up to the top of a tall cabinet, where he sat panting and puffing with satisfaction and defiance.
"come down, you fat scoundrel!" roared skamperoo, dancing up and down like a dervish, while the poor kitchen boy, outraged by the way both skamperoo and bitty bit had rushed upon him, burst into loud sobs and rushing out the still open door, ran crying down the corridor. slamming the door and locking it after him, bitty bit rather anxiously waited for chalk's next move, and as usual chalk was quite prepared and ready to make it.
"well," he observed with a jaunty flick of his tail, "now that you have the famous wishing emeralds, i suppose you are satisfied and we may as well go. come along, skamperoo, you will get nowhere in an argument with a pig. just casting pearls before swine, you know, and he already has our emeralds!"
"you mean your wishing necklaces!" shrieked pigasus furiously, "and i'll tell you what i wish. i wish that you and your silly master were clams at the bottom of the nonestic ocean!" thoroughly shocked and startled by the pink pig's unexpected wish, bitty bit and dorothy rushed toward the cabinet, hoping in some way to prevent the wish from taking effect. but they need not have worried, for of course, nothing happened at all. then skamperoo, urged by chalk, hastily climbed into the saddle.
"well," whinnied the white horse, twitching his ears provokingly, "goodbye to you. goodbye! we'll just be trotting along."
"wait! look here, hold on a bit." the little seer of some summit stepped angrily in front of the white horse. "how do these emeralds work, how are we to disenchant the rulers of oz and restore ozma to the throne unless we know the proper way to use these magic chains?"
"i'm afraid that's your problem," sighed chalk, rolling his eyes round at skamperoo. "come now, my little mannikin, open up the door. we kept our promise and you must keep yours. after all, my master has done no real harm here. there has been no war or bloodshed. in fact, everything has been decidedly gay and jolly. if his laudable ambition to better himself brought ozma and her counselors a little well-earned rest, at least they have suffered no pain or unpleasantness, and are perfectly unaware of what has happened to them. open the door, i tell you, or i'll call for help and there are many in this palace who would gladly come to our assistance."
"oh! oh! what shall we do?" wailed dorothy, as bitty bit stood uncertainly with his back to the door. "you're the horridest horse i've ever known!"
"well, that's all in the way you look at me," answered chalk, staring steadily into dorothy's eyes. "you, my dear, are fond of your mistress, queen ozma of oz, and are trying to help her. i, on my part, am exceedingly fond of my master, the king of skampavia, and am trying to help him. you can't blame me for that, you know."
"the creature is right," sighed bitty bit, "and we'll have to agree to his plans, preposterous though they are."
"that would, of course, be the sensible thing to do," murmured chalk, lowering his eyes modestly. "you grant me two wishes and i will tell you the proper way to use the magic wishing chains."
"but suppose they are bad wishes--i mean," bitty bit corrected himself hastily, "good for you, but bad for us, what then? with the necklaces in your possession, you could wish yourselves away in an instant."
"that," admitted chalk, "is perfectly true, but i am afraid you will have to take that chance--and trust me."
"never do it! never do it!" squealed pigasus, who now had the necklaces tucked tightly under his wing. "we might as well throw ourselves out of the window."
but bitty bit, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers close to his forehead, made no reply. "i'll trust you," he said after a short silence, and opening his eyes he looked cheerfully up at the white horse. "hand down those necklaces, pigasus, and be quick about it too; i hear footsteps in the passageway."
"well, don't blame me if we're turned to pretzels and pumpernickel," grunted the pig, dropping the necklaces into the seer's outstretched hand. "goodbye, all." turning his back in disgust and covering his ears with his wings, pigasus waited in fear and trembling for the end. but bitty bit quite calmly handed the emeralds to skamperoo, and skamperoo immediately draped them over chalk's left ear.
"now, then," murmured chalk, looking firmly back at the unhappy emperor, "repeat exactly what i say and all will yet be well."
"i wish," began chalk, while skamperoo listened with bulging eyes, "i wish that the five wishes i make when we return to skampavia shall be instantly granted." as skamperoo repeated the wish and slowly started to count to a hundred, dorothy fidgeted with uneasiness and pigasus fairly groaned with alarm, for it seemed to them both that their danger had only been postponed and not averted.
"my second wish i will keep for our return," decided chalk. "now, my dear, attend closely. since you are the avowed friend of ozma and live with her in this palace, it seems to me you are the one to keep safely the secret of the magic emeralds." moving close to dorothy, chalk put his soft pink nose close to her ear and whispered several very hoarse sentences. "get it? get it?" he demanded, backing away exuberantly.
"oh--is that all?" dorothy pushed back her hair in surprise and bewilderment, "why anyone could do that!"
"then prove it by sending us back to skampavia," beamed chalk, shaking his mane approvingly. "it would be embarrassing for us to be here when ozma and her friends return. here, my child, take the necklaces and i'll do the wishing." pigasus, now more interested than frightened, tried his best to see what dorothy did after she clasped the emeralds around her neck and the white horse solemnly wished himself and skamperoo back in skampavia, but before chalk reached ten in his counting, there was a whiff and puff and except for a slight rustle in the air, no sign at all of the splendid white steed and his red-faced master.
"it works! it works!" exulted bitty bit, hopping about like a brownie. "can you do it again, my dear? all we need to do is to wish that the people of oz shall be released from this wicked spell of forgetting and then wish ozma and all the others safely back to this palace."
"don't forget highboy!" cried pigasus, switching his little tail violently. "he's gone, too, you know, and don't forget jinnicky and old willy green whiskers!"
"i'll remember!" promised bitty bit. "all ready, dorothy?" the little girl nodded and bitty bit, looking and feeling more serious and important than he had ever felt in his whole little life, slowly made the wish that was to restore peace and happiness to oz.
"i wish," said the little sage sternly, "that the wicked enchantment cast by skamperoo upon the inhabitants of oz be instantly dispelled. i wish that ozma herself, the wizard of oz, the red jinn of ev, the king and queen of the munchkins and their son prince philador, the king and queen of the gillikens and their giant horse, glinda the good sorceress of the south, nick chopper the tin emperor of the east, and the soldier with the green whiskers be immediately released from thunder mountain and restored to this palace. one--two--three--four--five--six--seven."
at seven pigasus with a loud squall of astonishment fell from the top of the cabinet, and dorothy rushed joyfully forward. for now, every chair around the wizard's table was occupied. at the head sat ozma, calm and gracious as ever, at the foot the spry little wizard, and between, all the others who had so recently lain at the bottom of lightning lake. highboy stood over by the window looking dreamily out across the garden and none of them seemed in the least surprised or excited to find themselves in the wizard's laboratory.
"let--me--see--" mused ozma, raising her hand gravely--"ah, yes--we are here to discuss a threatened danger to ourselves and the kingdom of oz."
"but it's all over now," cried dorothy, running over to ozma and flinging both arms round her waist. "it's all over and we're safe and you're safe, and my, how glad we are to have you back here again!"
"here!" exclaimed the wizard, popping up like a startled jack-in-the-box, "where else would we be?"
"only at the bottom of lightning lake in thunder mountain," murmured bitty bit, coming modestly forward to meet the fairy ruler of oz and winking merrily at jinnicky, whom he already knew.
ozma's surprise and the astonishment of all the rest of that company around the wizard's table can well be imagined.
"i didn't hear any thunder," snorted highboy, lowering himself down to bitty bit's level. "not a clap! and if we were at the bottom of lightning lake, what did we eat?"
"we didn't!" announced jinnicky in a hollow voice, "what could we have eaten in such a place, you old fire-eater, you?" to have been enchanted and put out of existence for three whole days was an amazing experience, and as dorothy and bitty bit, helped out now and then by pigasus, explained all that had happened to the victims of skamperoo's ambition and to themselves in the course of their journey of rescue, ozma's face grew both grave and serious. it was disturbing to realize how easily oz had been captured and the powerful wizards and glinda the sorceress pushed aside. the wizard of oz himself seemed to feel the most discouraged and downcast of all to think he had been so easily overcome, and that his magic had not been strong enough to withstand the wicked spell of the invaders.
"i should have foreseen something like this, and been prepared," mourned the little man, mopping his head with a map of oz which he happened to have in his pocket.
"yes," sighed the tin woodman, feeling his joints anxiously to see whether they had been rusted by his three-day immersion in lightning lake, "we might have been prisoners in thunder mountain forever had it not been for dorothy and pigasus and this sagacious little seer. but tell me, dorothy, how was it that you alone, of all the people in the palace, remembered and missed us?"
"well," confessed dorothy, seating herself cautiously on nick chopper's tin knees, "it must have been the wizard's wishing pill. you see, just as the soldier's beard turned red, i found one in my pocket, and popping it into my mouth, wished that i might save oz from any danger that threatened. it kept me from forgetting ozma and all of you, and when i sat on pigasus' back, he remembered, too, and we--"
"did save oz!" finished the little wizard, bounding triumphantly to his feet and restored to instant cheerfulness by dorothy's generous statement. "i tell you, i'll match my wishing powers with any wishing powers in the country!"
"but you won't have to, now," smiled bitty bit with an envious glance at the sparkling necklaces dorothy had placed on the table before ozma. "with these emeralds and your own magic powers, nothing like this could ever happen in oz again."
"thank you, bitty bit," smiled the little queen, nodding graciously. "thank you a hundred times for all you have done for us and for oz, and perhaps, if we coaxed, you might remain as our royal seer?"
"hear, hear, our royal seer!" cried pigasus, clapping his wings. "will you be it, sir bitty bit?"
"well," acknowledged bitty bit, with a low bow toward ozma, "i'm tempted to accept, but, on the other hand, i am so foolishly fond of my own castle, i just could not be content in any other place. but if your majesty ever needs me for serious business, you can always command my services by using either the wishing necklaces or your magic belt."
"and he'll come like a shot in his shooting tower," dorothy smiled as she slid carefully from nick chopper's knee. "but, say--what's that?" a hundred footsteps sounded in the corridor, accompanied by confused voices, questioning calls and finally loud thumps on the door. "it must be all the rest of the courtiers and visitors remembering they have a queen!"
"i hear scraps and the scarecrow," squealed pigasus, "i hear bettsy bobbin and trot. quick, dorothy, open the door."
"no, no, not yet," said ozma gently but firmly. "there is more, much more for us to hear and settle. but you go out, pigasus, and tell them all about our enchantment, skamperoo's reign and our rescue."
"be glad to! charmed! and trust me to do it right." swelling up with importance and pride, pigasus flew out the window before dorothy had time to open the door. a few moments later, the company in the wizard's laboratory heard him calling everyone to follow him to the throne room and hear the most startling news since dorothy killed the wicked witches of the east and west.
"and how he'll love telling it," said bitty bit, smiling across at the wizard of ev. "a great idea of yours, this pig, jinny. even if his verses are low, i like him."
"oh, everyone likes pigasus," declared dorothy, coming over to sit on the arm of glinda's chair. "but what i'd like to know is how that kitchen boy happened to have the emeralds, how skamperoo got them and where they came from in the first place?"
"yes," murmured glinda, who, like the wizard, felt very much annoyed to have been overpowered by a fat, unimportant monarch like skamperoo. "now that we have these wishing chains, we must guard them carefully to keep them from falling into such mischievous hands again."
"i believe bitty bit can tell us the story of the emeralds," said ozma, who had been much impressed by the cheerful little seer of some summit. "with his gift of foreseeing and foretelling he probably knows the whole story."
"can he look backward as well as forward?" inquired the wizard challengingly.
"just as well," confessed bitty bit with an embarrassed little cough, and as every head turned expectantly toward him, the sage closed his eyes and quietly told them the interesting history of matiah's three necklaces.
"these magic emeralds," began bitty bit, waving his hands rhythmically backward and forward, "were first collected and strung into necklaces by a wizard named wam for the king of the green mountain as a gift for the wood nymph lorna. but the king of the green mountain was an ugly little dwarf, and though she had promised to marry him, no sooner did lorna have the necklaces than she turned the king into a frog and hid herself away in her own forest. in the giant hollow tree where lorna lived there was a mischievous family of squirrels. that night, as lorna lay sleeping with the emeralds on a little golden plate beside her, one of the squirrels, thinking the gems some new and delicious kind of nuts, stole and buried them away for the winter. next morning, though lorna ran crying and searching all through the forest, she was unable to find her wishing necklaces."
"then what became of them?" gasped dorothy as bitty bit, opening his eyes for a moment, blinked cheerfully over their heads.
"wait, i'll tell you!" closing his eyes, the sage went hurriedly on with the story. "ah, so this is it! a woodcutter's boy, poking about among the leaves, found the emeralds and as emeralds in themselves are not uncommon in oz, he traded them to a peddler for a new ax. the peddler, arriving after a long while in skampavia, had no trouble in disposing of the jewels. in skampavia, you must know, emeralds, pearls, or jewels of any kind are practically unknown, and a merchant gave the peddler not only his house and shop, but all of his merchandise for the three sparkling chains. by a law in skampavia every subject must render to the king one-third of all he owns or raises, and in due course, one of the necklaces was sent to skamperoo. the king, delighted with the sparkling gems, insisted on having all three necklaces, and matiah himself brought them to the castle, determined, if possible, to steal them back at the first opportunity. in order to do so without arousing the suspicions of the king, he pretends to be a wizard and tells him if he, matiah, wears the three necklaces, he can grant any wish the king may make, but that as he makes the wish he must close his eyes and count to a hundred. as soon as skamperoo began to count, matiah started to run off with the emeralds and that accounts for the white horse, for you see skamperoo's first wish was for a splendid white charger with a golden mane and tail. frightened almost out of his senses by the sudden appearance of the horse and the knowledge that the chains really did have some magic power, matiah steals back beside the king, resolved to wait for another opportunity to procure the necklaces. meanwhile, skamperoo, excited and happy over the granting of his first wish, confides in the merchant his second wish and ambition to be ruler of oz. matiah, to gain time in which he can work out the secret of the emeralds' power, approves of the king's idea, but tells him he can only grant one wish a week. he then advises skamperoo to cause all the people in oz to forget their former rulers and to remove the wizard and all his magic, ozma, and the rulers of the four oz countries to the inaccessible caverns of thunder mountain.
"now while matiah is trying his best to discover the trick of the magic emeralds, skamperoo, growing tired of the tempery fellow, appealed to his horse. the horse, being magically brought to life and being unusually sharp-witted and quick, soon worked out the problem. with his help skamperoo wished the spell of forgetting upon ozma's subjects, banished her highness and all of the others just as matiah had suggested and managed to rule oz for three whole days."
"but what became of matiah?" asked glinda, leaning forward eagerly.
"at this moment matiah is lying in a senseless condition in the underground chamber beneath this castle," bitty bit told them solemnly and without opening his eyes. "soon after skamperoo left for oz, the merchant was driven out of skampavia by pinny penny, whom skamperoo had made king. matiah, furious to think the apparently stupid sovereign had outwitted him, bribed an eagle to carry him across the desert, arrived at the emerald city and soon afterward managed to really steal the necklaces from skamperoo. discovering beneath the cellar the excavated chambers of the old gnome king, he retired to this quiet spot to again experiment with the emeralds. needing another person to help, he seized the kitchen boy who had come to the cellar for supplies and forced him to assist in his experiments. how soon he might have discovered the real trick of the chains i cannot say, but our own arrival and gloma's powder of darkness happily interrupted him. the kitchen boy, who had kept his eyes glued to the stone steps and trapdoor during the entire morning, made an immediate dash for freedom and managed to escape in spite of the darkness. matiah, not so fortunate, rushed into a stone pillar and knocked himself senseless. he's still lying there, and i suggest that your majesty deal with him at once."
"i will," decided ozma firmly, as bitty bit opened his eyes and looked cheerfully around the table. "and i'll do it by means of these very magic emeralds. put on the emeralds, dorothy, for you alone know the secret of their magic power." so dorothy, anxious to have matiah out of oz before he recovered his wicked wits, hastily clasped the three chains around her slim throat.
"it is my earnest wish that matiah shall immediately and henceforth forget the emerald necklaces of oz, return to his country and become a good and simple citizen of skampavia," said ozma seriously, beginning her count to one hundred.
"he's gone! he's gone!" piped up bitty bit, who had closed his eyes as soon as ozma started to speak. "and if i were you, my dear, i would send off that red eagle too. i see him lurking on the edge of our city with an exceedingly fierce light in his eye." so ozma made another wish, turning the eagle to a harmless sparrow.
"and what about skamperoo?" asked cheeriobed, king of the munchkins, who up to this time had not spoken a word. "should he not be punished in some way?"
"i would not bother with old skamper," advised bitty bit with a small chuckle. "before i agreed to give his white horse those five wishes, i closed my eyes, looked ahead, and discovered that they would all be good wishes. not only good but wise, and from now on i think you can trust that clever white horse and a little fellow called pinny penny to keep their master out of mischief and oz."
"well, in that case," sighed ozma, rather breathless from so much counting, "everything is happily settled."
"and in that case," boomed joe king, gallantly helping his little queen to her feet, "i suggest we start celebrating all over again, not only the discovery of oz by mortals, but the saving of oz as well! i, for one, feel terribly cheated at missing notta's circus."
"so do i! so do i!" exclaimed little prince philador, climbing boisterously into highboy's saddle. "i want to see a circus!"
"and so you shall," promised ozma gaily, "we will start the celebration at exactly the point where we left oz for thunder mountain, and have the tableaux, the pageants, and the picnics all over again."
and that, my dear, is exactly what they did do, and everyone, including bitty bit, enjoyed himself so much there was not an unhappy person in the emerald city. and not until the end of the second day did dorothy remember to tell ozma the magic secret of the wishing emeralds.
"on the sixth count, you wink both eyes," whispered dorothy, giving ozma a little hug. "good night!"
"good gracious, so that's it!" smiled ozma, comprehending instantly what dorothy meant. "i suppose matiah did it in sheer excitement the first time. well, i have often heard of doing things in the twinkling of an eye, but now we shall really be able to have them that way. no one knows this secret but you and me and a white horse, and no one must ever know it, for wishes are dangerous and cause more unhappiness than joy, so we'll never tell another soul, will we, dorothy?"
"never!" agreed the little girl, looking solemnly over her shoulder at the safe where ozma had hidden her new treasure.
"so there you are!" pinny penny straightened up with a little grimace, for he had been planting flowers in a new rock garden he was planning for the king. with an expression about equally compounded of exasperation and affection, he looked at his former master and the white horse who had, without sound or warning, dropped down in the path before him. "i thought you'd come back," continued pinny penny, calmly rubbing the mud from his fingers and putting out his hand. "so it was your horse, after all." his gaze rested speculatively on the splendid white steed and richly jeweled robes of skamperoo. "and you've made your fortune, i see! well, welcome home anyway, your crown's hanging on a nail back of the throne and i think you will find everything in order."
"in order! why, it looks wonderful!" shouted skamperoo, leaping exuberantly out of the saddle, and honestly surprised and pleased at the pleasure he felt in seeing old pinny penny again. "you've had the palace painted and this garden and that fountain and the flowers. they're all new, aren't they?"
"yes," agreed pinny penny guardedly. "i made a few new laws while you were gone, skamper, making the tax only one-twentieth of our subjects' earnings. they were so grateful and delighted, they've been sending you presents ever since. then the guards (having no drill or marching to bother them, i did away with that, too), the guards in their odd time agreed to work around the castle and we've been brightening up the old place quite a bit. i tell you," pinny penny exhaled his breath noisily, "we'll make a going and coming country of this yet!"
"of course we will," said skamperoo, bouncing happily along at his side. "i've had a lot of experience since i saw you, old skinny pins. ho, pinny, my boy, i've been an emperor in oz!"
"oz? never!" closing his lips into a thin line, pinny penny looked from his master to chalk, who was stepping sedately along on his other side.
"but it's perfectly true," whinnied the white horse, prancing a bit from sheer enjoyment, "and now we are home with five splendid wishes."
"wishes?" sniffed pinny penny, rearing his head suspiciously. "what good are wishes?"
"but these wishes really work and come true," explained chalk with a toss of his head, "and what's more they are going to work and come true for skampavia!"
"any wish you work hard enough for will come true," insisted pinny penny stubbornly. "wishes--pooh! wishes--pooh! 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride!'" finished the little prime minister half under his breath.
"but don't you see?" skamperoo grasped pinny penny firmly by the shoulders. "this is one time when wishes were horses and beggars did ride. my first wish was for a horse and here he is, and as true as you are and as wise and clever. why, even if the magic emeralds give me nothing more, i am still the luckiest fellow on this side of the deadly desert!"
"moons, stars, and rainbows! i believe you have gotten some sense," gasped pinny penny, staring with wide eyes into skamperoo's face. "and that's the first good i ever knew to come of magic."
pulling pinny penny down to his old bench, now neatly mended and painted green, the king of skampavia told his little prime minister the whole story i have just been telling you. when he finished and settled back complacently, pinny penny instead of looking glad or pleased stared mournfully at the ground.
"now what's the matter?" demanded skamperoo, clapping him impatiently on the back, while chalk, breaking off a little branch with his teeth, tickled pinny penny mischievously under the chin. "why are you so sad and solemn?"
"because"--pinny penny ground the toe of his boot deeply into the gravel in the path--"if you really have five more magic wishes, you'll probably be going to some grand other place and be spending the rest of your life in travel."
"if that were so, we wouldn't be here at all," puffed skamperoo. "now get this through your head, old fellow. we are here by our own wish and from now on my own country is good enough for me and when we've made these five good wishes--good enough for anybody!"
"there you go! there you go!" groaned pinny penny, covering his face with his hands. "it's the wishes i'm afraid of."
"well, you needn't be!" with a great effort skamperoo made his first really great and wise decision. "you shall make the wishes yourself, pinny penny, and i shall save only one in case of trouble!"
"bravo! bravo!" snorted chalk, prancing three times round the green bench.
"me? you really mean me?" quavered pinny penny, pointing an unbelieving finger at his own mid-section. then, as skamperoo nodded and before he could change his mind, the old chancellor fairly leapt into the air.
"i wish the king of this country to always be as wise and generous as he has succeeded in being at this moment, as wise as the young fairy ruler of oz," panted pinny penny. "i wish that the people of skampavia, using the powers and abilities they already have, shall make this a rich, happy, and prosperous kingdom. i wish that the climate and soil, the only bad features about which we might complain, shall become mild and fertile! that's all, that's all i can think of!" confessed pinny penny, shrinking happily back on the bench.
"then i'll make a wish," whinnied chalk, shaking his beautiful golden mane. "i wish that we three may never be separated! long live the king and his prime minister!"
"and his horse!" cried skamperoo, bounding up to seize chalk's bridle.
"and his horse!" echoed pinny penny heartily, running round to seize chalk's bridle on the other side. "we three for skampavia forever!"
then, with chalk stepping proudly in the center, these three strangely assorted comrades made their way into the palace. knowing the power of the magic emeralds, and also the magic power of knowledge and experience, i am sure that skampavia under its new regime, will soon be as happy and prosperous as any nation in oz!
the end
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56073.txt
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Captain Salt in Oz
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eight miles east of pingaree lies the eight-sided island of king ato the eighth. while not so large as pingaree, the octagon isle is nevertheless one of the tidiest and most pleasing of the sea realms that dot the great green rolling expanses of the nonestic ocean. and ato himself is as pleasing as his island, enormously fat and jolly with a kind word for everyone.
in his eight-sided castle, he has every modern convenience and comfort and some of which even an up-to-date country like our own cannot boast. for instance, take roger, his royal read bird. roger, besides knowing eight languages, can read aloud for hours at a time without growing hoarse or weary. so ato never has to strain his eyes poring over his eight hundred huge volumes of adventure and history, nor his arms holding a newspaper or court document, nor his jaw pronouncing the names of kings and countries in ev and oz and other curious places on the mainland west of his own island. and roger is as handsome as he is handy, his head and bill rather like a duck's, his body shaped and colored like a parrot, but much larger, while his tail opens out into an enormous fan. this is extremely fortunate, for the octagon isle is semi-tropical in climate, and on warm sultry days, roger not only reads to his majesty, but fans him as well. all in all, ato's life is decidedly luxurious and lazy.
sixentwo, chief chancellor of the realm, and four'nfour, its treasurer, attend to all the business of governing, so that ato and roger have little to do but enjoy themselves. the octagon islanders, one hundred and eighty in number, are a sober and industrious lot, rarely giving any trouble.
once, it is true, they sailed off and deserted the king entirely, but ato, with peter, a philadelphia boy, and samuel salt, a pirate, who landed on the island at just the right moment, immediately set out after them, using the pirate's stout ship the crescent moon, for the purpose.
by a strange coincidence, samuel salt's men had also mutinied and sailed away, so that there were two sets of deserters to seek out and discover. after a dangerous and lively voyage, the crescent moon reached the rocky shores of menankypoo on the mainland. here they learned that the octagon islanders and samuel salt's men had been enslaved by ruggedo, the former gnome king, and marched off to conquer the emerald city of oz. how peter and the pirate, ato and a poetical pig outwitted the gnome king is a long and other story. you have probably read it yourself. but ever since their hair-raising experiences with ruggedo, and their rescue by ato, the octagon islanders have been perfectly satisfied with their own ruler and country. in fact, they were so docile and devoted, so fearfully anxious to please, ato often wished they would revolt or sass him a little just to relieve the monotony and make life more interesting.
to tell the truth, after serving as cook, mate and able-bodied seaman on the crescent moon, ato found it quite boring to settle down to a humdrum life of a monarch ashore. roger, too, missed the gay and carefree life he had led as a pirate and could not even pretend an interest in the books of adventure he still dutifully read to his master. he and ato now spent most of their time on the edge of the island--the king in a comfortable hammock swung between two palm trees, roger on a tall golden perch set close beside him. whenever the read bird paused to yawn or turn a page, ato would pull himself up to a sitting position, raise the telescope he always had with him and gaze long and wistfully out to sea. many ships passed ato's island, but never a one in the least resembling the splendid three-masted fast sailing ship belonging to the pirate.
"you'll give yourself a fine squint there," warned roger one morning, as ato for about the hundredth time raised his spy glass. "and what is the use of it, pray?" inquired roger grumpily, ruffling the pages of the book of barons. "samuel salt has probably forgotten all about us and gone off by himself on a voyage of discovery."
"no! no! sammy wouldn't do that," said the king, shaking his head positively. "he promised to stop by for us on the very first voyage he made as royal discoverer of oz."
"ho, one of those seafaring promises!" muttered roger. "a pirate's promise. humph! his new honors have gone to his head. quite a jump from pirating to exploring. i'll wager a wing he's gone back to buccaneering and forgotten us altogether!"
"now, roger, how can you say that?" heaving up his huge bulk with great difficulty, ato looked reproachfully at his royal read bird. "sammy never cared for pirating in the first place," wheezed the king earnestly, "and he was so soft-hearted about planking the captives and burning the ships, his band sailed off and left him. they only made him captain because he was clever at navigating, and you know perfectly well he spent more time looking for flora and fauna than for ships and treasure."
"ah, then i suppose some wild flora or fauna has him in its clutches," observed roger sarcastically, "and a likely thing that is, seeing the poor captain weighs but two hundred and twenty pounds and stands six feet in his socks."
"what a tremendous fellow he was," sighed ato, sinking dreamily back in his hammock and half closing his eyes. "i'll never forget how high and handsome he looked when queen ozma asked him to give up buccaneering, and serve her instead as royal discoverer and explorer for oz! and a fitting reward it was, too, for capturing ruggedo and saving the kingdom. aha, my lad, that was a day! and we had our share of glory, too! remember how they cheered us in the emerald city of oz?"
"aye, i remember that day and a good many other days since," sniffed the read bird disagreeably. "six months from that day samuel salt was to sail into our harbor. well, king--it's been six times six months, and nary a sail nor a sign of him have we seen."
"that long?" said ato, blinking unhappily.
"that long and longer. three years, eleven months, twenty-six days and twelve hours, to be exact!"
"dear, dear and dear! then something's happened to him," murmured ato. "he's either been shipwrecked, captured or enchanted! i'll never believe sammy would forget us or break his promise. never!"
"well, whatever you believe, the results are the same." flapping open his book, roger prepared to go on with his reading. "and depend upon it," he insisted stubbornly, "we'll never see samuel salt again, so you may as well put up your telescope and put your mind on something else for a change. maybe it's your cooking that's keeping him away," finished the read bird, who felt cross and fractious and contrary as a goat.
"my cooking?" roared ato, roused to honest anger at last. "i've a notion to have you plucked and roasted for that. my cooking, indeed! show me the fellow who can beat up an omelette, a cake, a batch of biscuits, faster than i; who can brown a fowl, broil a steak or toss out a pan of fried potatoes to compare with mine. i--i, why, i'm surprised at you, roger!"
roger, ruffling his feathers uncomfortably, was rather surprised at himself, for the king was speaking the exact truth; a more skillful man with a skillet it would be impossible to find in any kingdom. ever since his voyage on the crescent moon, cooking had been ato's chief pleasure and pastime. the castle chef, though he heartily disapproved of a king in the kitchen, could do nothing to discourage him, so finally stood by in grudging envy and admiration as ato turned out his delectable puddings, pies, roasts and sauces.
muttering with hurt pride and indignation, his majesty continued to frown at the read bird, and realizing he had gone too far, roger started to read as fast as he could from the book of barons. as he read on, he could see the king growing calmer and finally, pausing to turn a page, he let his gaze rove idly over the harbor.
"anchors and animal crackers! what was that?" stretching up his neck, roger took another look, then, flinging the book of barons high into the air, he spread his wings and started out to sea.
soothed by the droning voice of the read bird, ato had closed his eyes and the first warning he had of roger's departure was a terrific thump as the book of barons landed on his stomach. leaping out of the hammock as if he had been shot, the outraged monarch looked furiously around for his read bird. this really was too much. not satisfied with insulting him, roger must now be bombarding him with books, cocoanuts and what not.
shading his eyes with his hand, ato glared up and down the beach and finally out over the rippling blue ocean. at what he saw there, the king forgot his anger as completely as roger had forgotten his manners. for, swinging jauntily into the octagon harbor was the crescent moon herself! no mistaking the high-prowed, deep-waisted, powerful craft of the pirate. but a new and gayer pennant fluttered from the mizzenmast today. instead of the skull and bones, samuel was flying the green and white banner of oz, as befitted the royal discoverer and explorer of the most famous fairyland in history.
"he's here! he's come!" shouted ato, running wildly up and down. "samuel! sam-u-el!" in his delight and excitement the king forgot the royal dock and began wading out into the bay. peering around his wheel, sammy saw him coming and broke into a loud cheerful greeting.
"hi, king! ho, king! how are you, you son of a lubber! wait till i ease her in and i'll be ashore quicker than quick." roger had already reached the crescent moon and, perched on the captain's shoulder, was chattering away at such a rate samuel could hardly keep his mind on his steering. but he was an old hand at such matters, and before ato had half recovered from the shock of seeing him, the shining three-masted vessel was made fast, and its master striding exuberantly up the wet planks of the royal dock.
"ahoy! ahoy!" he boomed boisterously. "what a day for a voyage! is it really my old cook and shipmate?"
"none other!" puffed ato, seizing both of the former pirate's hands. "but what have you done to yourself, sam-u-el? where's your sash and scimiter? and what's that on your head, may i ask? you don't look natural or seaman-like at all."
"oh, don't mind these," grinned the pirate, touching his three-cornered hat and satin coat apologetically. "these are my shore togs for impressing the natives. can't look like pirates when we go ashore this voyage, mates. we're explorers and fine gentlemen now, and when we set the flag of oz on lofty mountains and rocky isles, when we bring savage tribes and strange races under the beneficent rule of ozma of oz, we must look like conquerors. eh, my lads?"
"yes--i sup-pose--so!" puffed the king, skipping clumsily to keep up with the long strides of captain salt. "but i'm sorry this is going to be a dressy affair, sammy. how'm i to cook in a cocked hat and lace collar and swab down the deck in velvet pants?"
"ho, ho! you'll not have to," exploded the pirate, giving the tail feathers of the read bird a sly tweak. "on shipboard we'll dress as we please, for the sea is my country and free as the wind and sun."
"well, well, i'm glad to hear you say that. have you still got my old pirate suit and blunderbuss aboard?" inquired the king anxiously.
"certain for sure, and a couple of new ones, and wait till you see your galley all fitted out with copper pots, and provisions enough below to carry us anywhere and back. wait till you cast your eyes on 'em, lubber!"
"don't you call me a lubber!" chuckled ato, giving samuel a hearty poke in the ribs. "i'm as able-bodied a seaman as you, sammy, and you know it."
"sir samuel, if you please!" roared the former pirate, striking himself a great blow on the chest with his clenched fist. "sir samuel salt, explorer and discoverer extraordinary to the crown of oz."
"so--oooh! you've been knighted?" breathed roger, peering round into the captain's face,
"ho pass the salt and ring the bell and bend the knee to sir sam-u-el!"
"sir samuel salt! well, i'll be peppered!" gasped ato, sinking down on the lower step of the palace which they had reached by this time. "sir samuel!"
"yes, sir!" boasted the pirate, rubbing his hands together, "but come on, step lively, boys; how long'll it take you to pack up and heave your dunnage aboard? mustn't keep a knight of oz waiting, you know!"
"keep you waiting?" suddenly and determinedly, ato rose to his feet and shook his finger under sammy's nose. "keep you waiting? why, we've been ready and waiting for this voyage three years, eleven months, twenty-six days and twelve hours. where've you been, you great lazy son of a sea-robber?"
"four years?" choked the pirate, falling back in real consternation and dismay. "never! it's never been four years, mates. why, i've scarcely had time to sort out the shells and specimens we picked up on the last voyage, and to fit out the crescent moon for the next."
"where have you been?" repeated ato, wagging his finger sternly.
"why, home on elbow island, of course. where else should i have been?" muttered samuel, looking distinctly worried and crestfallen.
"then have you no clocks or calendars in your cave?" demanded the king accusingly. "and what would the crescent moon be needing? i thought she was about perfect as she was."
"ah, but wait till you see her now!" exclaimed samuel, cheering up immediately at mention of his ship. "the crescent moon, besides a new coat of paint, has self-hoisting sails and a mechanical steering control in case we wish to take it easy occasionally. the red jinn paid me a visit and presented us with these and several other magical contrivances and improvements. i'm minded to make this voyage with no crew but ourselves. it's cozier so, don't you think?"
"yes, but am i still on bird watch and lookout duty?" demanded roger jealously.
"aye, aye!" samuel salt assured him heartily.
"i suppose the red jinn has supplied you with a mechanical cook in my place as well as a mechanical steering wheel," murmured ato, tugging uneasily at the cord round his waist.
"in your place!" thundered the pirate. "why, shiver my timbers, mate! only over my prone and prostrate body shall another man enter my galley to shuffle my rations, sugar my duff or salt my prog!"
"hooray, then let's get going!" squealed roger, bouncing up and down on sammy's shoulder. "i was only saying this very morning that you'd never forget your old friends and shipmates or go on a voyage without us!"
"huh! so that's what you were saying!" grunted ato, looking fixedly at the read bird. "well, well, let it go. come along then!"
"yes, yes, and hurry," screamed roger, spreading his wings to fly on ahead.
"sixentwo! sevenanone! where are you?" panted the king, plunging up the steps after roger two at a time. "where is everybody? pack a bag, a chest, a couple of trunks. i'm going on a voyage of discovery!"
"and don't forget the cook book!" bawled samuel salt, bounding exuberantly after the king.
with the help of eighteen serving men, eight courtiers, sixentwo, sevenanone, and samuel salt, who was not above carrying a sea chest or hamper, ato began stowing his belongings on the crescent moon. there was little court apparel or finery in the king's boxes. most of it consisted of bottles of flavoring extract, spiced sauces, cook books, minced meats, fruits in jars for pies, numerous frying pans, egg beaters, and rolling pins.
"are we gypsies, pan handlers, peddlers or what?" panted samuel salt as he dumped the last load breathlessly on the main deck. "goosewing my topsails, mate, many's the fish we cleaned with a jackknife, and potato we pared with a dagger on the last voyage. mean to say an explorer needs to use all these weapons on his pork and beans?"
checking off a list as his stuff was placed in the galley, ato nodded determinedly, then winking good-humoredly at the perspiring captain, ducked into the cabin to don his old sea clothes. samuel was not long following suit and soon, in short red pants, open shirts and carelessly tied head kerchiefs, the two went below to inspect the stores samuel had laid in for the voyage. roger, having nothing to bring aboard but a few books and a bottle of feather oil, was already perched in the crosstrees of the fore topgallant mast looking longingly toward the east and waiting impatiently for the ship to get under way. but the booming voice of the pirate soon drew him to the lower deck and from there he swooped down an open hatchway to the hold.
this huge space, usually reserved by the pirates for captives and treasure, had been neatly divided into two sections. in one were the tinned, dried and salted meats, the groceries, vegetables and extra supplies of rope, tar and sail. in the other section there were numerous shelves, many iron cages, aquariums and sea chests.
"for any strange animals or wild natives we may encounter and wish to bring home with us," explained samuel salt as roger looked curiously at the cages. "in those chests are the flags of oz we shall plant here, there and everywhere as we sail onward!"
"and to think a new and mighty empire may grow from this flag planting," mused ato, opening one of the sea chests and thoughtfully fingering one of ozma's green and white silken banners. "but surely you don't expect to plant all these, samuel?"
"why not?" demanded the royal discoverer of oz with a wave of the scimiter he had resumed with his old pirate pants. "the sea is broad and wide and no one's to tell us when we may start or sail home again. but look, ato, my lad--these will interest you." turning from the chests, samuel pointed to a stack of long poles lashed to the side of the ship with leather thongs. "stilts!" grinned the pirate as roger and ato stared at them in complete mystification. "fine for keeping the shins dry when we wade ashore and don't feel like lowering the jolly boat. all my own idea." samuel cleared his throat with pardonable pride. "of course, it takes a bit of practice, but we'll try 'em on the first island we come to. eh, boys?"
"well, thank my lucky stars for wings!" breathed roger after a long disapproving look at samuel's stilts. "two steps and you'll smash yourself to a jellyfish, ato. stick to the boats, men. that's my advice!"
"too bad he has no confidence in us!" roared samuel, giving ato a resounding slap on the back. "just wait, my saucy bird, and we'll show you how stilting is done. and now, gaze upon this corner i've set aside for my specimens; for rare marine growths, for seaweed, for curious mollusks and other crustacean denizens of the darkest deep."
samuel coughed apologetically as he always did when he mentioned his collecting mania, and roger and ato, exchanging an amused grin, swung about to examine the long shelves with iron boxes clamped down to prevent them from shifting with the motion of the vessel, huge aquariums fitted into brass holders, and large trays bedded with dried moss and sand for samuel's collection of shells.
"you might even bring home a mermaid in this," murmured ato, touching the side of an enormous aquarium.
"no women!" snapped samuel salt, growing red in the face, for he did not like to be teased about his specimen collecting. "i'll--i'll have no women or mermaids switching their tails around my ship and turning things topsy turvy."
"right," agreed ato, giving his belt a vigorous tug. "then how about shoving off, sammy? everything's shipshape, there's a good wind and the best way to begin a voyage is to start."
"i'm for it!" roared the captain, swinging hand over hand up the wooden ladder. "all hands on deck! up with your master's flag, roger. cast off the mooring lines, ato, while i make sail and we'll be out of here in a pig's jiffy."
"aye! aye!" croaked roger, seizing the cord that would send ato's octagon banner flying to the masthead, directly under the flag of oz. "goodbye, all you lubbers ashore! goodbye sevenanone. mind you keep the king's crown polished and don't forget to feed the silver fish."
"goodbye!" called the one hundred and eighty octagon islanders drawn up on the beach and dock to see his majesty sail away. "a fine voyage to your highness!"
"and neglect not to return!" shouted sixentwo, using his hands as a megaphone. "you know there is a crown council eight days and eight months from yesterday."
"crown council be jigged!" sniffed ato, leaning far over the rail to wave to his cheering subjects. "i'm a cook, an explorer--and a bold bad seafaring man out to collect islands and jungles and jillycome-wiggles for samuel's shell box. crown council, indeed! don't care if i never see a castle again."
"me neither!" squalled roger, flying up to his post in the foremast. "seven bells and all's well! buoy off the beam and no land in sight."
"unless you look behind you," laughed samuel, grabbing the wheel with a practiced hand and squinting cheerfully up at the sun. "east by southeast it'll be this voyage, mates. there's ice in the north nonestic and i've a craving for tropical isles and the hidden rivers of some deep and mysterious jungle!"
"remember snow island?" smiled ato, coming over to stand beside the wheel.
"shiver my shins! do i? no more of that, me lads! but ho! isn't this like old times?" stretching up his arms exultingly, samuel salt let his hands fall heavily on the wheel, and the great ship lifting with the wind plunged her nose eagerly into the southeast swell.
"m--mmm! like old times, except for the boy," agreed ato slowly.
"aye, and we'll surely miss peter on this trip," sighed the captain, shaking his head regretfully. "wonder where the little lubber is now? that's the trouble with these real countries and peoples, there's no getting at them when you need them most. well, maybe we'll pick up another hand somewhere to serve as cabin boy and keep us lively on the voyage. but take a look at my sail controls, ato. we can hoist, trim and furl by just touching different buttons, nowadays; set this wheel for any course and just let her ride."
"splendid!" grunted ato, rising reluctantly from a coil of rope. "but since there are no buttons on my stove, i'd best be thinking about dinner."
"tar and tarpaulin, why didn't i have the red jinn fix you some?" exclaimed the pirate regretfully. "i'm sorry as a goat, mate."
"ho--i'm not," laughed ato, waddling happily off toward his galley. "that would have spoiled everything. what'll it be, captain--a fried sole, a broiled steak, or a roaring huge hot peppery meat pasty?"
"all of 'em!" yelled the royal explorer of oz, exhaling his breath in a mighty blast of anticipation. it seemed to roger, high in the foremast, that the ship gave an extra little skip at its captain's mighty roar, then settling easily into her usual graceful pace she ran smoothly before the wind.
morning found the crescent moon forging ahead with a stiff breeze, a choppy sea and the last known island far behind her.
"ahoy, and this is the life, mates!" bellowed samuel salt, bracing his legs against the pitch and roll of the vessel, and waving largely to the ship's cook who sat on an overturned bucket mending his second best sea shirt. "anything can happen now!" lovingly samuel let his gaze rove over the sparkling nonestic, and ato, squinting painfully as he pushed his long needle in and out, nodded portentously.
"by the way, sammy, what are your plans for this flag planting and discovery business?" inquired the portly cook somewhat later. having finished his mending, he had dragged a canvas chair and a pot of potatoes aft by the wheel. "do you look for resistance and rebellion when we start taking possession of this land and that land for the crown of oz?"
"no, no, nothing like that," mused samuel, removing his pipe and blowing a cloud of smoke into the rigging. "everything's to be polite and peaceable this voyage. no guns, knives or scimiters. queen ozma particularly does not want any country taken by force or against its will."
"and suppose they object to being taken at all?" said ato, beginning to pare a fat potato. "what then?"
"well, then--er then--" samuel rubbed his chin reflectively, "we'll try persuasion, my lad. we'll explain all the advantages of coming under the flag and protection of a powerful country like oz. that ought to get them, don't you think?"
"yes, if they don't get us first," observed ato, popping a potato dubiously into the pot. "suppose while we stand there waving flags and persuading, some of these wild fellows have at us with spears, clubs and poison arrows?"
"well, that would be extremely unfortunate," admitted samuel, glancing soberly at the compass, "and in that case----"
"i hope you will remember you were once a pirate and act accordingly," ato blew out his cheeks sternly as he spoke. "the one trouble with you, sammy, is that you take too long to get mad. so i shall go ashore armed as usual with my kitchen knife and blunderbuss. i don't intend to be sliced into sandwiches while you're talking through your three-cornered hat, and waving flags at a lot of ignorant savages. and i'll have roger carry the books ashore too."
"ho, ho!" roared the captain of the crescent moon, giving his knee a great slap. "just like old times, ato. rough, bluff and relentless, mates, remember?"
"aye, and i should say i do. and i remember roger had to drop a good many books on your head before you got mad enough to fight. what makes you so calm and peaceable, sammy? a big born fighting man like yourself."
"sea life, i reckon," answered the former pirate, extending his brawny arms in a huge yawn. "the sea's so much bigger than a man, mate--it rather makes him realize how small and unimportant he really is. but don't fret, cook dear, no one shall tread on your toes, this voyage. but avast there--it grows warmer and the air smells a bit thunderish. had you noticed?"
"'hoy, 'hoy! deck ahoy!" bawled a shrill voice from above. "island astern." both samuel and ato stared up in amazement, for roger was supposed to be resting in the cabin. but the read bird, after snatching an hour's nap, had slipped out an open port and, unnoticed, taken his position in the foremast. the read bird did not trust ato, who was supposed to be on watch. besides, he wanted to be the first to report a new island to the captain.
"looks like a mountain," mumbled ato, setting down his potatoes and waddling over to the rail. "heave to, skipper, here's our first discovery."
"now how in sixes did that get by me?" muttered samuel salt, hurrying to shorten sail for the zigzag course, back and in, he would have to take to reach the island at all.
it showed plainly enough now, a rugged gray and purple mass of rock, with apparently no vegetation or dwellings of any kind. as the crescent moon drew nearer, the sea became smooth and oily, and the air sulphurous and hot.
"think likely this is an island we might well pass by," murmured ato, peering critically through his telescope. "positively deserted so far as i can see--but there might be valuable minerals in those rocks."
"don't doubt it!" samuel salt curved himself all the way round the wheel in his interest. mechanical devices were well enough for the open sea, but samuel preferred to handle his own ship on occasions like this. as there was no harbor or safe place to put in, he decided to anchor off shore and land in the jolly boat. the anchor had just gone clanking and rattling over the side when a horrid hiss and boom from the center of the island made all hands look up in alarm.
"k-kkk cannons!" quavered ato, dropping his bread knife with a clatter. "stand by to man the guns!"
but samuel salt, instead of heeding the cook's warning, began to sniff the air. "volcano, mates," announced the captain calmly. "and in that case we may be a bit close for comfort. still, i've always wanted to observe a volcano in action. i've a theory there may be living creatures in the center."
"living creatures in the center!" raged ato, tearing off his white apron and dashing it on the deck. "how long will we be living if that fire pot starts boiling? we mayn't be killed, being of magic birth, but we can be jolly well singed, fried, boiled and melted. and after that who'd care to be alive? quick, roger, heave in on that chain! anchors aweigh!"
while samuel stood in rapt contemplation of the volcano, and ato began frantically winding up the anchor, a long tongue of flame leaped out of the crater and a great jet of bubbling lava shot clear over the crescent moon. this occurrence soon brought samuel out of his revery, and snapping into action and forgetting all about his mechanical devices, he began working like a mad man to get the ship in motion, tugging at the sheets, throwing his whole weight against the halyards, till the ship with quivering sail sped away like a frightened bird, the hot winds from the volcano whistling and rattling through her rigging.
"where's roger?" yelled ato, staggering across the deck with two buckets of water. "oh, woe! is he a read bird or a just plain goose? look yonder, sammy, he's flown ashore." outlined against the sky in a sudden flare from the volcano they could see roger poised over the center of the smoking island. in his claw was a large rippling banner of oz and as they looked he lifted the banner high above his head and flung it straight into the center of the boiling crater.
"we hereby take complete and absolute possession of this island and declare all its inhabitants lawful subjects of her majesty, queen ozma of oz!" screamed roger hysterically.
"well, hurray, and three cheers for a real explorer!" shouted samuel salt. "he's done it all by himself, the only man among us who remembered his duty under fire. there's a bird for you, mates. not even a volcano can turn him from his duty. all we thought of was safety. poh!" rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, which were full of smoke, samuel looked glumly across at his cook.
"now, now, don't be too hard on yourself," puffed the king, setting down the fire buckets. "a captain must think of his ship, even if he is an explorer. besides, having wings gives roger an advantage of us. still and all, it was a brave and timely act." ato's further remarks were drowned out in a second tremendous explosion. sky and sea turned red, whole flaming boulders shot above the ship's spars, while great sullen waves of lava boiled over the crater's edge and rolled smoking and hissing into the sea.
"missed us again," panted samuel salt, hanging desperately to his wheel as the crescent moon plunged and pitched in the angry seas. "wonder what started that?"
"the oz flag, probably," gasped ato, feeling around in the dense smoke for his fire buckets. "hope roger got off safely. where is that fool bird? ho, sammy! hi, sammy! quick, they've hit us amidships."
hastily setting his mechanical steering gear, the former pirate rushed forward to where a glowing lump of lava was burning its way slowly but surely through the deck.
"fire! fire!" shrilled roger, who had dropped down on the rail unnoticed in the smoke and confusion. "water, ato! water, you old slow poke!"
"avast!" puffed samuel salt, staring down in astonishment at the glowing lump at his feet. "it's alive, mates, and lively as a grig. it's a fire baby, that's what! hah! didn't i just say there was life on a volcano? well, this proves it and i'm taking this young one along for proof."
"now stop talking like a book and act like a seaman," choked ato, in his agitation tripping over a rope but still managing to keep his hold on the water buckets. "fire baby or not, can't you see it's burning a hole in the deck, you seventh son of a sea-going jackass? here, put it out! dash this water over it before it burns up the whole ship!"
"avast! avast and belay!" roared samuel salt in a terrible voice as ato raised his bucket. "i'm still captain here. do you wish to destroy a rare specimen of volcanic life? fetch a shovel from the hold, roger. a shovel, i said, and don't stand there dithering."
"aye aye, sir!" sputtered the read bird, half falling and half flying down the companionway. now a bird is a quick and handy fellow about a ship and in half the time it would have taken a seaman, roger was back with a long handled shovel. snatching the shovel, which he had often used on former treasure hunts, samuel scooped up the bawling fire baby and started on a run for the galley.
"it's turning black, it's turning black," wailed the disconsolate collector, crooning to the ugly infant as he ran along as if he were its own mother. "aye, aye--it's going out!"
"and a good thing, too," panted ato, who was close behind him. "what in tarry barrels are you fixing to do with it, sammy?"
roger, sensible bird that he was, stayed long enough to douse the two buckets of water on the smoking deck, then he, too, made a bee line for the galley. he was just in time to see samuel lift the lid of the range and slide the baby down on top of the hot coals. no sooner had the squat infant touched the glowing fire than it stopped yelling at once and began to purr and sing like a teakettle set on to boil.
"well, i'll be swizzled!" gulped ato, and snatching a wet dish towel from the rack, he wound it round and round his aching head. "whatever made you think of that?"
"it's my scientific mind," the pirate told them blandly. "the proper place for any infant that size is bed and i naturally figured that a fire baby belonged in a fire bed, and a bed of hot coals was the nearest to it, so here it is!" winking solemnly at roger, who was regarding the little lavaland islander with fear and loathing, samuel picked up the poker and gave the baby an affectionate poke. "it'll do fine here," he predicted happily, "and prove beyond a quibble that volcanos are inhabited."
"it'll do nothing of the sort!" exploded ato, bringing his fat fist down with a resounding thump on the drain board. "you may be the captain of the ship, sammy, but i'm the boss of this galley, and that fire baby will have to go. go! do you understand? how'm i to cook with the ugly little monster lolling all over the fire bed and like as not falling into the soup when my back is turned?"
"hark!" interrupted roger. "more trouble! something's up, master salt, and it's not an eruption either." and samuel had to agree with him as groans, moans, shrieks and hisses came whistling after the flying ship.
"ah, that'll be the rest of them!" exulted the royal discoverer, pounding out on deck. "hah! it's the lavaland islanders themselves. ho--this will be interesting!"
"well, just invite them over and we'll all burn up happily together," suggested ato bitterly.
hanging over the taffrail, samuel paid no attention to the king's sarcastic suggestion. indeed, he was much too interested, for just showing above the flaming circle of the volcano's crater was a row of immense and thunderous looking natives. they were of transparent rock-like structure and burned and glowed from the molten lava that coursed through their veins. with upraised arms and furious faces they were yelling over and over some strange and indistinguishable threats and phrases. one, shaking the blackened stick of the oz flag, danced and screamed louder than all the rest put together.
"they do not wish to become subjects of oz, i take it," sighed samuel, undecided whether to sail back and argue the matter, or sail away and save his ship from possible destruction.
"that's not it! that's not it!" cried roger, flapping his wings triumphantly. "i know what's the matter. they want that baby back. you're probably making off with the crown prince of the volcano. see that woman yelling louder than the others and holding out both arms? well, look--she has a crown on her head and is likely the queen. she wants her baby back."
"and she should have it, too," stated ato, blinking his eyes at the frightful racket the lavaland islanders were making. "you can't steal people's children like this, sammy, unless you're going back to buccaneering. it's just plain piracy."
"she threw it at us, didn't she?" muttered the captain, who was unwilling to part with so valuable a specimen.
"it probably blew out of its cradle when the volcano erupted. give it back to her, sammy," begged ato, who was determined to get rid of the terrible infant at any cost. "after all, she's its mother."
"but do you expect me to sail back there and endanger all of our lives?" samuel jerked his head angrily. "and how else can it be done?"
"er--er--let roger carry it back in that old wire basket we use for clams," proposed the cook eagerly.
"not on your life," protested roger in a sulky voice. "the basket would grow red hot and burn my bill. besides, i'm no stork. tell you what we could do, though, and we'd better be quick before they start throwing things."
"what?" inquired the captain, gazing uneasily at the infuriated islanders.
"why, simply shoot it back," roger said calmly. "stuff it in the port cannon and blaze away. you never miss your mark, master salt, and if you can't shoot that baby back into its mother's arms, i'll walk on my wings and be done with it."
"why, roger, how clever! the very thing!" rejoiced ato. "i'll go fetch it with the fire tongs and you'll have to hurry, sammy, or we'll be out of range."
"but it might injure the young one," objected the captain of the crescent moon, shifting his feet uncomfortably.
"nonsense, it'll be just like a ride in a baby carriage for that little rascal. prime your gun, sammy, while i get the child."
by this time the clamor from the island had become so alarming that even samuel realized something would have to be decided. so, somewhat mollified by roger's compliment on his aim, he made ready to fire the port cannon. the baby, hissing lustily, was brought without accident from the galley. ato held it gingerly before him, using the fire tongs, roger following along to hold a lighted candle under the little fellow to keep him from going out before he was shot.
the baby fitted nicely into the cannon's mouth and stopped crying instantly. at the last moment samuel almost lost his courage, but urged on to action by both ato and roger, he carefully made his calculations and then shutting both eyes pulled the cord that set off the gun. the terrible explosion shocked the lavalanders into silence, and almost afraid to look, samuel opened his eyes.
"yo, ho, ho! three cheers for the skipper!" squealed ato, snatching the towel from his head and waving it like a banner. "the neatest shot you ever made, mate, and a lucky shot, too." the baby and the cannon ball which would have shattered a less durable lady had struck the lava queen amidships. dropping the cannon ball carelessly into the crater, the giantess clasped her child in her arms, smiling and screaming her thanks across the tumbling waters.
"well, was i right, or was i right?" chuckled roger, teetering backward and forward on the rail and preening his feathers self-consciously. "and i've another idea just as good in case you should be interested."
"oh, keep it till tomorrow," grumbled samuel salt, who felt terribly depressed at the loss of his rare specimen.
"but tomorrow will be too late," persisted roger, settling on the captain's shoulder. "now, while these savages are in a good humor, let me fly over and drop another oz flag on the island. maybe this time they'll let it stand and once it flies over the crater the island is ozma's."
"by the tooth of a harpooned whale, you're right! i'm forgetting my duty to oz," breathed samuel, straightening up purposefully. "but our kind of flag won't stand the climate yonder."
the read bird, however, had thought even of that. taking a sheet of iron from the hold, the resourceful fellow stopped in the galley long enough to burn in the word oz with the red hot poker. then, thrusting the poker itself through two slits in his iron banner, he flew jauntily back to the island.
"ahoy, and there's a standard bearer for you!" rubbing his hands together, samuel strode to the rail. "bless my buttons, the boy deserves a medal for this, and shall have one, too."
this time the lavaland islanders watched roger's approach with quiet interest and as he hovered uncertainly over their heads held up their hands for the iron flag. but roger, made daring by their friendliness, swooped down suddenly to the crater's edge, and jamming his banner between two smoking boulders soared aloft.
"lavaland islanders!" screamed the read bird hoarsely. "you are now under the protection and rule of queen ozma of oz. lavaland islanders, you are hereby adjured to keep the peace and the law and lav one another!"
his voice cracked from fright and excitement, but finishing triumphantly, he spread his wings and skimmed back to the crescent moon.
"hung wung wah heee!" yelled the islanders all together, nodding their heads and waving their arms cheerfully. "hung wung wah heee!"
"what do you make of that?" puffed samuel salt as roger dropped breathlessly down on his shoulder. "well, 'hung wung wah heee!' it is. let's give them a cheer for luck." lifting his great voice, the royal discoverer for oz, helped out by his two shipmates, sent the weird call booming back across the water.
an answering call came from the island, and then, with a hiss and thud, a small glowing object fell on the deck. fortunately the fire tongs were still handy and picking up the offending object before it could do any damage, ato marched sternly off to the galley. stopping long enough for another wave to the island, which was growing smaller and smaller as the crescent moon sped away, samuel hastened after his cook, jotting down hurried notes in his journal as to latitude and longitude as he ran along.
"there's something written on this piece of lava," announced ato, who had dropped the smoking souvenir from lavaland on the stove. peering over his shoulder, samuel could see queer raised symbols and signs on the sulphurous surface of the rock.
"there's something crawling on it, too," volunteered roger, who was perched on the towel rack above the stove, and had a better view, "a golden frog or a lizard."
"merciful mustard! what next?" groaned ato.
"why, this--this--" samuel's voice quivered with excitement and disbelief, "this, mates, is as fine a specimen of a preoztoric monster as a scientist could hope for; a real live salamander, a fire lizard, straight from the burning depths of yonder crater. stars! tar and tarrybarrels! this is even better than the baby and will prove my point just as well."
"does it have to live on my stove?" asked ato ominously, as the salamander slid merrily backward and forward over the red hot plates of the range. "home on the range!" snickered roger, winking at the pirate.
"just till i can fix up a hot box for it," apologized samuel, "but don't fret, old toff, it doesn't bite and if it falls on the floor, all you have to do is scoop it up and put it back before it goes out."
"not only cook, mate and swab, but now i'm nursemaid to a fire lizard." ato shuddered, and reaching for his tall cook's cap, jammed it down hard on his shiny bald head.
"you can keep it in an iron pot while you cook," suggested roger practically, "and after all, king dear, it's the only salamander in captivity. here, sally, here sal--this way, my little crater critter." tilting the pot on the back of the stove, roger was delighted to find the salamander quite willing to answer to her new name. as she slid adventurously into the small cooking vessel, the read bird quickly righted the pot and clapped on the cover. "there," he exclaimed with a satisfied nod at his master, "how's that?"
"well, i suppose i'll have to put up with it," sighed ato resignedly. "but in some ways pirating was easier than discovering, sammy. at least, we never kept the captives on the stove. and now--" ato waved his arms determinedly. "clear out, both of you. it's three bells and time to stir up the food. and just take that pesky rock along with you. i've meat to broil!"
"when this cools, maybe i'll be able to figure out the language," exulted samuel, removing the offending piece of lava with a cake turner. "all in all, a most interesting and profitable day, eh, roger? an island, a visit from a fire baby, and a real live preoztoric monster."
"not bad," agreed the read bird, transferring himself to the captain's shoulder. depositing the piece of lava on an iron hatchway to cool, samuel strode happily along the deck, stopping to light the red lamps on the port and the green lights on the starboard. roger himself had just hung a white light in the rigging when a lusty call from the galley sent him flying off to help ato serve the dinner.
"what could be cozier than a life at sea?" he reflected, winging jauntily into the main cabin with a dish of roast potatoes. ato puffed cheerfully behind, bearing a huge tray. on the tray a steaming tureen of soup, a pot of coffee, seven dishes of vegetables and two of smoking meats sent up tantalizing whiffs and fragrances. later when the read bird brought in the pudding, he and sammy soberly agreed it was the tastiest feast ato had served on the voyage.
the main cabin of the crescent moon, with its red leather couches under the ports, its easy chairs and tables clamped to the floor to keep them from shifting, with its ship's clock and ship's lanterns, was a cheery place to be when the day's work was ended. there was a huge fireplace for foggy evenings and every visible space on the wall was covered with pictures of pirate ships, ancient sailing vessels and rough maps and charts of strange and curious islands. while samuel and ato sat at their ease to finish off the pudding, roger took his upon the wing, darting in and out between bites to assure himself that all was well on deck. there was a tiny crescent moon sliding down the sky, and the slap of waves against the side of the ship and the wind creaking in the cordage made as pleasant a tune as the heart of a seaman could wish for.
"now what could be better than this?" said samuel salt exhaling a cloud of smoke from his pipe and stretching his legs luxuriously under the long table. "a tidy ship, a good wind and the whole wide sea to sail on."
"suits me!" grinned ato scraping up the last of the hard sauce and settling back with a grunt of sheer content. "did you mark up our volcano on the chart sammy, and what are we calling it mates? an island must have a name you know."
"i know." samuel blew another cloud of smoke upward and cleared his throat. "if it's agreeable to all hands and roger, i'd like to call it salamander island after sally."
"why not? there's a sally in our galley and a real nice gal is sally," warbled roger, settling on the back of samuel's chair and wagging his head in time to the music.
"sing like a bird, don't ye?" muttered samuel striding over to the map of oz and surrounding countries and oceans that covered the west wall.
"i am a bird," screamed roger fluttering up to his shoulder. "'bout here she would lie, master salt, sixty leagues from octagon island."
as roger talked on, making numerous suggestions, the captain of the crescent moon drew with red chalk a small but effective picture of salamander island showing the volcano in action and the lavaland islanders grouped around the crater's top.
"taken this day without a shot or the loss of a single man," printed samuel in neat letters under his sketch.
"don't forget, you shot the baby," twittered roger raising a claw argumentatively.
"oh, we can't put in small details like that," sniffed the captain stepping back to admire his drawing.
"seems odd for us to be discovering and taking possession of islands for a country we know so little about," mused ato, looking thoughtfully at the map on the west wall. "why, we've only been to oz once ourselves."
"yes, but everybody knows about oz," samuel said putting the red chalk back in the table drawer. "our business is with wild new countries that have never been seen or heard of. besides, anyone can see that oz is overpopulated and needs new territories and sea ports. and since ozma is so clever at governing, and her subjects all so happy and prosperous, the more people who come under her rule the better!"
"aye! aye!" agreed roger, peering with deep interest at the map. small wonder the read bird was interested, for oz is one of the most exciting and enchanting countries ever discovered. there are four large kingdoms in ozma's realm, the northern land of the gillikens, the eastern empire of the winkies, the southern country of the quadlings and the western domain of the munchkins. each forms a triangle in the oblong of oz. the emerald city which is the capital, is in the exact center where all these triangles meet. each of these kingdoms has its own ruler, but all four are under the sovereign rule and control of ozma, the small but powerful fairy who lives in the emerald city. on all sides, oz is surrounded by a deadly desert and beyond the desert lie the independent kingdoms of no-land, low land, ix, play, ev, the dominions of the gnome king, and many other strange and important principalities. these countries form a narrow rim around the desert, and beyond this rim lies the nonestic ocean itself, stretching in all directions and to no one knows what far and undiscovered shores. each of the four kingdoms in oz shown on samuel's map was so dotted with smaller kingdoms, cities, towns, villages and the holdings of ancient knights and barons, there was scarcely room for another castle. with young princes growing up on every hand, roger could well sympathize with the need of ozma for more territory.
"won't the ozians have too long a way to come before they reach these new islands and countries we discover?" inquired the read bird, after staring at the map for some moments in silence.
"not a bit of it!" samuel dismissed roger's objection with a snap of his fingers. "i hear the wizard of oz is working on a new fleet of airships, that will make crossing the desert and nonestic a real lark and enable new settlers to reach these outlying islands in a day or less. so all we have to do is to proceed with our discovering. ozma will attend to the rest. this volcanic island may not be as useful as some of the others, but one can never tell. how about picking up a few islands for you, ato, as we ride along?" the former pirate dropped his arm affectionately round the shoulders of his royal cook.
"no, thanks," grunted ato, rolling cheerfully to his feet. "one's enough. what would i want with any more islands? why i'd never get off on a voyage. but pick yourself a couple, sammy, why don't you?"
"who, me?" samuel salt shook his head emphatically. "a ship's all i can handle and i wouldn't trade you two buckets of sea water for all the islands in the nonestic. one ship and one crew's enough for me, and since you're my crew, you'd better turn in--we've had a hard day and another one coming. i'll take first watch, cooky, here, shall have middle, and you roger can be the early bird on morning watch."
"ho hum! i'm right sleepy at that," admitted ato, starting to heap up plates. "give me a lift with the dishes, roger, will you?"
"oh, throw 'em overboard," directed samuel salt recklessly. "there's plenty more in the hold and i'm agin all extry labor."
"hurray!" screamed roger seizing the coffee pot and winging merrily through an open port.
"avast! avast there! not my coffee pot!" pleaded ato, making after the read bird with surprising speed considering his tonnage. "stop you great gossoon! how many times must i tell you i'm boss of the galley?" catching roger by the leg just as he reached the rail, ato snatched back his precious coffee pot and hugged it protectively to his bosom. "why i've just got this contraption broken in proper," he panted indignantly. "a coffee pot's like a pipe, it's got to be sweetened and seasoned. heave over the plates and cups if you like," he went on, relenting a bit as he noted the keen disappointment on roger's face, "but save the soup tureen. i'll wager there's not another that size on the ship and the captain must have his soup. what a splendid pot of soup this would make," murmured ato looking dreamily down at the sea, "a bit salty, perhaps, but full of snapper and porgy and tender young sea shoots. why that foam's as near to whipping cream as anything i've ever gazed on."
tearing himself reluctantly from the appetizing sight, the royal cook padded off to put the galley in order for the night, while roger with loud squalls of glee dropped the plates and saucers one by one over the side. in this way the dishes were soon done, the cabin tidy and shipshape, and by eight bells the king and the read bird were sleeping soundly and samuel salt had the ship to himself.
first, he made a complete round of all decks, glanced at the barometer and compass, and furled the fore and mizzen topsails. then he took the cooled piece of lava down to the hold. the strange signs and symbols had hardened, and labeling it carefully with the date and name of salamander island, samuel placed it on his shelves for further study. then returning to the main deck he set a portable ship's lantern on a coil of rope and settled down to fix a hot box for the salamander. selecting from the material he had brought from the hold an iron box with a glass lid, he covered the bottom with sand and pebbles. knowing salamanders require hot water as well as hot air, he placed a tiny flat pan of water in the corner of the box to serve as a swimming pool. a burning glass in the day time and an alcohol lamp under the box at night would supply the necessary heat, and setting the whole contrivance on an iron tray in the cabin, samuel went joyfully off to fetch the fire lizard.
the salamander was still in the pot on the back of the stove, and giving her an experimental poke with his finger, samuel was astonished to find her quite cool to the touch. this was surprising considering she could only live in the most intense heat. but without stopping to figure it out, the captain picked her up between thumb and forefinger, carried her to the cabin and popped her into the iron box. he had already lighted the lamp under the box so that everything was red hot and cozy for her. the small captive seemed to appreciate her new quarters, wriggling over the hot pebbles and sand, then splashing gaily in her swimming pool.
"quite a girl!" sighed the pirate, resting his elbows on the table and gazing happily down at the first prize of the voyage. "you're going to be great company for me, sally." as if she really understood, the lizard gave a squeak and tapped loudly on the glass lid with her tail. the pipe almost dropped from samuel's mouth at sally's strange behavior, and lifting the lid he peered inquisitively down at her. before he had a chance to clap it shut, the salamander hurled herself upward, landing smartly on the bridge of the pirate's nose, from where she slid cleverly into the pipe itself.
"well i'll be scuppered!" gasped the royal explorer looking slightly cross-eyed down the bridge of his nose as sally coiled up comfortably in the bowl of the pipe. "the little rascal wants to keep me company, and so she shall, bless my boots, so she shall! why this is plumb cute and cozy and something to write in my journal." puffing away delightedly samuel stepped out of the cabin and all during his watch, the little salamander rested contentedly in his pipe. sometimes she peered up inquisitively over the edge, but mostly she lay quietly on the smoking tobacco, looking with calm interest at the sky and the rippling sails over her head. not only did she keep his pipe from going out, but never had it drawn so well. so, filled with a vast wonder and content, samuel strode up and down the deck. not till midnight when he roused ato could he bear to put sally back in her box and only then, after he had promised her another ride in the morning. but when morning came, samuel had no time to keep his promise, for while ato was cooking breakfast and the captain himself catching forty winks in the cabin, the raucous voice of the read bird came whistling down from the foremast.
"land ho! land! more land. island tuluward, captain!"
"all hands on deck! come on! come on!" yelled samuel salt running past ato's galley dragging on his clothes as he ran. "there's an island tuluward, you lubber."
"well, 'tain't a flying island is it?" ato stuck a very red face out the door. "i guess it'll stay there till i turn the bacon, won't it? no cause to burn the biscuits just 'cause an island's sighted is there?" but in spite of his pretended indifference, the ship's cook shoved all his pans on the back of the stove and hurried out on deck. "rich and jungly, this one," he observed, resting his arms comfortably on the rail, "and from what i can see a good place to grow bananas and whiskers. look, sammy, even the trees have beards."
"moss," muttered samuel salt striding over to the wheel. "fly ashore roger and see whether there's a good place to put in."
twittering with importance and curiosity, the read bird flung himself into the air. in ten minutes he was back to report a wide river cutting through the center of the island from end to end. the foliage was so dense, roger had not been able to discover any signs of habitation, but after viewing the mouth of the river through his glasses, the captain decided to take a chance, and sail through.
"now, sammy, let's not do anything hasty," begged the ship's cook lifting his floury hands in warning, "nor try to conquer a country on an empty stomach. this may be an important island, so after we eat, let us put on our proper clothes and plant the oz flags with dignity and decorum."
"spoken like a king and a seaman," approved samuel salt, "and if my eye does not deceive me, i'll have the ship in the river as soon as you have the coffee in the pot. then we'll ride in with the tide, put on our discovering togs and proceed with the business of the day."
so while ato returned to his galley and the read bird to his post in the foremast, samuel swung the crescent moon in toward the island. each felt a slight twinge of uneasiness as the ship left the open sea and began to slip rapidly up the broad new and unnavigated jungle stream. vine covered trees pressed close to the banks, and birds and monkeys in the branches kept up an incessant screech and chattering. a flock of greedy pelicans flopped comically after the ship and as they penetrated deeper and deeper into the jungle it almost seemed as if they were entering some dim green land of goblins.
"a fine target we make for anyone who cares to shoot at us," moaned ato, as he waddled backward and forward between the cabin and galley with cups and covered dishes. "ugh!"
"yes, i wouldn't be surprised to feel an arrow in my back any minute now," assented samuel salt brightly, "though i must say i'd much prefer a fried mackerel in my stomach."
"come on then," shuddered ato, in no wise cheered by samuel's remarks, "breakfast's ready and we may as well eat before we die."
"now never say die!" roared the royal explorer of oz, touching the buttons to furl sail and yelling to roger to let go the anchor. "never say die--say dee--dee-scovery is our aim and purpose, mates. dee-scovery with a hi de di dide di dough!" sang samuel vociferously to keep up his own spirits. finally with the ship motionless amidstream the three shipmates sat down to breakfast. their nerves were tense and their ears cocked for signs of approaching natives, but except for the noise of the birds and monkeys and the occasional splash of some river creature, there was no sound to indicate the ship had been sighted by the islanders.
"nobody's home," concluded samuel, finishing off his third cup of coffee at one toss and hurrying off to his cabin. roger, having only oz flags and no shore togs to bother him, generously offered to clear away the dishes and amused himself by throwing scraps and the rest of the biscuits to the pelicans. he had just tossed over the last biscuit when ato appeared in a grand satin coat and breeches, long cape and three-cornered hat. the elegance of his apparel was somewhat marred by the bread board he had belted round his middle and the bread knife and blunderbuss he had stuck through his sash.
"ha, hah!" roared samuel salt, giving the bread board a resounding whack. "something to stay your stomach, eh?" samuel himself was as stylishly attired as the king, his three-cornered hat at a dashing angle. under his arm he had two pairs of tremendously long stilts. "no need for us to get all grubby lowering the boat. we'll wade ashore this time," explained samuel as ato's eyes grew round and questioning. "easy as walking on crutches; just watch me, mate."
now samuel, it must be confessed, had been practicing stilting on elbow island, so naturally it came easy to him. first he put his stilts over the side, then vaulting the rail, he seized the tops and settled his feet in the cross pieces at one jump and started walking calmly up and down gleefully calling for ato to follow. it all looked so simple, ato handed the basket of lunch he had packed to roger, and seizing his stilts began anxiously feeling around for the river bottom. satisfied that it was solid, he climbed boldly up on the rail.
"that's it! that's it!" applauded samuel. "now grab the tops, mate, and start coming."
"chee tree--tee--hee--!" screeched the monkeys derisively as ato clung precariously to the rail with one hand and maneuvered his stilts with the other. by some miracle of balance the fat king actually managed to mount and hold on to his perilous walking sticks. then with a long quivering breath he heaved one forward. he was about to take another step when a desperate scream from roger almost caused him to topple over backwards.
"'gators!" croaked the read bird, beating his wings together violently. "watch out for those 'gators."
"why bother him with gaiters at a time like this? they look perfectly all right to me." samuel salt frowned up at roger.
"not his gaiters, river 'gators, alligators, crocodiles!" wailed roger, beginning to fly in agonized circles. "crocodiles and worse."
samuel, eyeing what he had supposed to be a pile of rotten logs on the river bank, saw dozens of the slimy saurians slide into the water and come savagely toward them.
"back to the ship! back to the ship!" babbled the read bird, clutching ato's collar with a frantic claw. but the king was too frightened to move. the sight of the bleary-eyed river monsters made him tremble so violently his stilts twittered and swayed like trees in a hurricane. he could not for the life of him take a step in either direction. with a loud cry samuel started to help him, but a crocodile reached ato first. its jaws closed with a vicious snap on the king's left stilt and with a heart-rending shriek ato plunged into the slimy river.
"there, there! now you've done it!" sobbed roger. "fed the kindest soul who ever served a ship's company to a parcel of crocodiles!" dropping the oz flags and lunch basket, he made an unsuccessful grab for his master's arm. but even if he had caught it, ato's great weight would have pulled them both under, and now only a circle of bubbles showed where the luckless explorer had disappeared. firing his blunderbuss to frighten off the rest of the crocodiles, samuel, striking left and right with his stilts, propelled himself forward, while roger pecked futilely at the monster that had felled his master. but just as samuel, after boldly driving off the dragon-like creature, prepared to dive in and save ato or perish with him, a dripping head appeared above the water.
"thank you. thank you very much!" murmured a mild voice. "i haven't had as nice a present as this since i was an itty bitty baby. now what can i do for you?" neither samuel nor roger could speak a word, for where the king had gone down, a tremendous hippopotamus was coming up, the lunch basket hanging carelessly out of a corner of its mouth. for a wild moment samuel thought his enormous friend and shipmate had been transformed by some witchcraft into this ponderous beast. he even imagined he caught an expression of ato's in the monster's moist eye. but this gloomy idea was soon dispelled, for, as the creature rose higher out of the water, they could see a desperate and bedraggled figure sprawled across its slippery back.
"ahoy, mate!" choked samuel, his heart thumping like a trip hammer. "is it really you? are you safe, then?"
"safe!" quavered the half-drowned and mud-covered king of the octagon isle. "safe?" he peered dizzily at the churning crocodiles just a boat's length away, and his voice cracked and broke. "i never felt safer in my life. what am i riding, a whale or an elephant?"
"a river horse," explained the hippopotamus, looking kindly over her shoulder. then, as the crocodiles began to hiss and roar and come rolling toward them, she gave a ferocious bellow and snort. "away with you! be off, you river scum!" she squealed viciously. "these travelers are mine. shoot your fire stick, master long legs. that will fix them." for a moment the crocodiles held their post, then, as samuel fired his gun repeatedly, they began to slide sullenly across the river to the opposite bank. "hold fast, master short legs, and i'll soon have you ashore," wheezed the hippopotamus, speaking out of the corner of her mouth so as not to drop the picnic basket.
"yes, yes, but what then?" shuddered ato, trying to get a finger hold on the monster's slippery neck.
"why, then, we'll both tell our stories, and after that i'll eat," snorted the river horse, paddling joyously toward the bank.
"you'll eat!" groaned ato, ready to roll back into the river. "oh, my father and mother and maiden aunts!"
"did you hear that?" dropping to samuel's shoulder, roger whispered fiercely. "quick now, a shot behind the ear, before it gets any further. are you going to do nothing while this ravenous monster carries off my poor master?"
"sh-hh!" warned samuel, holding up his finger. "these creatures do not eat meat or men. they're herbivorous, my lad, and this one seems uncommonly kind and friendly. but what puzzles me--" the royal explorer looked intently into the face of the read bird. "what puzzles me is to find this one talking our language. to my knowledge, only animals in oz, a few in ev and you on the octagon isle have the gift of speech. and i tell you, mate, this is a valuable discovery, and a simply splendid specimen of a pachydermatous talking aquatic." whether the last few words in this sentence or a stone in the river bottom tripped up the captain, roger never knew, but without any warning samuel turned a sudden back somersault into the river, going under as completely as ato had done.
"ugh--gr--ugh!" he gurgled, coming up full of mud and disgust. "how did that happen?"
"stilts!" sniffed roger, whose wings had saved him from going down with samuel. "a splendid way to get ashore, master salt, so neat and tidy. and a fine discoverer you look now."
sighing deeply, samuel watched his stilts floating out of reach, then shaking his head violently to get the water out of his eyes, he swam thoughtfully after the hippopotamus. as he dragged himself up on the bank, a monkey swinging by its tail from the lower branches of a tree snatched his three-cornered hat and scittered all the way to the tree top, at which all the other monkeys let out shrill hoots of mocking merriment.
"ah! the welcome committee!" sniffled ato, rolling off the hippopotamus. "well, sammy, wherever it is, here we are and a nice mess you've made of the landing. clothes ruined, weapons gone," (ato felt his middle dejectedly for his bread knife and blunderbuss), then hitching up the bread board at his waist looked long and accusingly at the leader of the expedition.
"now you mustn't mind a little mud," said the hippopotamus, setting down the picnic basket and gazing from one to the other with frank interest and curiosity. "mud is beautiful and so healthy."
"not for me," frowned samuel salt, endeavoring to remove the thick green slime from his hair and ears with his damp silk handkerchief. "but i suppose we'll dry off in time and--"
"proceed with the business of the day," finished ato sarcastically, as he squeezed the water out of his silk pantaloons and coat tails. "but i hope you don't mind my saying that a seaman should stick to his boats, samuel. if i had not fallen in with this kind and obliging hippopotamus, i'd have been a crocodile's lunch by this time."
"oh, i'd have got you out somehow," muttered samuel, smoothing back his hair sulkily. "and those stilts really saved your life. suppose that animal had bitten your leg instead of your stilt? by the way, what's the name of this island, mate?" anxious to change the subject, samuel turned to ato's tremendous rescueress.
"mate?" repeated the hippopotamus, wiggling her ears inquiringly, "what may that mean?"
"it is what a seaman calls his crew and his friends," explained samuel, grinning in spite of himself.
"seaman? mate?" mused the hippopotamus in a rapt voice. "how cozy, how beautiful!" overcome with emotion, the mighty monster leaned forward and lapped up the picnic basket, oz flags, lunch and everything. "i shall remember this as long as i live," she assured them with a gulp as one of the flags went sideways down her throat. "nikobo, little daughter of the biggenlittle river people, bids you welcome to
"little daughter!" exclaimed ato in a smothered voice. "ha, ha! patrippany island. ho, ho! this is interesting. i knew there was a trip in it somewhere, a wet trip for us, eh, samuel?"
"but what i don't understand," said the royal explorer of oz, briskly massaging his beard with his handkerchief, "is how you happen to speak our language. do all the creatures on this island talk? i don't mean that monkey chatter above."
"no, none of the other creatures here speak the language of man," answered nikobo solemnly. "i never knew i could speak it myself till five moons ago last herb day."
"herb day? dear, dear and dear! how confusing it all grows," sighed ato, emptying the water out of his hat which had somehow survived his river ducking. "do you suppose she means thursday? roger! roger! keep away from those monkeys. do you wish to lose all your tail feathers?"
"oh, it's all very simple," nikobo rolled her eyes from side to side. "one day i eat herbs and that is herb day. one day i eat twigs and that is twig day, and one day i eat grass and that is grass day, and--"
"and one day you eat lunch baskets and oz flags, and i suppose that makes it flag day," chuckled roger, coming down from a little excursion in the tree tops. "she's swallowed the oz flags, skipper, and if that doesn't make her a citizen of oz, i'll eat my feathers."
"go ahead, if it will keep you any quieter," said samuel salt, who did not want this interesting conversation interrupted by roger's nonsense. "so you only began to speak our language five moons ago last herb day? what made you do that?"
"a boy," confided nikobo with a ponderous wag of her head.
"ah, now we're getting somewhere." feeling in his pocket, samuel pulled out a small note book and pencil, still damp but usable. "was it a native boy?" he asked eagerly.
"no, no, certainly not." the hippopotamus panted a little at the very idea of such a thing. "the leopard men speak a strange roaring language i have never been able to make head or tail of. besides, to speak to them would not be safe nor desirable. the leopard men have long tusks and spears and--"
"leopard men!" yelled ato, flinging both arms round the trunk of a tree. "oh! oh! and oh! i wish we were safely back at pirating, sammy. here we are marooned on this miserable monkey island, inhabited by leopard men, surrounded by crocodiles and no way of getting back to the ship."
"you forget me," murmured the hippopotamus. lumbering over to ato, she gave him a gentle nudge with her moist pink snout. "nikobo, little daughter of the biggenlittle river people, will carry you anywhere you wish to go."
"not yet, not yet," protested samuel salt as ato made a clumsy attempt to mount the hippopotamus. "why, we've only just come, mate. we can't go without seeing these leopard men and this strange boy who speaks our language."
"oh, can't we?" drawing in his breath, ato made a flying leap at nikobo, and this time managing an ear hold, pulled himself determinedly up on her moist, slippery back. "goodbye, samuel," said the king with a firm wave of his hand. "if you bring any leopard men back to the crescent moon, you can discover yourself another cook. no leopard men. mind, now!"
"oh, you needn't worry about that." the hippopotamus closed one eye and smiled knowingly to herself. thoroughly annoyed by the desertion of ato and the superior grin of the river horse, samuel snatched a long rapier from his belt and glowered belligerently around him.
"shiver my timbers! you think i'm not strong enough nor smart enough to fight these savages? huwhere are these leopard men?" roared the former pirate in such a reverberating voice the monkeys fled silently to the tree tops, and even roger put his head under his wing.
"gone, all gone!" explained nikobo as she started calmly down toward the river bank.
"you mean there are no leopard men on this island now?" looking with horror and aversion at the crocodile-infested river, ato began tugging at nikobo's ear. "not so fast, my good creature! wait a moment, my buxom lass! perhaps i'll stay with sammy after all."
"well, just as you say." with scarcely a pause in her stride, the hippopotamus turned round and waddled amiably back to the strip of sand where samuel salt stood staring sternly into the jungle beyond.
"this is a great disappointment to me, mates," sighed the captain of the crescent moon mournfully wringing out the lace ruffles of his cuffs. "to have taken a leopard man back to the court of oz would have been an achievement worth the whole voyage."
"now there's where we're different," murmured ato, settling into a more comfortable position on the back of the river horse. "i myself would rather be disappointed than speared by a savage, and i don't care how many leopard men i miss seeing. rather be spared than speared, ha, ha! tee, hee, hee!" ato chuckled from sheer relief.
"shall i fly back to the ship for some more oz flags?" roger flapped his wings inquiringly. "if the leopard men are really gone, then patrippany island is ours without a spear thrown."
"that's so," mused samuel salt, thrusting his rapier back into its sheath and beginning to show a little interest in the island itself. "fly ahead, my hearty."
"and bring back some ship's biscuit," called ato. "all this diving and mud turtling has left me weak as a fish. and while we're waiting for roger, perhaps nikobo will tell us a little about these islanders. were they little or big, black or brown?"
"yellow," answered the hippopotamus gravely. "big and yellow with brown spots all over their hides. they had brown hair, mane and eyes, and rough snarling voices. they used neither huts nor shelter, but roamed like the animals through the jungle, hunting, fishing and fighting. they had hollowed out logs for use in the water and last twig day every leopard man, woman and child climbed into the long boats and paddled out to sea. shortly afterward--" nikobo's eyes grew round and shiny at the mere memory, "shortly afterward a great hurricane arose and my family and i, watching from the mouth of the biggenlittle river, saw the boats and men swept under the waves. some of the logs floated back to the islands, but the leopard men and women we never saw again."
"not even one?" exclaimed samuel peevishly.
"not even one," nikobo assured him solemnly. "and to tell the truth," the hippopotamus flashed a sudden and expansive sigh, "it is much better and safer without them. the one problem is the boy, and i've been feeding him myself."
"oh, yes, the boy who speaks our language," mused samuel, still lost in bitter reflections of the leopard men he should never see face to face.
"what've you been feeding him?" asked ato, suspiciously. "how would a hippopotamus know what to feed a boy?"
"i do the best i can," said nikobo in a hurt voice. "every day i collect fresh roots, herbs and grasses for him."
"roots, herbs--grasses! merciful mustard! a boy's being fed on roots, herbs and grasses, sammy. did you ever hear of anything more ridiculous in your life?"
"no worse than spinach," mumbled samuel salt. "but say, look here--" the royal explorer of oz raised his arm imperiously. "what is a small boy doing on this island? how'd he get here in the first place, and where is he now?"
"follow me," directed nikobo in a dignified voice. "follow me and you shall know all." as roger appeared at that moment with the oz flags and biscuits, the little procession immediately got under way, ato calmly riding behind.
on her many visits to the strange boy, nikobo had worn a path through the tangled growth of vines and bush. tenuous trees dropped their branches over this path and stretched out their gnarled roots to trip the unwary traveler. several times roger let out hoarse squeals as a huge snake coiled along the limb of a tree, thrust out its ugly head. gaudy flowers from the vines that closely entwined every tree, filled the air with a damp sleepy fragrance, and samuel salt, darting his eyes left and right, held his blunderbuss ready for any savage beast that might spring upon them. but the jungle creatures, thinking the leopard men had returned, slunk further and further into the green shadows and without any mishaps or encounters, nikobo brought the explorers to a small clearing in the whispering tangle of green.
here they were suddenly confronted by a stoutly built cage, its bars constructed of saplings set scarcely an inch apart. on a heap of grass in a corner of the cage crouched the lonely figure of a little boy clothed in a single leopard skin.
"well, goosewing my topsails!" panted samuel salt, deceived at first by the leopard skin. "a little wild man, a leopard boy, as i'm a salt sea sailor!"
"it's nothing of the kind," nikobo contradicted him sharply. "can't you see he is white and has teeth as straight as your own instead of tusks? he's not like the leopard men at all."
"but who put him in this cage? what's he done, and what's he doing here?" slipping off nikobo's back, ato pressed his face close to the bars of the strange prison.
"i am waiting for my people to come and rescue me," stated the boy, rising with great dignity from his bed of grass. folding his arms, he looked haughtily out at the explorers. "who are these men, nikobo?" he inquired sternly. "why have you brought them here?"
"because they seemed friendly and speak your language," puffed the hippopotamus, beaming lovingly at her small charge. "because i thought they might break these bars and set you free. they have a hollow log seventy times as large as the hollowed logs of the leopard men. in this they could easily carry you over the waters and back to your own people. i've tried to break this miserable hutch dozens of times," explained nikobo, turning to samuel salt. "but the saplings are sunk so deep, i've been afraid i'd crush tandy as well as the cage if i pushed too hard."
"quite likely," said samuel salt, rapping the bars with his knuckles. "we'll have to fetch an ax from the ship. but who shut you up here, little lubber, and how long have you been prisoner on this island?"
"five months and a half," answered the boy after consulting one of the bars in the corner of his cage. "i've made a nick in this bar with my teeth for every day i have been here."
"well, that's all over now, you poor child, you!" ato's voice shook with indignation as he looked in at the little boy whose every rib showed plainly under the skin. in fact, a heap of grass and dried roots in the cage made the kind-hearted monarch shudder with distaste and sympathy. "you shall come with us and eat like a king," he promised, nodding his head cheerfully, "and learn to be an able-bodied seaman to boot." instead of looking grateful or pleased, the boy whom the hippopotamus had called "tandy" merely stood looking between the bars of his cage.
"why should i go with you?" he said finally and wearily. "you look wild and dangerous to me, and far worse than the leopard men. here, at least i have kobo to take care of me, and who knows what further perils and hardships i should suffer at sea?"
"ho! ho! and how do you like that, my lads?" roger rocked backward and forward on samuel salt's shoulder. "the young one speaks truly. if you could but see yourselves, my hearties." now both ato and samuel had forgotten their plunge in the river, but with their hair and clothing still covered with mud and slime they looked the veriest rogues and rascals. and while ato regarded himself with embarrassment and discomfiture, samuel took a quick step forward.
"so!" roared the great seaman angrily. "so, you don't trust us, eh? well, stay here if you wish and grow up like a monkey. you look like a little wild man already."
"stop!" nikobo quivered all over with resentment. "you must not call tandy a wild man."
"don't mind." the boy drew the leopard skin around him with quiet dignity. "i can bear it. i have borne far worse. i can bear anything. i am a king and the son of a king's son! tell them to go away, kobo."
"now, now, now! this is nothing but nonsense." ato clapped his hands sharply. "however we look, my young squab, you are in good and royal company. my mate here, captain salt, is captain of the crescent moon, royal explorer of oz, and a knight, besides. i, though at present a ship's cook, am king of the octagon isle, and roger, here, is as royal a read bird as ever wagged a bill and wing. if you say you are a king, we will have to believe you, though 'tis hardly credible." ato stared with round eyes at the matted hair and dirty body of the little prisoner. "if you say you are a king we must believe you, but in return you must believe us, and stop all this hoity toity talk and clishmaclatter."
"he speaks the plain truth." nikobo pressed her huge snout close to the bars. "even i can detect the signs of royalty in this fat and goodly person whom i just this morning helped out of the river. you must go with them, tandy, and they will carry you back to your own kingdom."
"but i tell you, i'd rather stay here with you," wailed the little boy, relaxing a moment from his kingly and overbearing attitude.
"roger, fetch the ax." samuel salt spoke so loud and sternly nikobo lapsed into a shocked silence and tandy hastily drew back into a far corner of his cage.
"never argue with a sea-going man," whispered ato, winking solemnly as roger flew off to obey samuel's order. having settled the matter in his own mind, samuel turned his back on tandy and began to examine with deep interest the fungus growth on one of the gnarled old trees. "so you really are a king?" leaning against the huge body of nikobo, ato folded his hands comfortably on his stomach and regarded the boy in the leopard skin earnestly. "now what country do you hail from and what do they call you at home?"
"i am tazander tazah of ozamaland," announced the boy proudly, "the land of the creeping bird and flying reptile. ozamaland on the long continent of tarara is my home."
"ozamaland!" shouted samuel salt, swinging round like a teetotum. "so there really is such a place. i have always said so, ato, but no one would believe me. lies to the east of here, doesn't it, sonny, and is twice as large as any known land bordering on the nonestic?" somewhat impressed to find that samuel salt knew something of his homeland, the little boy nodded. "and do you suppose we could snare one of those creeping birds and flying reptiles if we managed to reach ozamaland?" grasping the bars of the cage, samuel peered anxiously into the young king's face.
"do you suppose you ever could reach ozamaland?" sighed tazander, returning samuel's eager look with gloomy aloofness. "do you know that a ship has never touched our shores?"
"then the crescent moon shall be the first!" cried samuel salt, snapping his fingers joyfully. "why, this will be tremendous and the most momentous discovery in a thousand years! but how do you happen to be so far from ozamaland yourself?" asked samuel salt immediately afterward. "did you come by air or sea?"
"that i cannot tell." tazander seated himself soberly on a log before he continued. "one night i was sleeping soundly in my tower in the white city, next thing i remember i was here in this jungle. the leopard men, wild and savage as they were, fed me when they remembered on raw fish and chunks of hard, bitter bread they made from the roots of the brima tree. but i could not understand their talk, nor they mine, and till kobo found me a month after my imprisonment i had no one to talk to at all. but she has come every day to keep me company and try to set me free, and since the leopard men were drowned she has fed me, too. see, through this little door." tazander opened a small door in the bars and stuck both hands through.
"but how did you learn the language?" asked ato, turning round to gaze up into nikobo's huge face.
"i don't know," said nikobo with an excited gulp. "i just started to say 'hello!' and instead of saying it in hippopotamy, there i was talking a strange language which i could understand as well as my own. and in this language tandy answered me, much to my delight and pleasure."
"strange, very strange." ato shook his head in a puzzled manner. "well, all i say is, it was lucky for this small fellow that you happened along, and once we have him aboard he'll soon forget all these hardships and unpleasant experiences."
"i'll never forget kobo," said the young king, backing stiffly away from the outstretched arms of ato.
"and kobo'll never forget you," sniffed the hippopotamus. "the talk of the river people seems dull and stupid since i've talked to tandy. none of the herd really need me and i don't know what i'm going to do--whoo--hoo hoo whooo!" rocking from side to side, nikobo began to sob as if her heart would break, so violently in fact, samuel salt covered both ears and ato, alarmed at the enormous grief of the gigantic beast, tried to put his arms around her.
"here, here!" begged the ship's cook, thumping her hard upon the back. opening the bag of biscuits roger had brought from the ship, ato handed two to tandy and began shoving the rest as fast as he could down the vast throat of the grief-stricken hippopotamus. after each biscuit, nikobo choked and sobbed to herself, but on the whole, they seemed to comfort her, and when the read bird finally returned with the ax she watched almost cheerfully as samuel salt, with well-aimed blows, demolished tandy's jungle cage. as the last side crashed down and without giving tandy time to argue any further, samuel salt seized the boy firmly in both arms and set him down on the back of the hippopotamus. then, giving ato a hand up behind him, the captain of the crescent moon sternly led the way to the edge of the island. roger, waving an oz flag, flew ahead screaming defiantly to the monkeys and parrots that infested the island, "way, way! way for the royal discoverer of oz! way for the king of the octagon isle! way for nikobo, little daughter of the biggenlittle river people. way for tazander tazah, king and son of a king's son! way--ay--ayyyy!"
with no one to challenge their going but the birds and monkeys, the little band made its way back to the sandy beach. tandy, perhaps because he had been so long pent up in the silent jungle and because he was by nature a naturally sober and solemn little boy, said nothing. not even the crescent moon, riding so proudly at her anchor, seemed to arouse any interest or enthusiasm in this strange young ozamalander.
"well, here we are!" exclaimed ato, heartily thankful to be in sight of the ship again. "and i hope you'll not mind ferrying us out to the boat, nikobo; those crocodiles still look hungry and i've no notion of being crocked for the rest of my life."
"any time you say," grunted the hippopotamus, squeaking a listless greeting to a company of her own relatives who were rolling lazily about in the muddy river water.
"avast and belay and what's the hurry?" leaning his ax against a tree, samuel moistened a finger and held it up. "the wind's against us, mate, so we'll have to wait for the tide. not only that, but roger and i must survey the island and dig up some more interesting specimens to take back to the ship." after a long and rather quizzical look at tandy, samuel turned and swung along the beach, the read bird flapping joyously behind him.
"run up and down a bit," advised ato, sliding down from nikobo's back. "your legs must need stretching. wonder if there's anything to eat around here or hereabouts? aha, those look like oranges, a wild orange grove, as i'm a cook and a seaman. come along, young one, and help me gather a few."
"a king and son of a king's son does not come and go at another's bidding," announced tandy, stiffly, alighting from the hippopotamus.
"merciful mothers! what's this?" gasped ato, blinking his eyes rapidly. "as complete a case of ingrowing royalitis as i've ever had the misfortune to encounter. well, since it's every king for himself, then i'll be leaving you, sonny and son of a king's sonny. watch out for him, kobo, he's probably real important to himself."
"you should not speak like that," reproved the hippopotamus as ato disappeared into the orange grove, "after all, the big and fat one is himself a king."
"pooh, king of some potty little island," sniffed tandy, leaning wearily against a palm. "break me a cocoanut, kobo, i'm thirsty." with a discouraged sigh nikobo trod on one of the cocoanuts, cracking it from end to end and then, because she was a generous and kindly creature, she cracked several more for ato when he should return. sitting back on her haunches, she anxiously watched while tandy downed the cocoanut milk, then, stretching out in the sand, fell unconcernedly asleep. thus ato found them when he emerged from the orange grove an hour later. his elegant explorer's cape was knotted to form a sack and bursting full of the small sweet fruit of the wild orange trees.
"these will make us a fine mess of marmalade when i get back to the ship," panted the perspiring monarch, settling down with his back cozily to nikobo's. "how's young saucebox?"
"all right." the hippopotamus nodded in tandy's direction. "he is so small and tired," she murmured worriedly, "and you must know he has been exposed in an open cage in the jungle for five long months with only a miserable hippopotamus for company."
"miserable hippopotamus," snorted ato indignantly. "you're a very superior animal, my girl. i'd consider it an honor to converse with you any day. did you crack these cocoanuts for me?" as nikobo, trying bashfully to conceal her pleasure at ato's praise, admitted she had, the king took several long, satisfying draughts from the shells. "now, don't you worry about that young sprout," he advised kindly as nikobo continued to gaze mournfully at the sleeping boy. "we'll make allowances for his high and mighty littleness and set him down in his own country. that is, if we ever manage to find it, though i must say he'll not be much use nor company for us. ahoy! here comes sammy. wonder what he's found?" as a matter of fact, the royal explorer of oz looked more like a walking window box than a seaman. long vines hung from his neck and trailed from his pockets. his arms were crammed with spiked and prickly plants and on his head he balanced a package of sea shells tied up in his shore-going coat.
"what you going to do, start a conservatory?" roared ato as roger helped the captain set his treasures on the ground.
"rare and unusual, all of 'em," said samuel, dropping down beside ato and looking with complete satisfaction at his curious collection.
"mind those yellow creepers," warned nikobo, wiggling her vast snout warningly. "those purple flowered plants in the middle are treacherous, too. they are tumbleweeds, master long legs, and 'tis from them patrippany island gets its name. when the leopard men fought, they would fling these weeds at one another, and i've seen them falling about for hours, neither side being able to advance a step or even stand up."
"tumbleweeds!" breathed samuel ecstatically. "you don't say! why, these might come in real handy if we ever get in a tight place. i'll give a few to the wizard of oz and to the red jinn when we get back from this voyage. and what about the yellow creepers, mate? are they fighting plants, too?"
"the creepers, if uprooted and thrown at an animal or man, will creep rapidly after him, catching him no matter how fast he runs and tying him up so tight he will not be able to move until the vine withers," explained nikobo solemnly. "i happen to know from an experience i had with one of these vines in my early youth."
"creeping vines," shivered ato, moving as far away from samuel's collection as possible. "just keep them away from me, sammy. what right have such things on a ship?"
"oh, they'll be harmless enough when they're potted," answered samuel easily. "and a splendid weapon they'll make for some up and coming country."
"better keep them for ourselves," advised roger, fluttering down to samuel's shoulder. "exploring's a dangerous business, if you ask me, master salt."
"well, you'll have to admit that it's been pretty safe and successful so far," said samuel, clasping his hands behind his head and gazing contentedly up at the waving fronds of the palm trees.
"safe!" the ship's cook began to shake and quiver all over. "ho, ho! safe? especially sailing round that volcano and going swimming with the crocodiles! safe! you'll be the death of me yet, sam-u-el. have you planted your oz flags and told the wild creatures in the jungle about their new sovereign?"
roger nodded his head importantly. "we've raised oz flags on the tallest trees on the east, south, west and north sides of the island. i flew across and got a bird's eye view while the captain walked clear 'round. we've discovered it's bean shaped, king dear, the exact shape of a kidney bean, and a fine fertile place for settlers and prospectors from oz."
"yes, all they have to do is cut down a million trees, drain the swamps and train the wild beasts in the jungle to be as polite and considerate as nikobo here."
"well, what of it? that's their problem." samuel stretched himself, luxuriously snapping each finger to see that it was still working. "and now, since our part is done, what do you say to waking this son of a king's son and getting aboard the ship? the tide'll run out in a couple of hours and carry us along." tazander had been awake for some time listening to the conversation with closed eyes. now sitting up, he calmly spoke his mind.
"i'm not going with you," he stated grandly. "i'm going to stay here with kobo till my own people come for me."
"hah! mutiny!" leaping to his feet, samuel glared down at the puny youngster with real anger and exasperation. "if you think i'm going to leave you on this island to be devoured by wild animals when nikobo's back is turned, you don't know your pirates. climb up on that animal. lively, now!" samuel looked so fierce and threatening, ato felt rather sorry for the stubborn little king, but he was wasting his sympathy.
"i'm not going," said tandy, settling more determinedly down into the sand. "and no one can make me."
"don't say that! don't say that!" blubbering with grief at the thought of losing her small charge and shivering with anxiety lest he arouse to further anger this tall sea captain, nikobo lumbered to her feet and began to whisper eagerly in tandy's ear. during this short conference samuel gathered up his specimens and ato his oranges, and when both had finished the hippopotamus edged nervously forward.
"i've decided to go with you," she announced in a slightly shaken voice. "if i go, tandy'll go, so i'll just go!"
"what?" roared samuel salt, dropping his shells and clapping his hand to his forehead. "well, that practically solves everything!" looking wildly from the hippopotamus to the crescent moon, samuel had a dreadful vision of nikobo rolling dangerously from side to side of his cherished vessel.
"what'll you eat?" demanded roger, who was ever more practical than polite. "how'll we ever feed this enormous lady, cook dear? besides, she'll sink the ship."
"i'll be very quiet and stay wherever you put me," murmured nikobo in a meek voice. "i'll go on a diet and eat whatever is left."
"well, why couldn't she go?" proposed ato, who already had formed a great liking for tandy's devoted guardian. "why couldn't she? nice kind motherly creature that she is!"
"but a hippopotamus needs fresh water and tons of food and--" then suddenly samuel brought his hands together with a resounding smack.
"have you thought of something?" asked ato hopefully, shifting his oranges from one shoulder to the other.
"yes," stated the former pirate solemnly, "i have." samuel was secretly delighted to have found a way to carry this superb herbivorous specimen back to oz. "i'll build her a raft and tow her along after the ship. we'll stop at all the islands we come to for fresh water and grass, and meanwhile she'll have to do with salt baths and such food as we have in the hold."
"oh, kobo! did you hear that?" springing up with the first signs of life or feeling he had yet shown, tandy flung himself on his huge champion and friend. "so you're really going. then i'll go too."
"can't be all bad, if he's as fond of her as all that," whispered ato in samuel's ear.
"not bad, just a pest," wheezed samuel, reaching for his ax. "needs a taste of the rope, if you ask me." then, while nikobo went for a last swim in the biggenlittle river and bade goodbye to her numerous and wondering relatives, samuel felled trees, split wood, and with nails roger fetched from the ship fashioned a splendid strong raft for their new pet. round the edge he built a sturdy railing to keep nikobo from sliding off in a rough sea. ato and roger, taking thought for the evening meal, heaped one end of the raft with grass and twigs and all the jungle roots they could gather. without moving or offering to help, tandy sat watching, and just as the sun sank down behind the palms, a strange procession started out for the crescent moon. ahead with the keg of nails soared roger. then came the hippopotamus moving like a small dreadnought through the water. on her back sat ato, the haughty young king of ozamaland, and samuel salt. samuel rode last, holding in his hand the long cable he had attached to the raft and with which he meant to fasten it to the crescent moon.
following his orders, nikobo swam close to the side of the ship so tandy and ato could climb the rope ladder, then she paddled round to the stern where samuel drew his cable through an iron ring in the ship's hull and made the raft fast. there was a runway at the back of the raft and the rails on that side let down so that nikobo had no trouble clambering aboard. by pulling a rope with her teeth, she could raise or lower the back of her pen and take a swim whenever she felt the need of one. after giving her a bit of advice about voyaging, and seeing her comfortably settled, samuel climbed the cable and nimbly pulled himself aboard his ship. roger had already stowed their precious specimens in the hold and rubbing his hands with brisk satisfaction, the captain of the crescent moon weighed anchor and dropped with the tide down the biggenlittle river to the sea. then touching the automatic controls, he set his sails to catch the evening breeze, adjusted his steering gear for a course east by sou'east and strode happily into his cabin. the salamander chirped cheerfully as he passed her hot box and after tapping a cheerful greeting on the lid, the weary explorer stripped off his ruined and muddy shore-going outfit, took a shower and climbed thankfully back into his old sea clothes.
"where's the pest?" he called out as roger flew past the open port.
"well, since he was so small and important," sniffed the read bird, waving a claw, "i gave him a large cabin to himself. i didn't think you and ato would want him in here."
"shiver my timbers, no." samuel looked ruefully across at the small berth the philadelphia boy occupied on their last voyage. "he'll never be the seaman peter was, nor the company either. he'd better keep out of my way, hah! or i'll give him a taste of my belt." snatching up his spyglass and looking as stern as a kind-hearted pirate well can, samuel hurried out on deck.
meanwhile, in the cabin next to the captain's, tandy stood regarding himself mournfully in the small glass over his sea chest. he too had taken a shower and at roger's suggestion had donned one of peter's old pirate suits.
"i am a king and the son of a king's son," muttered tandy, staring sadly at the sallow reflection in the mirror. to tell the truth, the suit was not in the least becoming to the skinny and sullen young monarch.
"i am a king and son of a king's son and can bear anything," he repeated dismally.
"then bear a hand with the dinner," yelled roger, who had been peeking at him through the port hole. "all who eat must work, and under the hatches with lubbers!"
pretending not to hear, tandy sat resignedly on the side of his bunk, though he really was curious to look around the ship and see what kobo was doing. from the galley came the cheerful rattle of pots and pans and the huge voice of ato singing as he prepared the dinner. gulls flew in excited circles all round the crescent moon, calling out their hoarse challenge and farewell, and samuel salt, leaning on the taffrail, gazed dreamily back at patrippany island. the oz flags fluttering from the tall palms gave it quite a gay and festive appearance and in spite of not seeing the leopard men, samuel felt he had done a good day's discovering.
"ahoy, below! how you coming?" called samuel, leaning down to look at nikobo. the hippopotamus wagged her huge head.
"fine! just fine, mate," she wheezed pleasantly.
"hah! good for you!" samuel's face broke into a broad grin as kobo remembered to call him "mate." "we'll make an able-bodied seawoman of you yet, my lass!"
when ato, banging boisterously on an iron frying pan with a wooden spoon, summoned all hands to dinner, samuel and roger responded with a rush. but tandy remained sitting gloomily on his bunk.
"now what's the matter?" demanded samuel salt as roger, sent to call the young voyager, came flying back to the table.
"he says i may serve his dinner in the cabin," snickered roger, popping a biscuit into his mouth and swallowing it whole.
"well, don't you do it!" roared the captain, bringing his fist down with an angry thump. "no use to start such nonsense!"
"but he's so thin and feeble. the poor child's just full of raw roots and jungle grass," murmured ato, beginning to heap a platter with meat and vegetables. "wait till he folds himself round some of these seafarin' rations. he'll be a different person."
"and he'd better be!" rumbled the captain of the crescent moon, pulling in his chair. "and if you and roger want to spoil the little pest, go ahead, but he'd better keep out of my way. hah!"
"i could drop the dinner on his head," suggested roger helpfully as ato handed him an appetizing tray for tandy. "how would that be?"
"utterly reprehensible, and conduct unbecoming in a royal read bird and able-bodied seaman," chuckled the ship's cook, shaking his finger at roger. "why don't you try to help the little beggar and set him a good example?"
now roger, in spite of his sharp tongue, was really a sociable and kind-hearted bird and the sight of tandy sitting so forlornly on his bunk made him regret his teasing speeches. after all, the little fellow was far from home and had had a hard time in the jungle.
"here!" he puffed, setting down the tray and lighting the lantern. "this'll put feathers on your chest, young one, and mind you eat every scrap."
"thank you," answered tandy, so drearily that roger with a shudder of distaste fled back to the cheerful company of samuel and ato. but later, when samuel had gone below to pot the precious plants from patrippany island and the ship's cook was leaning over the rail conversing cozily with the hippopotamus, roger flew back to tandy's cabin resolved to help him if he could. with calm satisfaction he noted that tandy had eaten everything on the tray. lying on his back, the young king of ozamaland was staring solemnly up at the beams over his bunk.
"ahoy! and what goes on here?" cried roger, setting down on the old sea chest. "how about a turn on deck, my lad, and a bit of chatter with the crew?"
"it is not seemly for a king and son of a king's son to talk with his inferiors," observed tandy coldly.
"in-feer-iors!" screamed roger, forgetting all his good intentions and mad enough to nip the youngster's nose right off. "are you by any chance referring to me?"
"ozamaland is a great and powerful country and i am its king," stated tandy, turning his back on the read bird. at this roger let out another screech, and then suddenly remembering the purpose of his visit, took a long breath to steady himself. when he spoke again his voice was both calm and reasonable.
"ozamaland may be a great and powerful country and you may also be its king, but remember you are no longer in ozamaland," explained roger firmly. "you are on this ship by the express wish and kindness of the captain and in the company of kings and better. wait!" shaking a claw at tandy's back, roger flew off to fetch one of ato's books from the shelf above the stove. tandy was in the same position when he returned, but paying him no further attention, roger pulled the lamp nearer and opened his volume.
"when a king is in the company of kings," began the read bird impressively, "he is no longer a special or royal being, but merely a man among men, and as such must maintain his honor and standing by sheer worth and ability alone."
"who says that? what are you reading?" tandy sat up with sudden interest, for his whole life had been spent in study and reflection and the voice of the read bird was not unlike the voice of woodjabegoodja, his royal instructor at home.
"i am reading maxims for monarchs," answered roger calmly, "a book of great authority and antiquity that has been used by the rulers of oz and ev and the nonestic islands these many thousand years. no great and important country would think of being without a copy of this book," he continued severely.
"strange, then, that i should not have heard of it," mused tandy, looking not quite so sure of himself. "we have no maxims for monarchs in ozamaland."
"pooh, ozamaland!" roger dismissed the whole country with a shrug of his wing. "a country as young and unimportant as that would probably know nothing about such matters."
"you mean my country is not so old nor important as oz and this two-penny island of your fat master?" shouted tandy angrily.
"of course not. why, it's not even been discovered, and whoever has been there?" demanded roger disdainfully. "take you, as its king, acting in this small up-country fashion--what can a fellow think? here--" shoving the book toward the disagreeable young monarch, the read bird urged him to look for himself. with a puzzled frown tandy reread the passage roger had just quoted.
"well, even though your master is a king, you're not a king and neither is samuel salt," said tandy, looking at roger with some of his former arrogance.
"oh, isn't he? well, just lay to this, young fellow," roger shook his claw under tandy's upturned nose. "samuel salt is captain of this ship, a knight and the royal discoverer of oz, which makes him seventy times as important as you, king pins. he not only is boss of the crescent moon, but he rules the sea, discovering countries for other kings to govern, and if it were not for samuel salt and people like him, there wouldn't be any kingdoms nor people like you to run them. see? as for me, i'm a royal read bird and wouldn't be a king for a minute. i can live my own life and go and come as i please."
"then while i'm on this ship i'm not a king at all," said tandy wonderingly. "then what am i? what am i supposed to do?" the little boy looked puzzled and positively frightened.
"why, you're supposed to act like a person, that is, if possible," sniffed roger, reaching over for his book and looking at tandy sideways down his bill. "what are you besides a king? what can you do that is useful or interesting?"
"do, do?" tandy's voice rose shrilly. "why--er--why, i can draw pictures and ride an elephant."
"good!" roger put up his claw to hide the grin that, in spite of his best efforts, began to spread round his bill. "well, there isn't much call for drawing or elephant riding on a ship, but you can draw water to swab the decks and i'll teach you to ride the yards and follow the crosstrees to the main topgallant mast in the blowingest blow that ever blowed. and depend upon it, young one, you'll have more fun as a person than you ever had as a king. there's no place for having fun like a ship!"
"fun!" said tandy flatly and inquiringly. "what's that?"
"tar and tobaccy jack! what are you tellin' me?" roger almost toppled off the sea chest. "do you mean to sit there like a dumb image and tell me you've never had any fun? never felt so bursting full of ginger and happiness you could sing or do a sailor's horn pipe?"
"it is not seemly--" began the boy in a staid voice. "it is--"
"seemly! great goosefeathers, are you alive or aren't you?" gasped roger. "what in paint did you do in that cussed country of yours before you got carried off and penned up like a pig in the jungle?"
considering roger's question, tandy clasped and unclasped his hands nervously. "well, you must know," he began in a very grown-up voice, "the king of ozamaland is not allowed to mingle with the common people. in all things he is alone and set apart. so it was with my father and mother before they disappeared. so it is with me. furthermore, it being prophesied that i would be carried off by an aunt in the middle years of my youth, it was deemed expedient and necessary to keep me locked away from danger in the white tower of the wise men."
"hurumph!" grunted the read bird, who had not heard so many long words since the voyage began. "and what did you do in this precious tower?"
"i studied," sighed tandy, reclining wearily back on his pillows, "for there are many things a king must learn. but one hour of every evening i was permitted to walk about the garden on top of the tower and look down upon my kingdom. on very great occasions i was allowed to come out and ride the white elephant in the grand processions of state."
"humph!" grunted roger again, looking at tandy with round dismayed eyes. "and with whom did you play?" he asked after a little silence.
"play?" again tandy's voice was politely inquiring.
"the word was play," insisted the read bird doggedly. "with whom did you run about, play tag, checkers, pirates or go fishing?"
tandy looked confused and roger shook his head sorrowfully. "never heard of such things!" he exclaimed indignantly. "well, all i can say is, whoever carried you off and shut you up in that jungle cage did you a real service. if you had not been there we never would have found you and i'm here to tell you that from now on things are going to be different. you're discovered now and aboard the grandest ship afloat. you can forget all about being a king and start right in being a person and an able-bodied seaman. i for my part mean to see you have some fun or break a wing in the attempt."
"but would a king--"
"king! never let me hear that terrible word again," shuddered roger, sticking his head under his wing and then popping it comically out again. "from now on, you're plain tandy and can do as you plain please so long as it does no harm to yourself or the ship. understand? and tomorrow we'll start having fun, so be ready." roger's promise sounded almost like a threat, but there was such a merry twinkle in his eye, tandy began to feel interested. "you might even begin tonight," sniffed roger, taking up the tray. "just begin by thinking of something you want to do. think about it hard and then do it." winking cheerfully over the empty plates, the read bird spread his wings and sailed through the port.
for several minutes tandy lay where he was, turning roger's last injunction over and over in his stiff, precise little mind. what did he really want to do? at first he could think of nothing. then suddenly he knew. why, of course--he wanted to talk to kobo and he just plain would. there was a frosted cake left from his supper, and slipping it into his blouse, tandy stepped quietly out on deck. the ship, with only a slight roll, was moving briskly through the water, white foam falling in lacy spray from her sides, the moon-white sails spread like giant wings above his head. there was no one in sight, and almost holding his breath, tandy tiptoed aft and leaned adventurously over the taffrail.
"kobo--yo kobo!" he called huskily.
"hello! i thought you'd be out soon." swinging round and turning her vast smile upward, the hippopotamus gazed fondly at her young charge. "are you comfortable? did you have a good dinner?" she asked anxiously.
"yes, and look what i saved for you!" as he spoke, tandy glanced over his shoulder as if he were almost afraid to have anyone see him enjoying himself. "open your mouth, kobo!" he whispered eagerly. without hesitation or question the hippopotamus stretched her jaws wide and tandy with the first real thrill of his life flung the frosted cake into that immense pink cavern. as kobo neatly caught and snapped her lips on the tempting morsel tandy let out a faint cheer and began to think there might be something in roger's suggestions after all. "i'll throw you lots of things tomorrow," he promised gaily. "good night, kobo. good night, kobo dear."
humming a tuneless little song, the young king hurried almost cheerfully back to his cabin. pausing in the doorway of his tidy quarters, he looked about complacently. what did he want to do next? there was no one to tell him to go to bed, so he just plain wouldn't. he'd sit up as late as he plain pleased. rummaging through peter's sea chest, which ato had placed near his bunk, tandy found a large tablet of stiff paper, a box of paints and some crayons. settling himself cross-legged on his bunk, he began drawing, not pictures of the castles and courtiers of ozamaland, but pictures of the queer jungle beasts and leopard men he had seen on patrippany island.
when roger, on first watch, called out eight bells, he saw tandy's light still burning, and flying down to investigate, found his new pupil fast asleep in the middle of his masterpieces. the whole bunk was covered with bright drawings and pictures and even to roger's inexperienced eye they seemed excellently done. so, carefully the read bird stowed them in the sea chest, then, without bothering to waken or undress the little king, he covered him with a light blanket and went quietly from the cabin.
"if what roger tells us is so, little sauce box yonder has had a pretty dull life," said ato as he and the captain sat finishing their breakfast next morning. "lucky for him we happened along and anyway, the hippopotamus will be good company, eh, samuel? she seems downright sensible and jolly. reminds me of pigasus and i suppose she does belong to the pig family when you come to think of it."
"well, she's a pretty big pig if she does," laughed samuel salt, swallowing his coffee with gusty relish. "pretty big any way you take her. personally, i like the animal, but the king and son of a king's son! pah! reminds me of peter, he's so different, and the sooner we reach ozamaland and set him ashore, the better. meals in his own cabin. hoh!"
"oh, give him time," drawled ato, helping himself a second time to fried potatoes. "if there's any good in the lad, a sea voyage will bring it out, and what chance has he had shut up in a tower for ten years and in a cage for five months? though how an aunt managed to have him carried so far and why she left him with those savages in the jungle i can't get through my head at all."
"maybe it was a gi-ant," whistled roger, swooping down on ato's plump shoulder and flapping his wings cheerfully. "how far do you figure it is to ozamaland, master salt?"
"well, that i couldn't just say," answered samuel in a milder voice. pushing back his chair, he stepped over to the map on the west wall. "maybe a thousand leagues or so from patrippany island, maybe more, in a line east by sou'east from ev. if that is so, we're bound to bump into it sometime, as i've set my course east by sou'east, and anyway it's all in the year's sailing." samuel bent over with pride to examine the newest island discovery he had marked on the chart the evening before. "and when we do come to it," he announced firmly, "we'll trade this useless young one for some of those flying snakes and creeping birds, eh, mates?"
"if we bring any more animals aboard we might as well set up an ark and be done with it," warned ato, shaking his fork at the captain. "by the way, how's sally this morning?'
"tiptopsails!" grinned samuel. "she eats nothing but hot air and water and is no more trouble than a hair in a flea's whisker. i can carry her round in my pipe when i want company. now there's a lass for you!"
"well, i'll just see to nikobo, for she's the girl for me," retorted ato, rolling briskly out of his seat. "i saved all the potato peelings from last night, and that, with a dozen cans of peas, corn, carrots and beets, should stay her appetite till lunch time."
"forty cans at one swallow," groaned roger, clapping a claw to his head in mock dismay. "she'll eat us out of ship and home at this rate. can't you think of something else, king dear? a nice wind pudding or a tub of sea soup sprinkled with faggots."
"oh, go along with you," roared ato, and picking up his precious coffee pot, he waddled cheerfully off to his storeroom.
the day was bright and breezy and the crescent moon going free, breasted the waves like a white-winged sea witch. it was such a morning that even tandy, peering inquiringly from his cabin, felt an uncontrollable impulse to slide down the deck. so he did, coming up smartly by roger, who was perched on the rail.
"that's it! that's it! now you're catching on," approved the read bird, hopping cheerfully from one foot to the other. "now match your step to the sea's roll, sonny, get into her rhythm. you've got to breathe with the ship to carry your rations on a voyage. watch the captain, there, and do as he does," finished roger as samuel salt left his cabin and came striding aft.
"rather watch you!" exclaimed tandy, who sensed the captain's dislike. uneasily he moved a little nearer the read bird.
"all right, come on then!" shouted roger, heading recklessly for the foremast. "ever climb a tree?" tandy shook his head, looking with deep misgiving into the maze of sail and rigging above. but roger was already aloft and beckoning for him to follow. "not that way, brainless!" scolded roger anxiously as tandy, gritting his teeth, made a desperate leap upward. "see those rope ladders by the rail? put your feet in the ratlins, boy, and come along hand over hand. it's easy as flying once you get the swing of it. there, that's better! come on! come on! don't stop! don't look down." so up--up and up the narrow rope ladders toiled tandy, till roger, growing impatient, seized his collar and helped him straddle the crosstree of the fore t'gallant mast. "ahoy! and isn't this better than riding an elephant?" beamed roger, winking a knowing eye. "ahoy, this is fun and no fooling." seeing tandy was too dizzy and breathless to talk for a moment, roger cheerfully set himself to teach the young ozamander a bit about ships and sailing. soon tandy was so interested he forgot the leap and plunge of the ship, the rattle and creak of the cordage and his own precarious perch in the foremast.
"the crescent moon," began roger with an impressive jerk of his head, "is a square rigged three-masted sailing vessel. normally 'twould take from sixty to eighty men in a crew to set and make sail and bring her about in a blow. but samuel salt has magic sail controls, so we three manage quite easily, and now that you are here and the handy hippopotamus below 'twill be easier still. the mast we're riding is the foremast. the mast second from the bow, as we call the front of the ship, is the mainmast, and the mast at the back or, as we salt water birds say, the stern of the boat, is the mizzenmast. and now for the sails." roger took a deep breath. "those below, beginning from the bottom up, are the course, the topsail, the topgallant sail, the royal and the sky sail. and don't forget!" roger wagged his claw sternly. "before each sail you must put the name of the mast to which it is attached. as, for instance, this ahead of us is the fore-topgallant sail. see? and everything to the left of the ship's center we say is on the port side and anything to the right is on the starboard."
"then tell me why is the water on the port side bluer than the water on the starboard?" asked tandy, who had been listening very solemnly as he tried to fix all of these strange sea terms in his head.
"bravo!" cried roger. "right the first time, mate. and the water is bluer on the port side of the vessel because it is saltier. the bluer the saltier," declared roger, who, besides his first voyage with the crescent moon, had read all the sea books in ato's library and was simply crammed with deep sea facts and information. "and what is more," he continued, pursing his bill mysteriously, "we're sailing in a magic circle never knowing what may pop up over the edge. a ship? an island? a hurricane? or even a fabulous monster! that's what makes sea voyaging so glorious, and sailing so much fun!"
tandy, staring at the empty circle of blue falling away from the ship on all sides, nodded dreamily. the white city--patrippany island--all his former life and existence seemed unreal and far away and he hoped in his heart of hearts the crescent moon would not reach his native shores for many a long gay day. as roger said, being a person was fun.
"m--mm!" roger sniffed suddenly. "wonder what ato's cooking? smells like taffy. i'll bet a ship's biscuit we're going to have a candy pull."
"a candy pull!" exclaimed tandy, taking a furious sniff himself. "what is that?" as roger started in to explain about candy pulls, a large green column shot up on the skyline, a column so surprising and shocking in appearance tandy felt positively stunned.
"oh, look! look!" he screamed, grabbing roger's wing. "there's something now. oh, roger, what fun! what terrible fun!"
"fun?" roger spun round like a weather cock in a gale. "fun?" he repeated, stretching out his neck as far as it would go and a few inches besides. "oh, my best bill and feathers. that's not fun--that's a sea-serpent. help! help! deck ahoy! 'hoy! 'hoy! below! king! captain! ato! sammy! samu-el!" as if calling them not only by their titles but by their names would increase the number of the ship's officers and crew, roger tugged wildly at tandy's arm. "below! below! all hands below," shrilled the read bird. "cover all ports and batten the hatches!"
urged on by roger, tandy, still more interested than frightened, descended rapidly to the main deck. at roger's cries, ato had run out with a pan of bubbling molasses in one hand and his trusty bread knife in the other. right behind him stood samuel salt, his eye pressed to his largest spyglass.
"well, tar and tarry barrels!" exclaimed the captain exultantly. "why, this is a sea serpent second to none, the finest example of a marine ophidian i've ever met in all my voyages!"
"oh, fiddlesticks!" blustered ato, shaking him angrily by the arm. "are you a captain or a collector? quick, now, make up your mind before your ship is crunched down like a cracker and we're all swallowed up with the crumbs. quick, sammy! for the love of salt mackerel, do something!" squeezing himself between the cook and the captain, tandy saw that there were now three immense shiny curves showing above the water, and with scarcely a splash the tremendous monster was moving toward the ship. then suddenly it was upon them, and its huge horrid unbelievable head came curling far over the bow of the crescent moon.
"avast and belay! avast and belay, you villain!" yelled samuel salt, dropping his spyglass and grasping his blunderbuss while roger beat his wings together like castanets and screamed like a fire siren.
tandy, rather frightened himself, and not knowing what else to do, fell flat on his stomach and pulling a pad from his blouse, began making a quick and frantic sketch of the dreadful sea beast. its body was leagues long and yards through, the head was large as a whole elephant with a long curling silver tongue and darting green fangs. but it was the teeth that made even the stout heart of ato hammer against his ribs. each tooth of this singular sea serpent was a live white goblin brandishing a long spear. leaning far out of the yawning mouth, they screamed, hissed and yelled at the defenseless company below. the next forward thrust of the monster brought its head curling right down among them. this so startled tandy he could neither move nor scream. samuel fired his blunderbuss so fast and furiously it sounded like a dozen guns, but it was ato who really saved the day and his shipmates.
with calm and deadly precision, the ship's cook flung the pan of still bubbling molasses straight into the cavernous mouth. screaming with surprise, pain and fury, the monster clamped its jaws together, and finding them stuck fast on the taffy, fell writhing back into the sea, dashing and slashing its head under water to ease the burn and setting the crescent moon to dancing like a cocklebur. but the taffy, hardened by contact with the cold water, stuck faster than ever, and unable to bite and scarcely able to breathe, the discomfited sea monster backed away from the ship and went slithering and thrashing away toward the skyline.
"well, there goes our candy pull!" sighed roger, falling in a limp heap to ato's shoulder. "nice work! nice work, king dear. there's a certain touch about your fighting that is well nigh irresistible."
"mains'ls and tops'ls! you certainly pulled a trick that time!" puffed samuel salt, picking up his spyglass to have a last look at his lovely specimen. "you saved us and the ship, that time, mate. my bullets rattled off its hide like hailstones off a roof."
"pooh! just happened to have the taffy handy," answered ato, looking rather regretfully into the empty pot. "here, child, run back and tell kobo everything's all right." the ship's cook pulled tandy quickly to his feet. "just listen to her squealing. the poor lass is probably frightened out of her skin." as tandy started aft on a run, ato picked up the sketch he had made of the monster. "ahoy and what's this?" he panted. "what did i tell you, sammy? look, the boy's drawn as lively a picture of that varmint as you'd ever hope to paste in a scrap book. here it is--tail, teeth and everything!"
"mean to say he drew that while we were all standing here ready to perish and go down with the ship? hah! that's what i call bravery in action!" exclaimed samuel. "and goosewing my topsails! if the young lubber can draw like this he'll be a monstrous help to us, mates. why, i'll make him cabin boy and royal artist of the expedition with extra rations and pay."
"hurray! and i'll tell him," puffed roger, spreading his wings gleefully. "hi, king! hi, tandy! ho, tandy! you've been promoted from king to cabin boy and royal drawer of animals and islands and extry rations and pay!"
nikobo was as pleased as tandy at her little charge's rise to favor, and after they had both listened in rapt silence to roger's news, tandy told her how ato had routed the sea serpent. meanwhile, roger had carried all the sketches tandy had made of the leopard men and patrippany island to the main cabin. samuel's delight and enthusiasm at having such spirited and authentic records of the lost tribe and strange animals on patrippany island knew no bounds. he beamed on tandy so kindly and approvingly next time they met, the little boy felt warm and jolly all the way down to his heels. roger had already explained his new duties to him and when ato sounded the gong for dinner tandy was the first to answer. but when he started to pass the vegetables and wait on the table, the captain gruffly pushed him into a chair.
"all equals here," roared samuel, slapping him affectionately on the shoulder. "you've earned your place and your salt, sonny, and we'll all help ourselves and each other." tilting back his chair and keeping time with his teacup, samuel began to sing lustily:
"blow high--blow low-- 'tis a salt sea life for me-- with a good ship's crew i'll sail the blue with a good ship going free--eeeh--eeeh! with a good ship going free!"
almost before he knew it, tandy was singing, too.
the days that followed always seemed to tandy the happiest he had known. he wondered now how he had ever endured his long, tedious, pent-up life in ozamaland. there was so much to see and do on a ship, the hours were not half long enough. being a full-fledged member of the crew, he took his turn on watch, his trick at the wheel, and had besides other duties on deck. after a bit of practice he could scramble aloft like a monkey and liked nothing so much as perching in the rigging looking far out to sea. the read bird had fastened a special rope to the mizzenmast so that tandy could swing out and drop down on nikobo's raft, and much of his free time was spent with the faithful hippopotamus.
sea life agreed enormously with nikobo, especially since ato had solved the largest item of her diet. noting the tangled mass of seaweed often floating by on the surface of the sea, the clever cook let down the ship's nets daily. the seaweed, crisp, tender and green, was dragged on deck where roger and tandy went carefully through it, removing all crabs, small fish and sea shells which seriously disagreed with the hippopotamus. a huge hamper full was lowered to her every evening and with this plentiful supply of green food, with the bread and delicious vegetable scraps ato saved from the table, nikobo fared better than she had on the island. the largest tub on the boat served as a drinking cup and this tandy kept full by playing down the hose from the deck, giving her a daily shower of fresh water at the same time. so, lacking nothing in interest or comfort, nikobo enjoyed herself hugely and to the fullest extent.
on calm mornings, with the crescent moon hove to, all hands would go swimming. nikobo loved to swim and to roll over and over like a mighty porpoise, even though the salt water made her eyes sting. since tandy had given samuel the drawings of the leopard men, the ship's captain could not do enough for his young cabin boy, and among other things had made a rope harness for nikobo so tandy could hang on when he perched upon her slippery back. at first he had been satisfied to ride nikobo, but after several days he was splashing recklessly with the others and samuel had taught him all the swimming strokes he knew and had tandy diving over and under the hippopotamus in a way to make roger scream with envy and approval.
swimming was the only part of a sea voyage the read bird could not really enjoy, but he was always on hand to give advice, roosting on nikobo's head so long as she stayed above water and taking hurriedly to his wings when she mischievously tried to dunk him. the hippopotamus made a really splendid raft when they tired of swimming, and ato, who did not care for water sports so much as samuel or tandy, fished for hours from her back, his feet hooked through the ropes of her harness to keep him from falling into the sea. the only thing tandy regretted was nikobo's great size and that she could not come aboard ship and join them in the cabin. on cool evenings he and ato and the captain (roger preferring to take first watch) would sit cozily round the fire listening to the stories samuel told them of the days when he had been a pirate and roamed up and down the nonestic, capturing the ships and treasure of all the powerful island monarchs. tandy never tired of these thrilling sea battles nor of watching samuel salt's pet fire lizard.
sally was now so tame she would allow any one of them to pick her up. they had to be careful not to hold her against their clothing, however, for though sally did not burn the fingers, she set fire to whatever she touched. indeed, whenever they wanted a fire in the grate, they had only to place the salamander on the kindlings beneath the logs and a cheery flame would blaze up instantly. it was in the fireplace sally took most of her exercise, racing and scittering over the glowing logs or rolling happily in the red hot embers. but most of her time she spent curled up in samuel salt's pipe, and it was always a surprise to tandy to see her comical head pop up over the edge of the bowl or hear her chirping and purring to herself from her cozy bed of tobacco leaves.
some evenings, when ato was trying out new recipes in the galley, tandy and samuel would descend to the hold to look over the plants from patrippany island, try to figure out the script on the piece of lava, and sort and arrange samuel's shell collection. every day after the nets were drawn up there were new specimens to classify and label. the drawing tandy had made of the sea lion and all the pictures of the leopard men and beasts on patrippany island, samuel had framed and hung above his shelves so that the hold was looking more and more like a scientific laboratory every day.
"do you suppose we'll ever find anything large enough to put in those big cages and aquariums?" asked tandy one night as he pasted a pink label on a fluted conch shell.
"sure's eight bells!" murmured samuel salt comfortably. "no telling what'll turn up on a voyage like this. personally i've set my heart on a roc's egg, but setting the heart on a roc's egg won't hatch one out, ho, ho! no, no! but, on the other hand, one never can tell and we've had a week of such fine and pleasant days, i look for something to happen any moment now, so you'd better put up your paste pot and turn in, my lad, so we'll all be ready for the morning."
"well, what would you do with a roc's egg?" inquired tandy, reluctantly clapping the top on his bottle of glue. "aren't they terribly big and terribly scarce, captain salt?"
"terribly!" admitted samuel salt, placing his tray of lamp shells back on their stand. "but a newly laid roc's egg is as rare as a mermaid's foot, and no larger than one small tar barrel. now if we could just get a newly laid roc's egg aboard and find some way to preserve it, why, well and good, if we didn't find a way and it hatched before we landed, it could easily fly off with us and the ship, for that's how big a bird a roc is. but i'll take a chance if i ever find a roc's egg and there's an island somewhere in these waters where rocs are known to nest. rock island it's called, and a roc's nest would be something to see, eh, kinglet?"
"please don't call me that," begged tandy earnestly. "roger says i don't have to be a king on this ship and i like not being a king."
"ha! ha! and i like you that way myself," roared samuel, tossing tandy suddenly to his shoulder. "why, since you've stopped this king and son of a kinging, you're a seaman after my own heart, and so long as the crescent moon's afloat you've a berth on her! up with you! up with you! tomorrow's another day." swinging gaily to the main deck, samuel tumbled tandy into his bunk and went striding aft to take in his main and mizzen topsails.
next morning, while he and ato were cutting up potatoes for nikobo, tandy was not surprised to hear a loud hail from above. something had happened just as samuel had predicted. running out with a paring knife still in his hand, he saw a strange glittering mountainous island abaft the beam. it was still a goodish sea mile away, but with the glasses ato generously pressed upon him tandy made out the most curious bit of geography the eyes of a voyager had yet gazed on. there was not a piece of level ground on the island anywhere. its high, glittering, needle-like peaks rose straight out of the sea with apparently no way of ascending or descending. of clear crystal, reflecting every color of the rainbow, the beautiful island was almost too dazzling to look at as it lay shimmering and sparkling in the bright sunshine. as they sailed nearer, tandy saw that a perfect maze of high and airy bridges ran like a gigantic spider web between the peaks. on these bridges all the island's life and activities seemed to take place. quaint fluted cottages were built in the center, and along the perilous catwalks on either side raced the mountaineers themselves, brandishing glittering poles and spears and halberds.
"pikes on the peak! pikes on the peak! port your helm, sammy," roared ato. "not too close! not too near, sam-u-el. how'd you like to be pinned to the mast with a spear or flattened on the deck with a boulder?"
"ah, now, they're just excited!" answered samuel salt, squinting curiously up at the bridgemen, but nikobo, with her short legs resting on the top rail of her raft, squealed out a dolorous warning.
"fighters! fighters! these pikers look savager than the leopard men. best back away, master captain, while there's still time."
"oh, look! look! there's a ship on the mountain," cried tandy, jerking samuel's sleeve, "right there where that torrent comes down between the bridges, a three-master, larger than the crescent moon."
"then it's a battle!" boomed samuel, bringing his helm hard around. "stand by to man the guns. 'hoy, all hands, 'hoy!" while his shipmates sprang to attention, samuel darted from mast to mast, touching the buttons on his sail controls.
"aye de aye oh lay!" the shrill unexpected cry came from the highest bridge on the island, and was immediately taken up and repeated by all the pikemen on the lower bridges. it resulted in such a mad medley of yodels that ato clapped both hands to his ears and nikobo plunged her head in her drinking tub.
"not only fighters, but singers!" grunted ato, swinging the port gun into an upright position. "beef, beans and barley bread! what a rumpus!" tandy, who with roger had charge of the other gun, could not help but admire the calm way samuel salt ignored the dreadful outcry from the bridges. whether the pikes of the islanders could be flung down upon them was still a question, but as tandy looked anxiously aloft, he saw the great white-sailed ship of the mountain men sweeping toward the torrent. it paused for a breathless instant on the top and then came rushing down upon them. they were right in the path of the descending vessel which would strike them with such force both ships would surely be demolished.
"i am a king's son and the son of a king's son," shuddered tandy, gritting his teeth and waiting desperately for the order to fire. "i can bear anything."
"not this! not this!" chattered roger, sliding wildly up and down the shiny cannon. "it will shiver your timbers--it will shiver all of our timbers. what in salt ails the captain? why doesn't he give the order to fire and pepper these rascals before they reach us? oh, oh! oh--hh!" but the only orders that came from the captain were for nikobo.
"overboard, lassie! dive off! quick, now, and swim for your life," bawled samuel salt, waving both arms frantically at the hippopotamus. as nikobo with a frightened squeal let down the back rail of her pen and slid into the sea, tandy felt a quiver and jerk through the whole length of the crescent moon. glancing aloft, he saw a strange change in the sails. where before they had been sturdy single stretches of canvas, they were now great swelling balloon sails, each a perfect air-filled sphere. as the ship from the mountain with an angry swish catapulted down from the torrent into the sea, the crescent moon rose buoyantly into the air, allowing the enemy craft to shoot harmlessly beneath her bow.
"what in monday!" gasped ato, flinging both arms round the cannon. "what in monday are you up to now? how'd we do this? stop! stop! i'm no flier. no higher! no higher! do you intend to impale us on yonder peaks?" samuel salt, hanging desperately to the wheel, made no reply and as the ship, dipping and swaying, soared higher and higher the deafening yodels of the bridgemen ceased abruptly.
"wha--wha--where are you heading?" demanded roger, spreading his wings in order to keep his balance on the sloping deck. "you never told us you had balloon sails, master salt."
"ahoy, but we never needed them before!" panted samuel. "look sharp below, roger. tell me whether i'm over that lake or basin. look sharp, mind you, or we'll come to grief yet."
"aye, aye!" quavered the read bird, dropping obediently over the side. "it all looks sharp to me."
"mean to say you're coming down in the middle of these pikes, peaks and bridges?" moaned ato, holding his head with both hands. "avast and belay, mate, i signed up for a sea voyage and not a balloon ride. the altitude's got you, sammy, that's what. you've air holes in your head. how do you expect the four of us to conquer this whole pesky peaky island? how could we even take half of them?"
"by surprise," announced samuel salt grimly. "we'll take them by surprise. look, they're too surprised to even yodel. fetch up the oz flags, tandy, and all hands aft for further orders."
"aft and daft!" choked ato, hanging on to the rail as he made his way toward the wheel. when tandy came hurrying up from the hold, his arms full of oz flags, the crescent moon hung directly over the glittering island. roger fluttered anxiously just below calling up hoarse information as to the size, possible depth and shape of the sparkling blue lake between the peaks.
listening carefully to roger's directions, samuel deflated his balloon sails so skillfully the crescent moon came down lightly as a swan in the exact center of the lake. above and around the ship on all sides hung the glittering spans of a beautiful bridge city, and in stunned silence and dismay the bridgemen looked down on the flying ship and its curious crew.
"ahoy and hail, men of the mountain!" challenged samuel in a ringing voice. "you are now part and parcel of the great kingdom of oz, free as before to govern yourselves, but from this day and henceforth on, an island possession and colony under the protection and puissant rule of her majesty queen ozma of oz!"
"oz! ozay oz oh lay?" the cry came from the tallest and most splendid of the islanders, who was standing with folded arms on the lacy span connecting the two highest peaks on the mountain.
the cry, though loud, was no longer defiant, and tandy with a little gasp of relief saw the mountaineers on all the bridges bring their pikes to rest beside them and gaze aloft for further orders.
"i am alberif, prince of the peaks," stated the man on the highest bridge, looking coolly down at samuel salt. "but you--you who come in this flying ship to conquer the island of peakenspire, who are you?"
"ato, the eighth, king of the octagon isles, sir samuel salt, captain of the crescent moon and royal explorer of oz, tazander tazah, king of ozamaland, and myself a royal read bird," shouted roger before any of the others had time to speak for themselves.
the prince of the peaks, tall and splendid in his shining coat and breeches of silver cloth, his broad-brimmed hat with its quill and rosette of wild flowers, looked so much more impressive than anyone aboard the crescent moon, tandy half expected him to laugh at roger's boastful announcements. but instead, alberif, leaning far out over his royal bridge, looked down at them long and seriously.
"two kings, a royal discoverer, a flying ship and a read bird! hi de aye de oh!" whistled the handsome monarch, shaking his head ruefully. "no wonder we were captured. what then are your terms, kings, captain, bird and conquerors?"
"not conquerors, comrades," called up samuel salt in his hearty voice. "only by your own wish, agreement and consent shall ye come under the rule of oz. if your highness could but descend from yon royal bridge to this ship, everything can be arranged both peaceably and pleasantly."
"'ware, alberif! 'ware, alberif!" yodeled the pikemen on the lower bridges. "once aboard that ship eeee-ip! we may never see you again eeeeee-yen!"
"oh, nonsense!" blustered samuel salt impatiently. "i give you my word as a pirate and a seaman no harm shall come to you on the crescent moon."
the prince stood lost in thought for a moment, then tapping his long alpenstock sharply he issued a high yodeled command. from the bridgehead an immense basket swooped down. the prince seated himself gravely in the basket and with three men manipulating the ropes made a swift and dizzy descent to the deck of the crescent moon.
while samuel and roger welcomed the tall and lordly ruler of the mountain isle, ato hurried off to the galley to prepare some suitable refreshments for his entertainment. tandy, after samuel had introduced him, began making careful sketches of the handsome prince, of the lovely city of bridges and of the pikemen, who still looked with suspicion and distrust upon the ship that had taken the place of their own.
"how about that basket?" whispered roger, who had come out to help ato in the galley. "how'd you like to be hoisted and lowered like a sail? and for salt's sake, king dear, dust the flour off your nose and put on your crown, or this fellow will think you're king of the cookies and doughnuts."
"ha, ha! when he's tasted my plum cake he'll not think it, he'll know it!" puffed ato, bustling happily from cupboard to cupboard. "bring out the best tumblers and silver plates, fetch up a dozen bottles of my famous sea-pop from the hold and we'll have this island in our pocket before you can say oz robinson!"
when ato with one tray and roger with another came out, they found the captain and the prince of the peaks striding up and down the deck in the friendliest conversation imaginable. matched in height and handsomeness, the two were discussing with lively interest everything from ships and governments to the strange limestone that formed the crystalline rocks of alberif's island. later, seated around the table with tandy and roger passing plum cake and sea-pop, the prince grew friendlier and more confidential still.
"we've never been conquered before," admitted his majesty with a puzzled smile, "but really i find it both interesting and enjoyable."
"just a matter of chance and luck," said samuel salt with a modest wave of his hand. "had i not had balloon sails on the crescent moon, your ship would have cut us clean in two before we had time to put about."
"that is what i always planned would happen to an enemy craft," sighed alberif. "naturally our own ship, the mountain lass, would have been destroyed too, but we could easily have built another. that is what we'll have to do anyway, as we'll never be able to haul her up the torrent."
"don't you do it," begged samuel salt, looking earnestly at the mountain monarch. "i'll send you a set of balloon sails as soon as i reach elbow island. the red jinn presented me with two sets and i'll be delighted to send you one. once they're set, you can fly up as easily as we did and be ready for all and sundry, even us if we come again."
"come and welcome!" beamed alberif, looking in some surprise at sally, who had just lifted her head above the rim of samuel's pipe bowl. "but tell me, what am i to do now that i am conquered? surely something is required of us?"
"nothing! nothing at all!" samuel spoke earnestly and admiringly. "this island and your men are in fine shape and a great credit to you, so just go on as you are, but from this time forth you'll be in contact with the famous and most modern fairyland in history, and if you are ever beset by enemies, you can call upon oz for assistance or help. in time, fruit, foodstuffs, books and merchandise will arrive from oz, and in return you may send back some of the sparkling crystals composing these mountains. you might even invite a band of settlers from oz to come and live as your loyal subjects here."
"gladly! gladly!" agreed the prince, his eyes sparkling at the prospect. "we have many uninhabited peaks and spires and could easily accommodate a thousand new bridge builders. come with me, all of you, to skytop tower and we'll run up the flag of oz and sign a pledge of allegiance to her majesty queen ozma. aye de aye oh lay!" running out on deck, alberif joyously beckoned to the men who operated the traveling basket, inviting them all to enter. ato, who had no intention of trusting his two hundred and fifty pounds to this strange conveyance, shook the prince regretfully by the hand.
"i'll just watch it all from here," said the ship's cook firmly. "i've pie to cook, potatoes to peel and dinner to stir up for all hands and a hippopotamus, so, if you'll kindly excuse me--"
the prince looked a little disappointed, but cheered up as samuel, roger and tandy followed him into the basket.
"haul away!" yelled samuel salt, winking at ato, and to the shrill tune of a ringing round of yodels their curious elevator rose from the deck, spun merrily up to the twin peaks and highest bridge of alberif's mountain. used as he was to the tall masts and lofty rigging of the crescent moon, tandy felt sick and giddy as the basket swooped and swung upward. but it came down safely at last and at sight of the shining spans of the lacy city spread out below, and the glittering castle rising from the royal bridge, tandy forgot all his uneasiness. with a little whistle of surprise and interest he followed samuel and alberif into the royal dwelling, while roger flew off on a little exploring expedition of his own. roger knew all about castles and was much more interested in the many windowed, fluted cottages of the yodelers.
ato, watching from the deck of the crescent moon, presently saw the flag of oz fluttering from the top turret of the castle tower and with a little sigh of relief and pride he gathered up the empty pop bottles and padded off to his galley. soon oz flags floated from the posts on all the bridgeheads, adding much to the gaiety and beauty of alberif's city.
from the royal bridge tandy and samuel had a splendid view, and of his many experiences tandy always remembered best the afternoon spent on peakenspire. alberif was a merry as well as an interesting host, explaining everything from the strange traveling baskets to the age-old customs and treasures of the islanders. in the baskets the islanders could travel from bridge to bridge and down to the sea itself when they wished to go fishing. there was little soil between the rocks, but such soil as there was, was so amazingly fertile, each family could raise all the fruit and vegetables required in one small window box. after long experimentation and culture, alberif's ancestors had perfected two curious vines. on one vegetables grew in rapid rotation, potatoes following peas, corn following potatoes, carrots following corn, beets following carrots, cabbages, lima beans and spinach after the beets. the vine never withered or died and by cutting off the top every day the islanders were assured of a continuous supply of fresh vegetables. the fruit vine was of the same variety, furnishing every known berry, fruit and melon. each family was given two of these vines and thus had very little worry about food supplies. birds, something of a cross between wild ducks and chickens, made their nests in the craggy peaks, and with their eggs and a plentiful supply of fish and other sea food the islanders fared splendidly.
the bridgemen were tall, blue eyed, handsome and happy. men and women alike wore short trousers and blouses of silver cloth and carried pikes that served both as weapons and alpenstocks. the bridges, while delicate as fine lace in construction, were supple and strong as steel. the material mined from the mountains themselves was like silver and crystal combined, a new strong and glittering metal, samples of which samuel happily thrust into his pocket.
"sounds like magic," said tandy, who had been listening closely to alberif's description of life on peakenspire.
"it is magic of a kind," answered the prince with a pleased little nod. "and the air here is so light and sparkling we never tire, grow old or have illness of any kind, so that my people are always light hearted and happy, spending most of their time in dancing and singing."
"i see," murmured samuel salt, "er--and hear," he added quickly as the wild, joyous cries of alberif's yodelers made every window in the palace rattle. "i'll certainly make a note of all this and report peakenspire island to queen ozma as the most interesting discovery of the voyage."
"i am highly honored!" alberif bowed stiffly. "highly honored! hi dee aye de oh--hhhhh!" jumping into the air, the prince of the peaks kicked his heels together from sheer exuberance. "wait," he told them cheerfully, "and i'll get you some fruit and vegetable vines to take back with you." tandy and samuel could not help grinning as alberif rushed off. to tell the truth, there was something so light and exhilarating about the mountain air they found it difficult to walk calmly themselves. as the prince returned samuel felt a loud and uncontrollable yodel rising in his own throat, and seizing tandy's arm, he bade alberif a hasty and hearty adieu. bidding him keep a sharp lookout for the airships from oz, and loaded down with crystals and vines, the two explorers climbed into the basket and were swung swiftly down to the deck of the crescent moon. roger, flying under his own power and yodeling like a native, arrived soon after.
with oz flags flying from all bridges and the mountaineers calling out rousing and melodious farewells, samuel inflated his balloon sails and the ship soared gracefully aloft, circled the island three times and then dropped lightly down upon the surface of the sea. the mountain lass in charge of alberif's husky crew lay just off shore and there she would have to stay till samuel sent a set of balloon sails to lift her back to the lake among the peaks.
nikobo, who'd been swimming anxiously round and round, gave a bellow of relief as she spied the crescent moon.
"i thought you'd been captured and destroyed!" wheezed the hippopotamus, scrambling hastily aboard her raft. "next time you fly off, take me aboard or give me a balloon sail too. i'm so full of salt water i'm perfectly pickled and somebody'll have to scrape the barnacles off my hide."
"but we've brought you a present," called tandy, leaning far over the taffrail, "a vegetable vine that will keep you supplied with fresh vegetables as long as we're at sea. see! deeee aye dee oh!"
"avast and balaydeeaye!" barked samuel salt grimly. "let's get away from here. this is no way for able-bodied seamen to talk." rushing from wheel to mast, he quickly set his sail. "ahoy! ahoy dee oy dee oh!" he yodelled, then, very red in the face, he blew three shrill blasts on his fog horn, swung his ship about and the crescent moon, with a spanking breeze on her quarter, went skimming away toward the southern skyline.
the evening had blown up raw and cold, and after carrying an old tarpaulin down to cover nikobo, tandy had come shivering back to the main cabin. samuel salt had close reefed his topsails and double reefed his courses, adjusted his mechanical steering gear, and now sat beside the fire examining a heap of the glittering crystals from alberif's island.
"just sketch peakenspire island on the chart, there where i've made the cross," he directed, looking up with an absent smile as the little boy came over to warm himself at the cheerful blaze. "you're such a hand with a brush, even in so small a place you can give a good idea of the city of bridges."
"and a good idea they are," murmured ato, who was busy mending his fishing nets on the other side of the fireplace. "in every port we learn something new, eh, mate? all mountains, no matter how high and peaked, could be lived on if they were properly bridged."
"true, quite true," agreed samuel, squinting contentedly through his magnifying glass, while tandy began sketching in the latest discovery on the sea chart. "i've written it all up in my journal and put down peakenspire island as able to accommodate a thousand settlers from oz and as an especially good place for poets."
"provided they are deaf," put in ato, looking comically over his specs, "aye dee aye dee oh! while you fellows were aloft i got to yodeling so fast and furious i blew all the sauce pans off their hooks."
"yes, that is one disadvantage," admitted samuel, glancing approvingly at tandy's picture of alberif's island, "but never mind, we don't have to live there, and think of the splendid specimens we've brought away, mates!" samuel ran his fingers lovingly through the heap of crystals and strands of metal alberif had given him. "and those fruit and vegetable vines will provision us for the whole voyage."
"they're a great comfort to me, i assure you," muttered ato, holding up his net to the light to see whether there were any more holes. "now i know kobo will never starve. i put a vegetable vine in a box on her raft and that leaves two for us, two for ozma, and maybe tandy would like to take the other two home with him?"
"home?" tandy swung round in positive dismay. "oh--we're not near ozamaland yet, are we, captain?" his voice sounded so dismal samuel salt threw down his magnifying glass with a roar of merriment.
"shiver my timbers, lad, one would think you did not wish to reach ozamaland at all," he blustered teasingly. "what's the matter with that country of yours? you wouldn't keep an honest explorer from adding a creeping bird and a flying reptile to his collection, now would ye?"
"no! no! of course not," answered tandy quickly. "but perhaps it is farther away than you think, master salt, and perhaps the greys have conquered the whites and then i won't be king any more."
"what's this? what's this?" ato lifted his nose like an old hound that has just scented a fox, for he loved a good story even better than he loved a good meal. "who are the greys and whites, my lad? you never told us anything about this."
"there's really not much to tell," sighed tandy, seating himself on a small stool before the fire. "in the first place, i suppose you know that the great continent of tarara is divided into two large long countries? ozamaland is on the east coast and amaland on the west coast."
"now i'll just make a note of that," said samuel salt, leaning over to pull his journal toward him.
"my country," went on tandy slowly, "is made up largely of desert and jungle, best known for its white elephants and camels and the famous white city of om, first king and ruler of the kingdom. the zamas are fierce and still wild tribesmen living in tents on the desert and in huts in the jungle. only the thousand nobles and their families who live in the white city have been taught to read and write and live under roofs. that is why the kings of ozamaland are so well guarded and never allowed out of the capital."
"then i'd rather be a tribesman," sniffed ato, letting his nets drop in a heap around his feet.
"but there's no choice," said tandy thoughtfully. "the nine ozamandarins who make the laws have decreed that the king shall remain in the white city."
"well, what about these whites and greys?" asked samuel salt, pulling out his pipe and leaning down close to the fire so sally could light it for him.
"my people, because they dress in white robes and turbans, are known as the whites, and the amas, the rough plainsmen who rove the long ranges of amaland, are the greys. the amas care for nothing but their swift grey horses and often charge over the border to make war on my countrymen. then the whites, mounted on their white elephants and camels, have all they can do to hold their own."
"aha, that's what i'd call a real battle!" exclaimed ato, his eyes snapping with enthusiasm and interest. then, noting samuel's disapproving frown, he pursed up his lips, shook his head and added quickly, "all very wild and disorderly, tandy, my lad. seems as if the whites and greys should manage their affairs more peaceably."
"yes," said tandy solemnly, "and i've often thought when i was grown, i'd ride over on my white elephant to visit the greys and see why they are so unfriendly."
"a good idea, and if i were you, i wouldn't wait till i was grown. i'd do it as soon as i got back," advised samuel salt, taking a long pull at his pipe.
"and very probably get himself cut up and captured," shuddered ato, shaking his head.
"well, he's been both shut up and captured anyway, hasn't he?" said samuel mildly. "now which one of your aunts do you think had you carried off, matey, and how many aunts do you have anyway?"
"three," tandy answered, counting them off solemnly on his fingers. "and they were all pretty and pleasant enough; but after the prophecy of the old man of the jungle that i would be carried off by an aunt, they were all locked up in the castle dungeon and i was locked up in the tower." and, resting his elbows on his knees, tandy gazed soberly into the fire as if he might discover there the reason for his cruel abduction and imprisonment in the jungle.
"if i'd only been awake when i was carried away," he exclaimed impatiently.
"they probably gave you a sleeping potion," decided ato, nodding his head portentously, "but it's such a longish distance, unless this aunt had wings or a flying eagle i'll never understand how she shipped you so far and so fast."
"well, whoever it was did us a real service!" boomed samuel salt, twinkling his blue eyes affectionately at tandy. "even peter was no better aboard a ship--eh, mate?"
"a real artist and a seaman," agreed ato, rolling cheerfully to his feet, "and when we reach ozamaland i'll talk to these aunts like an octagon uncle, and the ozamandarins had better hold on to their turbans, too."
"but they wear square hats!" roared tandy, laughing so hard he almost fell off the stool, for he just could not picture the fat king of the octagon isle berating the haughty judges of ozamaland.
"what's the joke?" demanded roger, flying in through the open port and making a straight line for the fire. "brrr-rah! wet weather, boys! wet weather! oh, what a coldth and dampth and gloomth. why, i'm moister than an oyster and clammier than a clam. how about a cup of hot chocolate for the watch, cook dear? better see to your sail, master salt. fog's thicker than bean soup out there."
"we'll all have some chocolate," said ato as samuel hurried out to see how dense the fog really was. later, sitting by the stove sipping ato's delicious hot chocolate, tandy could not help comparing this cozy life aboard the crescent moon with his dull and lonely existence in the royal city of his fathers.
"i wish the greys would capture the whites," he thought vindictively, as he followed roger across the slippery deck. "then i'd never have to leave this ship." the kind-hearted read bird was carrying a pail of hot chocolate down to nikobo on the raft. she could not get her great snout into the bucket, but she opened her enormous mouth and with one toss roger poured the whole pail down her throat.
"that'll keep her warm till morning," chuckled roger, flying back to join tandy, "and now you'd better turn in, little fellow, for you're on morning watch and eight bells will be sounding before you know it!" all through his dreams about the whites and greys tandy heard the raucous voice of the fog horn, and when he rolled sleepily out of his bunk to relieve ato, the ship seemed to be hardly moving at all.
"ahoy, captain! isn't a fog dangerous?" tandy's voice seemed more hopeful than worried, and samuel salt, peering down at the little boy buttoned to his chin in peter's old sou'easter, grinned approvingly.
"just about as dangerous as a man-eating tiger," he answered cheerfully. "we're liable to ram a ship, run on the rocks, or scrape our bottom on a hidden reef or sand bar. these waters, as you know, being all unnavigated. but i've brought sally along to keep my nose warm and throw a bit more light on the subject and we'll have to take our chance--eh, matey? just step aft and see if you can make out anything astern, will you, tandy?"
four o'clock, or rather eight bells, was always pretty dark and one had to depend more or less on the ship's lanterns, but this morning was the darkest tandy had ever experienced. clinging to the rail, he moved cautiously to the stern and gazed intently down into the gloom. nothing an inch beyond his nose was visible and as for the raft and nikobo, they might just as well not have been there.
"kobo, kobo, are you all right?" there was no answer to tandy's call, but presently a huge and resounding snore rolled upward and, greatly comforted, tandy hurried back to the captain. samuel salt was busy lighting extra lanterns and as he straightened up, a hollow boom, followed by a splintering crash, sent them both sprawling to the deck. leaping to his feet and unmindful of the glass from the shattered lanterns, samuel seized an unbroken one and ran furiously to the rail.
"ship ahoy! heave to! you blasted son of a cuttle-fish lubber! you've rammed us amidships, you blasted billygoat. where are your lights? why didn't ye sound the horn?" his lantern, held far over the rail, made no impression at all on the choking fog. jumping up and running after samuel, tandy strained his eyes for a glimpse of the ship that had hit them, for unmistakably to his ears came the scrape and rasp of wood on wood. yes, surely it was a ship. but no answer to samuel's hail came out of the fog, only the swish and murmur of the sea and the rattle of wind in the rigging. but all this creaking could not come from the crescent moon alone. there was a ship beyond them in the fog, but where, as samuel had demanded, were her lights and crew? wildly tandy, hardly knowing what to think or do, continued to blink into the maddening darkness. ato and roger, wakened by the horrible jolt, now came hurrying out, each waving a lantern.
"let go the anchor, mates," ordered samuel in a stern voice, "we're to grips with an enemy ship, so stand by for trouble. further shortening his sail, samuel waited tensely for the first move from their invisible foe.
"might be pirates," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth to tandy, who stood close beside him grasping the scimiter that had once been peter's. "jump the first man aboard."
"how about a long shot in their general direction?" wheezed ato, who found the silence and suspense well nigh unbearable.
"no, it is not for us to start a fight," stated samuel grimly. "but hah! just let them start one! fetch me my stilts, roger, and be quick about it, too!"
"stilts?" choked the read bird, dropping the blunderbuss with which he had armed, or rather winged, himself. "you'll never be trying those things again--they nearly shivered our timbers last time. why take another chance?"
"my stilts!" repeated samuel savagely, and roger, who knew his duty as a sailor, flew without further argument to the hold. when roger returned with a stilt in each claw, the captain grasped one and moving silently as a cat over to the port rail, he thrust the long pole experimentally out into the fog. there was an instant thud, and samuel himself got a severe jolt as the stilt struck against some firm and immovable object beyond. convinced that it was an enemy ship, samuel returned to the others and, drawn up in an anxious row, the four shipmates waited for the fog to lift or the first enemy seaman to leap aboard.
"i'll wager it's a derelict, or an abandoned vessel with no crew," breathed ato, seating himself on a fire bucket to somewhat ease the long wait. the first hour tandy stood fairly well, but the second seemed interminable. the flickering lanterns, the tense quiet, the choking fog and gentle roll of the ship all made him desperately drowsy, and, much to his later disgust, he must have finally fallen asleep. the next thing he remembered was the shrill squall of the read bird and the pleasant feel of the sun on his eyelids.
"the ship! the pirates! the fog!" thought tandy, springing up wildly, but neither ship nor pirates met his astonished gaze. abaft the beam lay a great whispering deep sea forest, its trees higher than the masts of the ship, springing directly out of the water and stretching their leafy branches to the sky. it was into one of these giant greenwoods the crescent moon had crashed in the fog. samuel was staring at the sea forest with the rapt look of a scientist who has just made an unbelievable discovery, and ato, with his elbows resting on the rail, was gazing dreamily in the same direction.
"'hoy! ahoy! why, i never knew there were forests in the sea," exclaimed tandy, running over to insinuate himself between the cook and the captain.
"there aren't! it's just plain impossible!" breathed ato, moving over to make room for tandy. "but, impossible or not, there she lies. and isn't it pretty?" he mused, resting more than half of his great weight on the rail.
"i suppose sammy'll want to dig up a sea tree and bring it along," he leaned over to whisper mischievously in tandy's ear. "and anyway, it's better than pirates."
"look, look, there's fish in those trees," screamed roger, bouncing up and down on ato's plump shoulder. "how about some flying fish for breakfast, cook dear?"
"breakfast? breakfast? can it really be time for breakfast? ho, hum! i thought i was still asleep and dreaming," grunted ato, giving himself a little shake. "well, forests or no forests, a man must eat, i suppose!" and still gazing delightedly over his shoulder, the ship's cook trod reluctantly toward the galley, while tandy hurried into the cabin for his paints.
tandy had to call samuel twice before he would come to breakfast and when he finally did sit down, he was so busy preparing to explore the sea forest he ate scarcely a bite.
"we'll take the jolly boat," he decided, making long notes in his journal between his sips of coffee, "the small nets and knives and baskets for cuttings and any specimens we may pick up and--"
"why the jolly boat when we have a jolly sea-going hippopotamus?" inquired roger, elevating one eyebrow. "a jolly hippopotamus, i might add, who runs under her own power and saves us the trouble of rowing!" roger was much annoyed because he had failed to catch a flying fish before breakfast and instead of eating his hard-boiled eggs, kept winging over to the open port to glare at his finny rivals. tandy, like the captain, was too excited to eat, and even ato downed his omelette and fresh strawberries from the peakenspire fruit vine with rare speed and indifference.
"it's a lucky thing you're so enormous, kobo," puffed the ship's cabin boy, dropping down on the raft a few minutes later. "ato's got his crab nets and fishing lines, samuel's bringing an aquarium, a couple of baskets and a box. and i have this pail, my paints and a cage in case roger does manage to catch one of those flying fish." kobo was staring fixedly at her vegetable vine as tandy dropped down beside her, and now snapping off a whole bushel of beans, she turned round and, munching contentedly, surveyed the excited boy at her side.
"whatever you have can be hung to my harness," she assured him, speaking a bit thickly through the beans. "but turn the point of that scimiter up instead of down; you wouldn't want to carve old kobo, now would you? it will seem funny swimming through a forest, won't it, little king? the further we go on this voyage the queerer everything grows."
"but i like it queer," stated tandy, climbing with a satisfied little sigh on nikobo's broad back.
"i, too, find it most interesting and jolly," agreed the hippopotamus, fastening her eyes dreamily on the vegetable vine to see what was coming up next. "i thought i might be on short rations when i came on this voyage, tandy, but i declare to goodness i've never had such a rich and varied diet in my life. you, too, look fine and strong and much happier than when we met in the jungle. but to get back to the fare--why, today i've had a basket of biscuits, a bushel of beans--"
"and that makes it bean and biscuit day, i suppose," giggled tandy, remembering kobo's strange way of dividing up her week. "but look! listen! here they come!"
"ahoy below, hip hip opotomus, ahoy!" roared samuel salt jovially from above. "all ready to cast off, my lass?"
"aye, aye, sir!" grinned kobo as samuel and ato came panting down the rope ladders to the raft. "move over, tandy, and make room for the cook and the captain!" it took nearly ten minutes to get all the gear and crew aboard and nikobo looked like some curious deep sea monster when she finally shoved off. two large baskets were slung from ropes across her back. the pail and bird cage slapped up and down on one hip, the aquarium on the other, and through her collar various fishing rods, nets and poles were stuck like quills on a porcupine.
"now whatever you do, don't submerge," warned samuel, holding his tin box for especially fragile specimens high above his chest to keep it dry. "just slow and steady, m'lass, so we'll have time to observe and admire and make notes of any strange growths and creatures as we ride along."
"creatures!" exclaimed tandy, twisting round. he was perched on nikobo's head, his paints held carefully in his lap. "would there be any wild animals in a sea forest, master salt?"
"sea lions, likely," predicted samuel, peering round eagerly as nikobo paddled between two slippery barked sea trees into the murmuring forest itself. except for the fact that the floor of this curious sea wood was the blue and restless sea, it might almost have been a forest ashore. the trees, tall, straight and stately, towered up toward the sky. staring down into the clear green water, tandy saw their trunks going down, down, down as far as he could see.
"rooted in the very ocean bed," marveled samuel salt, touching one lovingly as they passed. "what splendid masts these would make, mates! avast and belay, nikobo, i believe i'll just take a cutting or two."
"ha, ha!" roared ato, peering over samuel's shoulder. "so now we're going to grow our own masts."
samuel himself, leaning far out over nikobo's back, severed three young shoots from the sea tree and popped them happily into the aquarium. vines that were really of coral ringed the gigantic trunks like bracelets, and the leaves of the trees were long ribbons of green and silver that whipped and fluttered like banners in the morning breeze.
"what's that?" puzzled ato as the hippopotamus made her way leisurely between the trees. "looks like mushrooms, sammy! wait, i'll just pick me a few and see." hooking his heels in nikobo's harness, ato began vigorously cutting from the trunk of one of the trees the colored fungus growths which sprouted in great profusion just above the water line. nikobo bravely offered to sample some, and after waiting anxiously to see whether they would have any ill effects the ship's cook decided they were harmless and joyfully filled one of the baskets. the only specimens that really interested ato were of the edible variety. while he was thus employed, tandy, an experienced climber by now, scurried up to the top of one of the sea trees, breaking off several branches so samuel could press the curious leaves in his album. high above his head tandy could see roger chasing angrily after a flying fish, muttering with anger at his unsuccessful efforts to overtake the nimble little sea bird. in our own southern waters there are large flying fish that leap out of the water of the gulf stream, but the flying fish in this nonestic sea forest were small, and where most fish have gills wore strong transparent wings. their claws, somewhat like a crab's, made it possible for them to perch jauntily in the branches of the sea trees, and these strange little fellows could swim and dive as well as fly. pulling out his pad, tandy made a lively sketch of one in the tree opposite, for it did look as if roger would never succeed in catching one.
all morning nikobo paddled calmly through the dreamy sea forest; samuel making notes, tandy sketches, and ato catching in his long-handled nets plump little fish and crabs, and filling another basket with the small delicious clams that clung like barnacles to the slippery bark of the sea trees. in the shadowy center of the forest where the trees pressed closer together and great flat rocks stuck their heads out of the water, the explorers came upon several fierce sea lions. they were not smooth and shiny like the seals of our own oceans, but yellow and tawny with long yellow tusks, tufted tails and scaly manes. their front legs ended in sharp claws, their back legs were shorter and their feet were webbed for swimming. only the fact that nikobo was larger and more frightening to the sea lions than they were to her saved the party from a savage attack by these malicious-looking monsters. as it was, they retired sullenly into the deeper shadows, snarling and roaring defiance as they backed away, but not before tandy had made an effective sketch of the whole group.
"'tis a lucky thing for us that you're along!" grunted ato, drawing his feet up out of the water and looking with grim disfavor after the snarling sea lions. "likely as not, if you had not made that picture, samuel would have tried to drag one along by its tail, regardless of our feelings or safety."
"a wild maned sea lion would be a valuable addition to any collection," sighed samuel salt, shaking his head regretfully. "but then--" he grinned in his sudden pleasant way, "not much of a mascot at that."
the only other happening of note was roger's capture of a monkey fish. unable to overtake a flying fish, the read bird had pounced on this small combination of a land and water beast as it sat quietly sunning itself on the limb of a tree. screaming and chattering, he bore it proudly down to the captain, and samuel was so pleased with the curious little creature that when nikobo suggested going back he made no serious objection. and as the hippopotamus, rather weary from her long swim, headed thankfully back for the ship tandy and samuel made ambitious plans for the monkey fish's care and comfort.
thrusting it into tandy's bird cage, samuel regarded it with increasing enthusiasm and interest. "i'll rig up a wooden tree in one of the aquariums, set the aquarium in one of the large cages so it'll have both air and water, and call it 'roger' after its discoverer," beamed the former pirate with a wink at tandy.
"don't you dare call that monkey fish after me," screeched the read bird, flying round to have another look at his strange prize. "why, it's uglier than a blue monkey, looks like a regular goblin, if you ask me." and to tell the truth, the monkey fish was even uglier than a goblin, shaped like a monkey but scaled all over, and with unpleasant goggly eyes and three short spikes sticking out of its forehead.
"it does look like a goblin," agreed tandy with an amused sniff. "but let's call it mo-fi, which is short for fish and monkey."
"tip tops'ls!" approved samuel salt, taking out his note book. "wonder what it eats?"
"great grandmothers, what would it eat?" moaned ato, looking blankly at samuel. "another mouth to feed and listen to! dear, dear and dear!"
"oh, give it a box of animal crackers," put in roger carelessly.
"no, i brought along some gold fish food for just such an emergency as this," declared samuel, making a little flourish with his pencil as he wrote busily in his journal. "gold fish food will be splendid for a monkey fish."
"well, don't forget the bananas--for remember it's a monkey, too," chirped roger, settling on the captain's shoulder to read what he had written. so, laughing and joking and in the highest good humor the exploring party returned to the crescent moon.
what with planting the slips from the sea tree, settling mo-fi in his aquarium cage, pressing the leaves from the marine forest, and making copies and further notes about the sea lions in his journal, samuel did not get his ship under way till late afternoon.
ramming into the sea tree, beyond scraping off some paint, had done little damage, so singing boisterously, samuel finally heaved up his anchor. and soon, with ato stirring up a huge clam chowder, tandy painting the sea forest on the chart and roger scouring the hold for mo-fi's fish food, the crescent moon again dipped adventurously into the southeast swell.
"ahoy! and how goes it with the able-bodied seaman?" called roger, swooping down from the foremast. tandy, polishing the brass trim on the binnacle, looked up with a welcoming grin.
"tip topsails!" he answered, pausing a minute to stare off toward the skyline to see whether any islands or sea serpents were visible.
"and look at that muscle, now," marveled roger, touching tandy's arm admiringly with his claw. "you're twice the lad you were, mate, and i'll wager my last feather you can lay any lubber by the heels. if anyone gets fresh-water ashore, remember you're a salt sea-going sailor and you just take a poke at him. that's my advice without any charge or obligation. but then again, a chap that's a king, the royal artist of an exploring expedition, with a sea forest named after him, might not need to take any advice at all," added roger with a long and knowing wink.
"but i like you to tell me things," said tandy, looking earnestly up at the read bird. "you make everything seem so interesting and jolly." with a secret smile, for tandy was thinking how much he would enjoy taking a poke at didjabo, the chief ozamandarin, the little boy went on with his polishing. if didjabo said anything further about shutting him up in the tower, he just plain would take a poke at him. but saying nothing of all this to roger, he called up cheerfully, "how's mo-fi? has he stopped scolding and begun to eat?"
roger, who was running races with himself up and down the taffrail, stopped short and held up his claw. "everything i give him," he told tandy solemnly. "and i declare to badness he's getting to know me, mate. he only pulled out three feathers instead of a fistful when i gave him breakfast just now. before long he'll be so tame he'll be riding around on your shoulder."
"not my shoulder," laughed tandy, waving his bottle of polish at the read bird. "goodness, i believe you're growing fond of that monkey fish, roger."
"well, why not?" retorted the read bird, puffing up his chest. "ato has me, the captain has sally, you have kobo, so why shouldn't i have a little pet if i want one?"
the monkey fish seemed such a strange prickly sort of pet, tandy could hardly keep his face straight, but seeing roger was quite in earnest, he tactfully changed the subject. "do you suppose we'll make any new discoveries today?" he asked, screwing the cap on the bottle of polish. "any as important as the sea forest, i mean?"
"why not call it by its proper name?" teased roger, scratching his head with his left claw. "and i think it most unlikely we'll strike anything as curious and important as tazander forest. two discoveries like that just couldn't happen two days running. still, i'll just fly up to the main truck and have a look around."
"main truck?" tandy wrinkled up his brows. "i thought i knew all the parts of this ship by now. you never told me about the main truck, roger."
"just the top of the main mast, brainless." giving tandy an affectionate little shove, roger soared into the rigging and tandy went joyfully off to have another look at the forest samuel had insisted on naming after him. he had taken great pains with the painting and printing when he sketched it on the map, and now with a sigh of complete satisfaction he stood regarding the sea chart. then, suddenly remembering he had promised to water samuel salt's plants, he jog trotted contentedly down to the hold.
the tumbleweeds in their small red pots grew so rapidly samuel had to cut them back every day. these tandy watered very sparingly, snapping his fingers at mo-fi, who was gravely chinning himself on a branch of his artificial tree. the slips of the sea trees in their covered aquarium required no attention at all. ato had planted all the vegetable and fruit vines from peakenspire on the rail outside the galley, so that left only the creeping vines from patrippany island to care for. he had just picked up one of the small potted creepers when a sharp rap tap under his toes made tandy leap straight up in the air. someone was knocking on the bottom of the boat.
"ato! captain! roger!" shrilled the little boy, scurrying up from the hold faster than he had ever done before.
"su--su--somebody's knocking on the bottom of the boat." before he could explain, or tell them anything further, a perfectly terrific knock from below made the crescent moon shiver from end to end. samuel and ato, leaning over the port rail, turned round so suddenly they bumped their heads smartly together. next with a scrape, screech and splintering of timber, a giant white horn came tearing up through the decks.
"whale! whale!" croaked roger, falling off the main truck and coasting crazily down to the deck. "wha--what ever'n ever's that?" he quavered, pointing a trembling claw at the rigid white column between the main and mizzenmasts. samuel did not even try to explain, for at that instant the ship began to rise, to fall, to lash and plunge both up and down and east and west. hooking his arms through the rail, tandy blinked, gasped and shudderingly waited for the crescent moon to fly asunder.
"narwhal, mates!" panted samuel salt, throwing himself bodily upon the wheel. "horn like a--uni--corn--branch of the odontocetes and--"
"oh--you--don't say--it--is!" chattered ato, who was lying on his stomach bouncing up and down like a ball at each frightful lunge of the monstrous fish. "well, it's spiked us--is that a horn or a ship's mast? oh woe, oh! what'n salt'll we do now?"
samuel had not the heart to answer, for he had all he could do to hang on to the wheel as the ship, like a wounded animal, reared and plunged, thrashing the sea to a fury of foam and spray. nikobo, diving precipitously off her raft, began to squeal in high and low hippopotamy, making brave but ineffective lunges at the lashing giant beneath the ship.
"su--suppose it su--submerges?" wailed ato, who had managed at last to seize a rope from the end of which he banged and slammed continuously up and down against the deck. "oh, my stars! oh, my spars! oh, my beams and--" tandy never heard ato's last anguished cry, for at that moment a savage shake of the narwhal's head sent him flying into the sea. coming up coughing and choking, tandy instinctively began to swim and for the first time became aware of the creeping vine he still had clutched tightly in one hand. and in that instant and in that whirl of danger, disaster and destruction, the little boy suddenly grew calm and purposeful. this vine--well, why would this powerful vine from patrippany island not work as well under water as on land? the chances were that it would. swimming boldly back to the ship, tandy took a quick dive, hurling the vine pot and all in the general direction of the narwhal. no sooner had the vine touched the water than it began to open, creep and grow and, spraying out a hundred strong tentacles, it seized and bound the plunging monster in a secure and inescapable cradle of leafy wood.
gasping and sputtering, but with his heart pounding with joy to think he had really saved samuel's beautiful ship, tandy rose to the surface. nikobo, letting off shrill blasts of anger and fright, came paddling anxiously toward him. but giving the hippopotamus a reassuring wave, tandy seized the end of a rope ladder and pulled himself up to the deck.
samuel, though battered and bruised, still clung to the wheel, and ato, almost pounded to a jelly, had rolled into the scuppers where roger was fanning him vigorously with a butter paddle. the read bird, having wings, could have left the ship at any time, but had clung bravely to his post, preferring to go down with the ship and his shipmates. now all three of them stared in dazed silence at tandy as he climbed back over the rail, for in the terrible confusion and excitement no one had seen him go overboard.
"tandy! tandy! where've you been?" with outstretched arms samuel salt rushed groggily forward. "shiver my liver! why's everything so quiet? could it be that you single-handed have destroyed that ship-shaking menace?"
"i don't think he's destroyed, master salt," answered tandy, limping happily to meet the captain, "but he's caught fast as a lobster in a lobster pot and can't move at all."
"caught?" rasped samuel, running across the deck to peer over the rail.
"by the creeping vine," explained tandy, and in short, breathless sentences he told them all that had happened after he was flung into the sea.
"well, bagpipe my mizzenmain sails!" gasped samuel salt, staring at tandy with round eyes. "this is the strangest and happiest day of my life. you've saved the ship and the whole expedition, my boy, and all we have to do now is cut loose from this cavorting unicorn of the sea and sail off with the largest ivory horn in captivity. an ivory mast, blast my buckles! wait till the ozites see us sailing up the winkie river with four masts instead of three! ahoy, below! ahoy, kobo! can you dive with me beneath this ship?"
"dive and stay under as long as you can," vowed the hippopotamus, shaking the water out of her eyes and looking cheerily up at the captain. "you see, i was right about those creeping vines, now wasn't i?" nikobo, having done a little investigating on her own account, was well nigh ready to burst with pride at tandy's quick action and the way in which the vines had overcome their gigantic foe.
"right!" boomed samuel salt, hurrying off for his oxygen helmet and powerful diamond toothed saw. ato was too bruised and exhausted to rise, but tandy and roger, perching on the ship's rail, watched samuel in his queer diver's helmet climb down the rope ladder and clamber up on the hippopotamus. next minute nikobo had disappeared under the surface and presently from the slight shiver and shake of the boat they knew that samuel was determinedly at work cutting them loose. fortunately there was room between the ship's bottom and the whale's head for nikobo to swim about, and so splintering sharp was samuel's saw that in less than five minutes he had cut off the great column of ivory level with the ship's bottom, carefully calking the edges with material he had brought down. in its tight and live wood crate the narwhal could not stir an inch, and, while the cutting of its horn was not painful, it blubbered and spouted so terrifically that samuel and nikobo heaved tremendous sighs of relief when the dangerous operation was accomplished.
backing off a few paces, nikobo began butting the crated sea beast with her head till she had driven it out from beneath the boat. roger and tandy, with little shrieks of wonder and excitement, saw the crated fish like some queer and monstrous mummy rise to the surface and go floating sullenly away toward the east. now that they had a full view of the narwhal they saw that it was three times the length of the crescent moon.
"a great wonder sammy didn't tie it to the ship and tow it along," sighed ato, who had at last got to his feet and draped himself weakly over the rail. "some fishin'--eh, mates?"
"but look at the beautiful mast we have!" cried tandy, waving to nikobo and the captain as they came cheerfully alongside.
"huh! you're as bad as sammy," grunted ato, rubbing his bruises sorrowfully. "and of course a mast was just what we were needing! whale of a mast! mast of a whale! huh!"
"what are you going to call this one?" inquired tandy next morning as he and samuel squinted thoughtfully up at the gleaming ivory column between the main and mizzenmasts.
"might call it the whalemast," said samuel, rubbing his chin reflectively. "and it's a lucky thing for us the point was sharp enough to cut through the decks without damaging the ship. at any rate, it's given us the biggest fish story a voyager ever had to relate. tossed on the horn of a narwhal! and the best part of the whole story is that we have the proof right along with us. hah! right here!" samuel in his glee and exuberance gave the whalemast a hearty slap.
"kobo says that vine won't unwind for a couple of days, but anyway it'll be a fine rest for the whale floating around without having to swim. and i expect it can grow another horn?"
"i expect so," agreed samuel, winking down at sally, who was standing on her head in the bowl of his pipe. "if this little lady would just talk, she could give us a heap of valuable information about life in lavaland, mate."
"roger's taught mo-fi to say 'ship ahoy!'" observed tandy, strolling over to the rail to watch the white foam sweep past the ship's side. "and your sea tree sprays have grown an inch since yesterday, captain."
"they have?" samuel blew three rings from his pipe, then walked aft to glance at the compass. "well, my boy, if the rest of the voyage is as good as the beginning, we'll sail home loaded to the gun'ls." the mention of home always made tandy wince, for the crescent moon was the first real home he had known. to think that he would be put ashore in ozamaland while samuel's ship would continue its adventurous voyage of discovery without him, was a fact almost too terrible to consider.
"maybe we'll never come to ozamaland at all," mused tandy as he climbed into the rigging to join roger. "maybe the captain's reckoning is wrong and ozamaland is to the north instead of the south." vastly comforted by this idea, tandy swung nimbly to the crosstree on the fore t'gallant mast. roger was staring intently through ato's telescope and as tandy squirmed along to a position beside him, the read bird let out a shrill squall, all his head feathers standing straight on end.
"what do you see? what is it?" cried the little king, shading his eyes with his hands and staring in all directions. "i can't see a thing."
"take the glasses," urged roger, handing them over with a frightened gulp. "take the glasses and then tell me it isn't so." tandy, scarcely knowing what to expect, screwed his eye close to the telescope, then he, too, gave a shriek of consternation.
"why--it's a big hole, a hole in the sea!" he stuttered, lowering the glasses and staring at the read bird in blank dismay.
"exactly!" croaked the read bird, "and whoever heard of such a thing? a hole in the ground, certainly, but a hole in the sea, why that's just plain past believing. ahoy, deck ahoy!" wagging his head, roger lifted his voice in a long warning wail. "heave to, master salt! heave to! danger on the bow!"
somewhat surprised, but without stopping to question roger, in whom he had the utmost confidence, samuel hove his vessel to. and not a moment too soon, for barely a ship's length away yawned an immense and unexplainable hole in the sea. round its edges the waves frothed, tossed and bubbled, making no impression on that quiet curious vacuum of air. crowding into the bow, the ship's company stared down in complete wonder and mystification.
"now, goosewing my topsails, this'll bear looking into!" puffed samuel, breaking the silence at last.
"now, now, now!" ato snatched wildly at samuel's coat tails as he raced aft bellowing loudly for kobo to come alongside. "you'll not go a step off this boat. we can sail round this air hole and no damage done, but as for looking into it! help, help! avast and belay and i'll knock eight bells out of anyone who leaves this ship!" seizing an iron belaying pin, ato made a desperate rush after samuel salt, and failing to catch him before he slid down the cable to kobo's raft, he grabbed tandy firmly and angrily by the seat of the pants. "not a step!" panted the ship's cook savagely. "not a step! roger! roger! come back here this instant." but roger, with a screech of defiance, had already flown after samuel. tandy, pinned against the rail by ato's two hundred and fifty pounds, was forced to watch nikobo, with roger and samuel on her back, moving cautiously toward the edge of the air hole. over his shoulder samuel had a huge coil of rope the end of which he had attached to the capstan of the boat before he dropped over the side.
"oh! oh! and oh!" wheezed the ship's cook, "if sammy goes down that cavern we're as good as lost. no one to navigate, to up sail or down sail or lay to in a storm. my, my and myland!"
"well, there he goes!" cried tandy as samuel flung the rope down into the sea hole. "don't worry, ato, he's always come back before, hasn't he? let me go! let me go, i tell you!" with a sudden jerk tandy tore out of ato's grasp, climbed up on the rail and dove into the sea. swimming rapidly toward the hippopotamus, he climbed on her back and with roger fluttering in excited circles overhead nikobo swam as close to the edge of the sea hole as she dared, watching in terrified fascination as samuel calmly lowered himself into the clouded blue depths. with mingled feelings of interest and alarm, tandy saw the royal explorer of oz go down lower and lower and finally disappear altogether into the deep blue air below. now not a glimpse of samuel was visible and not a sound came up to reassure them that he was still there.
"i'll just fly down and see what's up," quavered roger, and in spite of the loud shouts and threats of ato on the crescent moon, the read bird spread his wings and coasted slowly and bravely into the immense air shaft. nikobo, now as alarmed as the ship's cook, began swimming frantically round the edge of the misty chasm, letting out piercing blasts that sounded like nothing so much as a ferry boat whistle. tandy himself felt uneasy and frightened and ato, unable to bear the suspense any longer, climbed over the side and came swimming out to join them. after an endless fifteen minutes, during which dreadful fear and premonition gripped the watchers, the head of the read bird popped mournfully into view.
"is he all right? where's sammy? what in soup's he doing? what'd you find out?" gasped ato, reaching out to clutch roger by the wing. roger, limp and bedraggled, with all the stiffness out of his feathers, said nothing for a whole minute. then, beating his wings together, he began to scream out hoarsely, "the captain's caught! the collector's collected. they have master salt forty fathom below. they've got him shut up, i mean down at the bottom of the sea like a gold fish in a bowl, only he's in a big bowl of air. they're poking little fish and crabs through a trap door in the air shaft and i cannot break or even make a dent in the transparent slide they've shot across the air hole to shut him off from us. and oh, my bill and feathers! every time they open the trap door to shove things in to him, water rushes into the vacuum. he's standing in water to his knees now and unless we can break a hole in that lid the captain's done for--done for, do you hear?"
"they?" asked tandy while nikobo's eyes almost popped out of her head, "who do you mean?"
"oh, oh, don't ask me!" choked the poor read bird. "they're not fish and they're not men. they're about the size of tandy, here, sort of stiff and jellied and perfectly transparent. on a shell hanging outside of one of their caves it said 'seeweegia.'"
"seeweegia!" moaned ato, clutching his head in both hands. "let me see! let me see! what's to be done, boys? now quick! what's to be done?"
"have roger fetch the saw we used on the whale's horn," gurgled nikobo.
"and i'll climb down and saw a hole in that slide," cried tandy eagerly.
"no, i'll climb down," said ato firmly. "i've known sammy the longest and if he's going to come to a watery end i might as well end with him."
leaving the two arguing, roger flashed back to the ship, returning in almost no time with the scintillating and powerful saw. tandy had meanwhile convinced ato that he could climb down the rope faster, being so much lighter, and now, with tears in their eyes, nikobo and the ship's cook saw tandy and roger disappear into the air shaft.
tandy let himself down carefully hand over hand, roger keeping abreast of him with the saw. to slide rapidly to the bottom would have been quicker, but the resulting blisters would make it difficult to use the saw. forty fathoms, nearly two hundred and forty feet, is a long way to go hand over hand on a rope, and before he reached the glass-like slide, tandy's palms stung and his shoulders ached and burned from the strain. but at last he was down, and dropping to his hands and knees with roger mourning and muttering beside him, tandy peered fearfully through the glassy substance.
for a moment everything was a green and misty blur, but gradually the figure of samuel salt standing sturdily in the middle of the air bowl became visible. although waist high in sea water, and surrounded by loathsome sea creatures and crabs the seeweegians had tossed in for him to eat, samuel was making slow and interested entries in his journal. pressed against the sides of his strange aquarium, tandy could see the round, square and triangular faces of the jellyfish men and women. brilliantly colored vines and seaweed waved and tossed in the current, the floor of the ocean was covered with bright shells, polished stones and all manner of sparkling deep sea jewels. had tandy not been so worried about samuel salt he would have liked nothing better than sketching this strange and beautiful under sea kingdom with the seeweegians flopping and swimming busily in and out of their grottos and caves, or disporting themselves in the sea weed forests. but as it was, his only thought was of quickly freeing the captain of the crescent moon from his curious prison.
"look, they've put up a sign," hissed roger, handing over the saw. looking in the direction indicated by roger, tandy saw an immense shell on which long wisps of sea weed had been arranged to form the words:
come see the curious high air manster. admission, 1 pearl, 5 corals and a clam!
the sight of this sign swinging from a small sea tree close to samuel's air bowl sent a wave of rage up tandy's back. rubbing his palms briskly together, the little boy seized the saw and struck it with all his might against the unyielding surface of the slide. the noise attracted samuel's attention, and looking up he began waving his arms, yelling out wild orders and commands. not being able to hear any of them and being quite sure samuel was telling them to leave the air shaft before the seeweegians shot another slide above their heads and caught them, too, tandy proceeded grimly with his task. roger helped, scraping away with both claws and bill. for five desperate minutes they worked without success, then a tiny crack split the slide from edge to edge. wedging the saw into the narrow opening, tandy began sawing away like a little wild man, for a fresh batch of snails and crabs tossed in to samuel had let in another rush of sea water. immersed to his chin, samuel started to swim round and round, dodging the end of the saw as it flashed up and down above his head.
"oh!" gasped tandy, stopping a moment to blow on his fingers. "i'll never be able to make this opening large enough. look, look, roger, they're opening that trap door again. oh, oh! i can't bear it!"
"help! help!" yelled the read bird, looking despairingly up the empty air shaft. "help, for the love of sea salt and sailor men!" his cry, increased by the curious nature of the compressed air in the air shaft, increased a hundredfold and fell with a hideous roar upon the anguished ears of ato and nikobo. almost instinctively and without thought of her own safety, or ato's, or the dire consequences, the hippopotamus jumped bodily into the sea hole. roger, still glaring upward, had a quick flash of an immense falling object. realizing at once what had happened, the read bird had just time to snatch tandy and drag him to the opposite side of the slide before nikobo landed--broke through the thick glass, plunged into samuel's aquarium and shot out through the side into a group of horrified seeweegians. now do not suppose for an instant that tandy, roger or samuel himself saw all this happen. indeed, after nikobo struck the slide, none of them remembered a thing, for the ocean, rushing in through the puncture the hippopotamus had made in the vacuum, rose like a tidal wave, carrying them tumultuously along.
nikobo came up at a little distance from the others, with ato, completely wrapped and entangled in seaweed, clinging tenaciously to her harness and looking like some queer marine specimen himself. too shocked and stunned to swim, the five shipmates bobbed up and down like corks on the surface of the sea. then roger, spreading his wet and bedraggled wings and coughing violently from all the salt water he had swallowed, started dizzily back to the crescent moon. nikobo had several long gashes in her tough hide, but still managed to grin at tandy.
"i--i must have lost the saw," panted the little boy, pulling himself wearily up on her back.
"never mind the saw. i still have my journal, and look what i caught!" puffed samuel salt, dragging himself up on the other side of the hippopotamus. "ship ahoy, mates, a live and perfect specimen of a jellyfish boy." holding up his prize, samuel smiled blandly, all his danger and discomfort apparently forgotten.
"oh, my eyes, ears and whiskers!" quavered ato, peering out of his net of seaweed. "is it for this we've been scraping our noses on the sea bottom?" nodding cheerfully, samuel plunged the squirming and transparent little water boy under the surface, holding him there, as nikobo swam slowly and painfully back to the ship.
tandy was so exhausted from his dreadful experiences at the bottom of the sea hole he spent the rest of the morning flat on his stomach on deck making lively sketches from memory of the city of seeweegia. of the sea hole itself not a sign nor vestige remained. the sea, tumbling through the breach made by nikobo, had closed it up forever and ever. ato had roger fetch bandages and witch hazel down to the raft and it took him two hours to bind up the cuts and hurts of the faithful hippopotamus. then climbing wearily up the rope ladder to the deck, he spent another hour rubbing himself with oil and liniment, muttering darkly about reckless collectors who got themselves and their shipmates collected.
"what would we have done if you'd never got out of that air bowl?" scolded ato, waving the bottle of liniment at the captain, who was cheerfully changing into dry clothes. "you know i know nothing about navigation nor one sail from t'other."
"ah--but what you know about sauces!" retorted samuel, rolling his eyes rapturously. "of course, i'll grant a ship cannot sail on its stomach, but if the worst had come to the worst, you could have left a note for the sails on the binnacle. 'if it comes up a blow, tie yourselves up.' ha, ha! tie yourselves up!" jamming his feet into his boots, samuel blew a kiss to his still muttering shipmate and tramped down to the hold to settle his jellyfish boy in one of the large aquariums. the water boy, about half the size of tandy, was a jolly enough looking specimen, but kept opening and shutting his mouth like a fish and staring anxiously from his captor to mo-fi in the cage opposite. whistling happily and unmindful of the cuts and bruises he had suffered, samuel filled the bottom of the aquarium with pebbles and shells, put in several seaweed plants he'd fished up in the nets, and soon had the little stranger as happy and cozy as a clam. giving him and mo-fi a wafer of fish food, the royal explorer of oz went above to have a look at the weather, for he did not like the way the ship was pitching.
in spite of the desperately fatiguing morning they had had, it seemed the voyagers were in for some further excitement. the sky had grown dark and threatening. dark clouds in ever-increasing numbers scudded along from the east; the sea, rough and angry, was full of racing little whitecaps. nikobo's raft plunged and rocketed up and down like a bucking bronco, flinging the hippopotamus from side to side and bringing her with squealing protests up against the rail first on one side and then on the other. fearing for her safety, samuel with tandy's help rigged a temporary derrick to the mizzenmast, hove his vessel to, and bidding nikobo swim round to the side, cleverly hoisted her to the main deck by a hook caught through her harness. nikobo took it all quite calmly, coming down with a thankful little grunt, glad to be with her shipmates in the gale that was lashing the sea into a rolling, tossing fury of mounting gray water and foam.
the wind had risen now almost to hurricane proportions, and taking in all sail and with only a tarpaulin lashed in the main rigging, samuel prepared with bared poles to ride out the storm. ato, always ready and helpful in a crisis, trudged up and down the heaving decks with pails of hot soup and coffee, and after a hasty lunch, all hands fell to closing ports, battening hatches and removing from the decks all loose gear and equipment. as it was impossible to shove nikobo through the door of the main cabin, samuel lashed her tightly to the mizzenmast and with an old sail round her shoulders the hippopotamus anxiously watched the mountainous waves breaking over the bow and running down into the scuppers. it was all so wild and new, so dangerous and exciting, tandy begged samuel to let him stay on deck. much against his better judgment, samuel finally gave his consent, tying tandy fast to nikobo and the mizzenmast. if anything happened to the ship, reflected samuel, fighting his way back to the wheel, the hippopotamus could keep tandy afloat and take care of him besides.
ato and roger, not being needed on deck and not caring for storms, shut themselves up in the main cabin for a game of checkers. but checkers and board soon flew through the air, and the two had all they could do to hang on to their chairs as the crescent moon pitched headlong into the cavernous hollows and struggled up the mountainous ridges of the great running seas.
in the splendid white marble palace in the splendid white city of ozamaland the nine ozamandarins sat in solemn conference.
"this time we have succeeded," stated didjabo, chief of the nine judges of the realm, "this time we have succeeded and our plans may now be accomplished. last time, we merely destroyed the king and queen, neglecting to do away with the royal off-spring, tazander tazah, and for that reason we failed utterly. so long as this boy survived, the natives insisted on considering him their rightful king and ruler. but, hah! that prophecy we invented about an aunt carrying him off was a clever and useful idea--eh, my fellow zamians? now as the child, with a little help on our part it must be confessed, has really been carried off and destroyed, we can blame these same silly females, and they and all the royal family can be tossed into the sea to pay for this heinous crime. ha, ha! quite an idea, a famous idea!" murmured didjabo, and the eight ozamandarins nodded their narrow heads in complete and satisfied agreement. "leaving the throne clear for us--the nine faithful servants of the people!" again the ozamandarins nodded, but didjabo, slanting his cruel little eyes up and down the long table, was already making plans to destroy the lot of them and have the whole great country for himself.
"but how can we be sure the boy is destroyed and out of the way?" questioned lotho, the second ozamandarin in point of rank and power.
"because," didjabo curled up his lips in a hard little smile, "the old man of the jungle has brought us proof. boglodore! boglodore! it is our wish that you appear before us."
at didjabo's call there was a slight rustle and stir behind the curtains in the doorway, and an immense wrinkled old native clad only in a turban and loin cloth stepped noiselessly into the chamber of justice. without waiting for further orders, boglodore began in a high, dismal, droning voice:
"following the commands of the highest among you, i, boglodore the magician, did carry off on my famous, never known or seen flying umbrellaphant the heir and small king of this country, coming down after two days, on patrippany island. not wishing to destroy the boy with my own hands, i left him to the wild beasts and savage leopard men known to inhabit this island. that, as you know, was five months and two weeks ago. having just returned from a second flight to the island where i found no trace or sign of the boy, i can safely assure you that he is no more, that he has undoubtedly been killed by the savages or the wild beasts of the jungle." there was not a trace of pity or remorse on the cruel flat faces of his listeners as boglodore finished this shameful recital.
"in that case there is nothing left to do but punish the royal aunts and family, issue a proclamation of our accession to power, and divide up the kingdom," mused lotho, drumming thoughtfully on the table with his long skinny fingers.
"but do not forget my reward," wheezed boglodore firmly. "for this cruel and infamous deed i was promised one tenth of ozamaland and i am here to claim as my share the entire jungle reach of this country. extending his arms, the old man of the jungle advanced threateningly toward the long table.
"ha, ha! just listen to him now," sneered didjabo, gathering up his papers and looking insolently across at the angry native. "have a care what you say, fellow. too much of this and you'll go over the cliff with the royal relatives. now, then, clear out! your work is done! if you ever set foot in this city again, you shall be trampled beneath the feet of the royal elephants!"
"ah--hhh!" boglodore recoiled as if he had been confronted by a poisonous reptile. "so that's to be the way of it? aha! very good! i will go. but do not think this is the end! it is but the beginning!" snapping his fingers under the long noses of the ozamandarins, the old man, not bothering with the door, leapt out the window and vanished into the garden.
"do you think that was quite wise?" questioned teebo, third in rank of the ozamandarins. "this fellow and his flying elephant are dangerous and may do us a world of harm."
"do not forget, anything he says will involve himself, and he'll have a hard time proving to the people that it was on my orders the young king was carried off."
"oh, hush!" warned lotho, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "not another word!" shrugging his shoulders and rising to indicate that the meeting was over, didjabo started pompously for the door. "i will go now to prepare a royal proclamation explaining that as the young king has not after exhaustive search been found or located, the authority and governing power of the state shall pass to us, the nine faithful ozamandarins of the realm! we can then meet again and here in this star and barred chamber of justice divide the kingdom among us."
"very well, but see that you remember it is to be divided!" staring fixedly at didjabo, lotho strode away, colliding violently at the door with a small breathless page who was entering on a veritable gallop.
"your honors! your ozamandarin majesties!" shrilled the boy, wildly waving his trumpet instead of blowing upon it. "a ship--there is a ship with four masts beneath the chalk cliffs, a strange ship with full sail is riding into our harbor."
"there, there, don't shout!" snapped didjabo, seizing the boy roughly by the shoulders. "go back at once and discover what flag this ship flies from her masthead. quickly now. run!"
"what could it mean? where could it be from? such a thing has never happened before!" muttered the others, hastening over to the long windows.
"confoundation!" raged didjabo as the page with frightened stutters turned and ran out of the hall of justice. "this ruins everything. who are these meddling foreigners? and why do they have to arrive now of all times? now! lotho! teebo! call out the camel corps and the white elephant guard. have them drawn up in war formation on the chalk cliffs. you others!" impatiently didjabo waved his arms at the six remaining ozamandarins, "see to the defense of the palace! if these meddlers set foot upon our territory they are to be trampled upon, trampled upon--do you understand?" nodding with fierce and cruel determination, the eight tall keepers of the white city set about carrying out didjabo's orders. didjabo, hurrying up to the highest tower in the castle, looked through his telescope to see what manner of ship had come sailing out of the west to spoil or postpone his well-laid plans.
driven by the pitiless wind, pounded by the merciless sea, the crescent moon rode before the gale, coming, toward morning, into quiet waters at last. the sky, now pale grey instead of black, showed a small single star in the east, and with a huge sigh of weariness and relief samuel let go the anchor and bade his crew turn in all standing. this they were only too glad to do, sleeping heavily and thankfully in their clothes, nikobo still wrapped in her sail snoring like a whole band of music beneath the mizzenmast.
tandy, to whom the storm had been a thrilling adventure, was the first to waken. still stiff and bruised from the pounding he had taken as the crescent moon tossed and pitched in the terrible seas, he sprang eagerly out of his bunk, curious to know where the storm had carried them.
the morning mists, lifting like a shimmering veil or the curtain of a stage on some new and strange scene, showed a long white line of chalk cliffs to the east, and beyond the cliffs the dim outline of a great and splendid city. with joy and lively expectations tandy had run out on deck, but now, after a long look over the port rail, he crept silently and soberly back to his cabin, closing the door softly behind him. later, as the sun rose higher, and his shipmates awoke, the excited screams of nikobo and roger and the eager voices of samuel and ato told him that they too had seen the bright land beyond the cliffs. already samuel was clewing up his sail and above the rattle in the rigging tandy could hear the rasp of the anchor cable as it came winding over the side. but he only bent lower over the fat book in his lap, and when the read bird, loudly calling his name, came hurtling through the port-hole, he did not even look up.
"land! land and moreland!" croaked roger, dancing up and down on the foot of the bunk. "none of your pesky islands this time, but a whole long new continent. what in salt's the matter, youngster, this is no time to be a-reading! come on, come on, the captain's looking for you!" as roger peered sharply down at the book in tandy's lap two tears splashed on the open page. quickly brushing two more off his nose, the ship's cabin boy unwillingly met the puzzled gaze of the read bird.
"roger," demanded tandy in a smothered and unsteady voice, "which is most important, being a king or being a person?" roger, his head on one side, considered this for a moment and then spoke quickly.
"well, you can't be a good king without being a good person, so i should say, being a good person is most important."
"but it says here," with a furious sniff tandy put his finger on the middle paragraph of the page, "'in no circumstances and for no reason may a king forsake his country nor desert his countrymen.'"
"what's that? what's this? humph! maxims for monarchs. well, what in topsails do we care for that musty volume?" giving the book a vicious shove, roger, forgetting how much he had formerly praised ato's fat volume, fluttered down on tandy's shoulder. "so that's it!" he burst out explosively. "this pernicious country yonder is ozamaland. well, we can't spare you and that's final. they didn't know how to treat a good king when they had one, now let 'em practice on somebody else. say the word, m'lad, and we'll put about and sail away as fast as a good ship can take us! captain! master salt! deck ahoy! all hands 'hoy!" without waiting for tandy's answer, roger skimmed through the port and winged over to the captain.
"wait! wait!" sputtered tandy, hurrying aft where the officers and crew of the crescent moon were now engaged in earnest conversation. "don't you remember you wanted some of those creeping birds and flying reptiles, captain? well, this is the place!" puffed the little boy, waving his arm toward the cliffs. "this is ozamaland and i've got to go ashore. it's really all right," he continued earnestly as samuel began unhappily rubbing his chin, "it's been a grand voyage and i've learned a lot, but a king has to stick to his post, hasn't he?"
"not all the time," snapped ato, giving his belt an indignant jerk. "you stuck to your post and they stuck you in a tower and then in a pig pen in the jungle. so what do you owe them? nothing, say i, absolutely nothing!"
but samuel salt, regretful as he was to lose this handy young artist and cabin boy, felt that tandy must decide the matter for himself. "if you're as good a king as you are a seaman, i'm not the one to hold you back," he sighed sorrowfully. "but just let these lubbers start any more nonsense and i'll give them a taste of the rope. hah! and we'll not be leaving you till everything's shipshape, and you can lay to that!"
"i'm not leaving you at all," snorted nikobo, lumbering hugely over to tandy and almost flattening him against the port rail. "i'll miss this ship worse'n the river, and ato's cooking and the captain's stories and roger's jokes, but wherever tandy goes i go, and that's flat!"
"just plain noddling nonsense, putting him ashore," fumed ato angrily. "he's not old enough to manage these wild tribesmen and scheming aristocrats. besides, we need him on this expedition, and you know it." samuel, sighing deeply, smiled at tandy and tandy, sighing just as deeply, smiled back.
"never you mind," promised the former pirate with a wink that somehow lacked conviction, "there'll be other voyages!" and seizing the wheel, he began tacking in toward tandy's homeland. but he had lost all pleasure and interest in charting for the first time on any map the long continent of tarara and adding strange animals and plants to his ever-growing collection. losing tandy spoiled the whole expedition for him, and by taking longer and wider tacks he delayed their landing to the latest possible moment.
but at last there they were in the very shadow of the chalk cliffs and with no further excuse for not going ashore. nikobo had agreed to carry them and had abruptly heaved herself overboard, sending up a fountain of spray as high as the ship itself when she struck the water, thus astonishing no end the watchers on the bank. tandy, after running down to the hold to say goodbye to mo-fi and have a last look at the jellyfish boy, regretfully joined the others at the port rail. having brought nothing aboard the crescent moon, he insisted on leaving in the same way, soberly waving aside all the gifts and presents ato and samuel sought to press upon him. clad only in the leopard skin he had worn on patrippany island, he swung nimbly down the rope ladder. the captain and the cook, in honor of tandy's homecoming, had donned their finest shore-going togs, and samuel, with a scimiter in his teeth, and ato, armed as usual with his bread knife and a package he refused to explain, followed him more slowly down the ladder. then they all climbed aboard the hippopotamus.
roger, flying ahead with some oz flags just for luck, could not help comparing the brown, hard-muscled young seaman with the skinny, fretful boy they had taken on at patrippany island. trying to comfort himself with tandy's improved health and spirits, he looked curiously at the great company assembled on the cliffs. all of the nobles and their families in flowing white robes were present and many of the immense turbanned tribesmen who happened to be in the capital had gathered to see for themselves the first ship that had ever touched the shore of ozamaland. beyond the nobles and natives roger could see row on row of white guards mounted on enormous white elephants and snow-white camels.
"trouble, trouble, nothing but trouble!" mourned the read bird drearily to himself. tandy, familiar with the whole coast, guided nikobo to the only possible spot for landing and, grunting and mumbling, the hippopotamus hauled herself up on the rocks, glancing sharply and suspiciously at the little boy's subjects. a narrow path wound and curved up through the cliffs and, puffing and panting, nikobo finally made her way to the top, where she stood uncertainly facing the milling multitude.
"hail and greetings!" called samuel salt, raising his arm to attract their attention, for the crowd looked both dangerous and unfriendly. "we are here to return to you safe and sound your lost king, tazander tazah, rescued by us from the wild jungle of patrippany island."
"king? king?" shrilled a dozen shrill and unbelieving voices. "where? where?" and everyone craned his neck to get a better view of nikobo and her three curious riders. "is it really our lost and stolen kinglet?"
"yes!" cried tandy, springing erect. "i am tazander tazah, king's son and son of a king's son. you are my lawful subjects and ozamaland is my kingdom!" a little shiver of excitement ran through the crowd at these words.
"he does in truth resemble our young ruler," murmured one noble to another, "though much stronger and more bold." drawing a long sword, he waved it imperiously above his head. "summon the ozamandarins," he called loudly. "they will decide whether this be our king or some small impostor, and death to all strangers and enemies who come in ships to lay waste our realm."
"oh, hold your tongue!" advised ato, settling himself more comfortably between nikobo's shoulders. "who are you to challenge the royal explorer of oz, the king of the octagon isle--"
"and his royal read bird," piped roger, flying savagely round and round the head of the speaker.
"yes, who are you to challenge the rightful ruler of ozamaland?" cried tandy, folding his arms and gazing calmly out over the curious throng.
"hi, is this the young slip they kept locked in the tower? hoo, hoo!" yelled an old tribesman, brandishing his long lance. "he's the salt of the sea and the sand of the desert. shame on you, zamen, not to recognize and welcome your young king. i'm for you, young one, down to my last breath!" in spite of these brave words, the nobles, natives and guards made no move or motion to let nikobo pass through. then suddenly there was a break in the crowd and the nine square-hatted ozamandarins stepped rigidly forward. and nine taller, thinner, meaner-visaged rogues, decided samuel, lovingly fingering his scimiter, it had never been his misfortune to encounter. didjabo, recognizing tandy at once in spite of his new and seaman-like bearing, was the first to speak.
"the blessing of the stars, moon and sun upon you!" cried the wily chief, bowing rapidly ten times in succession, "and upon these strangers who have brought you safely back to these shores! welcome, most welcome, small king and ruler of the ozamanders!" speaking calmly but with black fury in his heart to have his plans so unexpectedly thwarted, didjabo advanced rapidly toward nikobo. "and now that you are here and really safe, we must see that you are locked securely in the white tower of the wise man away from all future hurt and harm!" reaching the side of the hippopotamus, he put up his hand to help tandy dismount.
"but i'm not going back to the tower!" said tandy, looking the chief ozamandarin straight in the eye. "ever! i'm riding on to the castle, so kindly order some refreshments for my friends and shipmates."
"hi, yi, yi!" approved the old tribesman, pounding the cliff with his lance. "here's a king for us. what good did your tower do before, old square-hat? he was carried off in spite of it, wasn't he? well, trot along now and do as he says; he's the king, and i'm here to see he gets his rights!" shocked by the determination in tandy's voice and the evident delight of the crowd at his defiance, didjabo put up his hand for silence.
"it is the law of the land that the nine ozamandarins shall guard the life and preserve the health of the country's sovereign," stated didjabo in his cold and impressive voice. "until this boy becomes of age he must be cared for and protected from his enemies. forward, guards! on to the tower! you others!" didjabo nodded disagreeably at samuel salt, ato, roger and nikobo, "you others may return to your ship, where a suitable reward will be sent out to you. we are deeply indebted to you for finding our king, but the law of ozamaland says that all foreigners landing on our shores shall instantly and without delay be flung over the cliffs. in your case we graciously permit you to leave. come, tazander!"
while samuel salt could not help admiring the way the old ozamandarin was trying to keep the upper hand, he had no intention of leaving till he had assured himself that tandy was in safe and proper hands. "but surely you will wish to hear the story of how we found this boy and explain how he happened to be on that jungle island!" observed samuel mildly. "step back, my good fellow, nikobo has large feet and she just might happen to tread on you."
"yes," wheezed nikobo sullenly, "i just might happen to do that very thing." slipping round to the other side of the hippopotamus, didjabo, paying no attention to either remark, tried to pull tandy to the ground. but the little boy, remembering roger's advice about lubbers gave him a fast and sudden poke in the nose that sent his hat flying off and the ozamandarin himself rolling head over heels.
"hurray, hurray! avast and belay! and down with old square-hats forever!" shrilled the read bird, while ato and samuel exchanged a proud and pleased glance. while the other ozamandarins stood uncertainly, the crowd, long weary of the rigid rule of the nine judges, began to laugh and cheer.
"the king is king! long live the king!" shouted the old tribesman vociferously.
but didjabo pulling himself furiously to his feet, flung up his arm. "guards! guards!" he screeched venomously, "do your work! save this poor, misguided child from these unspeakable foreigners or we are all lost. can you not see they are savages, sorcerers and enemies? seize the king and over the cliff with these hippopotamic invaders!"
the word "hippopotamic" seemed to rouse the undecided guards to action, and samuel, as the crowd moved uneasily aside to let the elephant and camel mounted guardsmen through, heartily wished himself back on the ship. nikobo, squealing with rage and defiance, began moving cautiously back toward the path down the cliffs, but ato, who had been merely biding his time, tore open his package and began tossing right and left the tumbleweeds and creeping vines which fortunately it had contained.
the first creeper caught didjabo, bound him up and laid him by the heels before he could issue another order. taking careful aim, ato threw a creeping vine at each of the other ozamandarins. the tumbleweeds, whirling beneath the feet of the elephants and camels, caused them to fall to their knees, tossing their riders over their heads, and between the yells of the guards, the squeals of the camels, and trumpeting of the elephants, confusion was terrific. the natives and nobles and all who could still move or run set off at top speed for the city without once looking behind them. muttering angrily under his breath, ato continued to hurl vines and tumbleweeds till none was left. unable to advance an inch, the white guard and their mounts rolled and groveled together in the deep sand.
"now we can go on to the palace!" cried tandy, a bit breathless by the suddenness of it all. "oh, ato, how did you ever happen to bring those plants along?"
"i suspected some of these subjects of yours were villains," answered ato grimly, "and the only way to meet villains is with villainy. forward march, my lass! on to the king's castle!"
picking her way around the fallen men and beasts, nikobo, snorting at each step to show her superiority and contempt, set out for the royal palace. of all the people who had run out on the cliffs, besides the securely bound ozamandarins and the guard, only the old tribesman who had first cheered tandy remained.
"oh, please do come with us," invited tandy earnestly as the old man stepped smilingly out of nikobo's way. "you could tell me all about the tent dwellers and help me so much if you would."
"i am chunum, the sheik, head of a thousand tribes and speaking for them, i can say they all will proudly and gladly serve your brave young majesty. too long have the city dwellers ruled this great liberty-loving land."
"then over the side and under the hatches with 'em," cried roger, beside himself with joy and exuberance at the neat way ato had handled tandy's subjects. "this boy's an able-bodied seaman and explorer and will stand no nonsense!"
"my sea is the desert," said chunum, striding jauntily along beside nikobo, "and my ship is a camel, but i'll wager we'll understand each other well enough for all that."
to tandy, conversing eagerly with chunum, the splendor of the white city of om was an old story, but to the others it seemed, with its flashing marble walks, great waving palms and towering dwellings and castle, one of the loveliest capitals they had yet visited.
word of the happenings on the cliff had traveled fast. longing to welcome the young king, but fearing the strange magicians who had come with him, the nobles had barred themselves in their fine houses and the natives had fled to the hills beyond the city gates. the many-domed marble palace was absolutely deserted when nikobo pushed her way through the wide doors. not a footman, page or courtier was in sight. seeing no attention or service was to be had for some time, ato hurried away to the kitchens and was soon happily at work preparing a splendid feast to celebrate tandy's homecoming.
tandy himself felt quiet and sad, examining with scant interest and enthusiasm the splendid rooms which he had never yet been allowed to live in. to tell the truth, he would have traded the whole castle for his small cabin aboard samuel's ship. samuel himself, never really happy or comfortable ashore, wandered about aimlessly, opening books on the long tables, peering out windows, and finally settling with a sigh of resignation in a huge chair beside the throne.
nikobo had found a long pool and fountain in the same room and, lying at full length in this luxuriant marble bath, tranquilly waited for events to shape themselves.
"why not sit on your throne?" asked roger as tandy seated himself on a small stool beside samuel salt.
"oh, it's much too big for me," sighed tandy, thinking how very big and lonely the palace would seem when all his shipmates had gone.
"aho, and methinks you are right! ahoy, the beginning of a beautiful idea doth at this moment start to seep through the head feathers, of which, more anon!" chunum, who had never before heard a bird talk, stared at roger in amazed interest and surprise, but giving him no more satisfaction than a mischievous wink, the read bird flew off to help ato with the dinner. and now samuel proceeded to tell the old tribesman how he had found tandy in the jungle imprisoned in the wooden cage. as he finished, chunum shook his head in stern displeasure.
"it has long been my conviction and belief," he stated solemnly, "that the ozamandarins are at the bottom of this. every year they usurp more and more power, and keeping the young king shut up in the tower was but an excuse to give them their own will and way. nor can i believe that the royal parents of this boy accidentally fell into the sea as they were reported to have done, or that the young aunts mentioned in the prophecy had anything at all to do with tandy's abduction. tell me, how long will the vines hold those villains prisoner, for only that long is tazander safe. we must think and act quickly," said chunum, tapping his staff thoughtfully on the floor.
"the vines will not unwind for two days and before then--hah!" samuel expelled his breath in a mighty blast and sprang purposefully to his feet. "before then we shall put those fellows in a very safe place for tandy and for them too, shiver my timbers!" taking chunum by the shoulder, samuel started toward the door, and seeing the two intended to leave the castle, nikobo climbed out of the fountain and offered to carry them. tandy nodded absently as the two left the castle, his thoughts still far away on the crescent moon, and considering the work they had to do, samuel and chunum were well pleased to leave him behind.
with surprising speed the hippopotamus made the return trip to the cliffs. the effects of the tumbleweed had evidently worn off and the guards and their mounts had fled with the rest of the inhabitants of white city to the hills. but the nine ozamandarins still lay in their curious cradles in the deep coarse sand. as samuel and chunum, in absolute agreement as to what should be done, rolled off nikobo's back, a furious bellow and screech brought them up short. nikobo, startled out of her usual calm, fell back on her haunches and after one horrified look upward buried her head in the sand.
"it can't be!" cried samuel, clutching chunum's sleeve. "it can't be, but it is!"
"an elephant, a flying elephant!" panted chunum, dragging samuel from under the immense shadow. "flatten yourself in the sand, seaman, and we may yet be spared." as samuel, more amazed than scared at so strange and curious a specimen, and even vaguely hopeful of capturing the unwieldy creature, made no move, chunum dragged him down by main force. the elephant meanwhile lighted like some gigantic butterfly on the edge of the cliff. fairly bleating with fright and terror, the nine ozamandarins watched him swooping toward them with a sinister and soundless speed. just behind his ear perched boglodore, the old man of the jungle, looking cruel and ugly as the genie of all evil.
"revenge! revenge!" shrilled the turbaned native, clenching his fists. "now shall boglodore have his reward!" addressing himself to chunum and samuel salt, the old man of the jungle began screaming out the story of his wrongs. "for these scheming rascals i carried away on umbo, my great and useful umbrellaphant, the young king of this country. for this i was to receive one-tenth of the kingdom, the ozamandarins themselves to divide the rest of the country among them. but hah! what happened?" dancing up and down on the elephant's head, boglodore again clenched his fists, his face distorted with rage and fury. "what happened? why, these miserable cheats refused to pay me, intending to keep the whole country for themselves. but hearken well, you and you!" jerking his thumb contemptuously toward his rigid and helpless enemies, the old man continued his story.
"all along i have suspected these thieving zamans; all along i intended to fool them and return the little king to his castle, keeping only the jungle for my own. that is why i built the boy his cage in the jungle and set nikobo, the great hippopotamus, to watch over him, giving her the power of speech and the desire to seek out and protect this unfortunate child of an unfortunate country. i am a magician and could well bring about these things. you, whoever you are, who found and brought him back to ozamaland did no more than i myself intended to do and intend to do now. after restoring tandy to his throne, i meant to deal with his enemies, and now as they are so neatly bound up and ready, i shall reward them well for their pains and treachery."
"stop! stop! avast there and belay!" shouted samuel salt as the umbrellaphant, obeying an order from the terrible old man, picked up didjabo in his trunk and flew swiftly toward the cliff's edge. but chunum, again dragging samuel down, whispered fiercely in his ear.
"it is justice, seaman, and only what we ourselves planned to do. the vines will keep these rogues afloat for two days, then haply they will sink--not to die, as death comes not to the people of my country, but to lie for long forgotten ages at the bottom of the sea, harmless and sodden, and unable to do any more harm to the country they have so dishonorably served and betrayed!"
shuddering and in a tense silence, samuel and the sheik watched the umbrellaphant toss the wretched ozamandarins one after the other into the sea. the immense zooming monster fascinated the captain of the crescent moon. not wings, but a balloon-like structure of its own tough skin billowing over its back like a howdah, enabled umbo to navigate in the air. samuel was anxious for further talk with the old man of the jungle, but as the last ozamandarin fell over the cliff the umbrellaphant, with a trumpet of defiance, headed rapidly for the open sea.
"look! look! it's getting away!" cried samuel, rushing to the cliff's edge and almost tumbling over. "do you realize that there goes the only umbrellaphant in captivity?"
"well, well, and what if it is?" muttered chunum, again pulling samuel back to safety. "i expect boglodore does not find this country healthy after the pretty story he has just told us, and come, come, master seaman, what would you do with a flying elephant aboard your ship?"
"i'd tie it to the mast and carry it back to oz," explained samuel, staring gloomily after the disappearing prize. "why, it would be the most rare and amazing specimen ever brought back from anywhere, and now--now--i've lost it--" samuel's arms dropped heavily to his sides and turning away from the cliff, he began walking slowly back toward nikobo, who had at last ventured to lift her head from the sand. surprised enough was the hippopotamus to learn that she had been given her power of speech by the ugly little magician on the umbrellaphant, and frightened lest she forget tandy's language, she began talking rapidly to herself.
"but you forget what all this means!" panted chunum, catching up with the explorer and shaking him energetically by the shoulder. "why, this clears up the whole mystery. not an aunt but an elephant carried tazander to patrippany island. we must return quickly to the castle and release his innocent relatives. i myself will call back tandy's frightened subjects and tell them of the great good fortune that has befallen, that we are rid of nine rogues and have a brave young king to rule ozamaland. come, come, do not stand here dreaming about lost elephants; there is much to be accomplished and done."
"goosewing my topsails, you're right!" breathed samuel salt, coming completely out of his reverie. "round up the citizens, comrade, and i'll carry the good news to the castle."
when samuel reached the castle, he found ato and roger had set a small cozy table in the throne room, and tandy was anxiously looking out of one of the gold-framed windows for his return. the whiffs from the covered dishes were so appetizing the royal explorer of oz was almost inclined to let his news wait till afterward. but thinking better of it, he blurted out the whole story of what had happened to the ozamandarins.
"then they're all gone and done for," sniffed ato, seating himself at the head of the table. "well, a couple of hundred years at the bottom of the sea should soak all the sin and wickedness out of 'em! and you say it was an umbrellaphant that carried tandy off? my! and my! dear, dear and dear! just pour me a cup of coffee, roger. i'm feeling weaker than soup!"
"well, how do you suppose i feel," grumbled samuel salt, throwing his hat up on a bronze figure, "to lose an elegant specimen like that? why, i'll wager we'll never see another creature like it!"
"there! there! always talking about the elephant that got away instead of appreciating your good fortune!" scolded ato, throwing a corn muffin down to nikobo and lifting the gold cover off the roast fowl.
"yes, and you'd better listen to our news, master salt!" roger said, pouring a cup of coffee for all hands.
"news? news? has anything happened here?" samuel looked more anxious than interested.
"oh, yes!" cried tandy, running round to his side of the table and pressing eagerly against samuel's knee. "roger has a wonderful plan and i as king of ozamaland have agreed to it, and oh, samuel, samuel!" forgetting he usually called the tremendous seaman "captain," tandy flung both arms round his neck and almost squeezed the breath out of him. "i'm going straight back on the crescent moon, and i'm not coming ashore for years and years. i'm going with you to ev, oz, elbow island and everywhere!"
"what?" spluttered samuel salt, disentangling himself with great difficulty and holding tandy off at arm's length. "are you joking? are you crazy? have you abdicated or what? why, this is too good to be true!"
"but it is true!" insisted roger, strutting up and down the table and illy concealing his pride and satisfaction.
"oh, tell him, tell him," begged tandy, too happy to speak for himself.
"well," said roger, spreading his wings self-consciously, for the plan was his and he felt prouder of it every minute, "we are placing ozamaland under the general rule and protection of oz and leaving as ruler in tandy's place that long-legged son of the desert, chunum. now there's a fellow who can handle these scary nobles and natives and wild elephant and camel riders. a king must complete his education before he starts ruling, you know." roger paused to scratch his head and wink gaily at samuel salt. "and if this king chooses to finish his education on our ship, that is his own affair."
"oh, quite! quite!" samuel began to rock backward and forward and roar with merriment. "roger, you rascal, you've done as good a job of reasoning as a whole flock of wise men! fall to, mates, now we can enjoy our victuals and i give you a toast to king tandy, cabin boy, explorer and artist extraordinary to this expedition!"
"tandy! tandy!" echoed ato and roger, lifting their coffee cups.
"tandy! tandy!" mumbled nikobo, who was lunching largely and luxuriantly on the flowers in a low window box. "when do we sail?"
anxious as tandy was to return to the crescent moon and continue the voyage, it was a whole week before they finally shoved off. chunum, true to his word, had rounded up the frightened citizens of the capital and explained to them the wicked plots of the ozamandarins and their punishment by boglodore, the old man of the jungle. then tandy, addressing them from the castle balcony, called upon them to consider chunum as their king until he himself should have completed his education in foreign parts and aboard the crescent moon, during which time he promised to keep them always in mind and have their welfare always at heart. next, tandy explained how ozamaland was now a province and under the general rule and protection of ozma of oz, how settlers from that famous fairyland would soon arrive to help them build new cities and towns, tame the wild jungles of the interior and repel the dangerous invasions of the greys.
here chunum rose to declare he himself would be responsible for peace along the border between amaland and ozamaland, that the greys had long desired to be friends with the whites, but trouble had been stirred up by the ozamandarins so they might have the credit of protecting the country. then tandy spoke again of all the advantages that would be enjoyed from their association with the kingdom of oz. it was a long and splendid speech, roger and tandy having spent the whole morning in its preparation, and delighted and surprised by the energy and ambition of their young ruler, tandy's subjects cheered him long and vociferously, greeting each new plan and proposal with loud acclaim and enthusiasm. the royal aunts and relatives, already released from the castle dungeons and restored to their royal dwellings, could not speak highly enough of their young relative's bravery and cleverness and the bravery and cleverness of all of his new friends. they quite wore nikobo out with their questions and petting and the hippopotamus sighed hugely for the time when they would all be at sea.
"was i right or was i wrong?" questioned roger on the third afternoon as tandy, resplendent in his court suit of white velvet, reviewed the vast parade of loyal nobles and natives, and the long lines of elephants and camels went sweeping by the palace. "they love you just as much for going away as they would if you stayed. and chunum is a man in a million."
"right!" tandy nodded, waving happily to the crowds that in a high holiday mood thronged the walks and parks of the beautiful white city.
chunum had taken samuel salt and ato on an expedition into the jungle so that the royal explorer of oz could procure a creeping bird and flying reptile for his collection. nikobo, old jungaleer that she was, had gone along to see that no harm came to them. to tandy a snake with feathers and a bird with scales and fangs was no novelty, but samuel, returning with a pair of each, considered them the most peculiar and precious of his queer specimens. he carried their cages everywhere he went and spent long rapt hours watching the snakes fly and the birds creep about their new cages. ato had discovered a new and rare fruit and had brought along several slips to plant in the rail boxes he had outside the galley. nikobo had swum to her heart's content in a green and muddy jungle stream and all three were now quite ready and anxious to continue the voyage. aboard the crescent moon one of the guards had been established to feed the monkey fish and water boy and tend to the plants in the hold and serve as watchman. and early one bright morning, just a week after they had landed, the members of the royal exploration party of oz set forth from the palace.
oz flags fluttered and snapped in the fresh morning breeze, mingling with the white banners of ozamaland, and the streets and avenues were lined with tandy's cheering and now quite cheerful subjects. riding nikobo, accompanied by chunum on a white elephant and the entire camel corps and elephant guard, the party made their way down to the water's edge, feeling exactly, as ato whispered in a laughing undertone to roger, like a whole circus and a zoo. besides roger, tandy, samuel salt and ato, nikobo carried two large cages and two small cages. in the small cages were the flying reptiles and creeping birds. in the large cages a baby white camel and a baby white elephant.
"you'll sink, my lass," worried samuel salt, as nikobo, having safely made her way down the rocky cliff road, waded confidently out into the sea.
"not me," murmured the hippopotamus comfortably. "you may get wet, but i'll get you safely out to the ship. trust me."
"goodbye! goodbye, all!" cried tandy, standing up on her back to wave to the crowds collected on the cliffs. now that he was leaving, he felt a strange fondness for them. "goodbye, chunum! i'll be back, never fear!"
"goodbye, little fellow! goodbye, little king! a fair and far-away voyage to you," called the tall old desert chief, standing up in his stirrups to wave his long lance. "to the sun--the moon--the stars i commend you! go in happiness and return in health and live long to rule over ozamaland."
"you take care of the country and we'll take care of the king," shouted samuel. "goodbye! goodbye! be watching, all of you, for the ships from oz!"
"goodbye! goodbye!" called the nobles, the natives, the guards; even the elephants and camels raised their shrill voices in farewell as nikobo swam strongly away from the shore and toward the crescent moon.
the guard left in charge of the ship thankfully turned the vessel over to its rightful owners and, shaking tandy feelingly by the hand, climbed down the ladder and dropped nervously on the back of the hippopotamus, who was to carry him to shore.
"here, brainless, lend a hand with the freight," yelled roger as tandy stood gazing rather thoughtfully toward the cliffs. "the king's ashore! long live his cabin boy! i'll carry these pesky reptilia if you take the camel." roger winked at tandy as samuel salt, bent double under the baby elephant's cage, started carefully down to the hold. the baby camel and its cage were so small tandy could manage them quite easily, and with a little laugh he hurried after samuel and roger. by the time they had finished nikobo had returned from her shore trip and climbed thankfully back on her raft.
"all hands stand by to heave up the anchor," bellowed samuel, stepping cheerfully over to his sail controls. "anchors aweigh! and away we go, boys, and the hippopotamus take the hindmost!"
"ho, ho! well, she's built for it," roared ato, bending his weight to the cable as sail after sail rattled up the masts and bellied out from the yards. "where to now, sam-u-el? oz?"
"oz, i should say not! we've a lot of geography to discover before we go back to oz. we'll need a roc's egg before we go there, eh, tandy? a roc's egg and sixty more islands for ozma's christmas stocking."
"oh! will we really spend christmas in oz?" cried tandy, skipping up and down the deck, and forgetting all about his subjects waving from the cliffs.
"why not?" demanded samuel salt, letting his hands fall happily upon the wheel. "oz is as merry a place as any to spend christmas, eh, roger?"
"merry as eight bells!" cried roger, flying joyfully into the rigging. "ahoy! ahoy! nothing but sea t'seaward!"
and when the crescent moon flies over ev and drops down the winkie river on christmas morning with its chart full of islands and curious continents and its hold full of strange beasts, plants and treasure, i for one should like to be there, shouldn't you?
the end
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56079.txt
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Handy Mandy in Oz
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"what-a-butter! what-a-butter!" high and clear above the peaks of mt. mern floated the voice of the goat girl calling the finest, fattest but most troublesome of her flock. all the other goats were winding obediently down toward the village that perched precariously on the edge of the mountain. but of what-a-butter there was not a single sign nor whisker.
"serves me right for spoiling the contrary creature," panted mandy, pushing back her thick yellow braids with her second best hand. "always wants her own way, that goat--so she does. what-a-butter, i say what-a-butter--come down here this instant." but only the tantalizing tinkle of the goat's silver bell came to answer her, for what-a-butter was climbing up, not down, and there was nothing for mandy to do but go after her.
muttering dire threats which she was much too soft hearted ever to carry out, the rosy cheeked mountain lass scrambled over crags and stones, pulling herself up steep precipices, the goat always managing to keep a few jumps ahead, till soon they were almost at the top of the mountain!
here, stopping on a jutting rock to catch her breath and remove the burrs from her stockings, mandy heard a dreadful roar and felt an ominous rumbling beneath her feet. what-a-butter on a narrow ledge just above heard it too, and cocked her head anxiously on one side. perhaps she had best jump down to mandy. after all, the great silly girl did feed and pet her, and from the sound of things a storm was brewing. if there was one thing the goat feared more than another, it was a thunder-storm, so, rolling her eyes as innocently as if she had not dragged mandy all over the mountain she stretched her nose down toward her weary mistress.
"bah--ah-ah-ahhhhhhhhhh!" bleated what-a-butter affectionately.
"oh 'bah' yourself!" fumed mandy, making an angry snatch for the nanny goat's beard. "pets and children are all alike--never appreciate a body till they have a stomach ache, or a thunder-storm is coming. now then, m'lass, be quick with you!"
holding out her strong arms, mandy made ready to catch the goat as it jumped off the ledge. but before what-a-butter could stir, there was a perfectly awful crash and explosion and up shot the slab of rock on which mandy was standing, up--up and out of sight entirely. where the mountain girl had been, a crystal column of water spurted viciously into the air, so high the bulging eyes of the goat could see no end to it. rearing up on her hind legs, what-a-butter turned round and round in a frantic effort to catch a glimpse of her vanishing mistress. then thinking suddenly what would happen should the torrent turn and fall upon her, the goat sprang off the ledge and ran madly down the mountain, bleating like a whole herd of banshees.
and mandy, as you can well believe, was as frightened as what-a-butter and with twice as much reason. the first upheaval, as the rock left the earth, flung her flat on her nose. grasping the edges of the slab with all hands, mandy hung on for dear life and as a stinging shower of icy water sprayed her from head to foot, wondered what under the earth was happening to her. thorns and thistles! could the thunder-storm really have come up instead of down? certainly it was raining up, and what ever was carrying her aloft with such terrible force and relentlessness?
how could the goat girl know that a turbulent spring pent up for thousands of years in the center of mt. mern had suddenly burst its way to freedom! and you have no idea of the tremendous power in a mountain spring once it uncoils and lets itself go. mandy's rock might just as well have been shot into the air by a magic cannon. first it tore upward as if it meant to knock a hole in the sky, then, still travelling at incalculable speed, began to arch and take a horizontal course over the mountains, hills and valleys west of mern. all poor mandy knew was that she was hurtling through space at break-neck speed with nothing to save or stop her. the long yellow braids of the goat girl streamed out like pennants, while her striped skirt and voluminous petticoats snapped and fluttered like banners in the wind.
"what-a-butter! oh what-a-butter!" moaned mandy, gazing wildly over the edge of the rock. but pshaw, what was the use of calling? what-a-butter, even if she heard, could not fly after her through the air, and when she herself came down not even her own goat would recognize her. at this depressing thought, mandy dropped her head on her arms and began to weep bitterly, for she was quite sure she would never see her friends--her home--or her goats again.
but the rough and frugal life on mt. mern had made the goat girl both brave and resourceful, so she soon dried her tears and as the rock still showed no signs of slowing up nor dashing down, she began to take heart and even a desperate sort of interest in her experience. slowly and cautiously she pulled herself to a sitting position and still clutching the edges of the rock, dared to look down at the countries and towns flashing away below.
"after all," sniffed the reckless maiden, "nothing very dreadful has happened yet. i've always wanted to travel and now i am travelling. not many people have flown through the air on a rock--why it's really a rocket!" decided mandy, with a nervous giggle. "and that, i suppose, makes me the first rocket rider in the country, and the last, too," she finished soberly as she measured with her eye the distance she would plunge when her rock started earthward. "now if we'd just come down in that blue lake, below, i might have a chance. perhaps i should jump?"
but by the time mandy made up her mind to jump the lake was far behind and nothing but a great desert of smoking sand stretched beneath her.
the sky, from the rosy pink of late afternoon, had faded to a depressing grey, and mandy could not help thinking longingly of the appetizing little supper she had set out for herself before going up to call the goats. who would eat it now or even know she was flying through the air like a comet? no one, she concluded drearily, for mandy was an orphan and lived all by herself in a small cottage on mt. mern, high above the village of fistikins. in a day or two, some of her friends in the village might search the cottage and find her gone, but now, now there was nothing to do but sit tight and hope for the best.
mandy's next glance down was more encouraging. instead of the dangerous looking desert, she was sailing over misty blue hills and valleys dotted with many small towns and villages. high as she was, she could even hear the church bells tolling the hour, and this made mandy feel more lost and lonely than ever. all these people below were safely at home and about to eat their suppers while she was flying high and far from everything she knew and loved best.
hungrily the goat girl cast her eyes over the rock she was riding, thinking to find a small sprig of mountain berries or even a blade of grass to nibble. at first glance, the rock seemed bare and barren, then sticking up out of a narrow crevice mandy spied a tiny blue flower. "poor little posy, it's as far from home as i am," murmured the goat girl, and carefully breaking the stem, she lifted the blue flower to her nose. its faint fragrance was vaguely comforting and mandy had just begun to count the petals, when the rock gave a sickening lurch and started to pitch down so fast mandy's braids snapped like jumping ropes and her skirts bellied out like a parachute in a gale.
"now for it," gasped the goat girl closing her eyes and clenching her teeth. "oh! my poor little shins!" mandy's shins were both stout and sturdy, but even so we cannot blame mandy for pitying them. stouter shins than hers would have splintered at such a fall. hardly knowing what she was doing, mandy began to pull the petals from the blue flower, calling in an agonized voice as she pulled each one the names of her goats and friends. she had just come to speckle, the smallest member of her flock, when the end came.
kimmeny jimmeny! was this all? opening one eye, the goat girl looked fearfully about her. she was sitting on top of a haystack, no, not a haystack, but a heap of soft blue flower petals as soft as down. opening the other eye she saw the rock, on which she had travelled so far, bump over a golden fence and fall with a satisfied splash into a shimmering lake. but what lay beyond the lake made mandy forget all her troubles and fairly moan with surprise and pleasure.
"a castle!" exulted the goat girl, putting one hand above her heart. "oh! i've always wanted to see a castle and now i am." and this castle, let me tell you, was well worth anyone's seeing, a castle of lacy blue marble carved, and decorated with precious stones, in a way to astonish the eyes of a simple mountain lass. from the tallest tower, a silken pennant floated lazily in the evening breeze.
"k-e-r-e-t-a-r-i-a," mandy spelled out slowly. sliding off the heap of flower petals she stood for a long delicious moment lost in admiration. then, giving herself a businesslike shake to be sure she was not broken or bent by her amazing flight and tumble, mandy turned to examine the rest of her surroundings.
when she looked at the spot on which she had fallen the stack of blue petals had disappeared, but there, twinkling up cheerfully, was the blue flower as much at home as if it had grown there in the first place. thoroughly puzzled, mandy picked the little flower a second time and slipped it into the pocket of her apron.
even without the mystery of the blue flower it was astonishing enough to find herself in the stately park of this gorgeous blue castle. there was a tree lined avenue and velvety lawns splashed with star shaped flower beds stretched in every direction. only the small patch of land on which she was standing was bare and uncultivated. and evidently someone was at work here, for a great white ox, with golden horns, yoked to a gold plow stood with his back to mandy, dozing cozily in the pleasant dusk.
at sight of the ox, mandy gave a little sigh of relief and content. long ago an old mountain woman had given her this sensible piece of advice. "when you do not know what to do next, do the first useful piece of work that comes to hand." now here, right at hand, was a useful piece of work, and while she was trying to figure out the whole puzzle of the flying rock and strange blue flower, she might just as well be ploughing. then when the owner of the castle saw her working so industriously, he might invite her to supper. so, grasping the tail of the ancient plow, mandy clicked her tongue in a cheerful signal for the ox to start.
the white ox, who had not seen nor heard the goat girl till this minute turned his head in a lordly fashion and gave her a long haughty look. not really believing what he saw, he took another look, and then, with a bellow of fright and outrage went charging across the park pulling the startled goat girl behind him. mandy might have let go, but she just did not think of it, and with pounding heart and flying braids held fast to the pitching plough as it tore through flower beds, ripped up lawns and cut fearful furrows in the pebbled paths. clouds of earth, stones and whole plants uprooted ruthlessly from their beds showered round her ears, and as they reached the palace, a hard metal object hit her squarely between the eyes. putting up a hand, mandy caught the flying missile and mechanically slipped it into her pocket, and the next instant the ox lunging through an open french window dragged her into the magnificently furnished throne room of the castle. not only into the throne room, mind you, but into the lap of royalty itself!
the white ox in his mad dash across the throne room had run violently into a marble pillar, hurling mandy straight into the arms of a very tall, very stern, and very blue looking monarch. pages and courtiers tripped and fell left and right in a scramble to get out of the way, while the ox, snorting and trembling, looked balefully over his shoulder at the goat girl.
"whu-what is--the--meaning of--this out-rageous in-trusion?" panted the king. "unhand me, woman! remove your finger from my eye and your arms--your arms! hi! hi! hi!" the king's sentence ended in three frightened squeaks. "is it a girl or an octopus?" he puffed, heaving up his chest in an endeavor to dislodge mandy. "hi! hi! hi! are you going to allow this clumping savage to insult my majesty in this--er--high-handed manner?"
as the goat girl, by this time scarlet from anger and mortification, jumped off the king's lap, three very high officials of the court of keretaria darted forward.
"the high qui-questioner! the imperial persuader! and the lord high upper dupper of the realm!" bawled a page. having delivered himself of this impressive announcement the page bolted back of a curtain and from there peered with astonished eyes at the visitor. everyone in the grand blue throne room looked frightened and ready to run at a moment's notice. wondering what could be the matter with them all, mandy with many misgivings watched the counselors of keretaria advance in a threatening row.
"now then--not a move!" thundered the high qui-questioner, tapping her sharply on the shoulder with a golden staff shaped like a huge interrogation point. "it is my duty to question all strangers who ride, fall, fly or break into our kingdom, and you," the haughty nobleman gave mandy a cold blue stare, "you are stranger than any stranger who has ever come to keretaria."
"it is my duty to persuade you to do as his majesty commands," stated the imperial persuader, raising his gold spiked club.
"and it is my duty to put you in your place," sniffed the lord high upper dupper rattling a bunch of keys that hung from his belt.
"well if you ask me," puffed the ox, rolling his eyes wildly round at the goat girl, "her place is in a museum and the sooner you lock her upper dupper, the better." now mandy was so astonished to hear the ox actually speaking, she gave a loud cry and flung up her hands, every single seven of them.
"help! help!" yelped the courtiers, scurrying like mice into corners and corridors. only the white ox, the king and his counselors kept their places.
"how dare you come into a king's presence armed in this barbarous fashion?" gasped the high qui-questioner, taking a step toward the goat girl, but too frightened to touch her.
"pigs!" cried mandy, suddenly losing her temper. "can i help my seven arms? all of us on mt. mern have seven arms and hands and you with your skinny two seem far funnier than i. i am mandy, the goat girl, as anyone in his senses can see."
"the girl is right," observed the ox, gazing more attentively at mandy and now speaking quite calmly, "she can no more help those seven arms than you can help those seven warts on your nose, questo. i tell you this maiden is a real curiosity and if you three hi-boys will cease rattling your teeth and your clubs, perhaps she will explain why she has come to keretaria. i myself shall call her handy mandy."
"why, the beast has more sense than its masters," thought the goat girl in surprise.
"well," rumbled the king ungraciously, "if you have anything to say before we lock you up, say it, but do not wave your arms about, please."
swallowing nervously, clasping four of her hands behind her back and stuffing the other three into convenient pockets in her apron, mandy began to speak. "i was driving my goats home from the mountain, your majesty, when the rock on which i was standing exploded suddenly into the air, flew like a bird over hill, valley, and desert and dropped me into your garden--"
"and not a bruise nor a bump to show for it," grunted the imperial persuader elevating his nose to show he was not taken in by such a tale. in spite of his suspicious glance, mandy decided to say nothing of the blue flower that had so miraculously softened her fall.
"and since when have rocks flown through the air?" inquired the lord high upper dupper sarcastically.
"ahem--in the garden," continued mandy undaunted by the two interruptions, "i saw this great white ox and thinking to do a bit of honest work for my supper, grasped the plough, but--"
"that was a little oxident," murmured the great beast in a jovial voice, "for, catching sight of a seven-armed maiden all at once and without warning, i took to my heels and landed her in her present unpleasant predicament. is that not so, m'lass?"
looking at the ox with round eyes, mandy nodded.
"but she still has not explained all these arms," complained the imperial persuader. "whoever heard of a seven-handed maiden?"
"i have!" asserted mandy stoutly. "and what, pray, is there to explain? this iron hand--" the goat girl raised it slowly and thoughtfully as she spoke, "i use for ironing, lifting hot pots from the stove and all horrid sort of hard work; this leather hand i keep for beating rugs, dusting, sweeping, and so on; this wooden hand i use for churning and digging in the garden; these two red rubber hands for dishwashing and scrubbing, and my two fine white hands i keep for holding and braiding my hair." with all seven hands extended before her, mandy smiled engagingly up at the king.
"undoubtedly a witch," whispered the imperial persuader darkly, as the king in spite of himself gazed curiously down at his seven-armed visitor.
"a dangerous character, your majesty," hissed the high qui-questioner, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"to the dungeons with her!" rasped the lord high upper dupper, rattling his keys like castanets.
"what?" bawled the white ox, stamping all of his gold shod feet in rapid succession. "you mean to consign this marvel of skill and efficiency to a dungeon? what a set of dunces you are! come, handy, i myself, will take you for a slave. out of my way, dolts!" swaggering a bit, and with the golden plough still clanking and bumping behind him, the ox ambled at a dignified pace toward the door. mandy, though she did not relish the idea of becoming his slave, was greatly relieved at the interest the ox was taking in her case, but before following him, she looked inquiringly up at the king.
"yes, go!" commanded his majesty harshly, "i hereby give you into the care and service of nox, the royal ox of keretaria. harm one hair of his head, and you will pay for it with your life and perish, i promise you, most ignominiously."
"mercy--ercy," muttered mandy tiptoeing nervously after her new master, "doesn't the fellow know any short words? how queer everything is on this side of the mountain, people with only two arms, animals talking and giving orders to kings. suppose the goats at home started bossing the villagers?" and what would the villagers think of her strange flight and reception in keretaria? well, from what she herself had seen of royalty, decided the goat girl, she much preferred her goats or even the company of this haughty white ox. stepping briskly beside him, mandy resolved to humor the creature till she saw a bit more of the country or found some safe way back to her mountain.
nox swinging along at his own indolent gait paid no further attention to the goat girl, but when they reached his royal quarters, which to mandy looked more like a castle than a stable, he began bawling so fiercely for the stable boys she decided uncomfortably that being his slave might prove both unpleasant and dangerous. however, when six little boys dressed in blue overalls and aprons ran out, the royal ox addressed them quite kindly. the first, without waiting for instructions unhitched the plough and lifted the yoke from the royal shoulders.
"prepare kerry's quarters for my new slave," directed nox, turning to the second and third. "you others, bring dinner for two, and mind you fetch handy mandy everything they have at the king's table." with a playful lunge nox started them smartly on their way, then moved grandly into the huge stone stable and along to his own luxurious gold-paved stall.
"my--y!" exclaimed the goat girl, sinking breathlessly to a three legged stool, "how grand and elegant you are here! my--y, i wish what-a-butter could see this!"
"one of your goats?" murmured nox, burying his nose in the huge marble bowl he used for a drinking trough.
mandy nodded. "i wish she were here now!" she added with a rapturous little sigh.
"well, i don't." deliberately the royal ox licked the water from his lips. "do you suppose i'd allow a miserable goat in my sapphire trimmed stall?"
"miserable!" squealed mandy, springing off the stool. "what-a-butter's the smartest goat on the mountain; she wouldn't give two bleats and a bah for an old hoopadoop like you!"
"hoopadoop!" repeated the ox in a dazed whisper. "do you mean to stand there and call the royal ox of keretaria a hoopadoop?"
"yes," said mandy firmly but backing off a bit as she spoke. "what makes you think you're so much better than a goat even if you do talk, put on airs and have golden horns?"
"well," and to mandy's surprise and relief, nox cleared his throat and grinned quite amiably, "after all i am the royal ox, you know, more precious to the king than all his court and subjects. everyone jumps at my least command, so why shouldn't i put on a few airs? besides do you think it's polite to call me an old hoopadoop when i've just saved you from a dungeon?"
"no," admitted mandy, resuming her seat thoughtfully, "i don't suppose it is. maybe you are as good as a goat," she added with a little burst of generosity.
"oh, thank you! thank you very much!" through half closed eyes the royal ox looked quizzically at the goat girl. "i believe we shall get on famously, m'lass, famously. the truth is, you amuse me no end and so long as you amuse me everything will be smooth as silk. but of course, if you bore me, i will bore you. oh, positively!" lowering his head nox shook his horns playfully.
"now i shouldn't try that, if i were you," advised mandy, raising her iron hand and cracking the fingers warningly. "for if you do, i might throw things!"
"ha ha! i believe you would." the enormous beast, charmed by so much spirit and independence fairly beamed upon his new slave. "i take it you are pretty good at throwing things."
"yes, and at catching them, too." reaching up, mandy took seven of the dozen brushes off the shelf above her head. tossing them all into the air with three of her hands, she caught them easily with the other four. then dragging her stool closer, she began brushing the coat of her royal charge so hard and vigorously he blinked with pleasure and astonishment. "will you have your tail plain, curled or plaited?" asked mandy in a businesslike voice.
"er--er--plain, thank you." with admiration and some alarm, nox regarded the whirling arms of the goat girl, but the four little stable boys, appearing at that moment, stared at her in glassy eyed fright and consternation. for nox they had brought a tray heaped high with corn and oats and another with fresh sliced apples. for mandy there were two trays of gold dishes containing a sample of everything from the royal table. dropping her brushes mandy seized all the trays at once in her various hands, which so frightened the stable boys they took to their heels yelling at the tops of their voices.
winking at the royal ox, mandy set his supper on the gold stand meant for that purpose, then dropping to the floor before her own two trays began her first dinner in a strange land. and what a strange land, mused mandy helping herself from the gold dishes with first one hand and then another.
"well, m'lass?" inquired nox, daintily nibbling his oats and apples. "is this not better than bread and water in a dungeon cell?" too full for utterance, mandy rapturously nodded.
after the goat girl had finished her supper and the stable boys had hurried off with the trays, nox showed his new slave to her quarters. handy mandy, who had expected nothing better than a heap of straw in the corner of an empty stall, decided that for a slave, she was faring pretty well. a small but complete apartment had been built in the wing next to nox's stall, with not only a comfortable bedroom and bath, but a small sitting room as well. the bed was a huge gold four poster with blue silk sheets and comforters. never in her hard and simple life had handy dreamed of such elegance!
"here, try the chairs," urged nox, trotting almost briskly into the sitting room. this, mandy was only too willing to do, and the pretty little room with its book shelves, lamps and pictures seemed to the honest goat girl much more desirable than the palace.
"all belonged to kerry," mumbled the royal ox, settling himself largely on a white rug beside her.
"was kerry one of your slaves?" asked mandy, rocking herself cheerfully to and fro with all her hands resting quietly in her lap.
"slave!" the ox spoke sharply. "i should say not. kerry was a king! our own little king up to a few years ago, and what a lad he was--what a lad!"
"was?" exclaimed mandy. "why--what happened to him?"
"he disappeared," nox told her sadly. "nobody knows how--or where, just disappeared, my girl, on a hunting trip, and this blue nosed scoundrel who claims to be his uncle, came to rule over keretaria. since then," nox lowered his voice cautiously, "everything is different--and changed. the people are treated no better than dogs. dogs!" repeated the royal ox bitterly. "of course this fellow cannot interfere with me nor take any chances for there is a prophecy on the west wall of the castle that has stood for a thousand years."
"what does it say?" asked mandy, leaning forward and clasping the arms of the rocker with all hands.
impressively nox repeated the prophecy: "so long as the royal ox of keretaria is in good health and spirits, so long and no longer shall the present king rule over the land."
"but who wrote it?" mandy's rocker stopped with a surprised squeak.
"nobody knows," answered nox soberly, "but it has come true dozens and dozens of times. each time a new king is crowned in keretaria a new ox appears mysteriously at the royal coronation. if anything happens to the royal ox the king also is destroyed!"
"my--y!" the goat girl now rocked very fast indeed. "so that's the reason they take such good care of you, old toggins. but tell me, where do all of you royal oxen come from in the first place? and how is it you can speak? none of the beasts on mount mern can say a word."
"oh, that--" the royal ox lifted his head lazily. "keretaria is in the wonderful land of oz, my dear handy, and all oz creatures can talk, even the mice and squirrels. but what part of oz we white oxen really come from, i myself cannot rightly say. i seem to remember a great blue forest and many happy days there. then one evening a silver cloth was thrown over my head and i fell into a deep and immediate slumber. when i awakened, i was here in keretaria and on that same day little king kerry was crowned king of the realm. from the attendants and courtiers i soon learned of the strange prophecy, but the young boy king was so devoted to me--and i to him, i did not miss the forest or my former freedom.
"to be near me, kerry had this apartment built in the stable and spent more than half of his time in my company. my life being easy and pleasant, i gave little thought to the past or to the future, but spent all my energies enjoying the present. once in a while just for the looks of the thing, i appeared in royal processions, and each day at sundown i was yoked for an hour to the golden plough and required to stand for an hour in the royal garden. but i never did any real work or ploughing, till you, my reckless handy, came along today."
"but what about the little king?" begged the goat girl, as nox lapsed into a thoughtful silence and seemed to have forgotten all about her.
"he disappeared, just as i told you." the royal ox rolled his big eyes mournfully upward. "on this day, as on many others, i carried him on my back to the edge of the wood. there, mounting his favorite steed, he rode away with the royal huntsmen for an hour's sport. as i was returning to the castle someone struck me a terrific blow that felled me to the earth, where i lay for several hours in complete unconsciousness. whoever struck me down evidently thought i was finished, for when i finally did regain my senses, i was buried beneath a heap of loose earth and leaves. still dazed and hardly knowing what i was about, i struggled out and staggered back to the courtyard. one of my horns had been bent during the encounter and my expression was so wild and distracted no one recognized me as boz, the royal ox of little king kerry. the whole castle was in an uproar, for a new king had taken possession of the throne and thinking, of course, i was the next and new royal ox, this rascally imposter named me nox. the keretarians, without daring to inquire what had become of their former ruler, crowned me with daisies and laurel and hurried to do the bidding of their new ruler."
"why--the big cowards!" said handy mandy, clenching all of her fists, "and do you mean to tell me nothing has been heard of the little king since then?"
"nothing." the royal ox moved his head drearily from side to side. "the people think the royal prophecy has been fulfilled again and what can they do? a farmer's boy brought word that boz, the royal ox, had been struck down and spirited away, so naturally they felt sure that kerry also had been destroyed or taken prisoner."
"then no one suspects you are really boz and not nox?" questioned the goat girl, now on the very edge of her chair. "oh, my--y, but don't you see, if you are still the same ox who came to keretaria with king kerry and you are still all right, he must be all right, too. that is, if the prophecy means anything."
"sh--hh!" warned nox, looking about nervously. "someone might hear you. that is what keeps me here," he went on seriously. "i felt if i stayed quietly in my place, kerry would some day return, claim his own throne and drive this miserable tyrant out of the country."
"stay quietly here when the little fellow may be needing you!" cried handy aghast. "oh, why don't you go look for him, you great big ox you! come on, what are we waiting for? why i'll drag that old rascal off the throne with my own hands," promised the goat girl indignantly waving her arms.
"wait! stop!" nox sprang up with surprising lightness for one usually so ponderous and slow. "do you realize that i am treasured and watched more closely than the crown jewels? at this very moment twenty guardsmen stalk round and round the stable. i have as much chance of leaving keretaria as a goldfish has of flying through a forest."
as if to prove his words a tall soldier in a blue shako thrust his head suddenly through the window from the outside. "is everything in order and as you wish, your highness?" puffed the guard, looking suspiciously at the goat girl's revolving arms.
"everything is lovely," murmured the ox in a sleepy voice. "my slave here is doing her exercises and when she finishes she will polish my horns." at his warning wink, handy mandy dropped all her arms at her side.
"well! well! a pleasant evening to you," mumbled the soldier, withdrawing his head after another disapproving look at the goat girl. for a moment after he had disappeared neither spoke, then handy mandy, snatching a silk cover from one of the pillows fell to polishing nox's left horn for very dear life.
"i can always think faster when i'm working," she observed earnestly.
"think away," replied the ox, closing his eyes so as not to see the numerous hands flashing past his nose. "but be careful what you say and do. if you rouse the suspicions of old king kerr, you'll be flung into a dungeon in spite of all my influence."
"now don't you be worrying about me," chortled handy with a little wink and nod. "i've been taking care of myself and a flock of goats for ten years! say, this is a bend, for sure." the goat girl ran her rubber fingers curiously along the curve in the ox's left horn and then, with one of her sudden and kind-hearted impulses, tried to straighten the quirk with a quick twist of her wrist. imagine, then, if you can, her horror and surprise when the golden horn came off in her hand.
"oh my goats and my goodness!" shuddered handy hopping from one foot to the other. "what'll i do? where's some glue? oh my--igh--igh! i'm mighty sorry!"
"sorry!" gulped the royal ox, glaring at the goat girl with rolling eyes and lashing tail. but before he could lunge forward as he certainly intended to do, handy gave a little scream of excitement. "oh look," she panted, pointing all thirty-five fingers at the base of nox's horn, "oh, my dear--ear, it screws on--there are regular grooves. wait--i'll have it back in a jiffy."
nox, who couldn't possibly see the top of his own head, merely gave a grunt, but handy mandy, lifting the horn in her wooden hand, screamed again and then began to shake the horn violently. at her second shake, two silver balls tumbled out and rolled away into a corner. scrambling after them, with nox now as interested as she, the goat girl recovered them both and dropped breathlessly on a sofa.
on closer examination handy discovered the balls would open as easily as cardboard easter eggs, and with nox's head resting heavily on her shoulder she gave the first a quick turn. it came apart at once and in the hollow center lay a small folded paper. spreading it out on her knees, handy read in a hoarse whisper: "go to the silver mountain of oz."
"silver mountain? do you know where that is?" exclaimed the goat girl, looking wildly round at nox.
"no, but i'll wager my head it has something to do with kerry! quick, m'lass, open the other ball."
with the trembling fingers of her good white hand the goat girl obeyed. inside the second sphere lay a small silver key. after they had examined this and read the message all over again, handy carefully tucked the two articles back in the silver balls and returned the balls to the golden horn. then, hastily screwing the horn back on its base, the two began whispering earnestly together.
"mean to say you never knew your horn came off?" questioned handy, clasping and unclasping her hands. "mean to say you never heard of this silver mountain?"
"no to both questions," answered the ox with an anxious little sigh. "but now that we do know, we must start off at once to search for it and see for ourselves whether kerry is imprisoned there by his enemies. though how we'll escape these guards or ever get away with half the kingdom watching, i cannot imagine!"
"never fear, we'll manage," promised handy easily. "why with your horns and my hands it will take an army to stop us. now get your rest, ox dear, and in the morn's morning we'll be journeying."
"you're right," breathed the ox, starting obediently toward his stall. "i more than half believe you."
"good night, then," called the goat girl softly. "don't talk in your sleep and give our plans away."
nox was asleep on a heap of white flower petals in the corner of his stall, asleep and dreaming of the silver mountain of oz, when a sharp tap on the shoulder rudely awakened him.
"come!" whispered an urgent voice. "time to start! come, i've managed everything." lurching to his feet and still in a daze, the royal ox looked askance and with no great favor at the goat girl.
"why, it's not even light!" he moaned feebly.
"of course not," admitted handy mandy guardedly, "but i poked my nose out the door a moment ago and saw all the guards were a bit drowsyish, so i tapped them on the head with this." handy mandy raised her iron hand and with a little grimace beckoned for nox to hurry. "come along now, and we can be out of here before they know what's what or who."
so nox, with a regretful look round his comfortable stall and a sigh for his morning bath and breakfast, moved quietly after her. while the royal creature had spent most of his time during the past two years thinking of ways to rescue his young master, now that he was actually starting out he was filled with doubt and dismay. how could they ever find this silver mountain and overcome the enemies that most certainly would beset them?
the sight of the twenty guards lying in a stiff row somewhat reassured the downhearted beast and in the dim light of early morning he looked thoughtfully up at the sturdy mountain lass stepping so resolutely beside him. in each hand handy carried a different weapon, and resting on her broad shoulders was a rake, an axe, one guard's gun, another guard's sword, a spade and a long handled broom. noting his astonished glance, the goat girl grinned and with her one free hand touched her fingers to her lips. so, silently and without exchanging a word, the two crossed the stable yard, the royal park, hurried through a little wood, and came out on a dusty blue highway.
"now!" said handy, looking up and down the road to make sure no one was coming, "now we can talk and decide which direction to take."
"how can we do that," objected nox, panting a little from the unaccustomed exertion before breakfast, "when neither of us knows where this silver mountain is?"
"well, we have tongues, haven't we? and can ask, can't we?" handy mandy rattled her weapons impatiently. "but before we worry about the silver mountain we must get out of keretaria. which is the quickest way to the border?"
"oh, north," answered nox promptly. "keretaria is in the upper part of the munchkin country of oz and once we cross the northern branch of the munchkin river, we'll be entirely out of the country."
"fine! then we'll go north. and what lies beyond the munchkin river?" inquired the goat girl, shifting the axe to her left shoulder.
"i've never crossed myself," admitted nox, moving along in his slow and dignified manner, "but i have heard there are many mountains and if we go far enough the purple land of the gillikins."
"sounds interesting," decided handy mandy, "and who knows, among all those mountains we may find the one we are looking for! by the way, am i to call you boz, nox or goldie horns? but i believe i'll call you nox, for somehow i like nox the ox best."
"anything you say," yawned her companion, switching his tail negligently, "but i shall always call you, handy mandy. it suits you, m'lass, and you need no longer consider yourself a slave."
"ho, ho, i never did," roared the goat girl, glancing cheerfully down at her lordly companion. "that was just a joke, wasn't it? you know, everything in this land of oz is extremely funny and peculiar. two-armed natives, animals talking, kings disappearing and mysterious messages and prophecies."
"people always think a new country strange!" observed the ox philosophically. "to us it seems quite right and natural. but i daresay if i were to find myself on mt. mern i'd consider everything there very odd and upsetting; rocks flying through the air, for instance, and landing one soft and light as a daisy in a strange king's garden."
"but all of our rocks don't fly, in fact i never knew one to do such a thing before. and no wonder i landed as soft as a daisy--there was a blue daisy under me or i'd have been splintered to smithereens!"
"daisy?" nox licked his lips hungrily. "you never said anything about a daisy."
"oh, i never tell all i know," confided handy, "especially to hi-qui-cockadoodlums like the king and his counselors. but there was a daisy--growing on the rock and i picked it. as i started to fall i began pulling off the petals, and when i landed i came down on a high, huge pile of them, a heap as high as a haystack," continued handy mandy dreamily. "so i slid off the stack and turned to look at the castle, and when i looked again, the petals were gone, but there was the daisy itself growing up as pert as you please in this strange garden. so what did i do but pick it again and here it is!" triumphantly handy pulled the blue flower from her pocket.
"my, what a dear little daisy!" murmured the ox. "how delicious it would taste."
"no! no!" cried handy, as nox rolled his long tongue out toward the flower. "it's too pretty to eat."
"nothing's too pretty to eat," replied the ox plaintively. "funny it hasn't wilted, though."
"well, i believe it's magic," stated the goat girl, with a positive little shake of her head. as she returned the daisy to her pocket, handy felt the hard metal object that had hit her in the forehead when she and nox ploughed through the king's garden.
"look! what do you suppose this is?" she queried, tapping the ox sharply on the shoulder, for he was walking sleepily along with his eyes closed. "this is what we dug up when we rushed through the garden, you know."
"how should i know?" grunted the ox indifferently, opening one eye. "just a silver hammer, isn't it? maybe we can trade it for a good breakfast when we cross the river."
"my--y--how you talk!" scolded handy. "we're not going to trade it at all. see, there's an initial on it. a big w. now what would w stand for?"
"who, what, which, where, oh why worry?" mumbled the ox, plodding resignedly along beside her.
"well, anyway, it will make a splendid potato masher," concluded the goat girl, returning the hammer to her pocket.
"yes, if we had any potatoes." the ox sighed heavily as he spoke, looking off into the distance with such a mournful eye handy mandy laughed a little all to herself.
"oh cheer up," sniffed the goat girl, "you're not starved yet. and hurry up, too, the sun's going higher every moment and we'd better pass those farms before the people waken."
it was against nox's nature to hurry, but realizing the wisdom of the goat girl's advice, he broke into an awkward gallop. in spite of his great weight, the royal creature was light as a daisy on his feet, and except for the faint rattle of handy's weapons they made little noise as they ran past the dome-shaped blue houses and barns of the munchkin farmers.
"couldn't we stop for a few greens?" puffed nox, looking longingly over the fence at a field of cabbages.
"not here, dear--ear!" red faced and breathless, the goat girl ran on. "wait till we cross this river--iver."
"but i'm not used to this--sort--of--thing," complained nox peevishly. "running races before breakfast on an empty stomach. no bath--no brush--no rub down!"
"well, here's your brush," gasped handy, picking her way through a dense thicket as the highway ended in a small wood, "and yonder's your bath, mister. my--y, what a blue river!"
"everything's blue in the munchkin country of oz," nox told her sulkily, as sharp briers and thorns reached out to scratch his satiny hide.
"even the royal ox of keretaria," hinted handy with a sly wink. "oh the river's blue and the houses are blue and even the wind blew--hoo hoo! come on."
"don't try to be funny," with heaving sides, the ox stopped on the edge of the gleaming blue stream. "don't try to be funny, i beg."
"oh, i don't have to try, i am!" laughed handy, flinging the axe, the rake, the spade, the sword, the gun and the broomstick across the river.
"wait!" snorted the ox, as handy, having got rid of her load, raised all of her hands above her head and prepared to dive in. "wait, can you swim?"
"i don't know, but i'll soon find out," cried handy, and before nox could prevent it, the goat girl leapt off the bank and disappeared beneath the blue waters of the munchkin river. for once, nox forgot his dignity and royal station and plunged frantically after his reckless companion. swimming around with his head under water, he finally located handy mandy and gripping her yellow plaits firmly in his teeth, dragged her to the opposite bank. the goat girl was so full of water, she had little to say and lay soggily on the grass while nox looked down at her with mingled admiration and concern.
"never do such a thing again," he wheezed severely as handy finally sat up and began wringing the water from her voluminous skirts. "swimming is an art and must be learned and practiced. but for oat's sake, why didn't you flap all those arms when you hit the water?" he finished irritably.
"oh, is that what you're supposed to do? this way?" before nox could step a step, the goat girl had jumped into the river again. this time instead of going down she splashed and whirled her seven arms so fast and furiously she just managed to keep her head above water. but nox, now thoroughly annoyed and without giving her a chance to get far from shore, waded in and determinedly dragged her back to dry land.
"what in skyblue onions are you trying to do?" he sputtered angrily, "drown yourself?"
"no, i'm trying to swim," coughed the goat girl, struggling to get away from the angry ox. "do you suppose i'm going to let this munchkin river get the best of me?"
"yes, and while you are swimming or rather practicing your swimming some of these keretarians will come and capture us," gurgled nox. "are we escaping or are we swimming--quick now, make up your mind."
nox's earnest words brought handy quickly to her senses and as the royal ox let go her skirts, she snatched up her weapons and without waiting to wring out her clothes started briskly across the meadows.
"never mind, you'll be a fine swimmer some day," said nox, trotting more amiably beside her. the cool river water had refreshed the royal creature and handy mandy's determination and courage made him a little ashamed of his own complaints. "takes a little practice, that's all."
"practice!" repeated handy, dripping water from every plait and pore. "well just wait till we come to the next river, i'll show you! but look, here are more blue houses, so we must still be in the munchkin country."
"yes, but we're out of keretaria," nox reminded her cheerfully. "what's that signpost say, my girl?"
hurrying forward, handy squinted up at the rough board nailed to a blue spruce and then began to clench and unclench her one free fist.
"turn here!"
directed the sign. "turn here and go straight back where you came from."
"well, i'll be buttered!" cried the goat girl, throwing down every one of her weapons. "i'll be churned and buttered."
"but what had we butter do?" muttered the royal ox, so taken aback by the saucy message that even his tongue was twisted.
"why, we'll go straight on, of course," declared handy mandy, tossing her yellow plaits defiantly. "who are whoever they are to tell us our business?" and recovering her weapons one by one, the goat girl tramped down the crooked lane directly ahead of them, the royal ox with lifted nose and horns, stepping warily behind her.
determined as she was, handy found it impossible to go straight on, for the lane curved and twisted this way and that, ending finally in a perfect corkscrew turn. the trees on both sides were now so dense handy and the royal ox could not have left the road even had they wished to do so.
"we're going round and round and getting nowhere," said nox in an abused voice. "of all the roads in oz why did we have to pick this one?"
"because it dared us, i suppose. hi--yi!" exclaimed handy, leaning against a tree to rest. "i'm dizzy as a bat and hungry as a goat."
"too bad you're not a goat," murmured nox, who had stopped to nibble the lower branches of a maple. "these leaves are quite tender."
"well, i may come to them," sighed handy, looking at him enviously. "but shall we go on? i think one more turn will bring us out of here."
handy was right for one more round brought them to the end of corkscrew lane, but only to find themselves facing a high, forbidding wall. there was a gate and turnstile in the wall, and beyond the goat girl caught a glimpse of a confused whirling village where everything seemed to be turning round or over. "it's just because i'm so dizzy," thought handy, clutching her head with her one free hand. but nox, peering over her shoulder gave a loud and indignant bellow as a house on the corner of the street nearest them turned completely over and began spinning merrily on its chimney, while the fence running round the bakery shop next door started really to run around, kicking up its posts with great glee and abandon.
"hu--what kind of silly place is this?" rumbled the ox backing hastily away. but handy mandy had seen a whole row of little pies in the bakeshop window and motioning vigorously for nox to follow, stepped over the stile and through the movable gate. it was too much of a squeeze for nox, but determined not to be left behind, he jumped neatly over. a revolving sign on one of the large public buildings caught their attention at once, but as the building was going one way and the sign another, it was several minutes before they could discover what it said.
"turn town!" read the goat girl in some surprise. "so that's where we are! and would you loo--ook, every house on every street is going round or over. mercy--ercy on us and where do you suppose the people are?"
"turning over and over in their beds i take it, it is still quite early, you know," whispered the royal ox, speaking cautiously out of the corner of his mouth. "but come on, the streets are not turning, and perhaps if we hurry we can go through before they waken and turn on us. hurry--hurry--what are you waiting for?"
"food," sighed handy wistfully. "i thought i might catch us a few pies, old toggins. here, watch my stuff and i'll bring us each some."
nox looked sharply up and down the street as the goat girl set down her axe, rake, spade, gun, broom and sword, and started off toward the bakery.
not only the fence but the shop itself was turning now. handy quite cleverly waited till the gate came opposite her and dashed through, but the open door of the shop kept going by so rapidly she was knocked down several times before she finally darted inside. as she disappeared nox gave an uneasy snort, but cheered up as the shop window came past and he saw handy with a pie in every hand, smile at him reassuringly. but alas, the whirling floor of the shop was too much for the goat girl and as she started out there was a clatter of broken china and falling furniture.
"great gazoo, what's she done now?" moaned nox as handy leaped through the door and fell sprawling in the little garden. she still had six of the pies clutched in her various hands, but as she jumped up and raced through the garden gate, windows all up and down the street were flung open. from the right side up ones and the down side down ones kinky black heads came popping out by the hundred.
"turn out! turn out! topsies turn out!" yelled the excited citizens, their voices going higher and higher. "thieves, robbers, tramps and stand-stillians!"
"here," gasped the goat girl reaching nox in one bound. "eat these quick and destroy the evidence." stuffing one of the tarts into her own mouth, handy made a wry face. "ugh, turnips!" choked the goat girl, dropping the other five in huge disgust. "whoever heard of turnip turnovers?"
"i'll eat them," offered nox, lapping up the little pies in his stride, "but run--hurry, here come the natives!" but before handy could snatch up her weapons, the topsies, hurling out of windows and doors, came whirling down upon them.
startled though she was, the goat girl could not disguise her interest and curiosity. with one arm round nox's neck and the other six stretched stiffly before her to keep back the screeching crowd, she stared with round and fascinated eyes. and, no wonder! the topsies were about as tall as children, but where their feet should have been, they had sharp horny pegs. another peg of the same description sprung from each kinky head. with their plump hands the small black and blue men and women spun themselves along by cords attached to their round little middles and they kept reversing themselves, spinning first on one end and then another in a manner very upsetting and confusing to their visitors. the hum made by the topsies' spinning and their loud raucous cries filled the early morning air, and as handy tried to push her way through the crowd, several butted her with their sharp pegs.
"ouch! stop that!" bellowed nox, who had been butted too. "keep still, m'lass, and sooner or later these little pests will run down."
"turn them out! turn them in! turn them round! turn them over!" shrieked the topsies hysterically. in the midst of the dreadful confusion, a topsy taller than all the rest came zooming down the middle of the street.
"look! stand-stillians!" shouted a round little spinster waving both arms. "travelers with legs instead of pegs. robbers! thieves! and tramps, your topjesty."
"yes, and they have broken into my shop and stolen all my turnip turnovers," screamed the topsy baker, spinning round in indignant circles. "aha, you wait, here comes tip-topper. now you'll catch it you, you turnover snatchers, you!"
"now you'll catch it!" shrilled all the rest of the topsies, spinning faster and faster till handy and nox were dizzy just from looking at them.
except for his size and a flag fluttering from the peg on his head, tip-topper looked just like his subjects.
"spin! spin!" he whistled angrily. "what do you mean standing still in the middle of turn town? don't you realize you are breaking every one of our rotary laws? why are you here--did you come to do us a good turn or a bad?"
"turn 'em down! turn 'em out! turn 'em over! turn 'em round!" insisted the townsmen shrilly.
between the revolving houses and the spinning topsies, handy mandy scarcely knew which foot she was standing on. as for nox, he gave a great groan and closing his eyes, left everything to his companion. handy put two hands over her ears and raising all the others, addressed tip-topper in a firm and reasonable manner.
"tell your people to stand back," directed the goat girl calmly. "all we wish is to pass quietly through your city and never return. never!" she repeated emphatically. it was hard to speak to a person who kept going round and round, but at every third turn handy managed to catch tip-topper's eye and at last he seemed to catch her idea.
"very well, then, go!" he commanded haughtily. "and at once!" but when handy, without stopping to pick up her weapons, started forward, perfect shrieks of anger rose on all sides.
"not that way! not that way. turn! turn! turn!" yelled the topsies. and getting back of handy and the royal ox, they tried to push them round by main force.
"stop! stop! it's no use," panted tip-topper, as nox letting out a frightful bellow, laid seven topsies by the pegs with his left hind foot, and handy with a sweep of her arms swept down ten more. "they're all made wrong. fetch the turn coat, drive them to the turning point and we'll turn them to topsies in two shakes of a tent pole."
"m--mmmmm! m--mmmmm! did you hear what i heard?" nox peered desperately around at handy, who was now spinning dizzily herself, as she was flung and pushed from one group to another. "could they really turn us to topsies?"
"i don't know! i don't know! oh my head, my head!" moaned the goat girl, clutching it with all hands. "it's going round and round--"
"fine! fine! that's the way!" cheered the topsies heartily. "you'll be spinning circles before you know it and have beautiful wool like the rest of us."
"wool!" gasped handy, who was extremely proud of her shining yellow braids. "oh, i wool not, that's just too much! stand back you little buzzards and i'll show you a turn or two myself."
"go ahead," said turn uppins, who seemed next in importance to tip-topper himself. "it's your turn anyway. stand back topsies, and let this waddling whangus show us what she can do."
at a signal from their leader the turn towners fell back a pace and spinning in a loud agitated circle, impatiently waited for the goat girl to take her turn. first handy shook her head to dispel the dizziness, then with a loud screech, she flung her arms and heels into the air in such a succession of hand springs that even the topsies were impressed. the seventh brought her back to the royal ox and in the center of a now cheering and admiring circle, she turned fifty more so fast that she looked like an animated cartwheel with arms and leg's for spokes. a loud buzz of applause went up as handy finally fell over from sheer exhaustion, but then they began pointing accusing fingers at nox.
"look! look at the stupid gumflumox, why he hasn't turned a single hair."
"how about turning on them," raged nox, "and tossing a few dozen on my horns? hop on my back, m'lass, and we'll make a run for it."
"no! no! there are too many, we'll be perfectly punctured," worried handy, as seven topsies prodded the royal ox sharply in the flank. "we might run right into that turning point, too. wait! wait! i'll think of something. we don't want to spin on here forever, whatever happens! whew--hewey, what a dust the little pests kick up. i'd give my best hand for a drink, i'm choking with thirst. oh! oh! i wish i were in a river right this minute." steadying herself by holding to nox's right horn, handy faced the angry multitude.
"turn! turn! take your turn!" shouted the topsies incessantly. "can't you even turn your head old four-leg!"
"of course he can," shouted handy mandy, clapping six of her hands for silence. "not only his head, but his horns. watch this, my friends!" the goat girl gave the horn she was leaning on a sharp twist.
"not that one. not that one!" fumed the ox anxiously. "quick, the other--it's the other one, i tell you! oh, my hide, hair, and heavens! ulp! gurgle ooooop!"
and "oooop gurgle ulp!" it was with everyone, for at handy mandy's second turn, nox's horn came completely off and as the goat girl held it up for the topsies to see, out spurted a perfect torrent of water that flooded the whole city till every turner and topsy-turvy house in it was awash or afloat. in wild and astonished voices the kinky headed little citizens called out to each other as they bobbed up and down like corks on the raging tide. and just as wet and surprised as the topsies, the goat girl and nox were swept along by the impetuous flood.
after the first awful ducking, handy, without losing a second began to practice her swimming. striking out with strength and purpose and her seven good arms she managed to keep abreast of nox, who was moving easily along in the center of the torrent. bothersome as the topsies had been, the goat girl could not help feeling sorry for the little turn towners. at first, she feared they would all go down. but they just spun round like water bugs on the surface and, while they made no progress, seemed in little danger of drowning. in fact they could no more sink than corks or kindling. so, busy with her own struggles, handy dismissed them from her mind and tried to figure out the reason for the sudden and overwhelming rush of water that had deluged the city.
at any rate it was fine to be rid of the topsies, she reflected philosophically, and when the flood did recede, turn town would be good as new and twice as clean. the current was racing along so swiftly now, the last topsy had long since disappeared, leaving only herself and nox in the broad tumbling expanse of water. nox had not uttered a word since his first outcry when the flood had overtaken them, but he looked so glum and disagreeable that handy, thrashing along beside him, wondered what would be the best way to start a conversation. as it happened, the royal beast saved her the trouble by starting one himself.
"well," he snorted bitterly. "i see you still have it."
"what?" gulped the goat girl, forgetting to use her arms for a moment and in consequence, shipping about a bucket of water. "ulp--gulp--have what?"
"my horn. horn!" gurgled nox, glaring at her angrily over a wave. "and if in the future you will keep your hands, all of them, off my horns, it will be the better for us." this seemed to handy a very unjust and unreasonable attitude for nox to take, but she was too occupied keeping afloat to stop and argue the matter.
"swim closer and i'll screw it back," she offered, obligingly holding up the wooden hand in which she still clutched the right half of the royal headgear. but at this, poor nox was deluged by a robust stream that still poured from the golden horn. hastily plunging it under the surface again, handy watched her fellow adventurer emerge sputtering and furious from the depths.
"well of all the stupid tricks!" gasped the ox, swimming rapidly away from her. "stop--keep off--don't you dare come near me."
"but see here," panted handy, going after him in real exasperation. "after all it is your horn, and am i to blame if there is a river inside? what do you want me to do, throw it away?"
"no! no!" bellowed the ox, stopping short and looking frantically over his shoulder. "if you throw it away i'll look like a fool, if you keep holding it we'll spend the rest of our lives swimming round in this torrent--if you screw it back on my head--it will probably give me water on the brain. oh--blub glub! what shall we do? think of something, can't you, before we both drown in your stupid old river?"
"my river!" handy mandy was so indignant that for a moment she was perfectly speechless.
"yes, your river!" roared nox, treading water angrily. "didn't you wish for a river just before you jerked off my horn. well, this is it and i hope you like it."
"why nox, how clever of you to guess," bubbled the goat girl, a great light breaking over her wet head. "i remember now, i was thirsty and wished for a drink, then a whole river, and lo! a river was here."
"you mean high it was here," raged nox, beginning to swim again.
"but look," cried handy, beating and slapping the water exultantly with her many hands. "if that is so, all we have to do is to wish it away again. i'm still holding the horn and there's magic in it, old toddywax--magic! i here and now wish this river away."
handy yelled her wish in a booming voice that almost split the ox's ear-drums and both were so sure the wish would be granted they stopped swimming, so both had a fine ducking as the river continued to rush merrily and unconcernedly over their heads.
"bosh! it wasn't magic after all. my--y, if i ever get out of here, i'll never go swimming again as long as i live," sobbed handy, pushing her arms and legs wearily through the water.
"oh, i think i'll just sink and be done with it," moaned the ox, churning breathlessly along beside her.
"you think you'll sink!" exclaimed handy, popping her head up indignantly. "don't you dare sink and leave me here all alone. besides, we set out to find that little king and we're going to find him! where's your sporting blood?"
"watered!" gurgled the royal ox in a faint voice. "goodbye, m'lass, you probably did it all for the best!" it seemed to the goat girl that nox was really sinking so, flinging out her leather hand, she grasped him firmly by his left horn. then, acting quickly, and before he could object, handy pushed his head under water and quickly screwed his right horn in place.
"i wish this dumb river would go straight back where it came from," quavered handy as nox bellowing and bubbling backed indignantly away. and this time the river went. so suddenly and completely the goat girl and the ox were dropped forty feet to the bottom of a rocky gorge through which the torrent had been tumbling. for a long moment they lay where they had fallen, then stiffly they arose and peered anxiously around them. handy, thanks to her voluminous petticoats, was saved from serious injury and nox, who had landed in a patch of brush was not dangerously hurt, either. but they both were so shocked, shaken and worn out from their long swim they were perfectly content to stay where they were.
"you see," sighed handy, wringing out her skirts with four hands and smoothing back her hair with the other three. "the magic is in the horn and only works when you are wearing it. as soon as i screwed it back and made the wish everything was all right."
"oh, was it?" scowling round at his scratched flanks and skinned shins, the royal ox shook his head dubiously.
"and just think," continued the goat girl brightly. "if your horn really is a wishing horn, as soon as we decide where we want to go, all we have to do is wish ourselves there."
"no! no! absolutely no more of that," squealed nox, lashing his tail and flashing his eyes dangerously. "your last wish nearly killed me, and if any more wishing is to be done, i'll attend to it myself."
"but how can you unscrew, or even touch your own horn all by yourself?" inquired handy reasonably. "you see, you need my hands, and i need your horns." throwing back her head, handy burst into a loud chuckle, thinking how comical she would look if she actually wore nox's golden headgear.
"oh, why not go on the way we started?" said the ox querulously. "i'd rather travel on my feet than my horns any day, and had you noticed, handy, that these rocks are purple? your river has carried us clear into the gillikin country where there are mountains galore and even a silver one for all we know."
"yes, but is there anything to eat?" asked the goat girl in a hollow voice. "if those rude little topsies had just given us some breakfast."
"i expect all they eat is spinach or turnips," sniffed nox, "and you would not have cared for either. well, at any rate we're even. you certainly turned the tide on them, m'lass." nox, who was beginning to feel more cheerful, began to shake all over. "i'll wager my tail they'll be more polite to travellers in the future."
"well, as it all turned out so well, let's make another wish," proposed handy mandy practically. "let's wish ourselves out of here. no use scrambling over all these rocks, when all we have to do is to wish ourselves to the spot where your little king happens to be."
"m-m-mm, m-m-m!" mused nox, half closing his eyes. "nothing is as easy as that, and i cannot help feeling--"
"neither can i," said handy, and stepping briskly up to the royal ox, she gave his right horn a determined twist, at the same time saying softly: "i wish myself and nox with kerry, the rightful ruler of keretaria." nox twitched his ears nervously as his horn came off in the goat girl's best white hand and handy herself, with all her arms outspread as if she were a bird about to take flight, waited in rapturous expectation for her wish to take effect. but this time nothing at all happened. neither she nor the ox moved an inch.
"there you are, i told you it wouldn't work," grumbled nox, looking at her crossly. "it's probably not magic at all."
"oh yes it is," insisted handy, screwing up her eye and peering down into the hollow interior. "it gave us a river when we asked for it and you can't get away from that."
"we certainly had a hard enough time getting away from it," agreed her companion. "come now, be a good girl, screw back that horn and let's be starting on."
"but i just cannot understand why it grants some wishes and not others," muttered handy discontentedly. "when i was thirsty and wished for a river, i got a river--a-ha! i have it. this horn gives you things but does not take you places. now let's see, what do we need the most?"
"breakfast," suggested the ox in an interested voice. "oats and apples for me, eggs, rolls and coffee for you. but for goat's sake be careful how you wish, m'lass. we don't want too much even of a good thing, and one can drown in coffee or smother in oats. remember the river and be exact as to size and quantity."
"my--y, this wishing is dreadfully complicated." rubbing her forehead with one hand after the other, handy mandy prepared to order breakfast. first she screwed the right horn back on the head of the ox, then pursing her lips firmly, she spoke: "i wish for nox, two measures of oats and apples, for myself, two plates of eggs and rolls and one cup of coffee." turning the horn round till it came off once more, the goat girl almost held her breath as the two breakfasts were set promptly and noiselessly down on the rock at her feet.
"now you're getting the idea!" happily nox advanced upon his breakfast.
"say, isn't this simply manubious?" cried handy, snapping her thirty-five fingers for sheer joy. "why, nox, your horn is a real horn of plenty!"
"and plenty of trouble if you don't watch your wishes," mumbled her partner, already up to his ears in oats.
"oh, i'll be careful, never fear," promised handy, screwing the horn back on its base and falling upon her breakfast with a right good will and appetite. "won't the eyes of the villagers at home stick out when i tell them about this?"
"yes, provided you ever get home," observed the ox, who seemed always to take a dark view of the future. but handy mandy, popping the last of the biscuits into her mouth, scarcely heard him. now that they need no longer worry about provisions for the journey, she felt that they would safely reach the silver mountain wherever it might be, rescue the little king from his enemies and restore him to his throne. then after seeing all she wished of the marvelous country of oz, she would return to mt. mern and startle the country folk with the amazing story of her travels.
"come along," she called gaily. "let's climb out of here." with some astonishment they watched the empty containers and dishes vanish away, and then saying very little but thinking a great deal, the two adventurers began to scramble up the rocky sides of the gorge.
handy, who had climbed up and down mountains all her life, reached the top of the gorge first and with her various hands tugged nox up the last steep incline.
"so--this is the gillikin country!" panted the goat girl, staring away over the heather covered highlands. "now about the natives, do they spin, bounce or tumble?"
"that, i really couldn't say," gasped nox, leaning against a tree to regain his wind, "but as you can see, my girl, all the hills, trees and vegetation shade from violet to purple. lovely color, purple!"
"i suppose purple would appeal to a royal ox like you." resting her hands on her hips, handy mandy squinted critically about her. "now as for me, i prefer the more cheerful colors, red, yellow or green, for instance."
"then you'd like the quadling and winkie countries," murmured nox, nibbling languidly at the tops of the heather, "or the emerald city. we have all color countries in oz and a body can take his choice."
"oh, we'll just take them as they come," decided the goat girl sensibly, "or at least, till we find your young master and this silver mountain. but tell me, nox, is each country in oz a different color and is there really an emerald city?" moving slowly through the heather the royal ox nodded his lordly head.
"take that stick," he directed, coming to a ponderous stop, "and i'll show you how oz looks. see, on that level bit of sand there, just draw an oblong." quite interested, handy marked out an oblong with the point of the stick. "connect the corners," breathed the ox, lifting his forefoot complacently, "and what have you?"
"four triangles," answered the goat girl promptly.
"put a circle in the center where all the triangles meet." nox fairly radiated pride and importance as his geozophy lesson progressed.
"then what?" demanded handy, the stick upraised in her rubber hand.
"that's all!" tossing back his horns, the ox surveyed his pupil triumphantly. "simple, isn't it? that triangle on the west is the blue munchkin country we have just left, the triangle to the north is the purple gillikin country we are just entering. over there on the east, we have the yellow empire of the winkies and to the south the red lands of the quadlings. in the circle is the emerald city of oz, and surrounding the whole kingdom is a deadly desert of burning sand."
"my--y!" marveled the goat girl, clasping all her hands but one behind her back, "the desert i crossed when i fell in keretaria?"
"of course," answered nox, snapping lazily at a purple dragon fly. "mt. mern must lie to the west of oz, on the other side of the deadly desert. there are many countries beyond the desert, but i know very little about them as there are only oz maps in the castle at home."
"then i suppose the king of keretaria is king of the munchkins?" said handy, looking thoughtfully down at her map.
"oh, my, no!" the royal ox positively chuckled at such an idea. "keretaria is just one of the small countries of the west. cheeriobed is king of the munchkins and he lives in the sapphire city seventy leagues below our southernmost borderline. glinda, the good sorceress, rules all the small kingdoms in the quadling country, the tin woodman of oz is emperor of the winkies and jo king governs the gillikins. besides these, there are kings, queens and princes galore, but most important of all is ozma, the young fairy who lives in the emerald city, for ozma is supreme sovereign of the entire kingdom of oz."
"dear--ear what a lot to remember," groaned the goat girl. "and all these other kings and queens have to do what ozma says? however does she keep track of them all? i'll bet they're worse than a flock of goats."
"oh, she manages," said the ox, beginning to move slowly forward. "being a fairy and having a wizard right in her own castle, ozma knows what is going on without even turning her head."
"even where we are going?" exclaimed handy mandy indignantly. "hi--yi--what a little busy-body. i just know i won't like her."
"well, in that case she will just have to give up her throne and throw her crown out of the window, i suppose! better have a care, m'lass, you're speaking of a powerful fairy, you know." nox looked so stern as he went plowing through the heather, handy began to feel a little uneasy herself.
"but how could a fairy in the center of oz see way off here?" she demanded scornfully.
"magic, that's how!" explained nox, looking very calm and superior. "in her castle ozma has a magic picture that shows her everything she wishes to see."
"i don't believe it," scoffed the goat girl, swinging all her arms recklessly, "and besides, why would she wish to see us and this particular piece of country at this particular minute?"
"i'm sure i don't know," said the royal ox haughtily. "but i do say, be careful. there, what did i tell you!" framed in the woodwork of a small summer-house they were approaching was a large poster.
"you are now in the land of oz," stated the poster, pleasantly enough. "be good to us and we'll be good to you. keep our laws and practice no magic, either for good or evil. by order of her imperial highness, queen ozma of oz." below was the bright green seal of oz and a picture of its pretty dark haired ruler.
"why she's nothing but a little girl!" cried handy, positively aghast at such a state of affairs. "how could a little mite like that rule a whole country and be so bossy?"
"oh, hush!" begged nox, rolling his eyes anxiously. "mite or not, ozma is a mighty powerful and important fairy."
"well, we're pretty important ourselves," sniffed the goat girl, squinting at the poster with all her arms akimbo. "and besides," handy lifted her chin defiantly, "we've broken the law already when we used your gold horn of plenty. 'practice no magic.' hoh! what does she expect us to do with good magic right at hand--starve? but, ho ho! we can get around that, old toggins. after all, we are not practicing magic, we don't have to practice it--our magic is perfect, so put that in your pipe and smoke it miss ozma to bozma." snatching up a rock in each of her seven hands, handy flung them hilariously over a clump of prune trees. (yes, prunes already wrinkled grow in the land of oz.) there was an uncomfortable little silence after handy's rash outburst, then a perfect tempest of shrieks and screeches.
"now, see what you've done," gulped the ox, switching his tail nervously. "quick, quick, jump on my back and we'll rush by. these chaps look dangerous."
"why, they have hook noses!" sputtered handy, too startled to move, as a band of kilted highlanders came racing down toward them. the noses of these singular hill-men were long and thin, curving out and up far above their foreheads. on these hooks hung dangerous looking rings almost as large as barrel hoops. while handy was wondering what they could be for, the nearest hooker pulled a ring from his nose and flung it with all his might at her head.
"up. up!" bellowed nox, pawing the ground in his agitation. "are you going to stand there till you are pegged like a top?" the iron ring missed handy by mere inches and grasping nox's horn she pulled herself to his back. there were about sixty of the hook noses, and swinging to the left, nox tried to skirt the war-like tribe, but they were too quick for him, and spreading out in a long line they began hurling their wicked whizzing weapons. one caught neatly on the horn of the royal ox, another hit handy a horrid blow on the knee, and as nox, snorting and furious turned to run, a dozen more came whanging down about their ears. dodging left and right, handy mandy leaned forward and began to unscrew nox's right horn.
"'be good to us and we'll be good to you!' hoh! like fun you will!" muttered the goat girl, catching six of the flying missiles in her clever hands and tossing them back with all her might. "take that and these and them and those!" pulling off the ox's horn with the only hand she had left, she added desperately, "i wish a barrel of molasses over the head of each hook nose in this band. cats, bats and billy goats! they've got me!" and they had, too, for just as handy finished her wish, down flashed an iron ring pinioning her arms tightly to her sides. still grasping the precious horn, handy dug her heels into nox.
"hurt?" grunted the ox, leaping forward.
"not hurt, just hooked and humiliated, can't move a muscle," raged the goat girl. "but ha ha! neither can they! look!" nox, who had been bellowing too hard to hear handy's wish or miss his horn glanced back hurriedly.
"why! what's come over them?" he wheezed in astonishment. "who snuffed them out with barrels and what's that sticky fluid running all around?"
"molasses," handy told him with extreme satisfaction as she tried vainly to wriggle out of her ring. "i wished barrels of molasses on their heads and we'd better dash on while they're stopped and stuck with it."
"then you've been breaking the law again," reproached nox, dodging in and out and around their frantic enemies.
"well, as between broken heads and broken laws, i choose the laws. besides, look what they did to me!" exclaimed the goat girl indignantly. "i may never get this hoop off or be able to lift a hand again. nice people you have in oz, i must say."
"if you hadn't hit them with stones, they wouldn't have hit us with hoops," nox reminded her sternly, at the same time breaking into a gallop to put as much distance as possible between himself and the troublesome gillikins. a few had managed to lift the barrels from their heads, but most of them were rolling over and over on the ground, half choked with rage and molasses.
"when we stop i think i can help you," promised nox, looking anxiously at handy, who was now quite purple in the face from her struggles with the hoop. "just forget it, can't you, and think of the interesting people we are meeting. i'll wager you have no hook noses on mt. mern!"
"i should say not!" sputtered the goat girl in disgust, and then realizing she was making no progress with the ring, sensibly gave up the attempt to free herself. somewhat comforted by the thought that the hook noses were probably as uncomfortable as she was, handy kept a sharp lookout for natives. if they ran into any more she wanted to be sure of seeing them first.
but the rocky hills and glades were entirely deserted and at every step the way became more mountainous and lonely. nox, panting and wheezing from the long pull, slackened his pace to a walk. handy mandy with some difficulty managed to dismount, and the ox slipping his horn under the offending ring, gently forced it upward till the goat girl was able to wiggle free. then together they climbed up the flinty inclines--up and up till they came to a wide ledge and a sparkling waterfall. here they had a drink without having to wish for one, nox sticking his head right into the water and handy cupping three pairs of her hands to hold enough to satisfy her thirst.
"ho hum," sighed the ox, "i wonder how much farther we'll have to go before we can find anyone who can direct us to this silver mountain? i'm sure i saw some castles when we were below."
"so did i," said handy, screwing his right horn back with a businesslike flourish. "my--y, seems a long time since we started from keretaria. do you suppose they have missed us yet?"
"probably," yawned the ox, scratching his back against a rock, while handy, suddenly deciding she needed another drink, stepped close to the waterfall. but instead of quenching her thirst, the goat girl spilled water all over her feet.
"nox! nox!" she screamed, jerking all her thumbs in his direction. "come! look here! there's a big hollow behind this waterfall--a high wall of rock with a door in it! i can see it!"
"well," sniffed the ox, rubbing his back luxuriously, "does it say 'come in'? must we try every door we come to?"
"yes," handy mandy told him firmly, "we must! where there's a door there's bound to be a door-keeper or at least someone who might tell us where we are. now then, i'll jump through the waterfall first and knock on the door. there wouldn't be room for you on the ledge until the door is open."
"sounds risky!" objected the royal ox, putting back his ears. "what kind of people would live behind a waterfall? ask yourself that." but the goat girl, without stopping to ask herself anything, had already plunged through the misty sheet of water, and gasping and spluttering was hammering on the door with all seven of her fists.
there was no answer to handy's loud knocks, and pausing to catch her breath and blow on her fingers, the goat girl wondered what to try next. then, in spite of nox's warning bellow, she began to shove and push the wet planks with her shoulder. but that did no good either, so she felt in her pocket for something to use as a wedge. almost at once her fingers closed on the silver hammer they had ploughed up in keretaria. while the hammer would not do for a wedge, it would at least save her knuckles, so, lifting it high above her head, handy mandy brought it down with a resounding whack. a shower of silver sparks followed the hammer blow, and nox, peering through the waterfall saw a gnarled and crooked elf with a purple beard dancing madly round the startled girl.
"i am the elf of the hammer, who must do whatever you ask me to,"
sang the elf between his high leaps and prances.
"then open this door," directed handy, spinning round in a circle herself to get a good look at the little fellow. "my--y, how funny oz is! magic horns, topsies, hook noses and now you! don't tell me a little body like you can really open this great heavy door?"
"pick up the hammer and doubt no more-- himself, the elf, will now open the door."
in a daze handy mandy picked up the hammer and put it back in her pocket, and nox, thunderstruck by the whole proceeding thrust his head through the waterfall just in time to see the knobby little gnome push the door open with one thump of his brown fist. quick as a flash handy was on the other side.
"come on! come on!" she called hoarsely to nox. "can't you see it's closing? oh mercy--ercy, do you want to leave me here all alone?"
"yes!" snorted nox in an exasperated voice, but jumping as he snorted. "i'd like nothing better." as he came to 'better,' he landed on the other side of the waterfall and skidded through the open door into the mountain. he had just time to tuck in his tail, when the door with an ominous creak slammed shut.
"now, see what you've done!" gasped nox, eyeing the gloomy interior with distaste and foreboding. "i--thought--you--were going to be a help to me and all--puff--splutter--you do is get me into trouble! what sort of place is this anyway?"
"a c-c-ave," quavered handy, wrapping all her arms tightly round herself. "my--y, it's so high--igh, i can hardly see the top. where's that elf?"
"gone!" sighed the ox, taking a cautious step forward. "but i expect he'll come back at the first tap of that hammer. all very puzzling if you ask me."
"well, shall i call him back?" asked handy uneasily. "it's kinda lonely in here and maybe himself could tell us where we are."
"better wait till we need him," advised the ox. "after all, we know we are in a cave, seems to be of silver rock, too. just cast your eye at those stalactites, m'lass."
"so that's what you call 'em," the goat girl glanced curiously up at the silver icicles hanging in jagged points from the ceiling. "we have caves on mt. mern, but nothing like this." she looked apprehensively round the silent cavern, from which a perfect honeycomb of passageways branched off in all directions. "a fine place to get lost, i'd call it," she shivered, moving as close as she could to her companion. "what makes this lavender light? i see no lamps."
"jewels!" confided the ox in a hushed voice. "see, there are hundreds of amethysts embedded in those rocks, each glowing like--"
"an eye!" finished handy nervously. "and all watching us, i dare say. my--y, do you suppose anyone lives here? but they must--" unwinding her arms, handy suddenly began snapping all thirty-five of her fingers. "nox, nox!" she cried excitedly. "i've just thought of something!"
"can't you think without shouting?" asked the ox, flashing his eyes suspiciously from left to right.
"no," said handy triumphantly, "for this is something to shout about. look, old toggins, if this is a silver cave, why wouldn't a silver mountain be on top? all we have to do is open that door and start climbing again."
"as i remember there was a sheer precipice back of the waterfall, how could we climb that? no, no! the best thing for us to do is to travel down one of the passageways and hope it will bring us out on the side of the mountain itself."
"yes, but which one?" demanded the goat girl. "there are about a hundred it seems to me."
"let's try that first one to the right," proposed the ox judiciously. their voices echoed and reverberated back and forth so uncannily in the big hollow cavern that almost without realizing it they began to talk in whispers and tread as softly as thieves in the night. half-way to their destination they stopped, rigid with horror and consternation. thumping footsteps were coming toward them from the labyrinth on the left.
"someone does live here, after all," said the goat girl. "someone who weighs a ton. hark to that!"
"watch yourself!" warned nox, planting all four feet and making ready to charge if the cave dweller proved unfriendly.
"oh, my aunt--a giant!" with a shrill scream handy flung all her arms round nox's neck and buried her face in his shoulder. poor nox, nearly strangled by the goat girl's embrace could neither move nor speak and could scarcely breathe. with rolling eyes and quaking legs he watched the monster approach. the giant's body, almost ten times the size of a grizzly bear, was encased in a tight purple uniform with bells instead of buttons that jingled whenever he moved. he wore a huge silver helmet, and his neck, almost a foot long, kept darting up and down as he shot his head in this direction and that.
"ho! there you are!" he roared, suddenly catching sight of the two travellers trembling together in the center of the cavern. "how dare you enter the cave of the king of the silver mountain without invitation or permission?"
"then this really is the silver mountain!" marveled handy, twisting her apron nervously in her wooden fingers.
"of course!" yelled the giant, thumping the floor with an enormous silver club. "and i, snorpus the mighty, am keeper of the hidden door. i am outkeeper for this whole mountain," he boasted truculently expanding his chest and looking complacently down at the two midgets at his feet. but something in his manner began to reassure the goat girl.
"i'll bet he's dumb as he's big," she confided hurriedly to nox. then raising her voice and all of her arms, she called up loudly, "then you must indeed be strong and sturdy!"
"oh, i am!" bawled the giant, twirling his silver moustache and fixing handy for a moment with his glittering eye. "snorpus the door keeper is strong as an ox!" there was something very peculiar about the eye of the giant. it seemed to revolve on a moving belt, peering out as it passed through the four wide open lids set at intervals round the top of his head, so that half the time he was looking the other way.
"did you ever see an ox?" inquired handy politely as the eye of snorpus again flashed by.
"no, but i'd like to," admitted the giant, shooting his head out to the side.
"well, this is an ox," cried handy, tapping the anxious beast at her side with a rubber hand. "and if you are strong as an ox you are strong as nox and nothing much can stop you."
"how strong is he?" asked snorpus, lowering himself stiffly to one knee in order to get a look at what he had first supposed to be a small and insignificant animal.
"so strong," explained the goat girl impressively, as she pointed with all hands to the side of the cave, "that if he so much as bumped into that wall yonder, this whole cavern would collapse like a pack of cards."
"then i hope he'll be very careful," faltered snorpus, taking out a huge silk handkerchief to mop his forehead. "it would annoy the king frightfully if you destroyed his cavern, and i might even lose my head and position here."
"oh, he'll be careful," promised handy mandy generously. "he, being an ox, and you being strong as an ox, makes us all friends, doesn't it?"
"i--i suppose so," muttered snorpus, tapping his knee uncertainly with his club. "but just the same, i am still the outkeeper and must do my duty at all hazards. at all hazards!" he shouted, standing up to give himself courage and puffing out his cheeks like a porpoise.
"but you have done your duty," bellowed nox in a voice even louder than the door keeper's. "if we were outside the mountain it would be your plain duty to keep us there, but since we are already inside, you have nothing more to do with us. isn't that so?" lowering his head, nox made a little lunge at the giant's shins. and backing away, snorpus gave the pair several long puzzled looks.
"well, then," he decided finally, "if i have nothing more to do with you, you had best come along to the king."
"that is exactly what we wish to do," answered the goat girl promptly.
"my, you are brave, aren't you?" the giant's eye flashed for a moment in real admiration upon handy mandy, then, picking up his club, he began clumping away to the left.
"now i wonder what he meant by that?" puffed nox, for they both had to run to even keep the giant in sight.
"i don't know," gasped handy, "but never mind what he means. we still have your golden horn and the silver hammer and will manage somehow. but imagine getting right inside the silver mountain and never knowing it!"
"yes, and we may go out the same way," predicted the royal ox gloomily, following the giant down the wide glittering corridor. "i never did like these tunnely places or people."
"i hear water," worried handy as snorpus suddenly vanished round a bend in the corridor. "oh, dear--ear, i do hope we won't have to go swimming again."
"then mind your manners!" warned the royal ox, giving his horns a little shake. "remember it is safer to keep on the right side of kings and giants, and if we are to learn anything about kerry we must be extremely patient and polite."
a loud gasp interrupted nox's speech, for handy mandy, well in the lead, had also stepped round the bend. hastening to catch up with her, the ox, too, gave an involuntary exclamation of wonder and astonishment.
the silver corridor had brought them into a second cavern, smaller than the entrance cave, but so light and lacy, so bright and beautiful, for once handy mandy stood perfectly speechless. the silver sides of the dome-shaped grotto had been carved to show all the historical figures and characters of ancient oz. wizards, giants, knights, witches, huntsmen, robbers, kings, queens and their patient subjects marched in a splendid procession round the walls. sparkling lavender sand covered the floor and a lake of shimmering quicksilver took up the entire center, lapping the shore with its swift soundless waves. on a small island of purest amethyst in the middle of this lake the king of the silver mountain reclined at ease. his back was toward the newcomers and he seemed lost in some deep and entirely satisfactory contemplation.
"a king, if i ever saw one," breathed nox moistly in handy's ear. with a wordless nod the goat girl agreed, for in this long, indolent yet majestic figure handy felt she was seeing royalty for the first time. the unusual height of the silver monarch was at once apparent and his tight-fitting suit of deepest purple, without ornament save for his jeweled belt and sword, set off his handsome figure to the best advantage. his hair, of an astonishing thickness, was as silver as his cavern. when he turned his head, as he presently did at a little cough from snorpus, handy saw that his eyes were of a clear and piercing violet. quietly and without hurry, the silver king rose and, picking up his filigreed crown, set it firmly on his head. then, retrieving a long-stemmed pipe from a crevice in the rock, he established himself in a seat carved from the amethyst and looked inquiringly across at his visitors.
"so," he whistled, his eyes sparkling with lively interest as they rested for a long moment on the goat girl. "two very, very clever travellers."
"why do you say that?" blurted out handy, and was instantly overcome at her own boldness in speaking to so grand a person.
"the fact that you are here in this cavern proves you are clever," answered the king, leaning over to fill his pipe in the quicksilver lake. "you have opened the door in the mountain that does not open; passed the impassable guardian and keeper of that door--snorpus!!" the king's pleasant voice changed so quick and cruelly, handy almost lost her balance. "what have you to say for yourself, you lazy bozwokel?" roared his majesty, his eyes flashing flinty sparks of purple. "i'll have you potted for this, potted and reduced to a smithering smith, do you hear?"
poor snorpus, who could not have helped hearing the king's booming sentence, dropped to his knees and began pleading, explaining and blubbering all in the same breath. even nox, startled as he was, tried to put in a good word for him. but the muttering monarch, paying no attention to any of them, had lifted his silver pipe to his lips and an enormous bubble was rising from the bowl. handy, with chattering teeth, watched the bubble grow larger and larger, float off the pipe and hover over the unlucky head of the giant. as snorpus tried in vain to dodge, the bubble broke with the sound like a doomsday bell, enveloping him in a cloudy mist. when it cleared away, the giant was indeed reduced, coming now scarcely to handy's shoulder.
"how about it, shall we run?" whispered the goat girl as the king began to blow another bubble. "boy, do i feel a draft!"
"but he's not mad at us!" answered the ox, ducking nervously as the second bubble soared over their heads. "wait! be patient, remember the little king." as nox finished speaking the bubble sailed off and away down one of the silver corridors leading away from the royal cavern. presently they heard a bell ringing in the distance as the bubble broke, and before you could say pop robinson seventy silver-jacketed little bell boys came trotting into the cave.
"take this poor failure to nifflepok and see that he is potted," directed the king sternly, setting down his bubble pipe. "have timano guard the mountain door and see that i am not disturbed. important matters have come up this morning, important matters!"
"yes! yes! your highness! it shall be done, your excellency!" mumbled the bell boys, pushing poor snorpus ahead of them.
"watch yourselves! watch yourselves!" warned the little giant as he was rudely hustled out of the royal presence.
"now," smiled the silver king, positively beaming upon his visitors, "now we can proceed with our conversation. sorry to trouble you with this small matter, but discipline, as the old army officers will tell you, discipline must be maintained."
"humph!" sniffed handy mandy under her breath, looking with dislike and disillusion at the royal figure on the rocks. "the giant was right, you're a fellow who'll bear watching." fortunately her words did not carry, and lazily glancing at them through his long purple lashes the silver king continued his speech.
"since you have so easily entered my mountain," he observed blandly, "i assume you have some powerful magic treasure or appliance in your possession. am i right?" at the sudden forward lurch of the royal ox and handy mandy's surprised expression, the king gave a satisfied little nod. "fine!" he chuckled, rubbing his hands together briskly. "and now, let us waste no more time. who sent you? what have you to offer? as you doubtless know, the wizard of wutz pays well for magic treasures and formulas."
"wizard!" choked handy mandy, carelessly clapping her iron hand to her forehead and knocking herself over backward. "wizard!" she repeated, dazedly picking herself up. "but i thought you were a king?"
"i am both!" stated the owner of the cavern proudly. "i am king of the silver mountain and also the wizard of wutz, second in importance only to glinda and the wizard of oz. and, ha! ha! it won't be long before i am the only wizard, the sole, supreme and only wizard of oz! not long! not long!" again the silver king rubbed his hands exultantly together. "i have my secret agents in every kingdom in this country and even in the emerald city of oz," he told them impressively. "i already have the record book of glinda, the good sorceress, and many more of the magic treasures of oz, and soon i will have them all--all! my agents are clever and i have trained them well."
"but i thought magic was against the law!" cried nox with an outraged snort. "i understood no one was allowed to practice magic but ozma, glinda and the wizard of oz!"
"then why are you here?" demanded wutz sternly. "you have been practicing magic or you could not have entered this mountain. come, now, let us stop all this nonsense and get down to silver tacks and business. what have you to offer? who sent you--three, six, nine, five or eleven?"
as you can imagine, this was perfect jargon to nox and the goat girl, but handy mandy, convinced by this time that the silver king was both sly and dangerous, resolved to fall in with his little supposition and see what would come of it.
"nine sent us," she answered boldly, while nox looked across at her in perfect stupefaction.
"you don't say! i rather thought you came from the munchkin country," mused the wizard. "something in the way the ox talked, though you, yourself, are not a native ozian?"
"no!" handy said noncommittally, and rather pleased she had chosen nine, since this number had something to do with the munchkins.
"did nine say anything about the silver hammer?" asked the king, twinkling his eyes at the goat girl.
"he told us nothing," stated handy quite truthfully, this time.
"that's nine for you," fumed the king discontentedly. "he's the slowest and most unsatisfactory agent i have. two years searching for that hammer and no report yet. i've a good notion to kick him out and put little king kerry back on the throne. a bargain's a bargain and i've kept my part. besides, i've got to have that hammer before i can make myself supreme ruler in oz. why, it's the second most important magic in the four kingdoms!" at this surprising statement handy pricked up her ears.
"what did you say about kerry?" panted nox, almost stepping into the quicksilver lake at mention of the little king.
"nothing. i was talking about nine," scowled the wizard. "if that fellow does not show some action soon, i'll--i'll--" the king clenched his fists and looked so terribly angry that handy was afraid he was going to blow bubbles again. but instead he glared across the lake and demanded impatiently, "well, if you didn't bring the silver hammer, what did you bring?"
"a magic flower," explained the goat girl hurriedly, and before nox could give away the fact that they did have the silver hammer. she could guess from the expression in his eye that he was about to offer the hammer in exchange for kerry.
"a flower!" bawled wutz, his face turning from red to purple. "my caves are full of flowers, frosted silver lilies, long-stemmed sterling roses, daisies and violets with jeweled centers. i can grow any kind of flower i wish. how dare you take up my time with a flower! pah! go back and tell nine he had better look out--he's flirting with dismissal and destruction."
"but this flower saves you from injury when you fall," stammered handy, heartily wishing she had never got herself into such a controversy.
"fall!" sneered the silver king, simply bounding off his throne. "i never fall!" and had hardly finished speaking before he caught his toe on a jutting amethyst and pitched headlong to the rocks. horrified, and without waiting for the irate monarch to regain his feet, handy and nox began to run toward one of the outgoing corridors, the goat girl colliding as she ran with a plump little dignitary in a jeweled robe and high hat.
"your highness! your highness!" puffed the little fat man, stopping long enough to glare at handy mandy. "at last our efforts are to be crowned with success! five has but this moment arrived with--with--"
"with what?" demanded the king, springing lightly as a cat to his feet. "with a jug," exulted the little fat man, tossing his high hat into the air. "with a jug that was rug and the magic picture of queen ozma herself."
"ah, splendid!" beamed the monarch, who could turn his smiles and rages on and off like electric lights. "that will be a lesson to those emerald city-ites!" then suddenly remembering handy and nox and his undignified fall, he shouted shrilly:
"stop those imposters! stop them, nifflepok, and lock them up in the prison pits till i have time to demolish them. hah! we'll pot the ox's tongue, make soup of his tail, saddles and boots of his hide and use his head for a hat rack. as for that seven-armed monstrosity, she shall work in the polishing caves for the rest of her stupid life."
"i'll polish your nose first!" promised handy, shaking all her fists at the king.
"better come quiet," warned nifflepok, looking so worried handy felt a little sorry for him. "wutz'll blow bubbles if you make him too mad, and that'll be much worse than being locked up, you know."
"oh, let's go with the little high-hat," groaned nox, blinking his eyes at handy to remind her they still had his horns and the silver hammer. "for my part, i'd like a little peace and quiet."
"take 'em away! take 'em away!" ordered the king, stamping up and down his rocky island. "send in five! send in five at once!"
"come along, then," said nifflepok, being careful to keep out of the way of nox's horns. "come, give me your hand, maiden. not that one! not that one!" he howled dismally as the goat girl clasped his outstretched fingers in her iron hand. "let go! let go!"
"let's go! let's go!" chuckled handy mandy mischievously. and squealing with pain the little minister hurried them down a long dim passageway.
"oh! oh! give me another hand and i'll do my best to help you," sputtered nifflepok, as handy mandy ruthlessly continued to squeeze his fingers.
"we'll help ourselves, thank you," retorted the goat girl tartly. then relenting a little, she relaxed her hold, for she could not help pitying nifflepok and all the subjects of this cruel king. "where are these prison pits?" she asked impatiently, for she was anxious to be alone with nox. "if you are going to lock us up, do hurry along with it."
"yes, yes, absolutely yes!" moaned nifflepok, glancing nervously over his shoulder to be sure the white ox was not going to tread on his heels. "you'll be there in no time, no time at all," he assured them earnestly. "step over here, please." moving a sliding door in the wall of the corridor, the king's assistant waved them toward a smooth wheelless silver carriage. it looked to handy a lot like an old-fashioned sleigh, and as there were seats in front and a space in back large enough for the ox, she let go nifflepok's hand and quite willingly climbed aboard. nox, grunting a little, stepped over the side and settled himself behind her.
"well, goodbye," sniffed nifflepok, rubbing his bruised fingers tenderly. "you'll find everything you need below, not that you'll be needing anything," he added mournfully as he pulled out a silver switch. "goodbye, i'm sorry for you!" he shouted as the car with a lurch that almost loosened handy's teeth shot down a sliding runway to the deep pits of darkness below.
now, you and i, who are used to scenic railways and have enjoyed the thrills of chute the chutes for years, would have been less startled by the wild dizzy leaps, the swoops, curves and climbs, and the sickening drops of the silver king's chariot. but neither the goat girl nor the royal ox had ever heard of a scenic railway, much less ridden in one, and the underground car of the silver monarch was more like a chute the chutes than anything else. sometimes the two travellers were in complete darkness, at other times they whirled by the narrow, well-lighted ledges of a queer cave city, where the subjects of the mountain king lived in cell-like apertures in the silver rock like the cliff dwellers of old. then without warning the car would plunge to the work caverns below, past the gloomy shafts of the silver mines, or dart up to the living quarters and grottos of the king himself, caves so lavishly furnished and glowing with jewels, handy let out little shrieks of astonishment. in the king's subterranean gardens, silver swallows bathed in the silver fountains, silver maples rustled their lacy branches in the lavender-scented breezes, silver-petalled flowers with jeweled centers grew as riotously as daisies and buttercups in the upstairs world.
the mountaineers themselves, working listless with pick and shovel in the mines, or walking soberly along the ledges beside their little cliff dwellings, seemed undersized and unhappy to the goat girl. not that she caught more than a flying glimpse of them as the silver car tore by. in fact, she was so frantically busy holding on to the front rail of the car with all her various hands and catching her breath after each dizzy swoop, that her mind was in a perfect whirl. the groans and snorts of nox were far from reassuring, but afraid to look back lest she herself be flung out, handy clung desperately to the rail wondering when the wild ride would end and where under the mountain the silver car was taking them. the last words of nifflepok rang unpleasantly in her ears and as they raced by a cave marked "potters den" the goat girl positively shuddered. here, set out in vast silver pots and buried to their chins in the silver earth, were scores of the king's pale-faced prisoners. a grim-looking gardener was watering them from a milk can, and from the hungry way they lapped up the few drops that fell to them, handy concluded that this was probably their only food.
"first i shot over a mountain, and now i'm shooting through one!" moaned the distracted goat girl, trying to collect her spinning thoughts and faculties. "oh, my--y, we're going to pot for sure. oh, this time we are really done for!"
then all at once handy's good common sense began to assert itself. and as their strange chariot with a sudden increase of speed and power again dashed down into the darkness, she snatched the precious blue flower from her pocket and at the exact moment the silver car turned over and flung them into space, handy began pulling the petals from the flower and letting them drift down ahead of her own rapidly falling body. it was just light enough for her to see nox, with bristling horns and quivering nostrils, fall past, when she herself started to turn so many and such dizzy somersaults she lost all count of time and distance.
what seemed to be hours later, though in reality it was only a few moments, the two luckless prisoners found themselves side by side on a heap of soft blue flower petals. they were in a small circular pit with one amethyst burning dimly in the grating that covered the top. the goat girl had no recollection of her final landing and gazing up at the grilled ceiling wondered dully how they had come through without being cut to pieces.
"it tilted," wheezed the royal ox, answering the unspoken question in handy's eyes, "just tilted and slid us down. a fortunate thing you kept that magic flower, m'lass. ha--rumph!" weakly and still trembling in every limb, nox tried to rise, but his legs gave way beneath him and for a good fifteen minutes he and the goat girl rested on the flower petals saying never a word. the tapping of footsteps in the corridor brought handy quickly to her feet and as nox managed to heave himself upright, the blue petals vanished, leaving only a tiny flower on the floor. handy had just time to stuff it into her pocket when an invisible door in the side of the pit opened and twelve depressed workmen in silver cloth caps and overalls stepped inside. they carried brooms, mops and dust pans and stood staring in dismay at the seven-armed goat girl and angry-looking ox.
"we--we were sent to brush up!" stuttered the first workman, touching his cap uneasily. "but--there--seems--"
"to be nothing to brush!" finished handy sarcastically. "sorry to disappoint you. now get out!" ordered the goat girl furiously, and seizing buckets, brooms and mops from their nerveless fingers, handy pummeled them left and right with her seven hands.
"get out and don't come back till christmas," she panted, as the workmen, tumbling over one another, clawed open the door and banged it to behind them. the knob was on the other side of the pit and not even the edges of the door were now visible.
"what a place!" groaned handy mandy, leaning dejectedly against the side of their prison. "what a king! and he looked so nice!" grieved the goat girl, sliding down to a sitting position and holding her head in all of her hands.
"never mind," said the ox, settling on the floor beside her. "he hasn't gotten the best of us yet. it was pretty clever of you to remember that flower, but what i can't understand, is why you did not tell him at once that we did have this silver hammer he is so anxious to possess? then we could have traded the hammer for the release of kerry."
"i don't trust him," answered the goat girl somberly. "why i wouldn't trust that wizard as far as a goat can butt. didn't you hear him say the hammer was the second most important magic in oz? didn't you hear him say he was stealing and planning to steal the best magic from all the four kingdoms to make himself supreme ruler of oz? well, now that five has brought him this jug-a-rug or whatever it is and ozma's own magic picture he's probably well on the way to realizing his ambitions. but he's not going to get our silver hammer. i found it, and i'm going to keep it, for it's far safer with me than with him. do you suppose we're going to help an old bozzywog like that? what good would it do to put kerry back on his throne if wutz is to be ruler of oz? he'd probably pot all the kings and keep everything for himself."
"very probably," agreed nox, wagging his head mournfully. "but what are we to do? are we an army to fight a mountain full of silver moles and minions, are we magicians to risk our necks with this wizard? besides," nox's face grew thin and anxious, "if wutz has treated kerry the way he has treated us, the boy needs us right now and this very minute."
"but didn't you hear him say he'd put kerry back on the throne if nine did not soon find the hammer?" put in handy patiently. "that proves the little king is still here, and safe. of course we must find him and get him out of this miserable mountain, but we're not going to give wutz our hammer or any help at all, and he can put that in his silver pipe and blow bubbles till he bursts," said handy vindictively. "now the thing to do is to rest and eat, and then set ourselves to find the way out of this pit and this mountain. wutz and nifflepok think we're all swept away by this time. besides, they'll be too busy talking with five to bother us. so first to eat and then to think!" proposed handy in a businesslike manner.
"perhaps you're right," sighed the ox, "but i'll not have an easy moment till we're out of this magic mountain. that ride!" nox lashed his tail and rolled his eyes at the mere thought of their dash down the underground railway. "did you ever experience anything like it in your life?"
"well," grinned handy, "it's one way of seeing the country, i suppose. but let's not look back, old toggins, let's look ahead. remember we still have the dwarf of the hammer on our side and when we are ready to leave he'll surely show us the way."
"not before i put a few gores in that wizard's pants and plans," rumbled nox belligerently. "i'll teach him to take liberties with the royal ox of keretaria."
"hi--yigh! that's the old oz spirit!" cheered handy, reaching out to touch his golden horn. "horn, dear, just serve two dinners, and no fooling." unscrewing nox's horn of plenty as she spoke, the goat girl held it quietly in her wooden hand. and there was certainly no fooling about the two splendid dinners the horn delivered in answer to handy's wish. never had she eaten a more appetizing repast and half of the prison pit was taken up by the fresh hay, fruit and grains brought to satisfy the hunger of the royal ox. so, forgetting for a time their awful danger and their disagreeable imprisonment, the two adventurers refreshed themselves, and after the dishes and containers had disappeared, settled down to evolve some plan to outwit the wizard of wutz.
ten days before the goat girl left mt. mern, a weary and footsore pilgrim arrived in the emerald city. at least, he gave that impression to all who saw him shuffling with his long staff and beggar's cup along the shining streets of the capital. the man's head was clean shaven and his small cap, coarse belted robe and sandals marked him as a monk of some old and ancient order. he nodded gently to each person he passed, and seemed, in spite of his many years and wrinkles, innocent and harmless as a child. the splendor and magnificence of the capital astonished and bewildered the old gentleman and in a sort of stupefied disbelief he stared at the emerald studded streets and houses, and gazed up at the lofty peaks and spires of the royal palace. and this was not strange, for of all the fairy cities out of the world, the emerald city of oz is the most dazzling and beautiful. but its citizens are kindly and simple, for all that, and many stopped to drop emeralds in the pilgrim's cup and ask him if there was anything else that he needed. to all he mumbled in a strange and indistinguishable tongue and seeing that he was bound for the palace, and sure that ozma herself would know best how to deal with him, the emerald city-ites let him go his way unmolested.
the afternoon was warm and pleasant, and ozma and some of her favorites were having a lazy game of croquet in the royal garden. the click of the gold mallets as they tapped the gold balls presently attracted the attention of the old wayfarer, who paused to peer curiously over the hedge. the simple summer dresses of the girls in the garden seemed out of all keeping with their majestic surroundings. except for ozma's frock, which was longer, the emerald crown on her dark curls, and the golden circlets worn by her three companions, they might have been any four little girls playing croquet in a garden. but all around were the unmistakable signs of rank and royalty. at ease under a lime tree stood a tall soldier with green whiskers leaning on his gun. three footmen in satin uniforms stood stiffly beside an emerald topped tea table, ready at a moment's notice to serve ozade and frosted cake. on a gold bench nearby, a straw stuffed scarecrow was quietly reading the paper, and walking arm in arm down a little path talking composedly together were an energetic little man with a bald head and a curious fellow who seemed to be constructed entirely of copper. to all who are familiar with the quaint and merry folk at ozma's court, there would be nothing odd about a live scarecrow or a mechanical man, and most of us would have recognized ozma's companions at once as dorothy, betsy and trot, three mortal girls who long ago came to live in the royal palace.
it was dorothy who had discovered the scarecrow on her first visit to oz, lifting him down from his pole and traveling in his gay and carefree company all the way to the emerald city. in those days the wizard of oz had been ruler of the country, he himself having flown in a balloon from omaha. astonished by the circus tricks of this little fellow, the ozians believing him to be a real wizard, made him their sovereign, and under his wise rule and direction, built the now famous city of emeralds. the sight of dorothy had made the humbug wizard homesick, and after presenting the scarecrow with a fine set of brains, he flew off to america in a balloon of his own construction, leaving the straw man to rule in his place. afterward, when ozma was disenchanted and proved to be the rightful ruler of oz, the scarecrow had cheerfully resigned. but he still spends most of his time in the palace and is one of ozma's most trusted friends and counselors. later the wizard himself returned to oz and this time took up the study of magic with such zeal and earnestness he was soon famous from one end of the country to the other. this made him exceedingly valuable to the young fairy ruler, and he, like the scarecrow, is an old and honored member of ozma's cabinet.
it was the wizard who was now talking so earnestly to tik tok. the metal man was another of dorothy's discoveries. she met tik tok on her second visit to oz and brought him to the emerald city for safe keeping. tik tok, made by the firm of smith and tinker, is a completely mechanical man and a loyal and dependable citizen when he is properly wound up and oiled. betsy and trot, like dorothy, arrived more or less by wind, wave and accident in the land of oz. they liked it so well and proved so gay and amusing, ozma begged them to stay with her and dorothy in the green castle and help rule the many merry kingdoms that make up her wonderful empire. this they were only too happy to do, so here they are, princesses in their own right and living in the most gorgeous city out of the world.
besides the celebrities in the garden, there are numerous other important people at ozma's court. for instance, there is herby, the medicine man, whose chest is really a medicine chest full of pills, cures and ointments. then there is scraps, a lively girl made from a patchwork quilt by a wizard's wife, and brought to life by the wizard; and there's pigasus, a flying pig. there's a doubtful dromedary, a cowardly lion, a hungry tiger, and dorothy's little dog toto; a glass cat belonging to scraps, a wooden saw horse belonging to ozma, an iffin whom jack pumpkinhead discovered near the land of barons, and a dozen more unique and unusual characters.
the old pilgrim seemed to find the group in the garden surprising enough, for he watched them closely and silently for almost ten minutes, cupping his hand behind his ear in an endeavor to catch what the wizard was saying.
"it is just as i have told you," the little wizard was remarking earnestly to tik tok. "the great record book of glinda has vanished from her castle without trace or reason and even with my powerful searchlight and looking glasses i have been unable to discover any signs of it. word of the theft came yesterday by pigeon post."
"some-one has sto-len it for no good pur-pose," answered the metal man solemnly. but the old man leaning over the hedge heard none of this, for the two were conversing in low and guarded tones. so after a long puzzled look at the scarecrow the pilgrim took up his staff and shuffled along the gold pebbled path to the palace itself. a pompous footman in gold and green came to answer his timid knock at the door.
"what name, please, what business, and why in the wood does a fellow like you come begging at the door of a castle?" inquired the footman in a loud displeased voice.
"there, there, puffup," admonished a rosy-cheeked maid in a ribboned cap and apron, peering around the wide shoulders of the footman. "don't be so shouting proud. you've frightened the old gentleman half out of his wits. can't you see he is tired and hungry and probably in need of a lunch?" at the little maid's kind speech, the pilgrim bowed at least a dozen times, nodding his head energetically to show that she was perfectly right in her conjecture. "come along with you," urged jellia jamb, giving him a friendly wink.
edging nervously past the muttering footman, the old beggar followed jellia into the castle's spacious and splendid dining hall. "wait right here and i'll bring you some cake and apple sauce, an omelette and a pot of tea," promised the obliging girl. "how will that be?" jellia jamb, who was ozma's own personal maid and a privileged character around the castle, grinned cheerfully at her ancient visitor, and though the old monk pretended not to understand a word that she said, he nevertheless seated himself at the table and with round eyes watched her skip through the swinging door into the pantry.
no sooner had jellia disappeared, than the old rascal sprang nimbly to his feet and began to peer eagerly all around him. passing hurriedly over a rich gold service on the sideboard, he pounced upon an earthen jug on a crystal stand and tucking it under his robe, slipped silently as a shadow out of the dining hall, up the green carpeted stairs and straight into the private sitting room of ozma of oz. once there, and without losing a moment, he walked to the west wall, took down a large gold framed picture, blew upon it with a small glass tube, till it was no larger than a cake of chocolate--and thrust it into an inner pocket. then, holding his robe high above his skinny shins and with the jug clasped tightly in his arms, he galloped down the stairs and out an open window into the garden, reaching a large clump of snowball bushes without encountering anyone. hiding himself well in the bushes, he tore off the monk's robe, turned it inside out, dragged a white wig from his sock and presently emerged as dignified and plausible an old grandmother as any one would wish to see. the other side of his monk's robe was green and made up in a style much affected by old ladies in the capital, so that now he attracted no attention whatever. the jug in a large string bag dangled carelessly from his wrist, and smiling and nodding amiably he hurried through the garden, passed rapidly down one street and another, through the high city gates, on and on, till he was far out in the country walking faster and faster and less like a monk or an old lady at every step.
"prunes and peppermints!" ejaculated the scarecrow, springing up from his bench as jellia jamb, with streaming eyes and cap ribbons, came flying across the garden.
"peanuts and pretzels!" dorothy, about to hit the pole and win the game, dropped her mallet at jellia's fire siren screeches, while ozma and the others swung round in amazement as the little waiting maid, sobbing and panting, rushed into their midst.
"oh, that beggar! oh, that pilgrim! that old monk, or whatever he was!" wailed jellia, wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. "he's gone and stolen the jug, i mean rug, and oz knows what will become of us!"
"there, there, my girl. stop crying! begin at the beginning and tell us just what happened," begged the scarecrow, patting jellia clumsily on the shoulder.
"but this is serious, very serious," muttered the wizard, who had at once realized the importance of the little maid's news. "if ruggedo is released from that jug and enchantment, he'll be up to his old tricks in no time and doing anything in his power to hurt and destroy us."
"but who could have known we turned ruggedo into a jug, or where the jug was kept? and why would anyone steal an old earthenware pitcher when there are so many other rare and beautiful objects in the palace?" ozma, looking anxious and troubled, seated herself on the bench beside the scarecrow.
"the same person who knew the value of glinda's record book and stole that," answered the wizard gloomily. "dark forces are at work in oz, my dear, dark forces. just how did this rascal look, jellia?"
"like an old monk with a beggar's cup," said the little maid with a sorrowful sniff. "he seemed so poor and hungry i went off to get him something to eat and no sooner was my back turned than he grabbed the jug and ran off--though he shuffled slowly enough when he came into the palace."
"disguised, of course," observed the scarecrow, raising one eyebrow, "and no more a monk than i am. but what was he monkeying round here for? and what could he want with that jug, even if he knew it was the old gnome king? really, you know, you shouldn't let perfect strangers into the palace, jellia."
"just what i was telling her," wheezed puffup, breathlessly adding himself to the group on the lawn, "and i hopes this will be a lesson to you, miss."
"if we just knew where the old villain came from," worried the wizard, tapping his fingers absently on tik tok's copper arm.
"or where he was going," finished dorothy, pushing back her crown.
"why not look in the ma-gic pic-ture?" proposed the machine man calmly. "the pic-ture would show us where he is now."
"of course it would!" ozma rewarded tik tok with a bright smile, and jumping up, the little fairy hurried across the garden and into the palace with the others just a few steps behind her. but when they reached the small sitting room where the magic picture was hung, of course it was not there, and now in real distress and consternation they all sat down to discuss the mysterious forces working against them.
"i thought ruggedo was the only enemy i had left," sighed ozma, leaning wearily back in her satin tufted arm chair. "i thought when we turned the gnome king to a jug, all our troubles would be over."
"who-ev-er stole the jug knows that rug-ge-do was once the pow-er-ful me-tal mon-arch who tried a-gain and a-gain to con-quer oz," rasped tik tok in his slow and precise fashion.
"right!" agreed the wizard, striding up and down with his hands clasped behind his back. "and whoever stole that jug and the magic picture plans to disenchant the gnome king and learn from him the best way to destroy us. but that will be pretty difficult," asserted the little wizard, thrusting out his chin. "that transformation was one of the best you ever made, my dear ozma, one of the best. it will take a pretty smart wizard to turn that jug back to rug again."
"whoever stole the jug and ozma's magic picture was pretty smart," betsy bobbin reminded him seriously. "and without the picture how're we going to find out who it is? can't you do something, wiz dear, or do we just have to sit around and wait to be conquered?"
"i shall go to my laboratory at once," decided the wizard importantly, "and there by some magic means i'll try to discover who is at the bottom of all this wretched plotting and thievery. lock up the magic treasures in your safe, ozma, especially the gnome king's magic belt, and have them guarded day and night." briskly the little wizard rushed out of the room, returning in a moment to repeat gloomily, "day and night!"
"and i'll go and drill the army," declared the scarecrow, stepping recklessly out an open french window and falling flat, but undaunted, in a flower bed below.
"and i'd better call tige and the cowardly lion," said dorothy, who had always found the lion a splendid fighter in spite of his cowardice, and the hungry tiger, ready at the drop of a handkerchief to protect his royal patrons with tooth and claw. "they can sit right here beside the safe and i'd just like to see anyone get by them!"
"maybe it will be someone they cannot see," shivered betsy, peering out into the darkening garden.
"oh, my, isn't it too exciting!" trot, bouncing up and down on a small sofa, leaned over to touch ozma on the knee. "it reminds me of the time ugu the shoemaker stole all the magic treasures in oz. remember?"
ozma, looking at the space where her magic picture had hung, nodded her head sorrowfully, saddened and sobered by the thought that she still had dangerous and unscrupulous enemies in oz.
travelling northward by foot and as quickly as he could, number five had come to the silver king's mountain just a few moments after nox and handy mandy. now, dressed in the silver armor and helmet worn by all the wizard's m-men, he waited in great agitation for the wizard to appear. nifflepok had at once taken five to the den where wutz carried on all his magic experiments and kept his valuable treasures, and quite sure none of the other agents had been as successful as he, five paced impatiently up and down, fancying himself already co-ruler with the wizard in oz.
"so, there you are at last!" entering from an invisible door in the back of his work shop, wutz stared coldly at five. "well, what trash is that you have stolen?" was asked, finally. the wizard always pretended the discoveries of his agents were of little use and importance. and when five, completely taken aback and crestfallen, began to explain the wonderful properties of the magic picture and the fact that the old jug had once been the powerful king of the gnomes, the silver monarch cut him short. "yes, yes, but just see what seven has brought," he told him gloatingly. "seven, by a trick known only to himself, has stolen and transported to our mountain the great record book of glinda the good sorceress!" following the direction of the king's imperious finger, five gazed jealously at a huge volume chained with golden chains to its marble stand. "in that book," went on the wizard quickly, "everything that ever happened in oz is recorded, not only everything that has happened, but everything that is happening. you can see the entries appearing at this very minute on the open page."
"i see, i see!" five scarcely glanced at the record book. "but this magic picture shows you any person you desire to look at. with this picture and the help of the powerful gnome king, now disguised as a jug, we can soon make ourselves rulers of oz. all we need to do is release ruggedo from his enchantment. i have been told by people in the emerald city that ruggedo is familiar with all the magic secrets of ozma and the wizard of oz, and is, besides, a skilful magician himself. once we have disenchanted him, everything will be easy."
"we? we?" sneered wutz, who secretly agreed with five, but would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. "well, put the picture there on that stand so i can examine it. show us this silly ruler of oz who sets herself above all other rulers," he ordered sharply. "where is she now and what is she doing?" then, though the wizard and five and nifflepok, who had come noiselessly into the workshop, gazed into the canvas till their eyes stung and watered, not a single figure appeared to enlighten them. "hah! a hoax!" raged the silver king, rushing at five and shaking him till his armor rattled. "how dare you fool me in this dangerous manner?"
"but it's not a hoax," screamed five as soon as he could speak. "it worked perfectly well in the castle."
"perhaps it was hurt when you reduced it to carry it here," put in nifflepok nervously. he was always trying to keep peace between the cruel king and his subjects. "perhaps it only obeys the commands of ozma, its rightful owner. and remember, you still have the jug and the magic record book. the record book might even explain about the picture," he suggested hopefully. "i thought so, it says here: 'the magic picture and rug, the jug, have been stolen from the castle of ozma of oz by an agent of the silver king.'"
"there!" exclaimed five, brushing himself off indignantly. "i told you it was the one and only picture."
"yes, but what good is it to me if it doesn't work?" scoffed the wizard. "i'll not have you potted this time, five, but next time don't bring me damaged goods and old jugs, bring something of real value." as five, red faced and furious, jerked himself out of the king's presence, wutz turned joyfully to nifflepok. "getting on, old tubbykins, we're getting on! without that magic picture ozma will not be able to trace her stolen property, and without the record book, glinda will not be able to help her. so who's to stop us from stealing everything? everything!" exulted wutz, picking up the earthen jug and waving it over his head.
"but do you think it wise to treat our agents so shabbily?" sighed nifflepok. "they might betray us, you know."
"oh, no, they won't," sniffed the wizard, grinning broadly at his anxious little assistant. "the way i treat them is perfectly all right, keeps them on their toes, and with each trying to outdo the other we get the best results."
"well, i hope you're right," nifflepok still looked unconvinced. "but i cannot help thinking--"
"out of your line, niffy; just leave the thinking to me. now fetch me my magic blower, there's a good fellow, till i see what can be done with this jug. it may take some time and doing to release this ugly little gnome. by the way, did you pulverize those meddling munchkins?"
"oh, yes!" nifflepok nodded his head with a little shudder of distaste. "i shot them down into the prisoner's pit just as your majesty commanded."
"that's strange." the wizard in crossing the den to fetch a glass test tube had paused for a moment beside the book of records. "it says here, 'the goat girl from mern and the royal ox are in the silver king's mountain planning to release the little king of keretaria.' so that's what brought them here?" mused the wizard softly. "now, then, nifflepok, something must have slipped up instead of down. if your prisoners were powdered or pulverized, how could they be planning and plotting?"
"they must have some powerful magic to help them," muttered nifflepok, "or how could they have survived that fall?"
"better find out, my dear fellow. go spy on those munchkins, and if their magic is important or worth while, come back and tell me. and in the future be more careful how you carry out my orders and instructions!" the wizard's voice was still low and pleasant, but his eyes flashed so threateningly, nifflepok rushed out of the royal work den, flung himself in the silver car and went speeding down to the prison pits at the bottom of the mountain.
while nifflepok had been interviewing five, handy and nox had been having a troublesome conference of their own. each plan they devised for finding the little king and escaping from the silver king's mountain proved impractical. to summon the hammer elf to release them from the prison pit would probably rouse the underground guards and minions of the wizard, and give wutz himself an opportunity to steal the hammer. to tap the hammer lightly and ask the advice of himself had next seemed a good idea, but as nox quickly pointed out, that, too, was dangerous.
"in a wizard's den like this, anything can happen," groaned the ox, looking around with a gloomy eye. "how do we know we are not being watched at this very moment? if you so much as show that hammer, somebody may pounce in here and snatch it away, which will leave us with nothing to protect ourselves with in a last emergency--except that blue flower, my horns and your hands."
handy did not like the sound of "last emergency," but even handy realized they would not escape from the mountain without some sort of battle. to the free and sun-loving mountain girl every minute underground was sheer torture. she longed for a breath of the pure upper air, and the unreal light and pale faces of wutz's underground citizens and workers filled her with pity and loathing. "of course, no matter how long they leave us here, your horn of plenty will keep us from starving, but if we don't soon find some way out, i believe i'll explode!" she choked in a desperate voice.
"let's look at the message in that silver ball again," suggested nox unexpectedly. "are you sure you read it all, m'lass? there might have been directions on the other side."
"i don't think so," said handy, shaking her head. then, because action of any sort was a relief, she deftly twisted off nox's left horn and tilted the silver balls into one of her always handy palms. the first ball when she opened it contained nothing further than the silver key. in the center of the second lay the same folded paper, but this time when handy unfolded the paper there was a new message inside.
"wait!" cautioned the little slip of paper in small blue letters. "do nothing until the wizard appears."
"oh," breathed the royal ox, touching the paper gently with his nose. "someone is helping us."
"then i'd better keep this silver ball in my pocket," decided the goat girl, "where i can easily get it. in a tight corner i might not have a chance to unscrew your horn. dear--ear, how puzzling it all grows! so we're to hear from the wizard again. whist! what was that?" as handy, with her wooden hand, slipped the first ball back into the horn, with her leather hand screwed the horn back on nox's head and with one of her best white hands stuffed the second ball and message into her pocket, they heard agitated footsteps pattering along the outside corridor. after a tense moment, however, they died away, and exchanging a relieved glance, nox and handy settled down to wait for the wizard.
the footsteps, as you have already guessed, belonged to nifflepok. peering in at them through an invisible window, the king's messenger had been just in time to see handy shaking the silver balls from the golden horn. without waiting to see what use they would make of this curious magic, nifflepok rushed back to inform his master.
"they are wizards!" he panted, bursting unceremoniously into the silver king's den. "the magic is in the ox's horn. with my own eyes i saw the seven-armed maiden shaking silver balls from his horn."
"what do i care about silver balls?" snarled wutz, who was in a terrible temper. "if i had them here i'd bounce you over the head with them." the den was full of sulphurous smoke, but the earthenware jug still stood unchanged on the table before him. "the magic in the emerald city is still better than mine," hissed the silver monarch, his voice quivering with anger and disappointment. "i've tried every single formula in my book of incantations, every straight and crooked pass in the magician's manual, every powder and potion on my shelves, and this ugly jug is still a jug and nothing but a jug! what are we going to do?" he yelled furiously. "think of something, you noddle-headed pig! i must have the help of this little gnome king, but how'm i going to get him out of the jug?"
"perhaps, with a little more time," faltered nifflepok, twisting his high hat nervously in his hands.
"time! time!" exploded the wizard. "when did time ever break an enchantment?" snatching up a pair of silver pliers he flung them wrathfully at his assistant. nifflepok, fortunately for his head, caught the dangerous missile in his hat, and darting behind a tall cabinet, looked pleadingly out at his unreasonable master. "wait! wait!" he begged earnestly as wutz with a menacing frown took up his silver bubble pipe. "i have thought of something. make these munchkins break the gnome king's enchantment. they have passed all the hazards of our mountain unharmed. undoubtedly the girl is a sorceress and the ox a powerful magician in disguise. let them do this trifling service for your majesty in return for the useless captive we are holding for number nine."
"hm--mmmm!" deliberately the silver monarch put down his pipe. "that's not a bad idea, niffle, not a bad idea at all." picking up the jug, wutz brushed rudely by his trembling little minister and hurried out of his workshop. a few minutes later, he stood bowing and smiling before the two travelers in the prisoner's pit. but warned by the message in the silver ball, his entrance through the invisible door neither frightened nor impressed handy mandy or the royal ox.
"so here you are at last," exclaimed the goat girl, looking the silver monarch sternly in the eye. "and about time, too. how dare you imprison us in this miserable pit for no reason at all?"
"oh, yes, there is a reason," stated wutz a little surprised at handy's defiance. "you broke into my mountain without invitation or permission and as you are nothing but a pair of trespassers, you certainly deserve imprisonment and even destruction."
"nonsense," snorted the royal ox, lurching forward heavily. "we came here seeking a lost boy whom you are unlawfully holding captive. as soon as you release the little king of keretaria, we will take him and leave this mountain!"
"and the sooner you tell us where he is, the better!" added handy, snapping her thirty-five fingers under the silver king's nose.
"ah, you think so?" sneered wutz. "well, nothing is ever given for nothing in this mountain, but i may give you a chance to earn the boy's release. here in my hand is a jug, an ordinary enough looking jug. with the magic you have in your possession, you must transform this jug to its proper shape. if you succeed, you and the ox and the boy king of keretaria may leave my mountain unharmed. if you fail, ha ha!" the heartless wizard threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "if you fail, the walls of this pit will contract until you are--well, shall we say--obliterated? to keep your part of the bargain and perform this slight service i will give you one half hour. here is the jug, and in case you fail, good-bye!"
"good gillikins!" whistled nox, as the wizard strode through the invisible door and left them alone. "what does that fool think we are, wizards--magicians--necromancers?" groaning and snorting, he began to gallop round and round the hot little pit.
"look out! look out! you'll break the jug," warned handy, snatching it up in her arms. "and for goat's sake stop that galloping! i'm dizzy enough as it is."
"but you heard what he said?" lowed the ox, coming to a trembling stop beside her. "what are we to do? we know nothing of magic or magic transformations!" in their distress and excitement, they both forgot there might be a message to help them in the silver ball, and handy, taking the jug in one of her white hands, surveyed it with horror and curiosity.
"it's so old and ugly now," said the goat girl slowly, "i'll bet it was something old and ugly to begin with. didn't nifflepok mention something about a jug that was a rug? maybe it's a rug, though more likely a rogue. say, i wonder if i broke the jug whether that would not break the enchantment?"
"oh, no, no, no! don't do that!" begged nox, rolling his eyes in terror. "if you break the jug, the wizard will be furious, and how do you know what will break the spell? here, let me look at it." passing the jug rapidly from one hand to another, handy started to place it on the floor under nox's nose with her seventh and last hand, when a sudden and unexpected scream from the interior, made her drop it with a loud crash to the silver stones.
"ouch! oh, stop! how dare you bang me around in this hateful manner?" up from the flying fragments of earthenware at handy's feet sprang a fierce little gnome with a long ragged beard, shaking his fists and howling like a child.
"oh, my--y! i've actually done it!" quavered the goat girl, falling over against nox. "look! look! didn't i tell you it would be old and ugly?" the gnome, at handy's words suddenly stopped howling.
"where am i? where am i? who am i?" he mumbled in a frightened voice.
"well, i don't know who you are, but i'm afraid you're in a pretty bad place," said handy, straightening up to have a better look at her handiwork. "you're in the underground caverns of the king of the silver mountain, if you must know."
"caverns!" beamed the gnome, his face breaking into a wide smile. "what's the matter with caverns? i love caverns, why i used to live in one myself. and who did you say i was?"
"we don't know who you are," explained nox, in a cautious voice. "a moment ago and before handy took you in hand, you were nothing but a jug."
"a jug?" pondered the gnome pulling his beard thoughtfully. "you mean to say i was a jug?"
"maybe 'was-a-jug's' your name," volunteered the goat girl, now quite interested in her transformation.
"no, not 'was-a-jug' but something like a jug. let me think--bug, hug, chug, mug, pug, rug-rug? that's it, that's my name, ruggedo!" shrieked the little gnome joyfully, "and now i know who i am!"
"well, who are you?" inquired the ox, stretching his royal nose down toward the whirling gnome.
"i, why, i am the most important king on the other side of the desert!" shouted ruggedo exultantly. "i am the one and only metal monarch and ruler of all the gnomes! my caves and caverns under the mountains of ev sparkle with jewels and precious stones, mined by my faithful workers, and my grand army of gnomes outnumbers any army in oz." proudly the ragged little king thumped himself upon the chest.
"oh, my! oh, me! oh, mercy--ercy! if you're as powerful as all that, maybe you'll help us!" cried the goat girl, clasping her hands eagerly.
"help you? why should i help you?" the little gnome stared scornfully at the two occupants of the cave.
"because she broke your jug and enchantment, you ungrateful little wretch!" snorted nox, lowering his horns. "and you don't look like a king to me, you just look like a plain ordinary wicked little ragamuffin, a rugamuffin!" he bellowed angrily.
nox's angry words had a strange effect on the boastful gnome king. leaning dejectedly against the side of the pit, he drew his hand wearily across his forehead.
"i remember now," he told them hoarsely. "i once was the powerful metal monarch, but that was before i fell into the hands of ozma and that wicked wizard of oz."
"so it was ozma who turned you to a jug!" exclaimed handy with all her hands on her hips.
"yes, and before that she deprived me of my kingdom, ducked me in a truth pond, marooned me for years on a desert island, struck me dumb, and then, when she could think of nothing worse, turned me to this jug!" screamed ruggedo, kicking at the fragments of broken china at his feet.
"you and ozma have been enemies for a long time, then?" observed the ox, looking at the gnome with great disfavor.
"yes, yes, ever since that girl dorothy stole my magic belt and gave it to ozma," raged ruggedo, stamping furiously up and down. "and every time i try to recover my own property, or capture those wretched girls and the emerald city, something goes wrong and they conquer me! the last time ozma turned me to a jug!" cried ruggedo, his voice rising to a shrill whistle.
"well, what did you expect?" inquired handy mandy sharply. "that ozma would sit calmly on her throne and allow you to conquer her? my--y such goings on!"
"oh, then you are friends of ozma?" said the gnome king suspiciously. "but no, you could not be her friends or you would not have broken the jug. who are you? the ox is usual enough, except for his golden horns, but you"--ruggedo's eyes grew round and anxious as he looked at the seven-armed goat girl, "you are odd, aren't you?"
"no, she's not odd!" snapped the royal ox severely. he had been through so much with the sturdy mountain lass, he felt almost as if they were related. "handy is just seven times as smart and seven times as handy as most people, that's all. and since her seven hands have served you pretty well, try to keep a civil tongue in your head, will you?"
"oh, all right!" ruggedo scuffing his foot, looked sulkily from one to the other. "much obliged, i'm sure. but what in rockets are we doing in this miserable hole and what are we waiting for?"
"for a fellow metal monarch and wizard," answered a smooth voice, and appearing as quietly as he had vanished, wutz stood calmly before them. "come with me, ruggedo, i have surprising news for you, comrade!" and without so much as a nod or "thank you" to nox and handy mandy, he linked his arm through the gnome's and drew him through the invisible door, slamming it viciously behind him.
"hi--yi!" yelled handy mandy indignantly. "come back here! come back here! a bargain's a bargain, you old cheat and villain! we've kept our part and you shall keep yours! where have you hidden the little king of keretaria? let us out! let us out, you false faced rascal!"
nox, as angry as handy, charged forward, butting his head against the exact spot where the wizard had disappeared. to his astonishment and joy the whole section of wall swung outward and he and the goat girl, rushing through, found themselves in a narrow dimly lit silver tunnel.
"to think, to think we could have got out any time!" gulped the royal ox in a vexed voice. "the door was invisible but not locked. imagine that, m'lass!"
"oh, i've other things to do," puffed handy, peering down the long passageway to see whether she could catch a glimpse of the two kings. "no use trying to imagine anything about this mountain, it's just plain bewitched and goblinish. but that wizard made us a promise and i'm going to see that he keeps it. come on!"
"no! no!" said the royal ox, leaning weakly against the side of the tunnel. "i couldn't bear to look at him again, at least, not just yet. wait! i may think of something else! wait!" bellowed nox, as handy, in spite of his pleas, started off on a run. "there now, you've dropped something out of your pocket."
"that silver ball," muttered handy, scooping it up without slackening her pace.
"the ball! the ball?" exclaimed nox, galloping breathlessly to catch up with her. "oh, what muddle heads, what muddle heads! it told us to wait for the wizard. quick, see what it says now?"
"well, a lot of good it did waiting for that wizard," grumbled the goat girl; but nevertheless, she stopped and opened the silver ball. taking out the folded paper, she held it up toward an amethyst gleaming dully in the side of the tunnel.
"follow me."
directed the paper rather mysteriously.
"but who does 'me' mean?" asked handy, as nox, still breathing heavily, read the message over her shoulder. "i don't see any me, do you? beans and butternuts! if you hadn't stopped me i'd have caught those villains by this time!"
"and what good would that have done?" sniffed the ox impatiently. "remember there are two of them now, and that little gnome is worse than wutz and twice as dangerous." closing his eyes in an effort to concentrate, nox repeated over the message, "follow me! follow me! follow me! why of course, it's as plain as oats!" he snorted joyfully. "'me' means that ball. put the message back in the ball, set the ball down and then see what happens." and what happened, was amazing enough, for the silver ball, once it was on the floor of the tunnel began to roll rapidly along ahead of them, faster and faster and faster, till handy and nox had all they could do to keep it in sight.
"where do you suppose it's taking us?" gasped the goat girl, thankful that so far the tunnel had been more or less straight and fairly well lighted.
"to kerry," said the royal ox positively. "now watch that turn, m'lass. what's ahead? it's growing so dark i can't even see my own shadow!"
"it's a flight of steps," whispered handy, gazing fearfully into the deep well of a circular stairway winding down into the darkness. they could hear the chink of the silver ball as it rolled from step to step, so, taking her courage in all hands, the goat girl, herself, began to descend. nox, grunting and muttering lugubriously, came just behind her. steps were difficult enough for the ox at any time, but negotiating a flight of circular steps in pitch darkness was terrifying and dangerous in the extreme.
"be careful!" warned handy, looking up anxiously. "don't slip, or you'll break my heart."
"more than that, i'm afraid," quavered the royal ox, setting his front feet cautiously on the step below while he balanced his hind quarters perilously on the one above.
meanwhile, wutz and ruggedo had shot up in the wizard's silver car and were now in earnest conversation together.
"how in suds did that girl break your enchantment?" asked wutz, dropping irritably to his silver workbench. "i was watching her every minute through an invisible window and i didn't see her do a thing but break the jug. now why couldn't i have thought of that?"
"oh, what does it matter?" ruggedo settled himself with a joyful little wriggle beside the silver monarch. "what does it matter so long as i am free and able to help you? so you really think you can make yourself ruler of oz?" he went on, glancing enviously round the wizard's well stocked den, with its tables full of magic apparatus and its shelves and shelves of dusty volumes of wizard and witch works. wutz had confided his plans and intentions to ruggedo on the ride up. "say!" exclaimed the gnome king suddenly, "how did you get glinda's record book? that's the most important treasure in her castle!"
"of course!" lazily the wizard reached for his silver pipe. "well, it's a long story, rug, but i don't mind telling you that i have agents working in every kingdom of the country. seven, who was assigned to the quadling country, brought in the record book, smallifying it in order to steal and carry it here, and restoring it to proper size when it arrived. six and eleven have brought me useful magic from the winkies and gillikins, but five managed to steal ozma's own magic picture, and ha ha! since he couldn't find the gnome king's belt, he brought me the gnome king himself! pretty clever of him to discover you were a jug, eh?"
"re-markable!" sighed ruggedo, as wutz paused to blow a silver bubble which floated out of the work den, breaking somewhere outside with a tinkling bell-like explosion.
"two glasses of melted silver," snapped the wizard to a smart looking bell boy who came in answer to this singular summons. "now," continued wutz, looking at the gnome king through half closed eyes, "before i attempt to capture the emerald city, i must have one of two things; either the silver hammer belonging to a witch of the west or the magic belt that once belonged to you. so far, none of my agents has been able to find the witch, locate the hammer, or discover where ozma now keeps your magic belt. but you, its rightful owner, must know exactly where it is hidden?"
ruggedo, without saying anything, nodded briefly.
"well then," said wutz, "if you will help me steal the magic belt, which i understand is the most potent and powerful magic in ev or oz, i will kick kaliko off your throne, restore your own kingdom and give you besides any one of the four oz kingdoms you may fancy."
"oh, don't bother me with any of the oz kingdoms. i'm sick of the place!" frowned the gnome, wagging his beard vindictively. "all i want is my own old kingdom and my own magic belt! but i tell you what i will do. i'll help you steal this belt, for i know exactly where it is hidden, show you how it works so you can transform ozma and all her friends and counselors to rocks and rubble. but, when you are safely established as supreme wizard of oz, you must return the belt to me."
"oh, naturally!" promised the wizard, chuckling to himself as he thought how quickly he would turn ruggedo to a rock once he was wearing the famous belt. taking a glass of melted silver from the tray the boy had just set down, wutz lifted it to his lips, and ruggedo, his eyes glittering with all their old spitefulness, raised his own glass to drink to the wicked bargain.
"come," he sputtered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "when do we start? what magic have you to carry us to the capital and open the emerald safe where the magic belt and other important treasures of ozma are hidden? but wait, perhaps we had better look in the magic picture and see where ozma and the wizard of oz are now?"
"i am afraid we cannot do that," wutz explained regretfully. "seven spoiled the canvas in some way when he reduced it to carry it here. it doesn't show anything now and i've not had time to repair the damage."
"pshaw, that's too bad," said ruggedo, going over to touch the picture, now hanging on the wizard's wall. "but the record book's still working, i suppose?"
"oh, yes," said the wizard, stepping up to the marble table and glancing down at the open page. "and listen to this. it says," roared the silver king, holding his sides and simply rocking with wicked merriment, "it says: 'the two metal monarchs are plotting the downfall of the present ruler of oz.'"
"what else does it say?" inquired the gnome king, who had had more experience than his companion in dealing with the magicians of the emerald city.
"it says, 'ozma and her counselors have gone to the castle of glinda the good,'" wutz told him complacently closing and padlocking the big volume.
"then we'd better start at once and before they return," declared ruggedo. "for as soon as we have my belt we can change them to rocks, wherever they are. the most important thing is to get that belt before they know we are after it. but how are we going to get to the emerald city and how're we going to open that safe?"
"my silver blowpipe will reduce the safe to a heap of ashes without injuring the contents," answered the wizard, "and reaching the capital will be the simplest part of all!"
taking a silver tube from a high shelf, wutz put it in his pocket and reaching for his bubble pipe, he began to blow an enormous quicksilver bubble round himself and the gnome king. slowly and with both kings inside, the bubble rose, passed in a silver mist out of the wizard's den, up through the honeycomb of caves, caverns and grottos, on up--and up, till it floated right out of the top of the silver king's mountain.
at the same moment the silver bubble carrying wutz and ruggedo burst out of the top of the mountain, handy mandy and nox reached the bottom, arriving at last at the end of the winding stair. one amethyst burned dimly on the small landing, and crowded uncomfortably together the two prisoners found themselves facing a heavily barred door.
private lower of the wizard of wutz. keep out!
announced a surly sign. but handy and nox, their legs still quivering from the long downward climb, were in no humor to be stopped by a sign.
"lower!" sniffed handy mandy disgustedly. "i should think it was, we must be at the very bottom of this miserable mountain. lower--indeed! well, i expect a lower is the opposite of a tower, come on!" picking up the silver ball, handy squinted sharply at the door, giving it a quick shove to see whether it was locked or fitted with an invisible moving panel. but there was nothing remarkable about this door, and nothing on it except a very small silver keyhole, which at once recalled to the goat girl the key she had been carrying around ever since she left keretaria.
"oh, nox, i believe the key in your horn will fit!" she cried excitedly, and deftly removing the left prong of nox's headgear she shook out the ball. then, while nox fairly panting with impatience looked on, handy took the key from the ball and inserted it in the silver lock. when it turned easily and smoothly she was almost afraid to open the door. what would they find on the other side? what had the wizard done to his helpless young captive? as handy hesitated, nox rushed forward, banging the door open with his great shoulder.
"kerry! kerry!" wailed the faithful ox, and falling to his knees, nox began to snort and blubber in real earnest. handy, hurrying after him into the small stuffy cell, saw a handsome boy in hunting costume standing motionless and silent as a statue in the center of a great shimmering violet bubble. without thinking or reasoning, or even stopping to consult the ox, the goat girl flung out all her arms toward the solitary figure, her iron hand puncturing the bubble with a deafening pop.
"why, hello nox!" the little king stepped calmly out of the misty vapor, all that was left of the wizard's bubble. "where's your other horn? and who is this jolly looking girl?"
who, indeed? there was so much to be told and explained, even with handy and nox talking as fast as they could and taking turns, it took almost an hour to tell the story of their journey from keretaria to the silver mountain and their awful experiences with the wizard of wutz.
kerry himself remembered nothing since he had started out on the hunting expedition. he listened with angry exclamations and bounces as nox related the tale of king kerr's treachery and the sad state of affairs in keretaria. "and i've been shut up in this bubble for two years!" mourned the little king, looking round the dismal cell with a shudder. "why it makes my head ache just to think of it!"
"mine, too," agreed handy, clapping nox's left horn in place. "but it's almost over now, my lad. if we can just find some way out of this mountain, i'll settle old king kerr and his high boys, not to speak of this woozling wizard!"
placing kerry on nox's back, handy looked nervously out the door of the lower. at sight of the winding stair nox gave a great groan and shudder. "i'll never climb those steps again!" he declared, planting his feet stubbornly. "never! where's that silver hammer, m'lass? give it a tap and see what the dwarf can do for us? wutz and ruggedo are too busy with their wicked plans to bother us now."
"i wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered the goat girl. nevertheless, she pulled out the hammer and tapped it lightly on the floor.
"well, what's wanted?" yawned himself, appearing instantly and in the exact spot the hammer had struck.
"we want to get out of here!" cried kerry, so excited and delighted with the purple bearded dwarf, he instantly forgot all his troubles. with a crooked smile at the little king, himself looked questioningly at handy, and at the goat girl's quick nod, rapped his knuckles on the north wall of the lower. at once, a small panel slipped aside, revealing an elevator, its door invitingly open. waving all her hands to thank himself, who was already beginning to disappear, handy stepped inside. nox, with kerry still perched on his back, just managed to squeeze in, when the door snapped shut and the elevator sped upward carrying its three passengers in double quicksilver time to the work den of the wizard. handy, a bit disappointed not to find herself on top of the mountain, stepped out first. as nox, with an awkward jump, followed her, the door slammed sharply and the elevator dropped like a plummet to the bottom of the mountain.
"oh, this must be where wutz works all his magic transformations," breathed kerry, sliding off nox's back and gazing around with deep interest and curiosity. "i'll bet he blew a bubble round me right in this very den. wonder where he is now?" there was a slight cough at kerry's question and turning, they saw nifflepok standing uncertainly in the doorway.
"ah, so we meet again!" cried handy, doubling up all her fists and walking grimly toward the silver king's fat minister. "where is that rascally master of yours? as you probably know by this time, we kept our part of the bargain, but he still has to keep his."
"indeed, you are fortunate to have escaped with your lives," muttered wutz, taking off his hat and looking anxiously inside. "and i'm sorry to tell you the wizard of wutz never keeps his bargains. no matter how hard we work or try to please him, sooner or later, we are all shelved or potted!"
"then why work for such a villain?" snorted the royal ox gruffly. "where is he now?"
"yes, where is he now?" asked kerry, who in spite of the terrible stories he had heard, hoped to get a look at the wonderful wizard who had enchanted him.
"gone!" answer nifflepok, putting on his high hat and giving it a couple of taps. "he's bubbled off with the gnome king to conquer oz, and i expect by this time they've bewitched about half the inhabitants of the emerald city."
"oh, what a shame!" burst out kerry.
"bubbled off? what do you mean by that?" the goat girl reached out with all her arms to pull the silver king's little minister closer.
"i mean, bubbled off," repeated nifflepok, struggling to release himself from handy's clutches. "he blew a quicksilver bubble and he and ruggedo sailed away in it, if that's any plainer."
"oh, then we had better go right after them," snorted the ox in an anxious voice. "show us out of this mountain, you little pudding, or i'll toss you higher than a kite."
"oh, do let's do something!" begged kerry, who, being young, was quite daring and absolutely foolhardy. "we aren't going to let those dreadful kings conquer the country, are we, and not lift a hand?"
"well, i'm sure i'd lift all seven if it would do any good," mused handy mandy in a depressed voice. "but how can we stop them? wutz and rug have probably stolen all the magic in ozma's palace by this time, the thieving rascals!"
"but surely you have some magic?" ventured nifflepok, who had finally jerked himself free. "or you could never have disenchanted that gnome or found the wizard's lower and rescued this boy; and if you have--" he warned, backing rapidly away, "if you have, you'd better use it quick. when wutz finishes conquering oz, he's sure to remember you and turn you to rocks and rubble. he's going to turn everyone to rocks and rubble!" wailed nifflepok, dashing out of the workshop.
"great gazoo, what shall we do? i don't want to be a rock," snorted nox.
"and i won't be a rock!" stormed the little king. "it was bad enough being shut up in a bubble and missing two whole years--oh, you won't let him turn us to rocks, will you, handy? and do let's help poor ozma, before it's too late!"
kerry looked up at her so pleadingly, handy, against all her inclinations and better judgment, pulled out the silver hammer again. "the hammer will be better than the ball," she reasoned quickly, "for the ball only seems to help keretarians. now then!" lifting the hammer in her iron hand, the goat girl brought it down sharply on the wizard's marble table. silver sparks flew up in every direction and out of the very middle of the shower stepped the yawning dwarf.
"say, i'm trying to take a nap," grumbled himself, stretching his arms up sleepily. "what do you fellows want now?"
"we want to go to the emerald city of oz and save ozma from wutz and the gnome king!" explained handy in one breathless sentence.
"my! all that?" stifling another yawn, himself grinned mischievously at the goat girl. "then stand in line, please." so handy placed herself in front of the royal ox and kerry stepped behind him, and the dwarf, seizing the hammer, brought it down with a terrible blow just behind the little king. and what a blow it was you can readily understand, when i tell you that its force carried the three travelers clear out of the silver king's mountain and all the way to the emerald city itself. flying along for a moment beside them, himself slipped the hammer back in the goat girl's hand, and then with another tremendous yawn, disappeared.
in ozma's palace in the emerald city, everything was very quiet and still. not surprising when you consider that the wizard of wutz had blown his patent stupefying powder down all the chimneys before he and ruggedo dared to enter. then, mooring the silver bubble to one of the castle spires, the two conspirators had slipped through an open window and proceeded without delay or interference to the private sitting room of the absent ruler. there ruggedo with a spiteful laugh, thrust his head right into the mouths of the hungry tiger and cowardly lion. rigid and helpless they sat before ozma's safe, motionless and completely stupefied, as were all of ozma's other faithful servants and retainers. reducing the safe to a heap of green ashes was the work of but a moment, then, pulling the gnome king's belt from the sparkling heap of treasures, wutz sprang to his feet.
"quick! how does it work?" he cried, clasping the belt round his thin waist. "we'll not have a second's safety till ozma, glinda, the wizard of oz and all those girl princesses are out of the way."
"but first you must restore my kingdom!" insisted ruggedo, dancing up and down. "here give it to me. i'm used to it and can work faster. first i'll wish kaliko off my throne and myself back in my underground castle, then--"
"oh, no, you won't!" declared wutz, holding the bouncing gnome king off with one hand. "how do i know what you will do once you reach your own kingdom? why--i might never see this belt again."
"but i promise to send it back to you," hissed ruggedo, his eyes snapping real sparks.
"i'd rather have the belt than the promise," said wutz, shaking his head stubbornly.
"give it to me, i say, give it to me!" yelled ruggedo, now in a perfect rage. "how do i know what you will do when you know the trick of using it? why, you might even turn me to a rock to be rid of me."
"what? change my dearest friend and most powerful ally to a rock?" exclaimed the wizard with pretended horror. "by the left horn of my silver cow, i promise to return this belt as soon as i am ruler of oz!" ruggedo longed to snatch his belt away from the scheming silver monarch, but as he was neither big or strong enough to do this, there was nothing for him to do but agree to the wizard's terms.
"all right," he groaned dismally. "listen, then--" but as wutz bent his head and the little gnome began to whisper hoarse directions in his ear, there was a dreadful thump and clatter behind them.
"stop!" commanded the goat girl, the first to recover from the shock of the landing, and dear knows handy should have been used to sudden landings by this time. "stop!" whirling round with a howl of fury, wutz sprang straight at her, but handy, who still clutched the silver hammer in her iron hand, was too quick for him and brought it down with a resounding crack on the top of his head. "take 'em away! take 'em away!" cried handy hysterically, as wutz fell over backwards, and himself, appearing exactly where the hammer had struck, leaped off the wizard's head to save himself from a fall.
"but first we must have that magic belt," chuckled the hammer elf. giving ruggedo, who was struggling frantically to get his belt from around the silver king's waist, a quick push, himself unbuckled the clasps and tossed the magic girdle to the goat girl. then grabbing the howling gnome and senseless wizard, each by his neck, the efficient dwarf vanished in a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder that shook the castle to its foundations. nox dropped to his knees. kerry, still stunned by the hammer blow that had carried them to the emerald city, and handy, herself, with her arms still upraised, stared in dumb astonishment at the quivering vacuum where the two kings and himself, the elf, had been whirling a moment before.
"oh, handy, handy, you've really done it!" shouted kerry, finding his voice at last. "why, you've saved the whole of ozma's kingdom and struck only one blow! but watch out--are those beasts alive or just statues?"
"statues, i hope," grunted the royal ox, lurching dizzily to his feet. "well, here we are in the capital, m'lass, and i must say you have handled everything beautifully, beautifully!"
"halt! who goes there! whoa! ho! halt and surrender!" piped a frightened voice. "here they are, your majesty, the robbers themselves, caught red-handed in the act of robbing our royal safe!"
"red--white--and--blue handed, if you ask me!" cried the patchwork girl, blinking her shoe button eyes at the red rubber hand with which handy grasped the gnome king's belt, the white hand she had reached out to hold on to kerry, the iron hand still clutching the silver hammer. all the rest of her hands the goat girl held stiffly before her. brushing aside the soldier with the green whiskers, who promptly dived behind a sofa, scraps jerked the gnome king's belt out of handy's rubber hand and gave her a shove that sent her flying over backwards. "take that, you monster!" yelled scraps.
"well," sputtered the goat girl, sprawling flat on her back, "here's gratitude for you!"
"how dare you call handy a monster?" bellowed nox, charging angrily after the patchwork girl.
"oh! do be careful!" called ozma with a little scream, as nox almost caught up with scraps, and kerry began to belabor the soldier with green whiskers over the head with a candlestick. "oh! oh! my poor lion! my poor tiger! my safe! why, i--just--can't believe it!" wailed the little fairy ruler, staring sorrowfully down at the goat girl, who had made no attempt to rise nor explain her embarrassing position.
"then don't believe it!" cried kerry breathlessly. "for it isn't true! this brave girl and nox have got the best of wutz and the gnome king and saved your whole bally kingdom and here you've gone and had her knocked down. shame on you! get away from me, you cotton stuffed horror!" screamed the little king, as scraps, eluding the ox, made a determined jump in his direction.
"quiet! quiet!" the scarecrow, who with glinda, the wizard, dorothy, betsy and trot, now came hurrying into the room, raised both arms and looked around pleadingly. the whole royal party, traveling in glinda's swan chariot, had just arrived on the balcony outside, but ozma, scraps and the soldier with green whiskers had been first on the scene of action.
"the boy is right," declared glinda, crossing slowly to a green sofa. "i can see by her face and hands--" glinda smiled faintly--"that this girl is both honest and industrious."
"thanks!" murmured handy, as the scarecrow, ever a gentleman, bounded forward to assist her to her feet. the flimsy straw stuffed fellow lost his balance in the attempt, but his little act of gallantry did much to relieve an awkward moment.
"you see," puffed the scarecrow, seating handy with a flourish, "for the last ten days we've all been pretty much upset around here and you'll have to excuse scraps for jumping at conclusions."
"please do!" ozma spoke pleasantly and seriously as she seated herself in her small arm chair, leaning over to take the gnome king's belt from scraps. "but if some of you kind people will just explain?" the little fairy looked anxiously from the stupefied tiger and lion to her pulverized safe, her eyes coming back to rest on the goat girl, the great white ox and the handsome young munchkin.
"go ahead and explain," said handy, closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair with all her hands hanging limply at her side. so nox, a bit haughtily and tossing his head proudly from time to time, began at the beginning and told all that had happened since handy mandy had flown from mt. mern. how the goat girl had found the magic in his horn, how they had traveled together from keretaria to the silver mountain and there, in their search for the little king, discovered wutz's plot to make himself supreme wizard of oz. and last of all he explained how handy, with the help of the silver hammer, had subdued the two wicked kings.
"well, it certainly was very kind of you to take all this trouble for us--after you had already had so many worries of your own," sighed ozma, as nox, finishing his story, gazed round the room with lordly condescension.
"yes, wasn't it?" handy opened her eyes and thoughtfully regarded the little ruler of oz. "still, i'm glad now that we did save you." the goat girl's round pleasant face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. "i didn't think i was going to like you, but i do," she admitted cheerfully. "i believe you're about the best ruler oz could have and besides, you're pretty as a goat."
"as a goat!" gasped the wizard of oz while dorothy and the other girls had all they could do to keep from laughing right out loud. but ozma, who was a very understanding little person, smiled kindly back at handy mandy.
"goats are pretty," she agreed, nodding her head politely. "and since you must miss your own goats very much, perhaps you would like me to send you back to mt. mern after you've seen a bit of the capital?"
"oh, handy wouldn't leave us!" snorted the royal ox, moving as close to the goat girl as he could get. "we couldn't get along without handy mandy, your majesty."
"oh, please let her stay in keretaria," begged the little king adding his voice to that of his royal ox. "you will live with us in the palace, won't you handy?"
"well, if i just had my goats--" considered the seven-armed maiden. "mt. mern would seem rather dull after oz," she acknowledged pensively. "but what about that old king who's still on kerry's throne--and what am i to do with this silver hammer--and what do you suppose himself has done with wutz and ruggedo?"
"yes, what's to be done with wutz?" echoed the scarecrow wrinkling up his cotton forehead. and now the little sitting room began fairly to buzz with excited questions and suggestions, for there was still a lot to be explained and settled. the ozites could hardly keep their eyes off the seven-armed goat girl, the handsome young ruler of keretaria and his royal ox. dorothy longed to unscrew his horn and test its magic power for herself, but ozma, anxious to repair all the damage done by the wicked wizard, now raised her scepter for silence.
clasping on the gnome king's belt, ozma first brought back her magic picture and with a quick wish returned glinda's book of records to her castle in the south. next, though she knew neither the extent nor the nature of the wizard's other thefts she caused to be restored to their rightful owners all the magic appliances in the silver king's den. the scarecrow had already reported the stupefied condition of the other occupants of the palace, so ozma's next thought was to restore them to their accustomed selves. no sooner was the cowardly lion released than he crawled under a table, but the hungry tiger rushed out on the balcony, growling and lashing his tail, as he thought of the indignity he had suffered.
after a short conference with handy mandy, ozma freed all the potted prisoners of the wicked wizard, and made nifflepok king of the silver mountain. she moved the cliff dwellings of the people to the outside of the mountain so wutz's pale subjects could enjoy with the rest of the gillikins, the bright sunshine and beneficent climate of oz. the magic mountain itself, with all its dark pits and jeweled caverns, ozma sealed up tightly and forever. the wizard's agents were turned to moles, for they were already more like these boring little animals than men. after each magic wish or transformation, the little group in the royal sitting room would look in the magic picture, which ozma had immediately repaired. and in each case handy felt that the ruler of oz had used both wisdom and good judgment. nox, as they were watching the wizard's agents turn to moles, gave a snort of surprise, for the first figure shown was old king kerr, who was really number nine. as the wicked impostor changed quickly from a man to a mole and scurried off the throne and away to bury himself in the blue forest, nox and handy both heaved a sigh of relief and satisfaction.
while ozma was working on the magic safe, handy, deciding to try a little of her own magic, softly tapped the silver hammer on the arm of her chair. at once, and to the delight and interest of everyone, himself, the elf, appeared astride the arm, holding a small cactus plant in each hand.
"i wish you in the future to obey the summons of her majesty, ozma of oz," smiled the goat girl, placing the silver hammer as she spoke, in ozma's lap. "this young fairy is more experienced in magic than i, and will know how to use the hammer to best advantage."
"oh, all right! but i rather liked working for you," grinned himself. "and say, i tried to turn these rascals to plants but this was the best i could do." setting the two pots of cactus down on a small writing desk, the hammer elf bowed first to handy and then to ozma. "wait! don't go!" begged the little fairy as himself showed unmistakable signs of disappearing. "do tell us about this silver hammer and who owned it first."
"it belonged to wunchie, a witch of the west, who's lived in the munchkin mountains for about a thousand years, and used it to control as many of the munchkin kings as she could," explained the dwarf balancing himself cleverly on an ink well.
"then i suppose wunchie was responsible for the prophecy in keretaria?" surmised nox, blinking his eyes at the hammer elf. the dwarf nodded cheerfully. "yes, wunchie invented that prophecy," he told them, "and placed her own white oxen in the country. each time she had trouble forcing the king to do as she wished, she tapped him and the ox on the head with her hammer. but i took rather a fancy to you," admitted himself looking fondly at nox. "so, when she ordered me to tap you off and traded little king kerry to wutz for a basket of jumping beans and put wutz's agent on the throne of keretaria, i decided to take a hand myself. so i gave you only a light tap and at the same time, i stored enough magic in your horns to help you find kerry--and with the help of this handy goat girl you did find him!" beamed the hammer elf. "i knew my magic was good. you can't work for a witch without learning good magic. but now, since everything is turning out so splendidly, i'll just go back to my tree stump. one, two--three, back--to--my--tree!"
"but what became of the witch?" cried ozma catching hold of the dwarf's purple beard, for his head had already vanished.
"ha, ha! she exploded and popped off!" roared a voice from the place where the elf's head had been. "i told her not to eat those jumping beans! and after that, i buried her hammer in the garden of keretaria and there it stayed till handy ploughed it up. goodbye all!" and the body of the hammer elf melted into nothing and was gone.
"my--y, what a clever fellow!" chuckled handy. "so, now wutz and ruggedo are a couple of cactuses! mm--mmm! mmmm--mm! unpleasant to the last! do you suppose anyone can ever disenchant them? for goatness sake be careful!" begged handy as jellia, in answer to her mistress's ring, came to carry the plants to the conservatory. "whatever you do, don't drop 'em. and to think that the wizard is potted himself! well, i'll never have a hand in breaking his enchantment!"
"i never thought anyone could ever break ruggedo's enchantment," confessed ozma. "when i changed him to a jug, i commanded him to keep that shape till he was broken by the seventh hand of a traveling mernite. and at that time i did not even know there was such a place as mt. mern or a clever goat girl like handy."
"but aren't you glad there was!" shouted the little wizard of oz tossing up his hat and catching it on his nose. "aren't we all glad to know handy mandy, nox and this jolly young king?"
"long live the royal ox and the little king of keretaria!" cried the cheering ozites. "long live handy mandy, the seven-armed wonder of the world and oz!" and, of course, they will live long--everyone lives long in oz. but even if handy lives to be a hundred, she will never forget the grand banquet given that evening in her honor. besides the famous people she already knew, the goat girl was presented to all the other celebrities at ozma's court, and shaking hands with them heartily and seven at a time, she had never been so flattered and fussed over in her life. nox and kerry came in for their share of honors, too. there was nothing the ozians would not have done for their three new friends and rescuers. ozma, overwhelmed by handy's generosity in giving her the silver hammer, and already indebted to her for saving the kingdom, racked her brains for some wonderful gift to reward the brave mountain lass. but it was nox who solved the difficulty by confiding to ozma that handy desired more than anything else a set of gloves for her hands. it seemed she had never had enough gloves for more than two at a time. so, smiling secretly to herself, ozma gave the goat girl seven sets of fine kid gloves and an emerald necklace that wound three times round her sturdy neck. with the necklace, a complete new outfit and her forty-nine gloves, handy mandy felt herself quite ready for high life and royal society.
"though you really should wear a boxing glove on that iron hand," whispered the scarecrow, as handy blushingly resumed her seat after ozma's speech of presentation. "stay in the emerald city and we will make you a general in the army," promised the straw man earnestly. but handy shook her head with tears of merriment in her eyes. though she never quite forgave scraps for pushing her over, she and the scarecrow were already as friendly and easy as an old pair of shoes. "handy monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday and sunday," the straw man had nicknamed her because she had a hand for every day in the week.
nox had insisted on himself being invited to the banquet and the clever elf added much to the pleasure and hilarity of that memorable occasion. indeed, many times afterward when she felt bored or lonely, ozma would summon himself just to amuse and cheer her up. the silver hammer was stored away with the other important magic treasures and is regarded by many as the most powerful magic in the castle. handy mandy kept the blue flower to help her on future journeys and after she and her two friends had spent a happy week in the emerald city, ozma reluctantly wished kerry and nox to keretaria and the goat girl back to mt. mern.
here, for a month, handy mandy astonished the villagers with the story of her travels, then gathering up her goats she took herself and them back by a fast wishing pill the wizard had given her--to the kingdom of keretaria. as the goat girl's hands retained all of their strength and willingness, and nox's horns all their magic--even to giving wise and useful messages, these two and little kerry ruled the kingdom between them with such skill and cleverness everyone was enormously happy and prosperous!
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56085.txt
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The Silver Princess in Oz
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in a far-away northwestern corner of the gilliken country of oz lies the rugged little kingdom of regalia, and in an airy and elegant castle, set high on the tallest mountain, lives randy, its brave young king. when the regalians are not busy celebrating one of their seventy-seven national holidays, they are busy tending their flocks of goats or looking after the vines that cover every mountain and hill, producing the largest and most luscious grapes in oz. these proud and independent mountain folk have much to recommend them, and if they consider themselves superior to any and all of the other natives in oz, we must not blame them too much. perhaps the sharp, clear air and high altitude in which they live is responsible for their top-lofty attitude. randy, it must be confessed, found the stiff and unbending manner of his subjects and their correct and formal behavior on all occasions stuffy in the extreme; and of all the stuffy occasions he had to endure the weekly court reception was the stuffiest. just as i started this story he was winding up another of these royal and boring affairs.
"hail! hail! give majesty its proper due, hail randywell, king handywell of brandenburg and bompadoo! boom! boom! boom!"
at each crash of the drums the young king winced and shuddered, then, pulling himself together, he nodded resignedly to his richly attired courtiers and subjects who were retiring backwards from the royal presence. as the last bowing figure swished through the double doors, randy gave a huge sigh and groan. this was his three hundred and tenth reception since ascending the throne. ahead stretched hundreds more, besides the daily courts where he acted as presiding judge to settle all disputes of the realm; countless reviewings of troops; inspections of model goat farms; and attendance at numerous celebrations for national heroes of regalia.
"oh, being a king is awful," choked the youthful monarch, loosening his regal cape and letting it fall unheeded to the floor. "awful! will it always be like this, uncle?"
"like what?" his uncle, the grand duke hoochafoo, who was still inclining his head mechanically in the direction of the door, caught himself abruptly in the middle of a bow.
"oh, all this silly standing round and being bowed at, this 'hail! hail! and way for his majesty!' stuff. galloping gollopers, uncle, i'd like to step out by myself occasionally without twenty footmen springing to open doors and fifty pages tooting on their blasted trumpets. why, i cannot even cross the courtyard, that a dozen guardsmen do not fall in behind me!" flouncing over to the window, randy stared out over the royal terrace. "even the goats on the mountain have more fun than i do," he observed bitterly. "they can run, jump, climb and even butt one another, while i--" randy let his arms fall heavily at his sides. "i have not even anyone to fight with. if just once somebody would punch me in the nose instead of bowing." randy clenched and unclenched his fists.
"hm--mm! so that's what you want!" looking quizzically at his young nephew, uncle hoochafoo crossed to the bell rope and gave it a savage tug. as randy's personal servant and valet appeared to answer the ring, he spoke sharply, "dawkins, kindly hit his majesty in the nose!"
"the nose? oh, but your lordship, i couldn't do a thing like that. 'tisn't right, nor fitting--nor--"
"i said hit him in the nose," commanded uncle hoochafoo, advancing grimly upon the terrified valet.
"yes, yes, like this!" bringing up his fist, randy made such a splendid connection with the valet's nose, dawkins toppled over backwards. dancing from one foot to the other as the outraged servant sprang to his feet, randy prepared to defend himself. but with his hand clapped to his nose, dawkins was retiring rapidly. "thank you!" he muttered in a strangled voice, "thank you very much!"
"did you hear that? he said 'thank you,'" screamed randy as dawkins disappeared with an agitated bow. "oh, this is too much; i wish i were back with nandywog in tripedalia--or anywhere but here, doing anything but this."
"now, now! don't take things so hard," begged his uncle, patting him kindly on the shoulder.
"hard?" randy glared at the old nobleman. "i can take things hard, uncle, but i cannot take them soft. i'll never forgive my father for getting me into this--never!" randy's father, former king of regalia, tiring of a royal life and routine, had retired to a distant cave to live the life of a hermit, and randy, after traveling all over oz to fulfil the seven difficult tests required of a regalian ruler, had succeeded to the throne.
"you should not speak like that of your royal parent," chided uncle hoochafoo, tapping his spectacles absently against his teeth, "for you are very much like him, my boy, very much like him. hmm! hmm! harumph!" uncle hoochafoo cleared his throat thoughtfully. "what you need is a change, a new interest. ah, i have it! you must marry, my lad, you must marry! some pretty little princess or rich young queen, and then everything will be punjanoobious!"
"is being married anything like being a king?" inquired randy suspiciously.
"oh, no. no, indeed, quite the reverse." the eyes of the old duke, who had once been married, grew glazed and pensive. "once you are married, you will feel less like a king every day," he promised solemnly. "and the arguments alone will keep you occupied for hours." uncle hoochafoo raised both shoulders and eyebrows. "wait, i'll just go consult the wise men about a proper princess for you."
"no! no! i do not wish to be married," announced randy, stamping his foot. "i'll not marry for years," he declared stubbornly. then, as loud outcries and tremendous thumps interrupted them, he hurried over to an open window just in time to meet a large rock that came crashing through the amethyst pane.
"look out!" blustered uncle hoochafoo, jerking randy to his feet, for the rock had completely bowled him over. "well, i see you have your wish. how's that for a knock in the nose, my lad? not only the nose, but also the beginning of a beautiful black eye!"
"have i really?" racing over to a mirror, randy proudly examined his injured orb. "oh, uncle, isn't this fun? who did it? what's up, d'ye s'pose--a revolution?" hurrying back to the window, randy recklessly thrust out his head to stare down into the courtyard. kayub, the gatekeeper, had his shoulder braced against the gold-studded doors in the castle wall, but even so, the doors were bulging and creaking from the thunderous blows struck from the other side.
"open in the name of the law!" boomed a tremendous voice. "thump! thump! kerbang! open in the name of a prince of the realm! open this door, you unmannerly scuppernong!"
"no, no, stay where you are!" panted kayub, waving desperately with one arm for the guards to come help him. "stay where you are, or go to the rear entrance! who do you think you are, hammering on the doors of his majesty's castle?"
"i don't think, i know!" raged the voice from the other side of the wall. "i am a prince of pumperdink, you unspeakable clod. open up this door before i break it down!" and after even more furious thumps another shower of rocks came flying over the wall.
"great gillikens! i think--i believe--why it is! kayub, kayub, open the door! it is a prince!" shouted randy, using both hands as a megaphone.
"'tis nothing of the sort," grunted the gatekeeper obstinately. "i looked through me little grill but a moment ago and it's no prince at all, but a parade! a parade of one elephant, if you please, and when i orders him to the rear entrance he ups with his trunk and flings rocks over our wall!"
"but this elephant is a prince," insisted randy, banging on the window ledge. "besides, he's a great friend of mine."
"open the door, fool!" directed uncle hoochafoo, leaning so far out the window his crown fell to the paving stones. "the king has spoken. admit this elephant at once! at once!"
"and about time," fumed an indignant voice, as kayub reluctantly drew the bolts and, swinging wide the doors, stepped back to let a magnificently caparisoned elephant swing through. "a fine welcome this is, i must say, for the elegant elephant of oz! out of my way, wart!" picking kayub up in his trunk, the visitor jammed him down hard into a golden trash barrel, trumpeted fiercely at the double line of guards who had instantly sprung to attention, and went swaying across the courtyard.
now nowhere but in oz could an elephant talk, much less come hammering on the doors of a royal castle, but in oz, as we very well know, animals talk and act as sensibly as people, which makes oz about ten times as exciting as any other country on the map. but while i've been explaining all this, randy had run down the steps and was half-way across the courtyard.
"kabumpo, kabumpo, is it really you? oh, at last--at last you are here!" impatiently waving aside the guards, randy led his mammoth and still muttering guest into the palace.
"kaybumpo, is it?" sniffed kayub, jerking himself with great difficulty out of the trash barrel. "such goings on. well, all i say--" the gatekeeper peered carefully over his shoulder to see that the elephant was safely inside the castle, then, raising his arm for the benefit of the staring guards, he cried fiercely. "all i can say is--just let him show his snoot around here again and i'll kabump him down the mountain!"
fortunately the doors of randy's castle were high and wide, and the rooms so large and spacious, even a guest as large as this elephant could quite easily be accommodated. still irritated by the gatekeeper's insolence, kabumpo followed the young ruler to the throne room where he sank stiffly to his haunches and waited in outraged silence for randy to speak. randy, however, was so surprised and happy to see his old friend and comrade, he could not utter a word. but the elegant elephant could not long withstand the honest delight and affection beaming from the young king's eyes, and under that kindly glow his wrath melted away like fog in the sunshine.
"well! well!" he rumbled testily, "how do i look?"
"elegant!" breathed randy, stepping back to have a better view. "elegant as ever. you've worn your best robe and jewels, haven't you?"
"always wear my best when i call on a king," said kabumpo, smoothing down his embroidered collar complacently with his trunk.
"and i believe you've grown a foot," went on randy, standing on tiptoe to pat kabumpo on the shoulder.
"a foot," roared the elegant elephant, throwing back his head. "oh, come now, i couldn't have grown a foot without noticing it, and i still have but four--here, count 'em! say, who in hay bales gave you that black eye?"
"you did." randy fairly sputtered with mirth at kabumpo's discomfited expression. "i was just wishing someone would hit me in the nose, when along came that rock and now look at me!"
"yes," put in uncle hoochafoo, regarding kabumpo severely through his monocle. "now look at him!"
"well, why didn't you tell that wart of a doorkeeper i was expected?" demanded kabumpo explosively.
"the king of regalia does not hold conversation with his doorkeeper," explained randy's uncle, giving the elegant elephant a very sour look.
"oh, he doesn't!" kabumpo lurched grandly to his feet. "well, it's time somebody told him about the elegant elephant of oz and how he should be received and welcomed. let me tell you, sirrah--trumpets blow when i come and go in pumperdink!"
"then why did you ever leave there?" inquired the duke coldly.
"oh, uncle, don't you remember, we were to review the purple guard at five? you go," urged randy, fearful lest the tempery old duke would still further insult the even more tempery old elephant. "honestly, i feel a cold coming on." randy coughed plaintively, at the same time winking at kabumpo.
"very well, i'll go," agreed his uncle stiffly. "but do not forget there is a dinner for the grape growers at seven, a concert of the goat herdsmen at eight, maneuvers of our highland guards in the royal barracks at nine and--"
"yes, yes! all right!" randy fairly pushed his royal relative toward the door.
"an ancient pest if i ever saw one," grumbled kabumpo as the grand duke disappeared with a very grim expression. "great gooselberries! do we have to do all those dumb things? why, it's six years since i've seen you, randy, and i kinda thought we'd have a cozy time all to ourselves."
"i never have any time to myself," sighed the young monarch wistfully. "i do nothing but lay cornerstones and raise flags and stand around at royal courts and receptions. everybody bows and bows. why, it's got so i even bow to myself when i look in the glass, and now--" randy raised his arms indignantly. "now uncle hoochafoo says i must marry."
"marry!" trumpeted kabumpo, twinkling his eyes angrily. "what nonsense! why, you are nowhere near old enough to marry. you were only about ten when i met you and that makes you sixteen now, though i must say you don't look it!"
"oh, no one in oz looks his age," grinned randy, "and you know i'd been ten for about four years before i knew you, kabumpo, so that makes me twenty or so, doesn't it?"
"i don't care what it makes you," rumbled kabumpo, "it makes me mad. and to think i actually helped get you into all this boring business. my ears and trunk, kingling, it's up to me to get you out of it."
"how?" demanded randy, folding his arms and leaning despondently against the mantel. "how does one stop being a king, kabumpo?"
"why, by stopping," announced the elegant elephant, spreading his ears to their fullest extent. "by taking a vacation, my fine young sprig. by departing and going hence for a suitable season. do you suppose i came all the way from pumperdink to hear goatherds tootling on bells and highlanders tramping round a barracks? i came to see you, my boy, and nobody else." kabumpo paused to blow his trunk explosively on a violet silk handkerchief. "and after that i thought we'd go and visit the red jinn."
"oh, kabumpo, could we?" randy's face brightened and then as quickly fell. "i don't believe uncle hoochafoo will let me go," he finished dolefully.
"a king does not ask whether or not he may go, he goes," stated the elegant elephant, beginning to sway like a ship under full sail. "but to avoid all arguments we'll not start till later. could you be ready by midnight, young one?"
"oh, i'm ready now," declared randy, picking up his cloak from the floor and snatching a sword from its bracket on the wall. "why ever did you wait so long, kabumpo? you promised to visit me six months after i was crowned."
"well, you know how it is at a court." the elegant elephant sighed and settled back on his haunches again. "if it isn't one thing it's another, but here i am at last. so--order up your dinner and a few bales of hay and a barrel of cider for me. i crave rest and refreshment."
"and what about the grape growers, the goatherds and highlanders?" worried randy.
"oh, them!" exclaimed kabumpo inelegantly. "here!" seizing a pen from the royal desk, he scribbled a defiant message on a handy piece of parchment.
"no admittance under extreme penalty of the law. do not disturb! by special order of his majesty, king randywell handywell of brandenburg and bompadoo."
"see, i remembered all your names, and i've used them all!" opening the door with his trunk, kabumpo impaled the notice on the knob, then quietly closed the door and turned the key in the lock. and only once did they open it, and then to admit ten flustered footmen with randy's dinner and kabumpo's cider and hay. to imperious raps, taps and numerous notes thrust under the door by the young king's agitated uncle, they paid no attention whatever. they were too busy talking over old times and the exciting days when they had journeyed all over oz, and with the help of jinnicky, the little red jinn, saved the royal family of pumperdink from the witch of follensby forest.
pumperdink, as most of you know, is in the north central part of the gilliken country of oz, and ruled by king pompus and queen posy. their son, prince pompadore, has much to say about affairs in that kingdom, but it is to kabumpo, his elegant elephant, that pompus turned oftenest for counsel and comfort. given to the king by a celebrated blue emperor, kabumpo has proved himself so wise and sagacious, pompus depends on him for almost everything. it is kabumpo who advises his majesty when to have his hair cut and put aside his woolen underwear, when to go to the dentist, when to turn in his old four-horse chariot for a twelve-horse model, when to save money--when to spend it, how to get on with neighboring kings and how to get on without them. in fact, so heavy are the duties and responsibilities of this remarkable elephant, 'tis a wonder, even after six years, he managed this visit to randy.
randy's first meeting with kabumpo had been more or less by chance. sent out disguised as a poor mountain boy to pass the seven severe tests of kingship required of regalian rulers, randy had happened to come first to the kingdom of pumperdink and had been hailed before the king as a vagrant. the elegant elephant, taking an instant fancy to the boy, had insisted that he be allowed to stay on as his own royal attendant, and in this comical capacity randy's adventures had begun. for scarcely had he been in the palace of pumperdink a week, before kettywig, the king's brother, and the witch of follensby forest, plotting to steal the crown, caused the whole royal family to disappear by some strange and fiery magic. barely missing the same fate, randy and kabumpo managed to escape. on their way through the forest they met a soothsayer who told them to seek out the red jinn. now no one in oz had ever heard of this singular personage, but after many delays and hair-raising experiences, randy and kabumpo finally arrived at his splendid red glass castle. jinnicky, it turned out, was the wizard of ev, and a merry and strange person he was. jinnicky's whole body is encased in a shiny red jar into which he can retire like a turtle at will, and the little wizard's disposition is so gay and jolly everyone around him feels the same way. not only did he welcome his visitors, but set off immediately to help the royal family of pumperdink out of their misfortunes and enchantment. once in pumperdink, randy, with the help of the red jinn's magic looking-glasses, was able to trace the lost king and his family and release them from the witch's spell. but before that, and while he was traveling here and there with kabumpo and jinnicky, the little prince was fulfilling all the tests and conditions required by the ancient laws of regalia of their kings. in other words, he had made three true friends, served a strange king, saved a queen, showed bravery in battle, overcome a fabulous monster, disenchanted a princess, and received from a wizard an important magic treasure. and now, looking back on those brave, bright days, he could not help thinking that earning his crown had been more fun than wearing it.
"i wish we could do it all over again," he mused, as kabumpo, after recalling their visit to nandywog, the little giant, tossed off the last of the cider.
"but think where we're going now," gurgled kabumpo, setting down the barrel with a resounding thud. "if something strange or exciting does not happen on the way there or back, or in jinnicky's castle itself, i do not know my oz and evistery. can't you just see jinnicky's face when we arrive? i wonder if alibabble is still grand advizier and if the magic dinner bell is still working. yes! yes? who's there?" kabumpo raised his voice irritably as a persistent whistling came through the keyhole.
"it's dawkins," explained an anxious voice from the other side of the door. "the duke says as it's high time his highness was in bed, your highness!"
"oh, be off with you. go dive in the feathers yourself. his highness is going to sleep in here on the floor." kabumpo stood so close and spoke so violently through the keyhole, dawkins was blown back against the opposite wall. for a time footsteps pattered up and down the corridor, then finally deciding the young king was to have his own way at last, the footmen and courtiers and even uncle hoochafoo took themselves off. but not till everything was absolutely quiet and still and everyone in the castle asleep did kabumpo and randy venture forth. then, stepping softly as his own tremendous shadow, the elegant elephant with the young king on his back slipped through the silent halls and deserted courtyard, past the snoring sentries and keeper of the gate and on out into the foresty highlands beyond the palace wall. here in the bright white light of a smiling moon they took the highway to the north, for the castle of the red jinn lies to the north by northeast of regalia and oz.
"how'll we cross the deadly desert?" murmured randy, drowsily clutching the few belongings he had tied up in an old silver table-cloth. in it he had his oldest suit, some clean underwear, his tooth brush and his trusty sword.
"never cross a desert till you come to it," advised kabumpo. "and we've crossed it before, you know."
"yes, i know." smiling to himself, randy dropped his head on his bundle, and lulled by the agreeable motion of his gigantic bearer, soon fell asleep, to dream pleasantly of alibabble and of ginger, slave of the red jinn's dinner bell.
kabumpo, as happy to escape from court life as randy, moved rhythmically as a ship through the soft spring night. humming to himself and busy with his own thoughts, he scarcely noticed that the highway was growing steeper and narrower until he was brought up sharp by an impassable barrier of rock.
"now, bosh and botherskites! i was sure this road ran straight to the deadly desert," he muttered, reaching back with his trunk to see that randy was still safely aboard and asleep. "beets and butternuts! do i have to turn back, or plough through all this rubble?" the elegant elephant's small eyes twinkled with irritation, and easing himself to the right off the highway, he peered crossly up at the offending mass of stone. finding no way round here, he swung over to the left and examined it closely from that side, and was just about to start resignedly through the brush when he discovered that what he had taken for an especially dark shadow was really a cleft in the rock. it was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through without scraping the jewels from his robe. "now then, shall i risk it or wait till morning?" mused kabumpo, swaying undecidedly to and fro. "it might take us straight through to the other side of the highway. on the other trunk, it might lead into a robber's cave or plunge us suddenly over a precipice!"
edging closer, the elegant elephant thrust his trunk into the crevice. it seemed smooth and solid, and, resolved to try it even though little of the moonlight penetrated into the narrow opening, kabumpo stepped inside and proceeded to pick his way cautiously along the rocky corridor. for about the length of a city street it ran straight ahead, then curved sharply to the right. here kabumpo was heartened to see a lantern hanging from an iron spike, while carved on the smooth rock below was a blunt message.
"this is the entrance to gaper's gulch. pause here and give three yawns and a stretch for sleeperoo, great, grand and most snorious gaper!"
"snorious gaper! ho, ho! kerumph! who ever heard of such nonsense?" snorted kabumpo, squinting impatiently down at the notice. "ah, hah! hoh, hum!" at this point, and without seeming able to help it, the elegant elephant yawned so terrifically his head-piece fell over one ear, and his jaw was almost dislocated. to recover his dignity and with tears starting from his eyes, he gave himself a quick shake, then stretched up his trunk to straighten his headgear.
"splen--did!" drawled a sleepy voice. "you may now proceed as before." blinking angrily about to see who had addressed him, the elegant elephant spied a round-faced and widely gaping guard standing in a little niche in the rock. strapped to his shoulders, instead of a knapsack, was a fat feather pillow, and as kabumpo came opposite the guard's eyes closed, and falling back against his cushion he began gently to snore. as kabumpo stopped in some astonishment, the guard's nap was rudely interrupted by a pailful of pebbles that cascaded merrily down over his ears. there were twenty pails operating on a moving belt above his head and at three-minute intervals they pelted him awake, as kabumpo presently discovered. the buttons on the guard's uniform were illuminated and spelled out his name, "winks."
"well, do i surprise you?" inquired winks, shaking the pebbles from his shoulders and rubbing his eyes with his yellow-gloved hands. kabumpo, too amused to speak, nodded.
"and you surprise me," admitted the guard, gaping three times just to prove it, "you big, enormous, impossible whatever you are--you! why, you should have been underground months ago! but that'll all be taken care of," he added smoothly. "just follow the arrows and you cannot miss--just follow the arrows--just fol--"
as kabumpo, fuming from what he considered a mortal insult, lunged forward, the little soldier's eyes fell shut again. held more by curiosity than by a desire to continue the conversation, kabumpo waited for the next bucket of pebbles to shower over the guard.
"'low the arrows," went on winks as calmly as if he had not been interrupted at all. "there are forty guards to point the way. forty winks," he repeated, closing one eye. "ha, ha! to point the way. ha, ha! hoh, hum! do you get the point?"
as kabumpo started off with a little snort of disgust, he felt a slight prick in his left hind leg, for winks, just as he feel asleep, let fly an arrow from his old-fashioned bow. before kabumpo had reached the end of the passageway he had passed forty of the gaper guards. after his experience with the first, he did not stop for further talk, but made the best speed possible, resolved to rush through gaper's gulch when he came to it without even pausing to express his contempt. the pebble awakeners were so neatly timed, each guard had a chance to speed an arrow after the flying elephant, and by the time kabumpo reached the opening at the other end of the rocky pass, he had forty arrows pricking through his robe or stuck here and there in his ears and ankles. with his tough hide, they hurt no more than pin pricks, but vastly indignant at such treatment, the elegant elephant began jerking them out with his trunk.
"what do they think i am, a pincushion? hoh!" he snorted, pulling out the last one, and relieved to note that randy had escaped the missiles entirely. indeed, the young king of regalia was sleeping as placidly as if he were home in his own castle. kabumpo, too, felt unaccountably drowsy, and as he pushed his way down into the rocky little glen his steps grew slower and slower. so far as he could see by the light of the fast waning moon, there were neither houses nor people in gaper's gulch. in the center of the valley the rough stones and brush had been cleared away and a series of flat rocks were spaced out almost like a gigantic checker-board. pausing beside the largest rock, kabumpo spelled out the name of sleeperoo the great and snorious.
"what is this, a cemetery?" gulped the elegant elephant. "but that could not be, for no one in oz ever dies. ho, hum!"
leaning up against a dead pine and blinking furiously to keep awake, he pondered the unpleasant situation. then, deciding that, cemetery or not, he must have some sleep, he lifted randy down from his back and rolled him in a blanket he had thoughtfully brought along. then, divesting himself of his jeweled robe and head-piece, kabumpo stretched out carefully beside his young comrade and in twenty minutes was fast asleep.
how long he slumbered kabumpo never knew, but from a nightmare in which he was struggling in a bank of treacherous quicksand, he awoke with a frightful sinking feeling to find he was surrounded by forty more of the gaper guards. their buttons were also lit up and on each plump chest he could read the word "wake." the wakes were busily at work with pick and spade, and, unlike the winks, did not seem the least bit drowsy. half convinced he was still asleep and dreaming, kabumpo peered out at them through half-closed lids, then gave a tremendous grunt. great gillikens! he was sinking! the busy little wakes had dug a trench at least twenty feet deep all around him and now, careless of their own safety, were shoveling away at the mound on which he was still precariously resting.
"quick, a few more to the right," directed a crisp little voice. "watch yourself there, torpy. ah, here he comes! heads up, lads!"
as the chief wake spoke, kabumpo felt the mound give way and down he rolled into the pit, while the wakes scrambled frantically up the sides.
"did you hear that fierce toot?" puffed the little guard addressed as torpy. "it's awake, fellows! what's wrong with those sleeping arrows--don't they work any more? i myself saw forty sticking in the big whatisit when he came pounding out of the pass. hurry, hurry! let's get him under ground!" and, seizing their picks and spades again, the gaper guards began shoveling dirt into the pit, paying no attention to kabumpo's furious blasts and bellows, which grew wilder and more anguished as he suddenly realized that randy was no longer beside him.
"what have you done with the boy? halt! stop! how dare you cast dirt on an imperial prince of pumperdink or try to bury the elegant elephant of oz?"
shaking the mud from his head and raising his trunk, kabumpo let out such an ear-splitting trumpet, twenty wakes fell to their knees, and the others dropped pick and shovel and stared at him in positive dismay.
"but, sir, it is quite customary to bury all visitors," quavered torpy as soon as he could make himself heard. "we'll dig you up in six months and you'll be good as new. our dormitories are so very comfortable, and all gapers lie dormant for six months!"
"but i'm not a gaper," screamed kabumpo, interrupting himself with a yawn both wide and gusty.
"oh, but you soon will be," asserted torpy, squinting down at him earnestly. "why, you're gaping already. now lie down like a good beast. sleeping underground is lovely."
"lovely!" repeated all the rest of the wakes, beginning to croon as they shoveled. kabumpo, opening his mouth to protest again, caught a bushel of earth between his tusks and, half choked and blind with rage, the elegant elephant hurled himself at the side of the pit. he could almost reach the top with his trunk and, as the wakes squealing with alarm shoveled faster and faster, he wound his trunk round an old tree stump and by main strength hauled himself up over the edge.
"now!" he bellowed, spreading his ears like sails. "where have you buried the boy? quick, speak up or i'll pound you to splinters."
snatching a log in his trunk, kabumpo surged forward. but the terrified wakes, instead of answering, fled for their lives, leaving kabumpo all alone in the ghostly little valley.
"randy! randy, where are you? oh, my poor boy, are you suffocated?"
galloping this way and that, kabumpo peered desperately about for a patch of newly turned earth. but only the wind whistling drearily through the dead branches of the pine trees came to answer him. frantic with worry, the elegant elephant began pounding with his log on the headstones of the dormant gapers, trumpeting at the same time in a way to wake the dead.
now the gapers were not dead, but only sleeping, and soon the dormant natives of this strange hibernation lifted up their headstones and began blinking out indignantly to see what and who had got loose in their quiet valley.
"silence! cease! desist!" shuddered sleeperoo the great and snorious, holding up his headstone with one hand and waving his other arm feebly at kabumpo. "a bit more of that racket and we'll be roused for months. who are you? and what is the meaning of all this hah hoh humbuggery?"
gaping ten times in quick succession, sleeperoo stuck out his lip at the elegant elephant. kabumpo, startled by the spectacle of a hundred lifted headstones and the round dirty moonlike faces gaping up at him, said nothing for a whole minute. then, stepping over to the chief gaper, he burst out angrily:
"i am a traveler whom your guards stuck full of arrows and then tried to bury. the young king who was with me has disappeared. i, the elegant elephant of oz and pumperdink, demand his release. what have you done with the king of regalia? produce him at once, or i'll stand here and trumpet till doomsday!"
to show he meant what he said, kabumpo let out such a terrific blast the headstones of his listeners rocked and shivered.
"oh, my head! my ears! my ears, my dears! give him what he's yelling for," sobbed sleeperoo, crouching under his headstone as kabumpo lifted his trunk for another trumpet.
"is this--a--king?" called a fretful voice, and, lurching round, kabumpo saw a fat old gaper now half-way above ground. balancing his stone on his fat head, he held randy out at arm's length. "instead of digging him a proper bed, they stuck him in with me," he complained. "here, take him--he kicks like a mule and i can't abide a kicker." with a relieved grunt, kabumpo snatched randy from the gaper's damp clutches, thankful the boy still had strength enough to kick. randy's face was quite pale and covered with dirt, but after a few anxious shakes he opened his eyes and looked confusedly round him.
"it's nothing," sniffed kabumpo. "it's quite all right, my boy. you've just been buried to the ears and sleeping with a ground-hog."
"buried?" shivered randy, as kabumpo set him gently on his back.
"not buried at all, just lying dormant as a sensible body should," corrected the old gaper, dropping out of sight with a slam of his headstone.
"go away! please go away!" begged sleeperoo, as kabumpo began stepping gingerly between the stones. "you're ruining our rest, you big bullying behemoth!"
"i'll not stir a step till you send a guide to lead me out of this gulch," declared kabumpo. "call a guard or i'll call one myself."
"no. no! please not! torpy snorpy--i say, torpy," wheezed sleeperoo, stretching up his thin neck. "come, come all of you at once. at once!"
as quickly as they had vanished, the wakes slid from behind boulders and trees and up out of rocky crevices, their buttons twinkling cheerfully in the dark.
"conduct these travelers to the head of the valley," ordered sleeperoo, with a weak wave at the gaper guards.
"i thought this was a gulch," yawned kabumpo, while randy began to shake the dirt from his hair and ears.
"a gulch is a valley," sniffed sleeperoo, lowering himself crossly. "look it up in any pictionary. a gulch is a valley or chasm."
"and gaper's gulch is a yawning chasm," mumbled kabumpo, as the chief gaper and all the others began ducking back into their holes like rabbits into warrens. "good night to you," he added, as the last stone slammed down. "now, then, you boys fetch my head-piece and robe from that pit and let's start on."
kabumpo spoke so sharply ten wakes sprang to obey, and after they had brought them and both had been adjusted to kabumpo's liking, he signaled imperiously for torpy and snorpy to lead the way, and their companions took thankfully to their heels. for a while the two little wakes marched ahead in a subdued silence as the elegant elephant picked his way around rocks and tree stumps.
"not mad, i hope?" torpy, most talkative of the two, looked anxiously over his shoulder.
"no, no--certainly not. i don't know when i've spent a more delightful evening," kabumpo said. "being stuck full of arrows and then buried alive is such splendid entertainment."
"oh, i say now, we cannot all be alike," put in snorpy, coming to the rescue of his embarrassed companion. "if those arrows had taken effect, you'd have been dead asleep before we buried you, and known nothing for six months. that's a lot of sleep to miss, mister--er--mister?"
"kabumpo," chuckled randy, who was now wide awake and quite recovered from his harrowing experience. "but you see, kabumpo and i sleep every night and not all in one stretch as you do."
"more trouble that way," murmured snorpy, shaking his head disapprovingly. "keeps you hopping up and down all the time. in the gulch we sleep half the year and then we are done with it."
"and what do you do when you are not sleeping?" inquired kabumpo, stifling a yawn with his trunk.
"we eat," grinned snorpy, his eyes twinkling brighter than his buttons. "breakfast from july first to august thirty-first; lunch from september first till october thirty-first; and dinner from november first till new year's."
"you mean you eat straight through without stopping?" gasped randy, raising himself on one elbow. "all the time you're awake? don't you ever work, play or go on journeys?"
"i do not know what you mean by 'work, play and going on journeys,' but whatever they are, we don't. we eat and sleep, sleep and eat and everything is perfectly gorgeous," confided the wake with a satisfied skip.
"gorging is gorgeous to some people, i suppose." kabumpo tossed his head to show it was not his way. "then how is it you fellows are not sleeping along with the other gapers?"
"oh, we're trained to sleep in summer and fall and to eat in winter and spring. the winks are not so clever at staying awake as we are, but they'll learn, and meanwhile the pebbles keep them fairly active."
"yes, active enough to shoot at visitors," grunted kabumpo, winking back at randy. "do you shoot one another asleep or is that a special treat you reserve for travelers?"
"we just shoot at travelers," admitted snorpy, quite cheerfully. "otherwise they would interfere with our customs, interrupt our sleeping and eating and wake us up out of season."
"just as we did," chuckled randy. "i suppose we interrupted your dinner, this being one of the dinner months?" both guards nodded, exchanging pleased little smiles.
"come on back and have a bite with us," invited snorpy generously. "we've weak fish for the first week, chops for the second--"
randy, tugging at kabumpo's collar, begged him to stop, for randy was hungry as a brace of bears, but the elegant elephant, shaking his head till all his jewels rattled, declined the invitation with great firmness.
"no knowing what will come of it," he whispered to his disappointed young comrade. "might put us to sleep for a century and it's about all i can do to keep my eyes open now. wait till we're out of this goopy gulch, my lad, and we'll eat and sleep like gentlemen. after all, we are gentlemen and not ground-hogs."
urging his guides to greater speed, the weary beast pushed doggedly on through the brush and stubble. snorpy and torpy, insulted by the shortness with which the elegant elephant had refused their invitation, had little more to say, and in less than an hour had brought the travelers to the end of the rocky little valley. from where they stood, a crooked path wound crazily upward, and with a silent wave aloft the two wakes turned and ran.
"back to their dinner," sighed randy, looking hungrily after them. but kabumpo, charmed to see the last of the ghostly gulch and its inhabitants, began to ascend the path, not even stopping for breath till he had come to the top. even after this, he traveled on for about five miles to make sure no sleepy vapors or gapers would trouble them again. the moon had waned and the stars grown faint as he stopped at last in a small patch of woodland. here, without removing his head-piece or robe, kabumpo braced his back against a mighty oak and fell asleep on his feet, and randy, soothed and rocked by his tremendous snores, soon closed his eyes and slept also.
when randy wakened, kabumpo had already started on, grumbling under his breath, because nowhere in sight was there a green bush, a tree or anything at all that an elephant or little boy might eat.
"where are we?" yawned randy, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. "great gillikens, this is as bad as gaper's gulch!"
"all the countries bordering on the deadly desert are queer no-count little places," sniffed the elegant elephant, angrily jerking his robe off a cactus. "and from the feel of the air, we must be near the desert now."
at mention of the deadly desert, randy lapsed into an uneasy silence, for how could they ever cross this tract of burning sand, and how could they reach ev or jinnicky's castles unless they did cross it? while this vast belt of destroying sand effectively kept enemies out of oz, it also kept the ozians in.
"if we only had some of jinnicky's magic or even his silver dinner bell to bring us a good breakfast!" sighed randy, glancing round hungrily. "pretty stupid of me not to have brought along a lunch, and there's not even a brook or stream in this miserable little patch of woods where a body could quench his thirst. maybe it will rain, and that would help a little."
"maybe," admitted kabumpo, squinting up at the leaden sky. "anyway, here we are out of the woods, but take a look at those rocks!"
"and those heads behind the rocks," whispered randy, clutching kabumpo's collar.
"there's something pretty odd about those heads, if you ask me," wheezed the elegant elephant, curling up his trunk. "odd or i'm losing my eye and ear sight."
"odd!" hissed randy, tightening his hold on kabumpo's collar. "good goats and gravy! they're flying round loose like birds. why, they've got no bodies on 'em, no bodies at all!"
"read the sign," directed kabumpo, uncurling his trunk and pointing to a crude warning scratched on a flat slab at the edge of the road leading to the rocky promontory above.
"heads up! this road leads to headland, nobody's allowed."
"humph! well, we won't make much headway without our bodies," grunted kabumpo, as randy read the message slowly to himself. "such impudence! why should we pay any attention to such stuff? bodies or not, we're going on, and how can fellows minus feet and arms hope to stop us?"
"they might crash down on us with their heads," worried randy, as an angry flock of headmen circled round and round at the top of the road, "and those heads look hard."
"not any harder than mine. keep your crown on, randy," advised kabumpo grimly, "the spikes will dent 'em good, and if you reach down in my left-hand pocket you'll find a short club. the club will be better than your sword; you can't cut a head off no neck and besides we don't really want to injure the pests. all ready? then here we go!"
randy did not answer, for hooking his heels through kabumpo's harness, he was already delving into the capacious pocket on the left side of the elegant elephant's robe, discovering not only a club, but a quiver full of darts. jerking himself upright, the club in one hand, the darts in the other, he peered aloft with growing anxiety as foot over foot kabumpo climbed up the granite slope. the faces of the headmen were round and deeply wrinkled from the hot winds blowing off the desert; their ears, huge and fan-shaped, flapped like wings, and like wings propelled them through the air. before kabumpo reached the top, a whole bevy came whizzing toward them, screaming out indignant threats and warnings.
"off, be off!" they shouted hysterically. "off with their arms, off with their legs, off with their bodies! halt! stop! begone, you miserable creepy crawly creatures. you dare not set a foot on our beautiful headland."
"oh, daren't we?" kabumpo shook his trunk belligerently. "and who is to stop us, pray?"
"i am," rasped the ugliest of the headmen. snatching a coil of wire from a niche in the rocks with his teeth, the ugly little mugly came flapping toward them. another of the headmen hastened to seize the opposite end of the wire in his teeth and, stretching it between them, they came rushing on.
"watch out!" warned randy, dropping flat between kabumpo's ears. "they're going to trip you up."
"wrong, how wrong," chattered all the headmen, bobbing up and down like balloons let off their strings. "they're going to cut off his body," confided one of the long-nosed tribesmen, zooming down to whisper this information in randy's ear. "the creature's head is welcome enough and with those enormous ears he'll have no trouble flying, but his body--oh, his body is awful and must stay behind. and your body, too, you little monster, we'll cut that off too," promised the headman in his oily voice. "what use is a body, anyway? i see you have very small ears, but they can be stretched. and just wait till you've been debodicated, you'll feel so right and light and flighty."
"help! stop! help! help!" screamed randy, as the ugly mugly gave him a playful nip on the ear. "back up, kabumpo, back down. they're going to catch you in that wire and choke you."
"pah! nonsense," panted the elegant elephant. and heaving himself up over the last barrier, he stepped confidently out on the rocky plateau.
"heads up! heads up!" shrilled the headmen, while the two with the wire, deftly encircling kabumpo's great neck, began to fly apart in order to draw the noose tighter. kabumpo ducked, but much too late, and though his ferocious trumpeting sent swarms of headmen fluttering aloft, the two holding the wire stuck to their task, pulling and jerking with all their teeth till kabumpo's jeweled collar was pressing uncomfortably into his throat.
"don't worry," he grunted gamely, "their teeth will give way before my neck does. calm yourself, my boy, ca--alm your--self."
but how could randy feel calm with his best friend in such a predicament and already beginning to gasp for breath? jumping up and down on kabumpo's back, he rattled his club valiantly, but the headmen were too high up for him to reach, and when at last he flung the club with all his strength at the one on the left, it seemed to make no impression at all on the hard head of the enemy. redoubling his efforts, he drew the wire tighter and tighter in his yellow teeth. in desperation, randy suddenly remembered the darts, and drawing one from the quiver, sent it speeding upward. the first missed, but as the elegant elephant began to sway and quiver beneath him, the second found its mark, striking the headman squarely in the middle of the forehead. an expression of surprise and dismay overspread his wrinkled features, and next instant, with a terrific yawn, he dropped the wire and fell headlong to the rocks, where he rolled over and over and over.
"great goopers!" exclaimed randy, hardly able to believe his luck. "why, he's not hurt at all, but has fallen asleep."
"watch the others, the--others!" gulped kabumpo, shaking his head in an effort to free it from the wire. already another had flown to take his fallen comrade's place, but before he could snatch the wire, randy brought him to earth with one of his sharply pointed darts. the next who ventured he shot down too, and as the rest of the band came swarming down to see what was happening, randy sent arrow after arrow winging into their midst till the flat, smooth rock was dotted with sleepy heads, for each one hit promptly fell asleep. though his arm ached and his heart thumped uncomfortably, randy did not even pause for breath till he had sent the last arrow into the air, and then quite suddenly he realized he had won this strange and ridiculous battle. more than half of the ear-men, as he could not help calling them to himself, lay snoring on the ground; the rest with terrified shrieks and whistles were flapping off as fast as their ears would carry them. now entirely free of the wire, but still trembling and gasping, kabumpo stared angrily after them.
"what i cannot understand," puffed randy, sliding to the ground to examine a group of the enemy, "is what put them to sleep? i thought your darts might hurt or head them off or puncture them like balloons, but instead--here they are asleep, and how asleep! shall i pull out the arrows? i might need them later."
"they're not my arrows," kabumpo said, wrinkling his forehead in a puzzled frown. "i didn't have any arrows, but ha, ha, kerumph!" the elegant elephant began to shake all over. "they must be gaper arrows--the wakes must have stuck them in my pocket when they fetched my robe and head-piece. pretty cute of the little rascals, at that. why, these must be the same arrows the winks shot at me, randy, but my hide was too tough for them and they didn't work."
"well, they certainly made short work of the headmen," said randy, turning one over gently with his foot. "goodness! i thought you'd be choked and done for, old fellow!"
"who, me? nonsense! my neck would have broken their teeth in another minute or two."
"well, then, shall i pull out the arrows?" asked randy, who had his own opinion about kabumpo's narrow escape. "we could use them again some time."
"no, no! leave them in! so long as those arrows stick fast the little villains will sleep fast and that's the only way i can stand 'em."
"but suppose the others fly back?" randy still hesitated.
"pooh! don't you worry about that." kabumpo raised his trunk scornfully. "they're frightened out of their wits and probably half way to the sapphire city by this time. and when they do come back, we won't be here."
"won't we?" dubiously randy began to pace across the bare and arid plateau. "i certainly don't think much of headland, do you?"
"i wouldn't have it for a gift, even if they threw in a tusk brush and diamond earrings besides!" snorted kabumpo. "why, it's nothing but a humpy bumpy acre of rock without a tree, a house, a bird or even a blade of grass. i'd give the whole country for a mouthful of hay or a bucketful of water!"
"we might find a spring among the rocks," proposed randy, hurrying along hopefully.
"more likely a fall," predicted kabumpo, trudging gloomily behind him. but just then, randy, who had vanished behind a sizable boulder, gave an excited whoop.
"hi, yi, kabumpo! we're here! we're here, right on the edge of it!" he shouted vociferously. "look!" the elegant elephant, pushing round the rock, did look, then, mopping his forehead with the tip of his robe, sank heavily to his haunches and for a moment neither said a word. for, truly enough, the jagged point of headland projected over the desert as a high cliff hangs over the sea. below, the seething sand smoked, churned and tumbled, sending up sulphurous waves of heat that made both travelers cough and splutter.
"so, all we have to do is cross," gasped randy, dashing the tears brought by the smoke out of his eyes.
"and a simple thing that will be," grunted the elegant elephant sarcastically, "seeing that one foot on the sand spells instant destruction. if we could just flap our ears like the headmen, we could fly across."
"but as we can't," sighed randy, seating himself despondently on a boulder. "what are we to do?"
"well, that remains to be seen," muttered kabumpo, who had not the faintest notion. "'never cross a deadly desert on an empty stomach,' is my motto, and i'm going to stick to it."
"sticking to mottoes won't get us anywhere," randy said, skimming a stone off the edge and watching with a little shudder as it was sucked down into the whirling sand. "doesn't that desert make you thirsty? goopers, if i had a dipperful of water i'd gladly do without the breakfast."
"humph! looks as if you might have that wish." feeling hurriedly in the right pocket of his robe, kabumpo dragged out a waterproof as large as a tent. "just spread this over me, will you?" he puffed anxiously. "storm coming. hear that thunder? storm coming."
"coming?" cried randy, springing up to help kabumpo with the buckles. "why, it's here." he had to raise his voice to a scream to make himself heard above the gale that, arising apparently from nowhere, struck them furiously from behind. he had just fastened the last strap of the waterproof to kabumpo's left ankle when the rain swept down in perfect torrents; rain, accompanied by hailstones as big as easter eggs. there was ample room for randy beneath the elegant elephant, and standing between his front legs the young monarch lifted the waterproof, and reaching out caught a huge hailstone in his hand. touching it against his parched lips, randy gave a sigh of content, then crunching it up rapturously, stuck out his head and let the pelting downpour cool his hot and dusty face.
"wonder if this will put out the desert?" he mused, ducking back as a terrible clap of thunder boomed like a cannon shot overhead. "say, it's a lucky thing you're so big, kabumpo," he called up cheerily, "or we'd be blown away. whee--listen to that wind, would you!"
"have to do more than listen," howled the elegant elephant, bracing his feet and lowering his head. "ahoy! below--catch hold of something, randy! help! hi! hold on! hold on! for the love of blue--mountains! here we go! here we blow! oooomph! bloomph! ker--ahhhhh!"
"oh, no, kabumpo! no!" leaping up, randy caught the elegant elephant's broad belt. "put on--the brakes! quick!" and kabumpo did try making a futile stand against the tearing wind. but the mighty gale, whistling under his waterproof filled it up and out like a balloon, and with a regular ferry-boat blast, kabumpo rose into the air and zoomed like a zeppelin over the deadly desert, while randy, hanging grimly to the strap of his belt, banged to and fro like the clapper on a bell.
remembering the deadly and destroying nature of the sands below, randy did not dare to look down. besides, holding on took all his strength and attention, for kabumpo was borne like a leaf before the howling gale, faster and faster and faster, till he and randy were too dazed and dizzy to know or care how far they had gone or where they were blowing to. which was perhaps just as well, for, as suddenly as it had risen, the gale abated and, coasting down the last high hill of the wind, saved from a serious crash only by his faithful tarpaulin, which now acted as a parachute, kabumpo came jolting to earth. with closed eyes and trunk held stiffly before him, the elegant elephant remained perfectly motionless awaiting destruction and wondering vaguely how it would feel. he was convinced that they had come down on the desert itself. then, as no fierce blasts of heat assailed him, he ventured to open one eye. randy, shaken loose by the force of the landing, had rolled to the ground a few feet away, and now, jumping to his feet, cried joyously:
"why, it's over, kabumpo--over, and so are we! ho! i never knew you could fly, old push-the-foot."
"neither did i," shuddered the elegant elephant, and jerking off the waterproof he flung it as hard and as far as he could.
"oh, don't do that!" randy dashed away to pick it up. "that good old coat saved our bacon and ballooned us across the desert as light as a couple of daisies."
"but we're no better off on this side than on the other," grumbled kabumpo, surveying the barren countryside with positive hatred. "not a house, a field, a farm or a castle in sight."
"the idea was to get away from castles, wasn't it?" randy grinned up at his huge friend and, folding the waterproof into a neat packet, tucked it back in its place.
"well, there's one thing about castles," observed the elegant elephant, giving his robe a quick tug here and there. "at least, the food's regular. i could eat a royal dinner from soup to napkins."
"give me a boost up that tree and i'll have a look around," proposed randy.
"need a spy-glass to find anything worth looking at in this country," complained kabumpo, lifting randy into the fork of a gnarled old tree. shinning expertly up the rough trunk, randy looked carefully in all directions.
"we certainly cleared the desert by a nice margin," he called down gaily. "it's at least a mile behind us, and toward the east i see a cluster of white towers that might be a castle."
"and nothing between," mourned kabumpo with a hungry swallow. "no fields, orchards or melon patches?"
"there are fields, but they're too far away for me to see what's growing, and there's a forest too. what country is this, kabumpo? do you know?"
"depends on how we blew," answered the elegant elephant, lifting randy out of the tree and tossing him lightly over his shoulder. "if we blew straight from headland, which is certainly the northwestern tip of the gilliken country of oz, we should be in no land. if we blew slantwise, this would be ix."
"then i hope we blew slantwise." randy spread himself out luxuriantly behind kabumpo's ears. "for if we are in ix, we have only one country to cross before we reach ev and jinnicky's castle."
"and the sooner we start, the sooner we'll arrive," agreed kabumpo, swinging into motion. "but if i drop in my tracks, boy, don't be too surprised. i'm hollow as a drum and weak as a violet."
"too bad we're not like the headmen," said randy, who felt dreadfully hollow himself. "without a body, i suppose one does not feel hungry. wonder what became of them, anyway?"
"who cares?" sniffed kabumpo, picking his way crossly through the rocks and brambles. "they probably blew about for a while, but with ears like sails, what's a gale of wind or weather? ho! what's that i see yonder, a farmer?"
"no, just a hat stuck on a pole to scare away the crows," randy told him after a careful squint. "but nothing grows in the field but rocks, so why do they bother?"
"did you say a 'hat'?" kabumpo's small eyes began to burn and twinkle, and breaking into a run he was across the field like a flash.
"kabumpo!" gasped randy, as the elegant elephant snatched the hat from the pole and took a huge bite from the brim. "surely, surely you're not going to eat that old hat?"
"why not?" demanded the elegant elephant, cramming the rest of the hat into his mouth and crunching it up with great gusto. "it's straw, isn't it? a little old and tough, to be sure, but nourishing, and anyway better than nothing!" almost strangling on the crown, kabumpo glanced sharply across the field, then looked apologetically back at his young rider. "great gooselberries," he muttered contritely, "i'm sorry as a goat. why, i never saved you even an edge!"
"oh, never mind," choked randy, holding his sides at the very idea of such a thing. "even if i were starving, i couldn't eat a hat. but look, old push-the-foot, isn't that a barn showing over the top of that hill?"
"barn!" wheezed kabumpo, lifting his trunk joyfully. "why, so it is! ho! this is something like!" and hiccoughing excitedly, from the effects of the hat, no doubt, kabumpo went galloping over the brow of the little hill.
a pleasant valley dotted with small farms stretched out below. randy was relieved to note that its inhabitants were usual-looking beings like himself. children rode gleefully on wagons piled high with hay. farmers in wide-brimmed yellow hats, rather like those worn by the winkies in oz, worked placidly in the fields. everyone seemed contented, calm and happy; that is, until kabumpo, delighted to find himself again in a land of plenty, came charging down the hill trumpeting like a whole band of music.
"oh, too bad, you've frightened them nearly out of their wits," mourned randy, hanging on to kabumpo's collar to keep his balance as the elegant elephant, forgetting his elegance, made a dash for the nearest hayrick.
"help hi--stop! now see what you've done!"
to tell the truth, the havoc ensuing was not all kabumpo's fault. no one in this tranquil valley of ix had ever seen an elephant before, and the sight of one rushing down upon them was so unnerving and strange they fled in every direction, leaping into barns and houses, and barring and double-barring the doors against this terrifying monster. horses hitched to their hay wagons cantered madly east and west, and the air was filled with loud shrieks, neighs and the bellows of stampeding cattle.
"such dummies!" panted kabumpo, coming to a complete standstill. "well," he gave a tremendous sniff, "if they don't want to meet a king, a prince and the most elegant elephant in oz, what do we care? i've invited myself to breakfast anyhow, and they can like it or kabump it. just wait till i load away one stack of this hay, my boy, and i'll find you a breakfast fit for a king and traveler."
and the elegant elephant was good as his word. after tossing down a great mound of new-mown hay, he swaggered over to the nearest farmhouse. pushing in the kitchen window with his trunk, he handed up to randy everything the little farmer's wife had on her kitchen table--a bowl of milk, a pat of butter, a loaf of bread, a cold half chicken and three hard-boiled eggs.
"do control yourself, madam," he advised, as the palpitating little lady flattened herself against the opposite wall. "these pearls will more than pay for your provisions."
afraid to touch the lovely chain kabumpo placed on the table, the little ixey watched with round eyes as kabumpo backed away.
"ho, i guess that will give her something to tell her grandchildren!" snorted the elegant elephant. randy was too busy taking rapturous bites, first of bread and then of chicken, to answer.
"why is it that everything tastes so much better when you are traveling?" he remarked a bit later, as he finished off the rest of the chicken and put the bread, butter and eggs away for his lunch.
"'cause we're hungrier, i suppose," smiled kabumpo, crossing another field, "and then, there's the novelty."
recalling the straw hat with a little chuckle, kabumpo winked back at his young rider.
"but now that we've breakfasted i think we'd better be moving. i see some of these farmers gathering up their courage and their pitchforks and i'm too full to fight."
"pooh! they couldn't hurt us," boasted randy, stretching out comfortably. "i rather wish they hadn't run off, though, i'd like to ask them something about the country, and you know, kabumpo--i've never ridden on a hay wagon in all my life and i'd sorta like to try it."
"that's the worst of being a king," observed kabumpo, walking carefully around a brown calf. "you miss a lot of the common and ordinary pleasures. hmm--mmn, let's see, now, all the horses have run off, but there's still a heap of hay about--so why shouldn't you have a ride?"
"without any wagon?" inquired randy, looking wistfully at the largest of the haystacks.
"why not?" puffed kabumpo, and lifting randy hurriedly down from his back, he rushed at the hayrick, burrowing into it with tusk, feet and trunk till he was in the exact center. then heaving up with his back and forward with his trunk, he pushed till his head stuck out the other side. "come on!" he grunted triumphantly. "you'll not only have your hay ride, but i'll have my lunch!"
throwing randy to the top of the load, the elegant elephant, looking far from elegant, set off at a lumbersome gallop, carrying the haystack right along with him. at sight of his prize hayrick apparently running away by itself, the outraged owner stuck his head out of the window and screamed. but that did not bother kabumpo. the load was but a feather's weight to him, and with the young king of regalia dancing and yelling on the top, he swept merrily through the startled valley.
those at the lower end who had not seen kabumpo arrive, now catching sight of a load of hay moving off by itself, simply fell against fences and barn doors, blinking and gulping with astonishment, too stunned and shocked to return the gay greetings of the nonchalant young gilliken riding the load. kabumpo, sampling stray wisps as he ran and peering out comically from under the hay, enjoyed to the utmost the sensation he was causing.
"make a wish, my boy," he shouted exuberantly. "it's awfully lucky to wish on the first load of hay."
"then i wish we would reach the red jinn's castle before night," decided randy. "and wouldn't jinnicky laugh if he could see us now? did you leave a pearl for the hay, kabumpo?"
"certainly," retorted the elephant, speaking rather stuffily through the haystack. "we're travelers, not thieves. hi! what's ahead, my lad? this load has shifted a bit over my left eye and i can scarcely see out of my right."
"a dry river bed," called randy, bouncing up and down with the keenest enjoyment. "go slow, old push-the-foot, or you'll lose your lunch."
"not on your life!" puffed the elegant elephant. "i'll stop and eat it first. ho--"
"hay foot, straw foot, any foot will do, down the bank and up the bank, and now, how is the view?"
"elegant," breathed randy, grinning to himself at kabumpo's verses. "more fields--meadows--forests, everything!"
"but even so, i smell sulphur!" kabumpo moved his trunk slowly from side to side. "something's burning, my lad, and close at hand, too."
"why, it's a horse!" randy's voice cracked from the sheer shock of the thing. "and coming straight for us, too. wait! stop! hold on! no, maybe you'd better run. great gillikens, it's smoking!"
"a pipe?" inquired kabumpo, trying to see through the fringe of hay that was obscuring his vision. "and what if it is? am i, the elegant elephant of oz, to run from a mere and miserable equine?"
"but this horse," squealed randy, sliding head first off the haystack, "this horse is different. oh, really, really, kabumpo, i think we'd better run."
"never!" pushing the hay off his forehead with his trunk, kabumpo looked fiercely out, then, with a start that dislodged half the load, he began backing off as rapidly as he could, dragging randy along by the tail of his coat.
even so, kabumpo was not fast enough, and as the immense black charger with its tail and mane curling like smoke, its fiery nostrils flashing flames a foot long, came galloping upon them, randy flung himself face down on the ground to escape its burning breath. the most terrifying thing about the black steed was the complete silentness of its coming. its metal-shod feet struck the earth without making a sound, giving kabumpo such a sense of unreality he could not believe it was true, nor move another step. in consequence, as the enormous animal swirled to a halt before him, a dozen darting flames from its nostrils set fire to the load of hay on his back, enveloping him in a hot and exceedingly dangerous bonfire.
now thoroughly aroused, kabumpo leapt this way and that, and randy, unmindful of his own danger, jumped up and tried to beat out the fire with his cloak. but the hay blazed and crackled and the elegant elephant would certainly have been roasted like a potato, had he not reared up on his hind legs and let the whole burning burden slide from his back. scorched and infuriated, his royal robes burned and blackened, kabumpo backed into a handy brook and sat down, from which position he glared with positive hatred at his prancing adversary. but a complete change had come over this strange and unbelievable steed; his nostrils no longer spurted flames and as randy plumped down beside kabumpo, deciding this was the safest spot for both of them, the lordly creature dropped to its knees and touched its forehead three times to the earth.
"away, away! you big meddlesome menace!" panted the elegant elephant, throwing up his trunk. "begone, you good-for-nothing hay burner!"
"but, kabumpo," pleaded randy, as the horse, paying no attention to the elegant elephant's angry screeches, began throwing little puffs of red smoke into the air, "he's trying to give us a message. look!"
"hail and salutations!" the words floated out smoothly and ranged themselves in a neat line. "i hereby acknowledge you as my master! i can flash fire from the eye, the nose and the mouth; but you--you flash fire from the whole body! hail and salutations from thun, the thunder colt. yonder rests my mistress planetty, princess of anuther planet! who are you, great-and-much-to-be-envied spurter of fire?"
"sky writing!" gasped randy. "oh, kabumpo, how're we going to answer? he did not hear your scolding. i don't believe he can hear at all. fire spurter! ho, ho! and how are you going to keep up that reputation?"
"i'm not!" grunted kabumpo, but in a much less savage voice, for he was almost completely won over by the thunder colt's flattery. "hmmm-hhh, let me see, now, couldn't we signal to the silly brute? there he stands looking up in the air for an answer."
"well," randy said, "with your trunk and my arms we could form any number of letters, so--"
"this is kabumpo, elegant elephant of oz. i am randy, king of regalia."
with infinite pains and patience the two spelled out the message. puzzled at first, then seeming to understand, thun's clear yellow eyes snapped and twinkled with interest. tossing his smoky mane, he puffed a single word into the air. "come!" then away he flashed at his noiseless gallop.
"shall we?" cried randy, jumping out of the creek, for he was curious to know more about the thunder colt and to meet the princess of anuther planet. "are you cooled off? did the water put you out?"
"oh, i'm put out all right," grumbled kabumpo, lurching up the bank. "very put out and in splendid shape to meet a princess, i must say."
"come on, you don't look so bad," urged randy, tugging impatiently at his tusk, while kabumpo himself endeavored to wring the water out of his robe with his trunk. "even without any trappings or jewels at all, you'd stand out in any company. there's nobody bigger or handsomer than you, kabumpo! know it?"
"hah!" the elegant elephant let go his robe and gave randy a quick embrace. "then what are we waiting for, little braggerwagger?"
tossing the young monarch lightly over his shoulder, the elegant elephant started after the thunder colt, moving almost as smoothly and silently as thun himself. without one look behind, thun had disappeared into a green forest, and how cool and delicious it seemed to randy and kabumpo after the dry desert lands they had been traversing. flashing in and out between the tall trees, the thunder colt led them to an ancient oak, set by itself in a little clearing. here, leaning thoughtfully against the bole of the tree, stood the little princess of anuther planet.
kabumpo, recognizing royalty at once when he saw it, lifted his trunk in a grave and dignified salute. randy bowed, but in such a daze of surprise and admiration he scarcely knew he was bowing. the small figure under the oak was strange and beautiful beyond description, giving an impression both of strength and delicacy. planetty was fashioned of tiny meshed links, fine as the chain mail worn by medieval knights, of a metal that resembled silver, but which at the same time was iridescent and sparkling as glass. yet the princess of anuther planet was live and soft as randy's own flesh-and-bone self. her eyes were clear and yellow like thun's; her hair, a cascade of gossamer net, sprayed out over her shoulders and fell half-way to her feet. planetty's garments, trim and shaped to her figure, were of some veil-like net, and, floating from her shoulders, was a cloak of larger meshed metal thread almost like a fisherman's net.
"highnesses, highness! oh, very high highnesses!" prancing lightly before her, thun puffed his announcement importantly into the air. "here you see kabumpty, nelegant nelephant of noz, and sandy, king of segalia."
"oh, my goodness! he has us all mixed up," worried randy in a whispered aside to kabumpo, whose ears had gone straight back at the dreadful name thun had fastened upon him.
"never mind, i too am mixed up. everything down here is too perfectly lettling."
"oh, you can speak?" leaning forward, randy gazed delightedly down at the little metal maiden. he had been afraid at first she would use the same sky-writing talk as thun.
"but surely," smiled planetty, each word striking the air with the distinctness of a silver bell, so that randy was almost as interested in the tune as in the sense. "only the creature folk on anuther planet are without power of speech or sound making. they must go soft and silently. that is the lenith law."
"and a good law, too," observed kabumpo, looking resentfully up at the thunder colt's fading message. "permit me to introduce myself again. your highness, i am kabumpo, elegant elephant of oz, and this is randy, king of regalia, which is also in oz."
"oz?" marveled planetty, lifting her spear-like silver staff, whose tip, ending in three metal links, fascinated randy. "is this, then, the planet of oz? and what are those, and these, and this?" in rapid succession the little princess touched a cluster of violets growing round the base of the oak, a moss-covered rock and the tall tree itself.
"why, flowers, rocks and a tree," laughed randy. "surely you must have flowers, trees and rocks on anuther planet."
"no, no, nothing like this--all these colors and shapes. everything on my planet is flat and greyling." the metal maiden raised her hands, as she searched for the right words to explain anuther planet. "it is all so different with us," she confessed, dropping her arms to her side. "yonder, we have zonitors; not trees, but tall shafts of metal to which we fasten our nets when we sleep or rest. underfoot we have network of various sizes and thicknesses with here and there sprays of vanadium. in our vanadium springs we freshen and renew ourselves, and without them we stiffen and cease to move."
with one finger pressed to his forehead, randy tried to visualize planetty's strange greyling world, but kabumpo, ever more practical, inquired sharply:
"and how often must you refresh and renew yourselves, princess?"
"every sonestor in the earling," answered the princess with a bright nod.
thun, tiring of a conversation he could not hear, had cantered off to investigate a rabbit, and randy, sliding to the ground, came over to stand nearer to this strange little princess.
"kabumpo and i do not understand all those words," he told her gently. "'sonestor--earling'--what do they mean?"
"why, a sonestor," trilled planetty, throwing back her head and showing all of her tiny silver teeth, "is one dark, one light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, one dark, one light, and earling is when you waken from ret."
"help!" shuddered kabumpo shaking his ears as if he had a bee in them.
"i know what she means," crowed randy, snapping his fingers gleefully. "a sonestor on anuther planet is the same as a week here; all those lights and darks are days, and earling is the morning and ret is rest!"
"then, do you realize," worried kabumpo, as planetty looked questioningly from one to the other, "that if this little lady and her colt are separated from their vanadium springs for a week, they will become stiff, motionless statues? and that--" the elegant elephant looked the pretty little princess first up and then down. "that would be a great pity! we must help them back to anuther planet as soon as we can, my boy."
"yes, yes, that is what you must do," planetty clapped her small silvery hands and blew a kiss to the elephant. "if thun had just not jumped on that thunderbolt!"
"jumped on a thunderbolt, did he?" a reluctant admiration crept into kabumpo's voice. the princess nodded so emphatically her long, lovely hair danced and shimmered round her face like a cloud shot with starlight.
"you see," she went on gravely, "we were on our way to a zorodell." kabumpo and randy exchanged startled glances, but, realizing there would be many odd words in planetty's language, did not interrupt her. "and half-way there," continued planetty calmly, "a dreadful storm overtook us. a bright flash of lightning frightened thun, and though i signaled for him to stop, he sprang right up on a huge glowing thunderbolt that had fallen across the netway, and it fell and fell and fell--bringing us to where we now are."
"well, that's one way of going places," commented kabumpo, swinging his trunk from side to side.
"but how can we find anuther planet when none of us fly?" demanded randy anxiously. "it must be miles above this country, for think how fast and far thunderbolts fall when they fall."
"now you've forgotten the red jinn," boomed kabumpo, winking meaningly at the young king, for at randy's words the little princess had covered her face with her hands and three yellow jewels had trickled through her fingers. "jinnicky can help planetty and thun go any place they wish," insisted kabumpo in his loud challenging bass. "come, princess, summon your fire-breathing steed, and we will travel on to the most powerful wizard in ev."
"ev? wizard? oh, how gay it all sounds." planetty's voice rang out merrily as christmas bells. with a lively skip she tapped her staff three times on the ground, and thun, though out of sight, came instantly bounding back to his little mistress. vaulting easily upon his back, the princess of anuther planet lifted her staff, and kabumpo, picking up randy, started away like a whole conquering army.
"is there any way you can signal to your mount to trot ahead?" inquired kabumpo, looking down sideways at the thunder colt, whose breath was blowing hot and uncomfortable against his side. "let thun be the vanguard," he suggested craftily. "when i trumpet once, turn him left; at two, turn right; at three, he must halt."
"oh, fine," approved planetty, tapping out the message with her heel on the thunder colt's flank. "that will be simply delishicus."
thun evidently agreed with her, for, tossing his smoky mane, he cantered to a position just ahead of the elegant elephant, at which kabumpo heaved a huge sigh of relief. he did not wish to hurt thun's feelings, neither did he wish to catch fire again.
"here travel thun, the thunder colt, planetty, princess of anuther planet; kabumpty of noz; and slandy, king of segalia! give way, all ye comers and goers, and arouse me not, for i am a seething mass of molten metal!"
"is he really?" marveled randy, gazing up at the fiery message floating like a banner over their heads. planetty nodded absently, her interest so taken up with the wild flowers below, the blue sky above, and the wide-armed, lacy-leafed trees of this ancient forest she could not bear to turn her head for fear of missing something. on her own far-away metal planet, skies were grey and leaden, and the various levels of slate and silver strata arranged in stiff and net-like patterns. the gay colors of this bright new world simply delighted her, and randy and kabumpo she considered beings of rare and singular beauty. the word she used to herself when she thought of them was "netiful," which is anuther way of saying beautiful.
"a wonder that high-talking thomas couldn't get a name straight once in a while!" complained kabumpo out of one corner of his mouth, as thun's sentence spiraled away in thin pink smoke.
"oh, what difference does it make?" laughed randy. "i think 'kabumpty' is real cute."
"cute!" raged the elegant elephant with such a fierce blast planetty promptly turned thun to the left.
"now see what you've done," snickered randy, giving kabumpo's ear a mischievous tweak. "they think you want them to go left."
"as a matter of fact, i do," snapped kabumpo grumpily. "we must go east through ix and then north to ev."
"puzzling and more puzzling," murmured planetty, looking round at the elegant elephant. "where are all these curious places, bumpo dear? i thought all the time we were in noz. did you not tell us you were the big bumpo of noz?"
randy peered rather anxiously over kabumpo's ear to see how he was taking this second nickname, but he need not have worried. the "dear bumpo," spoken in the metal maid's ringing tones, fell like a charm on kabumpo's ruffled feelings. and, fairly oozing complacency and importance, he began to explain his own and randy's real names and countries, hoping planetty would straighten them out in her own head, if not in thun's.
"you are right," he started off sonorously. "randy and i both live in the land of oz, a great oblong country entirely surrounded by a desert of burning sand. but in oz there are many, many kingdoms: first of all, the four large realms, the gilliken country of the north, the quadling country of the south, the empire of the winkies in the east, and the land of the munchkins in the west. each of these kingdoms has its own sovereign; but all are under the supreme rule of ozma, a fairy princess as lovely as your own small self, and ozma lives in an emerald city in the exact center of oz."
kabumpo paused impressively while planetty's eyes twinkled merrily at his delicate flattery. "now randy and i hail from the north gilliken country of oz," proceeded the elegant elephant, moving along as he spoke in a grand and leisurely manner. "i come from the kingdom of pumperdink, and randy from the regal little realm of regalia. only yesterday i arrived in regalia to visit randy, and we are now on our way to the castle of the red jinn, as i think i told you before. if we were in oz, my dear--" kabumpo rather lingered over the "dear"--"ozma and her clever assistant, the wizard of oz, would quickly transport you to anuther planet with the magic belt. but, you see, we are not in oz, for the same storm that overtook you and thun overtook us, and hurled us across the deadly desert to this kingdom of ix, where we all now find ourselves. fortunately, too, for otherwise we might never have met a princess from anuther planet."
the little princess nodded in bright agreement.
"so--" continued kabumpo, picking a huge tiger-lily and holding it out to her, "as it is too difficult to travel back to the emerald city of oz, we will take you with us to the wizard of ev, whose castle is on the nonestic ocean in the country adjoining ix."
"and a wizard is what?" planetty turned almost completely round on her black charger, smiling teasingly over the tiger-lily at kabumpo.
"why, a wizard--er--a wizard--" the elegant elephant fumbled a bit trying to find the right words to explain.
"a wizard is a person who can do by magic what other people cannot do at all," finished randy neatly.
"magic?" planetty still looked puzzled.
"oh, never mind all the words," comforted kabumpo, flapping his ears good naturedly, "you'll soon see for yourself what they all mean, and i'm sure jinnicky will be charmed to do his best tricks for you and send you back in fine and proper style to your own planet."
"yes, jinnicky can do almost anything," boasted randy, taking off his crown and setting it back very much atilt, "and he's good fun too. you'll like jinnicky."
"as much as big bumpo?" planetty rolled her soft eyes fondly back at the elegant elephant, and randy, feeling an unaccountable twinge of jealousy, wished she would look at him that way.
"oh, maybe not so much as kabumpo; of course, there's nobody like him--but pretty much as much," declared the young king loyally.
"but i like everything down here," decided planetty, leaning forward to tickle thun's ear with the lily. "it's all so nite and netiful."
"so now we know what we are," whispered randy under his breath to kabumpo. "and wait till jinnicky sees us traveling with a fire-breathing thunder colt and the princess of anuther planet. oh, don't we meet important people on our journeys, kabumpo?"
"well, don't they meet us?" murmured the elegant elephant, increasing his speed a little to keep up with thun. "though i wouldn't call this colt important myself. how is he any better than an ordinary horse? his breath is hot and dangerous, and it's not much fun traveling with a deaf and dumb brute who burns everything he breathes on."
"oh, he's not so dumb," observed randy. "look at the way he leaped over that fallen log just now, and think how useful he'll be at night to blaze a trail and light the camp fires."
"hadn't thought of that," admitted kabumpo grudgingly. "i guess he would show up pretty well in the dark, and i suppose that does make him trail blazer and lighter of the fires for this particular expedition. ho, ho! kerumph! and between you and me and the desert, this expedition had better move pretty fast and not stop for sightseeing. suppose these two nuthers had that vanadium shower at the beginning of the week instead of the middle, that would give them only about two more days to go? great goosefeathers! i'd hate to have 'em stiffen up on us half-way to jinnicky's. i might carry the princess, but what would we do with the colt?"
"let's not even think of it," begged randy with a little shudder. "great goopers! kabumpo, i hope jinnicky will be at home and his magic in good working order and powerful enough to send them back or keep them here if they decide to stay."
"if they decide to stay?" kabumpo looked sharply back at his young rider. "why should they?"
"well, planetty said she liked it down here, you heard her yourself a moment ago, and i thought maybe--" randy's face grew rosy with embarrassment.
"ha, ha! so that's the way the wind lies!" kabumpo chuckled soundlessly. "well, i wouldn't count on it, my lad," he called up softly. "she probably has some nite planetty prince waiting for her up yonder, and will fly away without so much as a backward glance. and as for jinnicky being at home--why shouldn't he be at home? and as for his magic not being powerful enough--why shouldn't it be powerful enough? he was in fine shape and form when i saw him in the emerald city three years ago. by the way, why weren't you at that grand celebration? i understood ozma invited all the rulers of the realm."
"uncle hoochafoo did not want me to leave," sighed randy. "he thinks a king's place is in his castle."
"i wonder what he thinks now?" said kabumpo, trumpeting three times, for thun was racing along too far ahead of them.
"probably has all the wise men and guards running in circles to find me," giggled randy, immediately restored to good humor. "and say, when i do get back, old push-the-foot, i'm going to be king and everything will be very different and gay. yes, there'll be a lot of changes in regalia," he decided, shaking his head positively. "why, all those dull receptions and reviewings would tire a visitor to tears."
"ho, ho! so you're still expecting her to visit you?" waving his trunk, kabumpo called out in a louder voice. "not so fast there, princess; hold thun back a bit. we might run into danger and we should all keep together on a journey. besides," kabumpo cleared his throat apologetically, "randy and i must stop for a bite to eat."
planetty's eyes widened, as they always did at strange words and customs, but she tugged obediently at thun's mane and the thunder colt came to an instant halt. randy himself tried to coax the little princess to eat something, but she was so upset and puzzled by the idea, he finally desisted and tried to share his bread and eggs with kabumpo. but the elegant elephant generously refused a morsel, knowing randy had little enough for himself, and lunched as best he could from the shoots of young trees and saplings. thun was so interested when kabumpo quenched his thirst at a small spring that he too thrust his head into the bubbling waters, but withdrew it instantly and with such an expression of pain and distress randy concluded that water hurt the thunder colt as much as fire hurt them. he was quite worried till the flames began to spurt from thun's nostrils, for he was afraid the water might have put out thun's fire and hastened the time when he should lose all power of life and motion.
"do you do this often?" inquired planetty, as randy tucked what was left into one of kabumpo's small pockets.
"eat?" randy laughed in spite of himself. "oh, about three times a day--or light," he corrected himself hastily, remembering planetty had so designated the daytime. "i suppose that vanadium spray or shower keeps you and thun going, the way food does kabumpo and me?"
planetty nodded dreamily, then, seeing kabumpo was ready to start, she tapped thun with her silver heels and away streaked the thunder colt, kabumpo swinging along at a grand gallop behind him.
"strange we have not passed any woodsmen's huts, nor seen any wild animals," called randy, jamming his crown down a little tighter to keep it from sailing off. "hi! watch out, there old push-a-foot! there's a wall ahead stretching away on all sides and going up higher than higher. what's a wall doing in a forest? perhaps it shuts in the private shooting preserve of queen zixie herself. say--ay--i'd like to meet the queen of this country, wouldn't you?"
"no time, no time," puffed the elegant elephant, giving three short trumpets to warn planetty to halt thun. "great grump! whoever built this wall wanted to shut out everything, even the sky. can't even get a squint of the top, can you?"
"is this the great kingdom of ev?" asked planetty, who had pulled thun up short and was looking at the wooden wall with lively interest.
"no, no, we're not nearly to ev." the elegant elephant shook his head impatiently. "back of this wall lives someone who dotes on privacy, i take it, or why should he shut himself in and everyone else out? now, then, shall we cruise round or knock a hole in the wood? i don't see any door, do you, randy?"
"no, i don't." standing on the elephant's back, randy examined the wall with great care. "why, it goes for miles," he groaned dolefully. "miles!"
"then we'll just bump through." backing off, kabumpo lowered his head and was about to lunge forward when randy gave his ear a sharp tweak.
"look!" he directed breathlessly. "look!" while they had been talking, thun had been sniffing curiously at the wooden wall and now a whole round section of it was blazing merrily. "hurray! he's burned a hole big enough for us all to go through," yelled the young king gleefully. "come on!"
vexed to think the thunder colt had solved the difficulty so easily, and worried lest the whole wall should catch fire, kabumpo signaled for planetty to precede him. but he need not have worried about thun's firing the wall. the thunder colt had burned as neat a hole in the boards as a cigarette burns in paper, and while the edges glowed a bit, they soon smouldered out, leaving a huge circular opening. so, without further delay, kabumpo stepped through, only to find himself facing the most curious company he had seen in the whole course of his travels.
"why! why, they're all in boxes!" breathed randy, as a group with upraised and boxed fists advanced upon the newcomers.
"chillywalla! chillywalla!" yelled the boxers, their voices coming muffled and strange through the hat-boxes they wore on their heads.
"chillywalla, chillywalla, chillywalla!" echoed planetty, waving cheerfully at the oncoming host.
"shh-hh, pss-st, princess, that may be a war cry," warned randy, drawing his sword and swinging it so swiftly round his head it whistled. thun, too astonished to move a step, stood with lowered head, his flaming breath darting harmlessly into the moist floor of the forest.
"chillywalla! chillywalla! chillywalla!" roared the boxers, keeping a safe distance from kabumpo's lashing trunk. "chillywalla! chillywalla!" their voices rose loud and imploring. as randy slid off the elegant elephant's back to place himself beside planetty, a perfectly enormous boxer came clumping out of the box wood to the left.
"yes! yes?" he grunted, holding on his hat-box as he ran. when he caught sight of the travelers, he stopped short, and, not satisfied with peering through the eyeholes in his hat-box, took it off altogether and stood staring at them, his square eyes almost popping from his square head. "box their ears, box their ears! box their heads and arms and rears! box their legs, their hands and chests, box that fire plug 'fore all the rest! an iron box!" screamed chillywalla, as thun, with a soundless snort, sent a shower of sparks into a candy box bush, toasting all the marshmallows in the boxes. "oh, aren't you afraid to go about in this barebacked, barefaced, unboxed condition?" he panted, "exposed to the awful dangers of the raw outer air?"
chillywalla hastily clapped on his hat box, but not before randy noticed that his ears were nicely boxed, too. without waiting for an answer to his question, the boxer, with one shove of his enormous boxed fist, pushed thun under a box tree. planetty had just time to leap from his back when chillywalla shook a huge iron box loose and it came clanking down over the thunder colt. it was open at the bottom, and thun, kicking and rearing underneath, jerked it east and west.
"he'll soon grow used to it," muttered chillywalla, jabbing a dozen holes in the metal with a sharp pick he had drawn from a pocket in his box coat. "now, then, who's next? ah! what a lovely lady!" chillywalla gazed rapturously at the princess from anuther planet, then clapping his hands, called sharply: "bring the jewel boxes for her ears, flower boxes for herself, a bonnet box for her head, candy boxes for her hands, slipper boxes for those tiny silver feet. bring stocking boxes, glove boxes, and hurry! hurry!"
"oh, please!" randy put himself firmly between planetty and the determined chillywalla. "the outer air does not hurt us at all, mister chillywalla; in fact, we like it!"
"just try to find a box big enough for me!" invited kabumpo, snatching up the little princess and setting her high on his shoulder.
"i think i have a packing box that would just fit," mused the chief boxer, folding his arms and looking sideways at the elegant elephant.
"pack him up, pack him off, send him packing!" chattered the other boxers, who had never seen anything like kabumpo in their lives and distrusted him highly. but chillywalla himself was quite interested in his singular visitors and inclined to be more than friendly.
"better try our boxes," he urged seriously, as he took the pile of bright cardboard containers an assistant had brought him. "without bragging, i can say that they are the best boxes grown--stylish, nicely fitting and decidedly comfortable to wear."
"ha, ha!" rumbled kabumpo, rocking backward and forward at the very idea. "mean to tell me you wear boxes over your other clothes and everywhere you go?"
"certainly." chillywalla nodded vigorously. "do you suppose we want to stand around and disintegrate? what happens to articles after they are taken out of their boxes?" he demanded argumentatively. "tell me that."
"why," said randy, thoughtfully, "they're worn, or sold, or eaten, or spoiled--"
"exactly." chillywalla snapped him up quickly. "they are worn out; they lose their freshness and their newness. well, we intend to save ourselves from such a fate, and we do," he added complacently.
"you're certainly fresh enough," chuckled kabumpo with a wink at randy.
"but might not these boxes be fun to wear?" inquired planetty, looking rather wistfully at the bright heap the boxer chief had intended for her.
"no, no and no!" rumbled kabumpo positively. "no boxes!"
"as you wish." chillywalla shrugged his shoulders under his cardboard clothes box. "shall i unbox the horse?"
"better not," decided randy, looking anxiously at the sparks issuing from the punctures in thun's box. "but perhaps you would show us the way through this--this--"
"box wood," finished chillywalla. "yes, i will be most honored to conduct you through our forest. and you may pick as many boxes as you wish, too," he added generously. "i'd like to do something for people who are so soon to spoil and wither."
"ha, ha! now, i'm sure that's very kind of you," roared kabumpo, wiping his eyes on the fringe of his robe. "and i think it best we hurry along, my good fellow. ho, whither away? it would never do to have a spoiled king and princess and a bad horse and elephant on your hands."
"oh, if you'd only wear our boxes!" begged chillywalla, almost ready to cry at the prospect of his visitors spoiling on the premises. then as kabumpo shook his head again, the big boxer started off at a rapid shuffle, anxious to have them out of the woods as soon as possible. thun, during all this conversation, had been kicking and bucking under his iron box, but now planetty tapped out a reassuring message with her staff and the thunder colt quieted down. on the whole, he behaved rather well, following the signals his little mistress tapped out, and pushing the iron box along without too much discomfort or complaint, though occasional indignant and fiery protests came puffing out of his iron container.
randy considered the journey through the box wood one of their gayest and most entertaining adventures. the woodmen, in their brightly decorated boxes, shuffled cheerfully along beside them, stopping now and then to point with pride to their square box-like dwellings set at regular intervals under the spreading boxwood trees. the whole forest was covered by an enormous wooden box that shut out the sky and gave everything an artificial and unreal look. it was in one side of this monster box that thun had burned the hole to admit them. randy and planetty, riding sociably together on kabumpo's back, picked boxes from branches of all the trees they could reach, and it was such fun and so exciting they paid scarcely any attention to the remarks of chillywalla. even the elegant elephant snapped off a box or two and handed them back to his royal riders.
"oh, look!" exulted randy, opening a bright blue cardboard box. "this is just full of chocolate candy."
"oh, throw that trash away," advised chillywalla contemptuously. "we think nothing of the stuff that grows inside, it's the boxes themselves we are after."
"but this candy is good," objected randy after sampling several pieces. "and mind you, kabumpo, planetty has just picked a jewel box full of real chains, rings and bracelets."
"oh, they are netiful, netiful," crooned the princess of anuther planet, hugging the velvet jewel box to her breast.
"keep them if you wish," sniffed chillywalla, "but they're just rubbish to us. when we pick boxes we toss the contents away."
"now, that's plain foolishness," snorted kabumpo, aghast at such a waste, as randy picked a pencil box full of neatly sharpened pencils and planetty a tidy sewing kit fitted out with scissors, needles and spools of thread. the thimble was not quite ripe, but as planetty had never stitched a stitch in her royal life, she did not notice nor care about that. indeed, before they came to the other side of the box wood, she and randy were sitting in the midst of a high heap of their treasures, and kabumpo looked as if he were making a lengthy safari, loaded up and down for the journey.
randy had stuffed most of the boxes into big net bags kabumpo always brought along for emergencies, and these he tied to the elegant elephant's harness. there were bread boxes packed with tiny loaves and biscuits, cake boxes stuffed with sugar buns and cookies, stamp boxes, flower boxes, glove boxes, coat and suit boxes. last of all, randy picked a band box and it played such gay tunes when he lifted the lid, planetty clapped her silver hands, and even kabumpo began to hum under his breath. traveling through the box wood with kind-hearted chillywalla was more like a surprise party than anything else. to planetty it was all so delightful, she began to wonder how she had ever been satisfied with her life on anuther planet.
"are all the countries down here as different and happy as this?" she asked, fingering the necklace she had taken from the jewel box. "all our countries are greyling and sad. no birds sing, no flowers grow, and people are all the same."
"oh, just wait till you've been to oz," exclaimed randy, shutting the band box so he could talk better. "oz countries are even more surprising than this, and wait till you've seen ev and jinnicky's red glass castle!"
"you'll never reach it," predicted chillywalla, shaking his hat box gloomily. "you'll spoil in a few hours now, especially the big one, loaded down with all that stuff and rubbish. throw it away," he begged again, looking so sorrowful randy was afraid he was going to burst out crying. "toss out that rubbish and wear our boxes before it is too late!"
"rubbish!" randy shook his finger reprovingly at the boxer. "why, all these things are terribly nice and useful. if we go through enemy countries, we can placate the natives with cakes and cigars, and if we go through friendly countries, we'll use the suits and flowers and candy for gifts. really, you've been a great help to us, mr. chillywalla, and if you ever come to regalia, you may have anything in my castle you wish!"
"are there any boxes in your castle?" chillywalla peered up at randy through the slits in his hat box.
"not many," admitted randy truthfully. "you see, in my country we keep the contents and throw the boxes away."
"throw the boxes away!" gasped chillywalla, jumping three times into the air. "oh, you rogues! you rascals! you--you boxibals! lefters! righters! boxers all! here! here at once! have at these box-destroying savages!"
"now see what you've done," mourned kabumpo, as hundreds of the boxers, heeding chillywalla's call, darted out of their dwellings and came leaping from behind the box bushes and trees. "you've started a war! that's what!"
"box them! box them good!" shrieked chillywalla, raining harmless blows on kabumpo's trunk with his boxed fists. a hundred more boxed both thun and the elegant elephant from the rear, and so loud and angry were their cries planetty covered her ears.
"too bad we have to leave when everything was so pleasant," wheezed kabumpo. "but never mind, here's the other side of the box wood. flatten out, youngsters, and i'll bump through."
and bump through he did, with such a splintering of boards it sounded like an explosion of cannon crackers. thun, at three taps from planetty, bumped after him, and before the boxers realized what was happening they were far away from there.
"i'll soon have that box off you!" panted kabumpo. and putting his trunk under thun's iron box, he heaved it up in short order, screaming shrilly as he did, for the thunder colt's breath had made the metal uncomfortably hot.
"i thank you, great and mighty master!" thun sent the words up in a perfect shower of sparks. "let us begone from these noxious boxers."
"oh, they're not so bad," mused randy, as planetty signaled for thun to go left. "just peculiar. imagine keeping the boxes and throwing away all the lovely things inside. and imagine a country where everything grows in boxes!" he added, standing up to wave at chillywalla and his square-headed comrades, who were looking angrily through the break in the side of their wall.
"good-bye!" he called clearly. "good-bye, chillywalla, and thanks for the presents!"
"boxibals!" hissed the boxer chief and his men, shaking their fists furiously at the departing visitors.
"and that makes us no better than cannibals, i suppose," grunted kabumpo, looking rather wearily at the stretch of forest ahead. he had rather hoped to find himself in open country.
all afternoon the four travelers moved through the ixian forest, planetty exclaiming over the flowers, ferns and bright birds that flitted from tree to tree, thun sending up frequent high-flown sentences, kabumpo and randy looking rather anxiously for some landmark that would prove they were on the road to ev. as it grew darker the elegant elephant wisely decided to make camp, stopping in a small, tidy clearing for that purpose. as kabumpo swung to an impressive halt, randy slid to the ground, pulling the net bags with him, and began to sort out the boxes containing food. then he quickly gathered some faggots for a fire, as the night was raw and chilly, and had planetty signal thun to breathe on the wood. thun, only too happy to be of some use, quickly lighted the camp fire and he and the little princess watched curiously while randy prepared his own and kabumpo's supper, making coffee in a tin box with some water kabumpo had fetched in his collapsible canvas bucket. the elegant elephant did rather well with the contents of seven cake boxes and four bread and cereal containers, and randy found so many good things to eat among chillywalla's presents he felt sorry not to be able to share them with planetty or thun.
"it would be more fun if you ate too," he observed, looking down sideways at the little princess, who was sitting on a boulder, hands clasped about her knees, while she gazed contentedly up at the stars.
"would it?" planetty smiled faintly, tapping her silver heels against the rock. "this seems nite enough," she sighed, stretching up her arms luxuriantly, "but now it is time to ret."
slipping off her long metal cape, the princess of anuther planet tossed one end against a white birch and the other to a tall pine. to randy's surprise the ends of the cape instantly attached themselves to the trees, making a soft flexible hammock. into this planetty climbed with utmost ease and satisfaction.
"good net, randy and big bumpo, dear," she called softly. "take care of thun. i've told him to stay where he is till the earling, and he will, he will."
with a smile planetty closed her bright eyes and the wind swaying her silver hammock soon rocked her to sleep. it had been a long day and randy felt very drowsy himself. walking over to the thunder colt, he turned his head so that his fiery breath would fall harmlessly on a cluster of damp rocks. he was pleased to find this steed from another planet so obedient and gentle. though formed of some live and lively black metal, thun was soft and satiny to the touch and seemed to enjoy having his ears scratched and his neck rubbed as much as an ordinary horse.
"tap me twice on the shoulder if aught occurs, slandy," he signaled, blowing the words out lazily between randy's pats. "and good net to you, my nozzies! good net!"
"that language is just full of foolishness," sniffed kabumpo, spreading a blanket on the ground for randy, and then stretching himself full length beneath a beech tree. "put out the fire, nozzy, my lad, the creature's breath makes light enough to frighten off any wild men or monsters."
"oh, i don't believe there are any wild beasts or savages in this forest," randy said, stamping out the embers of the camp fire. "it's too quiet and peaceful. i have an idea we're almost across ix and will reach ev by morning. what do you think, kabumpo?"
kabumpo made no answer, for the elegant elephant had stopped thinking and was already comfortably asnore. so, with a terrific yawn, randy wrapped himself in the blanket and, curling up close to his big and faithful comrade, fell into an instant and pleasant slumber. morning came all too soon, and randy was rudely awakened by kabumpo, who was shaking him violently by the shoulders.
"come on! come on!" blustered the elegant elephant impatiently. "stir out of it, my boy, we've all been up for hours. is it proper to lie abed and let a princess light the fire?"
"she didn't!" sitting bolt upright, randy saw that planetty, with thun's help, actually had lighted a fire and set water to boil in the tin box just as he had done the evening before.
"oh, my goodness, goodness, planetty! you mustn't do that rough work," he exclaimed, hurrying over to take the big cake box from planetty's hands.
"why not?" beamed the little princess, hugging the box close. "see, i have found the great choconut cake for big bumpo to eat--i mean neat."
"ha, ha! choconut cake!" kabumpo swayed merrily from side to side. "very neat, my dear. if there's one thing i love for breakfast it's choconut cake." laughing so he could hardly keep his balance, kabumpo held out his trunk for the cake box. "what a splendid little castle keeper you'll make for some young king, netty, my child!"
"netty? is that now my name?" planetty pushed back her flying cloud of hair with an interested sniff.
"if you like it," said randy, his ears turning quite red at kabumpo's teasing remarks. leading the little princess to a flat rock, he sat her down with great ceremony and then began opening up boxes of crackers and fruit.
"netty's a nite name," decided the princess, her head thoughtfully on one side. "i must tell thun."
skipping over to the thunder colt, who with drooping head and tail was enjoying a little colt nap, she tapped out her new nickname in the strange code she used when talking to him.
"no longer planetty of anuther planet!" flashed thun, awake in a twinkling and sending up his message in a shower of sparks. "but anetty of oz!"
"at least he's left off the n," mumbled kabumpo, speaking thickly through the cocoanut cake which he had tossed whole into his capacious mouth. "sounds rather well, don't you think?"
"wonderful!" agreed randy, who could scarcely keep his eyes off the sparkling little princess. "it's too bad she's not like us, kabumpo, then she could go back to oz and stay there always."
"if she were like us, she wouldn't be so interesting," said kabumpo, shaking his head judiciously. "besides, down here the poor child is completely out of her element and liable to disintegrate or suffocate or ev knows what--" he went on, discarding a box of prunes for a carton of tea.
"how was the cake?" randy changed the subject, for he could not bear to think of planetty in danger of any sort.
"stale," announced kabumpo, making a wry face as he swallowed some tea leaves. "i'll certainly be glad to catch up with some regular elephant food. this eating bits out of boxes is diabolical--simply diabolical! here, give me those crackers and eat some of that other stuff. and look at little netty ann, would you, shaking out that blanket as if she'd been traveling with us for years. why, the lass is a born housewife!"
"and isn't she pretty?" smiled randy, waving to planetty as he began packing the boxes in the net bags again and stamping out the fire. "i wonder what it's like up where she lives, kabumpo?"
"why not ask her?" swinging up his saddle sacks, kabumpo called gaily to the little princess, who came running over, the blanket neatly folded on her arm.
"thank you, netty. you are certainly a great help to us!" taking the blanket and giving her an approving pat on the shoulder, randy caught hold of kabumpo's belt strap and pulled himself easily aloft. "all ready to go?"
planetty nodded cheerfully as she mounted the thunder colt.
"will this lightling be as nite as the last?" she demanded, tapping thun gently with her staff.
"nicer," promised randy as thun pranced merrily ahead, planetty's long cape billowing like a silver cloud behind them.
"what do you do when you are at home?" called randy as kabumpo, giving two short trumpets, followed close on the heels of the thunder colt.
"home?" planetty turned a frankly puzzled face.
"i mean, do you have a house or a castle?" persisted randy, determined to have the matter settled in his mind once for all. "do you have brothers and sisters, and is your father a king?"
"no house, no castle, no those other words," answered planetty in even greater bewilderment. "on anuther planet each is to herself or himself alone. one floats, rides, skips or drifts through the leadling heights and lowlands, hanging the cape where one happens to be."
"regular gypsies," murmured kabumpo under his breath. "so nobody belongs to nobody, and nobody has anybody? sounds kind of crazy to me."
"yes, if you have no families, no fathers or mothers--" randy was plainly distressed by such a country and existence--"i don't see how you came to be at all."
"we rise full grown from our vanadium springs, and naturally i have my own spring. is that, then, my father?"
"tell her 'yes,'" hissed kabumpo between his tusks. "why mix her all up with our way of doing things? if she wants a spring for a father, let her have it!" kabumpo waved his trunk largely. "ho, ho, kerumph! i've always thought of springs as a cure for rheumatism, but live and learn--eh, randy--live and learn."
randy paid small attention to the elegant elephant's asides; he was too busy explaining life as it was lived in oz to planetty, making it all so bright and fascinating, the eyes of the little princess fairly sparkled with interest and envy.
"i think i will not go with you to this wizard of ev," she announced in a small voice as the young king paused for breath. "i do not believe i shall like that old wizard or his castle."
touching thun with her staff, planetty turned the thunder colt sideways and went zigzagging so rapidly through the trees they almost lost sight of her entirely.
"now what?" stormed the elegant elephant, charging recklessly after her through the forest. "what's come over the little netwit? come back! come back, you foolish girl!" he trumpeted anxiously. "we'll take you to oz after you've been to ev," he added with a sudden burst of comprehension.
at kabumpo's promise, planetty half turned on her charger. "but this wizard of ev will send us back to anuther planet. it is yourself that has said so."
"no, no! we just said he would help you!" shouted randy, leaning forward and waving both arms for planetty to turn back. "oh, you really must see jinnicky," he begged earnestly. "without his magic you cannot live away from that vanadium spring. do you want to be stiff and still as a statue for the rest of your days?"
"i'd rather be a statue down here with you and bumpo, where the birds sing and the flowers grow and the woods are green and wonderful, than to be a live princess of anuther planet!" sighed the metal maiden, hiding her face in thun's mane.
"you would?" cried randy, almost falling off the elephant in his extreme joy and excitement. "then you just shall, and jinnicky will change everything so you can live down here always and come back to oz with kabumpo and me! would you like that, planetty?"
"oh, that would be netiful!" clasping thun with both arms, the little princess laid her soft cheek against his neck. "netiful!"
"then ride on, princess! ride on!" kabumpo spoke gruffly, for his feelings had quite overcome him. "toss me a 'kerchief, will you, randy?" he gulped desperately. "oh, boo hoo, kersniff! to think she really likes us that much! do you think she'd hear if i blew my trunk?"
"no, no, she's way ahead of us now," whispered randy, handing an enormous handkerchief down to kabumpo after taking a sly wipe on it himself. "oh, isn't this a gorgeous day, kabumpo, and isn't everything turning out splendidly? and see there--we've actually come to the end of the forest."
"good gapers, everything's pink!" marveled randy as kabumpo, still muttering and snuffling, pushed his way through the last fringe of the forest.
"so now we're in the pink, eh?" with a last convulsive snort, kabumpo stuffed the handkerchief into a lower pocket and trumpeted three times for thun to halt. "are those flowers, d'ye 'spose? may i see one of them, my dear?"
catching up with the little princess who was already on the edge of the field, kabumpo took the long spray she had picked and passed it back to randy.
"my gooseness, it's a feather! the largest and finest i've ever seen," randy said in surprise. "hey, i always thought feathers grew on birds, yet here's a whole field of feathers, kabumpo--imagine that! and taller than i am, too."
"well, there's no harm in feathers," observed kabumpo jocularly. "pick a plume for your bonnet, my child. the girls in our countries adorn themselves with these pretty fripperies. i've even worn them myself at court functions," he admitted self-consciously. "but do you think you can hold the colt's head up as we go through? burnt feathers smell rather awful, and we don't wish to anger the owner or spoil his crop."
a bit confused by the word "owner" and "crop," planetty nevertheless caught the idea and explained it so cleverly to thun, the thunder colt started through the field, holding his head high and handsome so that the flames spurted upward and not down.
"it was rather like ploughing through a wheat field," decided randy as kabumpo, treading lightly as he could, stepped after thun. it was, though, more like a sea of waving plumes, endlessly bending, nodding and rippling in the wind. planetty gathered armfuls of these bright and newest treasures, liking them almost as much as the flowers in the forest. thun, for his part, found the whole experience irksome in the extreme.
"these pink feathers give me the big pain in the neck," he puffed up indignantly as he trotted along with his head in the air. planetty, reading his message with a little smile, was astonished to hear a series of roars and explosions behind her. surely thun's remarks were not as funny as all that! turning round, she was shocked to see kabumpo swaying and stumbling in his tracks, coughing and spluttering, and torn by such gigantic guffaws he had already shaken randy from his back. the young king himself rolled and twisted on the ground, fairly gasping for breath.
"it's the feathers!" he gasped weakly, as planetty, leaping off the thunder colt, ran back to investigate. "they're tickling us to death. get away quickly, netty, dear, before they get you--oh, ha, ha, hah! oh, ho, ho! quick! before it is too late. oh, hi, hi, hi! i shall die laughing!" to the startled little princess he appeared to be dying already.
"no, no! please not!" she cried, dropping her armful of feathers.
with surprising strength she jerked randy upright and, in spite of his continued roars and wild writhing, managed to fling him across thun's back. now kabumpo was down, kicking and rolling hysterically. it seemed to planetty that the feathers were wickedly alive and tickling them on purpose. they tossed, swayed and brushed against her and thun, too, but having no effect on the metalic skin of the nuthers, curled away in distaste.
"stop! stop! i hate you!" screamed planetty, stamping on the bunch she had picked a moment before, then struggling in vain to pull kabumpo up by his trunk. "thun! thun! what shall we do?"
racing back to the thunder colt, planetty tapped out all that was happening to their best and only friends, holding the convulsed and still laughing randy in place with one hand as she did so. thun, from anxious glances over his shoulder, had guessed more than half the difficulty.
"search in the kabumpty's pocket for something to tie round him so i may pull him out of the feathers," flashed the thunder colt, swinging in a circle to prance and stamp on the plumes still curling down to tickle the helpless boy on his back.
feeling in kabumpo's pockets as he tossed and lashed about was hard enough, but planetty, who was quick and clever, soon found a long, stout, heavily linked gold chain kabumpo twisted round and round his neck on important occasions. slipping the chain through his belt, the little princess clasped the other ends round the thunder colt's chest, making a strong and splendid harness. then, mounting quickly and holding desperately to randy, planetty gave the signal for thun to start. and away through the deadly field charged the night black steed, burning feathers left and right with his flashing breath and dragging kabumpo along as easily as if he had been a sack of potatoes instead of a two-ton elephant. the feathers bending beneath made the going soft so that the elegant elephant did not suffer so much as a scratch, and thun galloped so swiftly that in less than ten minutes they had reached the other side of the beautiful but treacherous field. going half a mile beyond, thun came to an anxious halt, the golden chain falling slack around his ankles, while planetty jumped down to see how kabumpo was doing now.
the elegant elephant had stopped laughing, but his eyes still rolled and his muscles still twitched and rippled from the terrible tickling he had endured. randy, exhausted and weak, hung like a dummy stuffed with straw over the thunder colt's back.
"oh, we were too late, too long!" mourned planetty, wringing her hands and running distractedly between the elegant elephant and the insensible king. "oh, my netness, they will become stiff and still as nuthers deprived of their springs," she tapped out dolefully to thun.
"do not be too sure." the thunder colt puffed out his message slowly. "see, already the big kabumpty is trying to rise."
and such, indeed, was the case. astonished and mortified to find himself stretched on the ground in broad daylight and still too confused to realize what had happened, the elegant elephant lurched to his feet and stood blinking uncertainly around. then, his eyes suddenly coming into proper focus, he caught sight of randy lying limply across the thunder colt.
"what in oz? what in ix? what in ev is the matter here?" he panted, wobbling dizzily over to thun.
"feathers!" sighed planetty, clasping both arms round kabumpo's trunk and beginning to pat and smooth its wrinkled surface. "the feathers tickled you and you fell down, my poor bumpo. randy too was almost laughed to the death. what does death mean?" planetty looked up anxiously into his eyes.
"great grump! so that was it! great gillikens! i remember now, we were both nearly tickled to death and it was awful, awful! not that ozians ever do die," he explained hastily, "but, after all, we are not in oz and anything might have happened. and what i'd like to know is how in ev we ever got out of those feathers."
"thun pulled you out," planetty told him proudly. "and look, look, bumpo dear, randy is going to waken, too."
"randy! randy, do you hear that?" kabumpo lifted the young king down and shook him gently backward and forward. "this colt of planetty's, this thunder colt, all by himself, mind you, pulled us out of that infernal feather field! you and me, but mostly me. now tell me how did he manage to pull an elephant all that way?"
randy, only half comprehending what kabumpo was saying, said nothing, but thun, guessing kabumpo's question, threw back his head and puffed quickly:
"we nuthers are strong as iron, master. strong for ourselves, strong for our friends. thun, the thunder colt, will always be strong for kabumpty!"
"strong! strong? why, you're marvelous," gasped the elegant elephant.
placing randy on the ground, he fished jewels from his pocket with a reckless trunk till he found a band of pearls to fit thun. then carelessly risking the sparks from the thunder colt's nostrils, he fastened the pearls in place.
"tell him, tell him thanks!" he blurted out breathlessly. "tell him from now on we are friends and equals, friends and warriors, together!"
with a pleased nod planetty translated for thun, and the delighted colt, tossing his flying mane, raced round and round his three comrades, filling the air with high-flown and flaming sentences.
"friends and warriors!" he heralded, rearing joyously. "friends and warriors!"
by this time randy had recovered his breath and his memory and felt not only able but impatient to continue the journey. the field of feathers could still be seen waving pink and provokingly in the distance, but without one backward glance the four travelers set their faces to the north. a few of chillywalla's boxes had been crushed while kabumpo rolled in the feathers, and he and randy still felt weak and worn from their dreadful experience, but these were small matters when they considered the dreadful fate they had escaped through the quick action of planetty and thun.
"i always thought of ix as a pleasant country," sighed randy as kabumpo moved slowly along a shady by-path.
"i don't believe this is ix," stated the elegant elephant bluntly. "the air's different, smells salty, and this sandy road looks as if we might be near the sea. i think myself that we've come north by east through ix into ev and will reach the nonestic ocean by evening." kabumpo paused to peer up at a rough board nailed to a pine.
"so! you got through the feathers, did you?" sneered the notice in threatening red letters. "then so much the worse for you! beware! watch out! gludwig the glubrious has his eye on you."
"glubrious!" sniffed kabumpo, elevating his trunk scornfully as randy read and re-read the impertinent message. "i don't recall anyone named gludwig, do you?"
"sounds rather awful, doesn't it?" whispered randy, sliding to the ground to examine the billboard from all sides. "say, look here, kabumpo, there's something on the back. it's been scratched out with red chalk, but i can still read it."
"then read it," advised kabumpo briefly.
"this is the land of ev! everybody welcome! take this road to the castle of the red jinn."
"oh, that means we're almost there!" exulted the young king, but his joy evaporated quickly as he re-read the other side of the board.
"looks as if someone had switched signs on jinnicky," he muttered, pushing back his crown with a little whistle. "do you think anything has happened to him?"
"probably some mischievous country boy trying out his chalk," answered the elegant elephant, not believing one of his own words. "straight on, my dear," he called cheerfully to planetty, who had pulled in the colt and was looking questioningly back at them. "at last we are in the land of ev, and just ahead lies the castle of our wizard."
"oh, bumpo, how nite!" planetty hugged herself from pure joy. "i've never seen a castle, i've never seen a wizard!"
"but, kabumpo--" worried randy as the little princess of anuther planet galloped gaily ahead of them. "suppose this gludwig really has his eye on us? suppose he rushes out before we can reach jinnicky's castle?"
"well, that will not be very 'nite,' will it?" the elegant elephant spoke ruefully. "but what can we do? are we going to stop for a mere sign?"
"no!" declared randy, feeling about for his sword. "of course not. but i'll wager a willikin he was the fellow who planted those feathers."
"very likely," agreed kabumpo, pushing grimly along through the sand.
the further they traveled into ev, the more interesting the country became to planetty and thun. now wild orange and lemon trees added their spicy tang to the salty air; waving palms edged the sandy roadway, and after traversing a grove of lordly cocoanut trees the four suddenly found themselves facing the great, green, rolling nonestic.
"a spring!" caroled planetty, galloping thun down to the water's edge. "oh, never have i seen so netiful a spring!"
"not a spring, princess, an ocean," corrected kabumpo, ambling good naturedly after thun. "this is a salt salt sea, full of ships, sailors, shells, crabs, islands, fish and fishermen."
"and will i see all of them?" slipping from thun's back planetty waded out a little way, hopping gleefully over the edges of the smaller waves.
"some time," promised randy, dismounting hastily to keep her from venturing too far. "look over your shoulder, netty," he urged, drawing her back toward shore, "and then tell me what you think!"
explaining this gay, wide and wonderful world to the little princess of anuther planet, randy found more fun than anything he had ever done or imagined. tense with expectation, he and kabumpo watched as planetty gazed off to the right.
"why--'tis a high, high hill of red that glitters! or what? what is it?" planetty whirled thun round so he could see, too.
"it's a castle, m'lass." kabumpo swaggered down the beach, as if he alone were responsible for all its splendor and magnificence. "there you see the imperial palace of the wizard of ev, built from turret to cellar of finest red glass studded with rubies, and there, this night, we will be suitably entertained by jinnicky himself."
"the inside's even better than the outside," randy whispered in planetty's ear, as she tapped out this astonishing news to the thunder colt. "come on, come on, it's not more than a mile, and we can go straight along the edge of the sea shore. say, weren't we lucky not to run into gludwig?" pulling himself up on kabumpo's back, randy spoke the words softly. "it would have been too bad to have the first person outside of ourselves that planetty met turn out a villain. i believe that sign was a joke."
"well, everything seems all right so far," admitted the elegant elephant guardedly. "but keep your eyes open, my boy--keep your eyes open. is that a welcome committee marching along the beach, or is it an army?"
"they're still too far away to tell," answered randy. "looks to me like all jinnicky's blacks; i can see their baggy red trousers and turbans."
"yes, but what's that gleaming in the sunlight?" demanded kabumpo, curling up his trunk uneasily.
"only their scimiters," randy said, standing up to have a better view. "each man is carrying a scimiter over his shoulder, but that's perfectly all right, they're probably parading for our benefit."
"mm-mm! sometimes things are not what they scim-iter!" sniffed kabumpo, snapping his eyes suspiciously. but randy, paying no attention to the elegant elephant's remark, was feeling round in the net bags for chillywalla's band box, and next moment the lively strains of a military march filled the air.
swinging along in time to the music, kabumpo peered sharply at the oncoming host for signs of alibabble, or ginger, the slave of the bell, or some of jinnicky's other old and trusted counselors. but in all that great throng there was no one familiar face, and because he was beginning to feel more than a bit worried, kabumpo lifted his feet higher and higher. "everything looks black, very black," he muttered dubiously.
"why not?" cried randy, waving his arms like a bandmaster. "they're all as black as the ace of spades. mind you, planetty, it takes all these black men to take care of jinnicky and his castle."
"and will they take care of us?" planetty eyed the marchers with positive amazement and alarm. "so many," she murmured in a hushed voice, "so black. i thought everyone down here would be like you and bumpo."
"my, no," randy told her complacently. "everyone is liable to be different. i believe i'll toss out some of chillywalla's boxes. visitors should come bearing presents, you know!"
hastily randy began pulling out boxes of candy, boxes of cigarettes, beads, cigars and whole suits of clothing to dazzle jinnicky's subjects. but when the leader of the procession came within ten feet of the travelers he threw back his head and emitted such a blood-curdling howl, randy's hair rose on his head, and as the rest of the blacks, brandishing scimiters and yelling threats and imprecations, came leaping toward them, the desperate young king began hurling down boxes as if they were bombs. he caught the headman on the chin with the bandbox, but while it stopped the music it did not stop the gigantic evian from slashing at thun. as his scimiter fell, kabumpo gave a trumpet that felled the whole front rank of the enemy, and snatching up the villain in his trunk, he hurled him back among his men.
"is this--is this taking care of us?" shuddered planetty, clasping her arms round the neck of the plunging thunder colt.
"no, no! my goodness, no! is thun hurt? quick, kabumpo!" screamed randy as a second scimiter slashed down on thun's flank. then he managed to breathe again, for the razor-sharp weapon glanced harmlessly off the metal coat of planetty's coal black charger. the wielder of the scimiter, however, did not escape so easily, for a hot blast from thun's nostrils sent him reeling backward.
"that's it! give it to them! give it to them!" shouted randy, forgetting in his excitement that thun could not hear, and he himself hurled chillywalla's boxes hard and viciously and one after the other. as for kabumpo, every time he raised his trunk there was a black man in it, and as fast as they came he slung them over his shoulder.
but it was planetty who really turned the tide of battle. while randy, who had exhausted his supply of boxes, was digging desperately in kabumpo's pockets for some more missiles, he heard a perfect chorus of terrified screeches. popping up with an umbrella and an alarm clock, he saw the princess of anuther planet standing erect on the galloping colt's back, calmly and precisely casting her staff at the foe. each time the staff struck, the victim, in whatever attitude he happened to be, was frozen into a motionless metal figure. after each stroke the staff returned to planetty's hand.
"yah, yah, mah--master!" wailed the frantic blacks who were still able to move, and tumbling over one another in their effort to escape, they fled wildly back to the red castle, leaving behind sixty of their vanquished brethren.
"you--you--you'll be sorry for this!" shouted the headman, tearing off his turban and waving it as he ran.
"so will you!" bellowed kabumpo fiercely. "just wait till jinnicky hears about this! how dare you treat his visitors in this violent wicked fashion?"
"jinnicky! jinnicky!" jeered the headman as planetty aimed her staff threateningly at his back. "jinnicky is at the bottom of the sea!"
"mm--mnnn! mnmph! i knew it, i knew it!" groaned the elegant elephant as the headman reached the palace and scittered wildly up the glass steps. "i knew something was wrong the moment i saw those scimiters."
"jinnicky gone! jinnicky at the bottom of the sea? why, i just can't believe it!" randy, glancing over his shoulder at the tumbling nonestic, looked almost ready to cry. then putting back his shoulders, he declared fiercely, "well, i'm not going off and leave this old pirate in jinnicky's castle, are you? it must be gludwig's doing--all this! let's go inside and throw him out of there! we have lots of help now. thun's a regular flame thrower and planetty's worth a whole army, and best of all nothing can hurt them. why didn't you tell me you had a magic staff?" randy looked admiringly down at the resolute little princess at his side. "why, with that staff we can conquer anybody."
"is that what you call the magic?" planetty regarded her staff with new interest.
"it certainly is!" panted kabumpo, fanning himself with a handy palm leaf. "and we're mighty sorry to have gotten you into all this danger and trouble, my dear. looks as if we had a war on our hands instead of a pleasant vacation."
"oh, that! it is nothing, nothing!" planetty shrugged her shoulders eloquently. "on our planet we too have the bad beasts and nuthers, and when they try to hit or bite us, we just subdue them with our voral staffs."
"mmmn--mn! so i see." kabumpo, still fanning himself, looked thoughtfully at gludwig's petrified warriors. "there must be a goodly bit of statuary on your planet, m'lass?"
"very many," answered planetty soberly, polishing her staff on the end of her cape. with a slight shudder the elegant elephant turned from the fallen slaves, resolving then and there never to offend this pretty but powerful little metal maiden.
"well, have the scoundrels dispersed and gone for good?" inquired thun, sending up his question in a cloud of black smoke. restively pawing the ground, the thunder colt looked from one to the other waiting for someone to enlighten him.
"tell him they've gone, but for nobody's good," wheezed kabumpo, who was still out of breath from the violence of the combat. "tell him gludwig the glubrious has destroyed the wizard of ev and that we are now going into the castle to continue the battle."
"but where shall we start?" sighed randy, staring despondently up at the gay red palace where he and kabumpo had been so royally entertained on their last visit.
"we'll start at the bottom of these steps," announced kabumpo grimly, "and mount on up to the top. then we'll burst into the presence of this wretched wart and fling him out of the window."
"but that won't help jinnicky if he's at the bottom of the sea," mourned randy, trying to smile at planetty, who was busily tapping off instructions to thun.
"hah! but don't forget, jinnicky's a wizard," sniffed kabumpo, pulling in his belt a few inches, "and nobody can keep a good wizard down. besides," kabumpo dragged his robe a bit to the left and straightened his head-piece, "once inside that castle, we can use some of the red jinn's own magic to help him."
"magic? why, of course, i'd forgotten about that." randy's face cleared and brightened and seeing planetty and thun so eager and unafraid beside him, he girded on his sword and standing upright on kabumpo's back, gave the signal to start. as they trod up the hundred red glass steps they could hear windows and doors slamming, the patter of running feet and the tinkle of the hundred glass chimes in the tower. but step by step, and without a pause, thun and kabumpo mounted to the top.
"beware! beware, gludwig the glubrious! here march kabumpty and thun, slandy and planetty, princess of anuther planet. friends, equals and warriors!"
the thunder colt's flaming message, floating like a battle emblem in the air, alarmed the wicked occupant of jinnicky's castle even more than the invaders themselves. but still confident of his power to vanquish all comers, he waited in evil anticipation for the moment when they would force their way into his presence. did they imagine because they had frightened a company of foolish slaves they could frighten him?
"ha, ha!" crouched on the red jinn's throne and laughing mirthlessly, gludwig rubbed his long hands up and down his skinny knees.
"pss-sst! wait! hold on a minute!" as they reached the huge double doors of the red castle, randy tugged violently at kabumpo's left ear, for the elegant elephant, all humped together, was preparing to bump through. "let thun break down the door," directed the young king firmly. "thun is of metal and the glass will not cut him; then, as soon as there is an opening we can follow. will you tell him, planetty?" randy looked fondly down at the earnest little princess. "and as soon as we are inside," he went on hurriedly, "fling your staff at the first person i point out to you."
"that i will," promised planetty with a brief nod, and giving thun his orders, she galloped the thunder colt straight at the glass doors. with a crash like the fall of a hundred trays of dishes, the glass doors shivered to bits. rushing through the flying splinters, kabumpo and thun raced together into the palace.
how well randy remembered this cozy throne room, its transparent, red glass pillars and floors, its gay, red lacquered furniture, its tinkling curtains of strung rubies, and the long line of enormous red vases leading up to the throne. but instead of the jolly little jinn, encased in his own shining jar, a long, lank black man in a red wig lounged on the seat of state. he was smoking a tenuous red pipe, and, as kabumpo and thun came to an abrupt halt before him, he blinked wickedly out from under his bushy red lashes. besides the red-wigged imposter randy noted with some relief, there was not another soul in sight.
"well," demanded gludwig, insolently, "what do you hope to accomplish by this unwarranted intrusion?" taking his pipe out of his mouth, he blew a cloud of villainous black smoke into the faces of his visitors. so thick and sulphurous were the fumes, randy and kabumpo were rendered speechless. while they choked and spluttered, planetty, who did not seem aware of the smoke at all, gazed in wide-eyed delight around her. so this was a castle!
"how nite, how netiful!" lost in wonder and admiration, the little princess forgot all about the stern purpose of their visit.
"off that throne! off that throne, you wart!" rasped kabumpo, clearing his throat with an ear-splitting trumpet. "what have you done with jinnicky? you're no more a wizard than i am! you're as false and crooked as your wig! down with him! down with him, randy! let him repent of his wickedness in uttermost disgrace and debasement!"
"so my downfall is the little plan?" speaking calmly, but trembling with fury at kabumpo's taunting speech, gludwig rose. at the same instant randy, recovering his breath, called desperately.
"now, planetty, your staff! throw it straight at him. oh, quickly!"
thun's hot breath was already singeing gludwig's ankles, and, leaping over the throne, he crouched down like a great black panther behind it.
"ha, ha!" he shouted again. "my downfall and debasement is it? well, try a bit of downfalling and debasement yourselves."
just as planetty, taking careful aim, hurled her gleaming staff, gludwig pulled a tremendous lever in the wall beside him. instantly the floor on the other side of the throne dropped down, slanting kabumpo, thun and both riders into the dark, damp and long-unused cellar of the castle.
"a trap door," raged the elegant elephant, coming down like a carload of bricks.
"a trap floor, you mean," gasped randy, picking himself up with a painful grimace, for the jolt had sent him flying off the elephant. thun had retained his balance, and neither he nor planetty seemed to mind the force of their landing. as they gazed angrily upward, the floor of the throne room swung noiselessly back into place, leaving the four prisoners to contemplate the heavy glass beams and panels of its under side.
"so that was the downfall, and this is debasement," grunted kabumpo, sitting down furiously on an overturned wash-tub. "great grump, i've never been so humiliated in my life. don't cry, planetty," he begged gruffly, "we'll have you out of here in a pig's whistle."
"it's not that, bumpo, dear." planetty buried her face in thun's cloudy mane and sobbed bitterly. "it's my staff! it did not return after i flung it at the red-wigged one, and without it i have nothing, nothing!"
"good gollopers!" randy clapped his hand to his forehead as he realized the awful significance of planetty's disclosure. "the floor tilted too quickly for it to return, and oh, kabumpo!" he wailed, almost forgetting he was a king and warrior. "if gludwig has that staff, what can we do? he can come down here and petrify us any time he wants."
"we'll hide!" gulped kabumpo, bounding off the wash-tub. with furious concentration his small eyes roved round and round their gloomy prison.
"but you're so big," declared randy, running over to comfort planetty.
"i'll hide anyway!" said kabumpo, who had no intention of spending the rest of his life as an iron elephant, nor of adorning the palace of gludwig the glubrious as the mere image of himself.
how thankful randy and kabumpo were now for the thunder colt's fiery breath. otherwise they would have been in almost complete darkness, as scarcely any light at all trickled down through the dark red glass of the cellar windows. and there was small danger of his setting jinnicky's castle on fire, for the basement, like the rest of the palace, was constructed of thick plates of solid glass. but here below, the glass was not bright and sparkling as it was above stairs. cobwebs clung to the glass beams, dust powdered the floors, and round the walls in boxes and barrels stood the old or worn out magic appliances of the red jinn. there was no furnace in the cellar, for the castle was warmed in winter by a magic process of jinnicky's own invention; and there were no doors, not even a closet or cupboard where any of them could hide. with thun stepping ahead to act as a torch, the others marched anxiously round the great gloomy vault-like apartment.
"no place to hide, no provisions, nothing to eat or drink. nothing!" exclaimed the elegant elephant, sinking down on the wash-tub. "that is, nothing to do but wait for destruction," he concluded bitterly.
"well, we're not destroyed yet!" declared randy, sticking out his chin. "everything seems quiet above. maybe gludwig is not going to use planetty's staff till morning."
with a discouraged sniff kabumpo began poking in the boxes behind him. finding one full of excelsior, he started to stuff the choking material into his mouth with his trunk. randy was sure the excelsior would disagree with him, but when kabumpo was in such a mood, it was quite useless to argue with him; so, beckoning for thun to light the way, he and planetty set out on a second tour of investigation.
randy paused dubiously before a collection of squat bottles and jugs. he was convinced they contained liquids or vapors powerful enough to help them, but the directions on the labels were all in some strange magician's code and randy hesitated to open even one of the magic bottles. experience had taught him that a wizard's wares were dangerous, and he himself had seen the red jinn subdue whole armies by releasing incense from a blue jug. so, selecting two pocket-size jars, to use only in case everything else failed, randy moved on to the other side of the cellar. here on top of a chest he discovered a small red hand-bag. instead of the usual fastenings, two real hands formed the clasp, and when randy opened the bag it quickly jerked out of his grasp and began springing all over the cellar on its hands, pouncing gleefully on papers and bottles and stuffing them into its side pockets. it did look so comical, planetty burst into a peal of merriment. even randy could not keep back a grin. it was a relief to see the little princess more like herself again, for since the loss of her voral staff she had been unnaturally quiet and sad.
"wait, i'll catch it for you," offered randy, dismissing for a moment all thought of the dreadful danger they were in. "it must be one of jinnicky's inventions. look, kabumpo, a bag that really packs itself."
"watch out it doesn't pinch you!" warned kabumpo morosely. he had already begun to regret the excelsior and was rumbling with indigestion. "i was never one to hold with hand luggage, myself."
"oh, yes you were!" crowed randy, falling on the bag as if it had been a football and coming up triumphantly with it clutched to his middle. "you use your trunk for a hand, kabumpo, and doesn't that make it hand luggage? hey, hey, hurray! never thought i'd make a joke in this dismal place!"
"it's a pretty dismal joke, if you ask me." the elegant elephant heaved himself stiffly off the wash-tub. "keep it away from me!" he warned crossly, as randy, paying no attention to the thumps of the hand-bag, managed to get it shut again. as soon as it was closed the bag subsided and seemed absolutely unalive. "here!" puffed randy, holding it out to planetty. "this bag will pack itself, madam, and you can use it every time you go on a journey."
"can i? how nite!" planetty beamed at her young companion.
"well, who's going on a journey?" inquired kabumpo sarcastically, walking up and down to relieve his indigestion. "we'll probably spend the rest of our unnatural lives in this abominable basement. say something, can't you?" he shouted, glaring at poor thun. "i can hardly see where i'm going." as fast as planetty translated this rude speech, the thunder colt sent up his answer.
"if i said all the words i am thinking," puffed thun temperishly, "this room would be very red bright, mister kabumpty, very red bright indeed." the thunder colt's speech and his further remarks made randy and planetty laugh again.
"let's see what else we can find," proposed the young king. in spite of kabumpo's gloomy predictions, he was feeling more hopeful. "maybe this time we'll turn up something we can really use."
"oh, maybe yes, maybe yes!" trilled planetty, slipping swiftly as quicksilver after randy. passing by some dusty apparatus and an old spinning wheel, they discovered a huge red drum behind a pile of old trunks. the sticks were stuck through a cord in the side and it was so heavy that the two between them could hardly carry it. but giggling and puffing they dragged it into the center of the cellar and dropped it down before kabumpo.
"see what we have now!" dusting off his clothes, randy surveyed it proudly.
"humph! a drum!" the elegant elephant moved his ears forward and then back. "well, what grumpy use is a drum? am i in a parade? do you expect me to beat it?"
"beat the drum?" planetty looked surprised and shocked. "is that for what a drum is for, bumpo, dear?"
"well, yes, in a way." a bit ashamed of himself, kabumpo drew out one of the sticks. "it goes like this," he said, raising the drumstick high in his trunk.
"oh no! kabumpo, no! don't do that or you'll have gludwig down here! it would make too much noise."
"what if it does?" kabumpo shrugged his great shoulders. "we may as well perish now as tomorrow. i'm perishing of hunger anyway."
before randy could interfere, he brought the drumstick down with a thump that split the taut surface of the drum from edge to edge. the loud rip and bong made the rafters ring, and scarcely had they recovered from that shock before a small black boy in an enormous turban sprang out of the drum itself and began sobbing and spluttering and hugging kabumpo as if he never would let him go.
"good gillikens! it's ginger!" panted randy, as planetty caught him anxiously by the sleeve. "it's the slave of the magic dinner bell. he can bring us dinners and whatever one wants when jinnicky rings for him. hi--who shut you up in that drum, boy?"
"that big old red wig," sniffed ginger, drying his tears on kabumpo's robe. "oh, how can i ever thank you, mister elephant so elegant! i remember you! i remember him!" the bell boy jerked his thumb delightedly at randy. "and many times i thank you--fifty times eleven, i thank you. you see, if i am shut up in a drum, it is impossible for me to answer the master's ring if he needs me. and he needs me now, i know it, i know it!"
"but how can he call you unless he has the dinner bell?" asked randy, edging closer. "did jinnicky take the bell with him when--when--" to save himself, randy could not finish the dismal sentence.
"when gludwig pushed him into the sea, you mean?" ginger's brown face puckered up again, but, controlling his sobs with a great effort, he sat down on the edge of the drum and told them the whole story of jinnicky's mischance and misfortunes.
"the master, as you know," explained ginger, his eyes rolling sideways as he caught sight of planetty and thun, whose like he had never seen in his entire magic existence, "the master is always kind and jolly and unsuspecting. this gludwig was the manager of our ruby mines and one of jinnicky's most trusted officers. but all the time, this viper, this snake, this villainous black snake--" ginger clenched his fists and kicked his heels angrily against the drum--"was planning to steal our red jinn's throne and magic, in addition to his own splendid mansion and fortune. one evening, seven moons ago, having trained his miners into an army of rebellion, gludwig marched upon our castle and drove everybody out."
"everybody?" the elegant elephant, picking ginger up in his trunk, looked earnestly into his face.
"every ev body!" repeated the little bell boy, wagging his turban sorrowfully. "alibabble, the grand advizier, all the members of the court and household were sent to the mines under the cruel rule of glubdo, gludwig's brother, and they are there now, working without rest, hope or reward. he marched the master to the head of the highest cliff and pushed him violently into the sea with his own hands!"
ginger began to tremble with grief and anger at the memory of it all. "he ordered the bandsmen to seal me up in this drum, knowing a drum is the only place from which i cannot escape, and hoping i would shrivel up and perish. but i--" asserted the little black triumphantly--"i am the best part of jinnicky's magic, so he couldn't destroy me." a quick grin overspread ginger's face. "and he could not destroy my master either. of that i am sure, and now that the elephant so elegant has let me out--now--"
"now what?" breathed randy, almost afraid ginger was not going to tell him. "you see, ginger, we came to visit the red jinn and were immediately captured and dumped down here ourselves. so how can we get out? and what can we do?"
"i will think of something," promised the bell boy. wriggling out of kabumpo's trunk, he scurried across the cellar and disappeared beneath an overturned wheelbarrow.
"so! he will think of something," sniffed kabumpo, trying not to make it sound too sarcastic. "well, of course, that settles it. and while he is thinking, i intend to take a nap. i'm completely worn out with all these vile plots and villainies."
"i too will ret," decided planetty, reaching over to pat the thunder colt. the strange excitements of the day had wearied the little princess, and this last story of ginger's had still further puzzled and distressed her.
"i never thought when i brought you here you'd have to sleep in a place like this," groaned randy, glancing ruefully round the dingy basement.
"oh, it's not so bad," smiled the little princess. slipping off her cape, she swung it casually between two grimy pillars, and with the hand-bag tucked under her arm, climbed contentedly into her silver bed. "good net, randy and bumpo, dear!" she called softly. "i believe i shall ret for a long, long time."
"now what does she mean by that?" worried the young king, as the princess blew them each a wistful kiss. "something's wrong, kabumpo, i feel it! and look there at thun! why is he acting so strangely? almost as if he could not see."
"look at him! look at him!" wailed the elegant elephant. "where is he? how can i? it's dark as thunder in here now! great grump, randy, i can't see you, him or anything at all."
stumbling and tripping, he somehow crossed the cellar to the spot where he remembered thun had been. then, as his trunk struck against hard cold metal, he recoiled in horror.
"he's out!" moaned the elegant elephant hoarsely. "he's not even breathing. why, he's cold and stiff as a stone. oh, good grump, the colt saved my life and now what can i do for him? what'll we do, randy? i say, what'll we do?"
randy had no answer at all, for, moved by a dreadful foreboding, he leaned down to touch the face of the little princess of anuther planet, only to find it still and cold. no sparkling light radiated from planetty now as, quiet and motionless as a statue, she lay wrapped in her silver nets.
"ginger, where are you? ginger, come help us!" randy screamed desperately. scrambling out from under the barrow, the startled bell boy reached randy's side in a split second, for ginger could see as well in the dark as in the daytime.
"did--gludwig--do--this?" he panted, his eyes rolling wildly from planetty to the frozen thunder colt.
"no, no, they are far from their own country and need the powerful vanadium springs," groaned kabumpo, putting out his trunk to touch the little princess. "they cannot exist down here. and with jinnicky gone, who's to help them?" his tears fell thick and fast on planetty's silver tresses.
"then why do we stay here?" shuddered ginger, tugging at randy's cloak and kabumpo's robe. "why do we stay?"
as if to answer ginger's mournful cry, there was a long whistling rustle in the air, and next moment randy, ginger, kabumpo and the princess of anuther planet were wafted like feathers through the night, passing easily as mist through the narrow glass windows, up over the castle itself and out over the silvery moonlit sea.
the same afternoon the four travelers arrived at the red jinn's castle, a lonely fisherman in an odd nine-sided dory pulled out from the nonagon isle. this strange small nine-sided island lies about ninety leagues from the mainland of ev. flat, barren and rocky, it affords but a meager living to the nine fishermen who are its sole inhabitants. each keeps strictly to his own side of the island, subsisting frugally on fish and the few poor vegetables he can grow in his rocky little garden. hard and unfriendly as their island itself, the nine nonagons go their own ways, exchanging brief nods on the rare occasions when they meet one another.
the habit of silence had so grown upon bloff, the fisherman in the nine-sided dory, he did not even talk to the cat who shared his rough dwelling and accompanied him on all of his fishing trips. and so accustomed was poor nina to her gruff and taciturn master that she expected nothing from him but an occasional kick or fish head. never sure which would be forthcoming, she kept her green eyes watchfully upon him at all times. this afternoon she was certain it would be a fish head, and as bloff reached the spot where he had set his nets her tail began to wave gently in pleasant anticipation.
bloff himself seemed a little less grim, for the net seemed quite heavy, and sure he had made a good haul, he began pulling on the lines. but when his net came wet and dripping over the side of the boat, he gave a grunt of anger. in it were only three small fish and an immense red jug. his first impulse was to toss the jug back into the sea, but reflecting grumpily that he could use it to salt down fish for the winter, he rolled it into the bottom of the boat and, kicking the disappointed cat out of the way, rowed rapidly back to the island.
stamping into his nine-sided shack with the net over his shoulder, bloff banged the jug down on the hearth, cleaned and cut up the fish and popped them into a pot hung on a crane over the fire. then, lighting his one poor lamp, he sat sullenly down to wait for his supper. the fish heads he flung cruelly into the hot ashes, and whenever he dozed for a moment nina tried to pull one out with her paw, for she knew full well she could get nothing else to eat.
for perhaps an hour there was not a sound in the fisherman's hut except the crackling of the drift-wood in the grate and the hoarse breathing of the fisherman himself. then suddenly nina, who had almost succeeded in dragging her supper from the flames, gave a frightened backward leap.
"oh, my, mercy me! mercy, me!" came a muffled but merry voice. "where--but where am i now?"
as nina and her master turned startled eyes toward the red jug, for the voice was undoubtedly coming from the jug, the lid slowly lifted and a round jolly face peered out at them. what he saw was so discouraging, jinnicky--for of course it was jinnicky--dropped back out of sight. the magic fluid with which he had sealed himself in the jug before gludwig hurled him into the sea had been melted by the warmth of the fisherman's fire, and the same warmth had restored the little red jinn to his usual vigor and liveliness. in a sort of protective stupor he had managed to survive the long months at the bottom of the ocean. a quick thinker at all times, jinnicky rapidly regained his senses and realized at once what had happened. a fortunate tide had carried him into this fisherman's net and at last he was on dry land again; and now to find and face the villain who had usurped his throne and castle.
"but why--why--" groaned the little jinn dolefully, "with all the fishermen in the nonestic ocean did i have to be pulled out by this long-jawed fellow?"
venturing another look, and at the same time thrusting his arms and legs out of their proper apertures in the jug, he saw that bloff had seized an oar and seemed about ready to whack it down on his head.
"non, non, non! my good fellow!" puffed jinnicky, fixing his rescuer with his bright glassy eye. "put up your oar. this is no battle, and i have much to say that will interest you, but first of all i want to thank you for pulling me out of the ocean. heartily! heartily! a suitable reward will be sent you as soon as i get back--er--get back my castle."
to this polite speech bloff paid no attention whatsoever, but nina, liking the pleasant voice of this curious visitor, began rubbing herself against his ankles. "i am the red jinn of ev!" announced the little wizard, keeping a wary eye on the oar. "at present banished from my castle by the treachery of a trusted officer. in fact," jinnicky tapped himself smartly on the jug, "this villain actually took everything i had and tossed me into the sea."
"what's wrong with the sea?" inquired the fisherman hoarsely. never having seen anyone in his whole life but the eight other nonagon islanders, bloff did not really believe what he saw now. "i'm asleep and having a nightmare," he concluded, grasping the oar more determinedly still. and we can hardly blame him, for a fellow whose body is a huge red vase into which he can draw his arms, legs and head, at will, is pretty hard for anyone to believe. realizing he was getting nowhere and that his grim and dour rescuer cared nothing about his troubles, past or present, jinnicky decided to try another line.
"perhaps you could tell me the name of this place and your own name?" he murmured politely.
"i am bloff, my cat is nina, and this is the nonagon island," announced the fisherman, frowning at the little wizard.
"ah, a nine-sided island!" the red jinn stretched his arms and hopped up and down to get the kinks out of his legs. "and i see you have a nine-sided cottage and a cat with nine lives."
picking up poor skinny nina, who was purring for the first time in her life, jinnicky stroked her back thoughtfully as he counted the nine pieces of furniture in the rude hut, noted that it was nine o'clock and the ninth of may. "but is nine my lucky number?" he pondered wearily. could this churlish fisherman ever be persuaded to sail him back to the mainland? looking at bloff out of the side of his eye, he very much doubted it. though bloff had put down the oar, his manner was anything but cordial.
"are there any other people on the island?" asked jinnicky, more to keep up the conversation than because he really wanted to know.
at his question bloff put back his head and in a long singsong voice drawled, "bluff, bliff, bleef, blaff, bloff, blaaf, bleof and bluof!"
"oh, my! mercy me!" at each name jinnicky gave a little jump, and as bloff came to the end of the list he seated himself gingerly on the edge of the bench and stared into the fire. what could he hope from such people? then suddenly in the midst of his worries he became aware of the fish chowder bubbling cozily on the crane and realized at the same instant his enormous and devouring hunger. after all, you know he had not eaten for seven months.
"ah!" he beamed, extending both arms toward his host, "dinner!"
"my dinner." the two words were spoken so gruffly, jinnicky's heart fell with a loud clunk into his boots. why, this was unbelievable! he, jinnicky, the one and only wizard of ev, to be flouted and insulted by a miserable fisherman. well, at least he could leave the fellow's miserable hut and try his luck with the other islanders. reflecting sadly that a wizard without his magic is no better off than any other man, the red jinn slid off the bench and started for the door, trying to walk in a calm and dignified manner. but half-way there a sharp grunt brought him up short.
"aho, no you don't," rasped bloff, catching up with him in two strides. "where do you think you're going? stop! i need that jug to salt my fish. here, give it to me."
"why, you--you miserable mollusk--don't you dare touch me!" panted the red jinn, trying to beat off the fisherman with his puny hands. "this jug--is--an--important--part of me. without my jug i cannot live at all."
"and do you think i care for that?" sneered bloff. "you're just an old lobster in a pot to me. here, give me that jug!"
seizing jinnicky by both arms, bloff tried to shake him out of the jug. nina, enraged at such barbarous treatment of the only one who had ever been kind to her, proved an unexpected ally. flying at the fisherman, she began to scratch and claw his face and hands so successfully bloff had to drop jinnicky to grab the cat. the force of the drop sent the red jinn rolling over and over, dislodging a small silver bell from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. as the bell fell tinkling to the flagstones, jinnicky gave a bounce of relief. his magic dinner bell, and up his sleeve all the time! how had he ever forgotten it? oh, now--now--if ginger had not been destroyed by gludwig, and just answered the bell, everything would be different. and ginger did answer the bell, and everything was different! my, yes. so different, bloff threw the cat at jinnicky and simply raced for the door. no wonder, in his small nine-sided shack were now an elephant carrying a silvery princess in his trunk, a black boy in a tall turban and a white boy in a sparkling crown. with one more terrified glance, bloff took to his heels and never stopped running till he was waist high in the nonestic ocean.
"kabumpo! kabumpo! randy! oh, my mercy me!" rolling to his feet, jinnicky tottered over to the hearth and, encountering ginger half-way there, clasped his faithful bell boy to his shiny glass bosom. "as soon as that bell rang i knew everything was going to be better," he puffed. "and i rather expected ginger, but you! why, my dear old gaboscis, fancy meeting you here!"
"but i don't fancy it at all," grunted kabumpo, placing the sleeping princess gently down on the fisherman's bench and glancing disgustedly round the mean little hut. "how in ev did you ever happen to be in such a place, how did you get here and where in oz are we, anyway?"
"oh, jinnicky, are you really all right?" grasping the little wizard by both arms, randy examined him carefully from top to toe. "kabumpo and i came to see you, and instead of you, there was gludwig in your castle. he told us you were at the bottom of the sea, and after first trying to destroy us with his army, he flung us into the castle basement. there we found ginger sealed up in a big drum and we let him out, and after awhile, in a way i cannot figure out at all, we find ourselves here. how did it happen?"
"why, ginger brought you, of course." releasing the little black boy from his tight embrace, jinnicky planted a huge kiss on his ebony forehead, and with a flashing grin the slave of the bell vanished into space. "don't worry! he's always going, but he'll come back any time i ring the bell. you must all have been touching ginger when the bell rang, so naturally when ginger answered the bell he brought you right along."
"nothing natural about it," fumed kabumpo, drawing his trunk wearily across his forehead.
"but you haven't told us how you got here," said randy, bending over planetty to see that she had made the trip without coming to any harm.
"and what is that, pray?" demanded the little jinn, eyeing the sleeping princess with round astonished eyes. "something you brought me for a present? a pretty little idol you've stolen from some heathen temple? my, mercy me! what a beauty it is! i'll mount it on a ruby pedestal and worship it all the rest of my days!"
"oh, no, jinnicky, no!" randy's voice broke and he could not utter another word, try as he would. in puzzled concern the red jinn turned to kabumpo.
"she's not a present, but she's an idol all right--randy's idol--and he intends to spend the rest of his life worshiping her, if i read the signals aright," said kabumpo dryly. "there you see the princess of anuther planet, old boy, and up to an hour ago she was as live and bright and happy as any of us."
"but what happened to her? oh, my, mercy me, another mystery!" jinnicky clasped his hands in genuine distress.
"well, you tell us what happened to you, and then we'll tell you what happened to her and us," offered kabumpo. "that is, if we don't die of hunger first."
"hunger?" jinnicky swallowed four times in rapid succession. "oh, my, mercy me and us! you do not even know the meaning of the word! i have not eaten a bite for seven months! but, har, har, har! that is all over now. with my magic dinner bell right at hand, why should anyone be hungry? four dinners and at once," beamed the red jinn, ringing it smartly. "see, my dear, i've not even forgotten you." jinnicky leaned down to stroke nina, who had hidden behind the hearth brush when so many strangers came dropping into the hut. "this valiant nonagon puss fought bravely in my defense and has thereby earned herself a place in my heart and castle for all the rest of her nine natural lives."
"but first you must get back your castle," said kabumpo as jinnicky began dancing up and down the room, the miserable cat hugged tightly in his arms. even randy had to smile at that. no one could be around the little jinn and stay sorrowful, and worried as he was over planetty and thun, the young king could not help feeling that now they were together everything was going to turn out right. some how and way jinnicky would help them.
"isn't this like old times?" he beamed, bustling around like a busy host as ginger, with four enormous trays balanced on his head, flashed down, set an appetizing dinner before each of the company and melted away like smoke up the chimney. for nina, he had brought nine saucers of cream and some minced chicken. for kabumpo, a huge bowl of assorted nuts and another bowl of cut raw vegetables, each bowl capable of replenishing itself, so that there was enough for even an elephant. for randy and jinnicky there were the finest of roast duck dinners. so, forgetting their mean surroundings and gludwig's wickedness, the three royal wayfarers fell to and ate with an abandon and gusto that would have astonished their own castle-holds and footmen. nina, lapping up her rich and plenteous viands, seemed to grow fat and content before their very eyes. and while they dined, jinnicky explained how he had been tricked by gludwig, pulled out of the sea by bloff and then nearly shaken out of his jar by the surly fisherman, who at the same time had shaken out the bell and brought him assistance.
"where is he? wait till i get my trunk on him," raged kabumpo, glancing sharply round the nine-sided shack. jinnicky, on his part, when he discovered how gludwig had treated his friends and visitors, was no less enraged and indignant.
"used my very own patented trap floor on you, did he? hah! wait--i'll fix him!" beating his small hands angrily together, jinnicky's eyes burned with a bright red hatred.
"yes, we were floored, all right," admitted the elegant elephant, pushing away his two bowls, for at last he had had enough, and while randy and the red jinn were finishing their suppers he told the whole story of their journey through oz and ev and ix, of their meeting with planetty and thun and the sad fate that had overtaken these loyal comrades in the red castle when they could no longer avail themselves of their own vanadium springs.
"vanadium?" murmured the red jinn, resting his head in his chubby hands. "i believe i could make a substitute for that. why, in my laboratory--"
"yes, but this isn't your laboratory," sighed randy, "and how ever are we to get off this nine-sided island if all the fishermen are as hateful as bloff?"
"har! har! har! now that is the least of our troubles." jinnicky waved airily to the owner of the cottage whose glum face had just appeared in the window. "ginger shall carry us back, as easily as he carries the trays! first i shall ring the dinner bell, then when ginger appears, i shall hang on to his coat; you, randy, must hang on to me and kabumpo, bless his big heart, shall hang on to you, being careful to hold the princess of this other planet in his trunk. oh, my, mercy me! i'd almost forgotten the cat."
scooping up nina, jinnicky waited till the elegant elephant had lifted planetty in his trunk, then, taking the silver bell from his sleeve, he gave it a cheerful tinkle.
"ho, this!" puffed the little jinn, blowing a kiss to the glowering fisherman--"this is the finest place to leave i've ever left in my whole life. oh, my, mercy me! you and us! here's ginger! hold on, everybody! we're off!"
and they were, sailing along as smoothly behind the little slave of the bell as if they weighed nothing at all, and leaving bloff running in frantic circles round his hut--for he was now more convinced than ever that this was a nightmare or that, worse still, he had taken entire leave of his wits and senses.
while jinnicky and his friends had been having all these ups and downs and hair-raising experiences, gludwig had passed an exceedingly pleasant and profitable evening. as his enemies had dropped into the cellar of the castle, the silver staff of planetty missing him by a wide margin had fallen harmlessly at his feet. gludwig's army had had much to say of this terrible weapon, and picking it up, he turned it gloatingly over and over in his hands. it is true that he had all of jinnicky's treasures and possessions, but in his whole seven months in the castle he had not discovered a way to use any of the red jinn's magic, nor been able to cast a single spell or transformation. this had taken half the zest out of his victory. but here, he had a simple and easily managed magic weapon--or had he?
frowning suddenly, gludwig wondered whether it only worked for the silver war maiden who had used it so disastrously against his men. well, he would quickly find that out. stepping to the door, he whistled for the huge hound that guarded the outer passageway. as it came bounding to his side he hurled the silver staff at its head. as the staff struck, the hound's progress was instantly arrested and instead of a live dog, he had a life-sized bronze with a look in the eyes that made even gludwig turn away. but the staff did work! as it returned to his black hand, gludwig hurried out of the throne room, rushing here and there about the castle to cast the staff again and again at his unsuspecting aids and servants.
"are you mad?" hissed glubdo, coming upon his brother in the act of petrifying a small boot boy. "if you continue in this reckless fashion--who will do the work or wait upon us?"
"oh, i've only tried it on a dozen or so," said gludwig, holding the staff jealously behind his back. "mind you don't overstep your authority, brother, or i might be tempted to use it on you."
chuckling wickedly at glubdo's shocked expression, gludwig mounted to his own quarters and hastily throwing off his clothes, curled up in jinnicky's sumptuous ruby trimmed four poster. he was too weary to descend to the cellar and deal with his enemies, and resolving to finish them off the first thing in the morning, the miserable imposter fell asleep, planetty's magic staff clutched tightly in his hands.
while he slumbered, strange things were happening below stairs, for just as the clock in the tower tolled two ginger noiselessly set his royal passengers down in the deserted throne room and vanished away with a flashing smile.
snapping on a ruby lamp, the red jinn looked around him with a long sigh of content. motioning for kabumpo to place the sleeping princess on his comfortable cushioned throne, he tiptoed about, touching one after another of his possessions.
"where do you suppose he is?" whispered randy, treading close behind him.
"i don't suppose, i know," jinnicky whispered back. "where would he be but in my own royal bed? come along; we'll take him by surprise and the ears and throw him out of the window. careful now, boys, step softly! confound the black-hearted scoundrel! he's been using the silver staff."
sorrowfully the little jinn paused before the statue of his favorite dog.
"never mind," comforted randy. "when you find a way to restore planetty she'll find a way to undo this mischief, and you know you still have nina."
"yes," said jinnicky, placing the nonagon cat tenderly on a red cushion. "come on, then, we'll creep up on him. nobody's around, nobody's on guard, this should be easy." stepping softly up the broad stair, kabumpo as lightly as any of them, the three made their way to jinnicky's vast bed room.
"leave him to me," begged the elegant elephant in a fierce whisper. "i'll wring his neck with my own trunk."
"no, wait--i'll ring my dinner bell," puffed jinnicky, "and have ginger carry him to the other side of the nonestic ocean."
"even that wouldn't be far enough," muttered randy, tiptoeing over to the bed. "if we just knew where he had hidden planetty's staff we could turn him into a big brass monkey, for that's just what he looks like."
"ho! i do, do i?" the unexpected interruption made them all jump. gludwig, wakened by kabumpo's first whisper, had lain silently watching from beneath his long lashes. now tossing back the silk covers, he sprang up, throwing the staff straight at randy's heart.
"now let's see what you'll turn to," he panted savagely.
too startled to move or act, kabumpo and jinnicky watched in fascinated horror as the staff struck. and strike it did, but instead of petrifying randy, the rod passed like a flash of lightning through the young king's body and returned to gludwig's hand, leaving randy live and lively as ever he was, lively enough in fact to leap forward, snatch the dangerous weapon and bring it down hard on his red-wigged head. with a thud that splintered jinnicky's best bed, gludwig fell back.
"hah! what did i tell you?" exclaimed randy, and indeed the former holder of the castle in his petrified condition looked as much like a brass monkey as randy had said he would.
"oh, my, mercy me! oh, my! oh, me!" with trembling fingers the red jinn began to feel randy all over. "with my own eyes i saw that staff go through you, lad, yet here you are--no mark--no statue. i declare i, i'm--" with tears running down his nose, jinnicky embraced randy over and over.
"out of that bed with you!" screamed kabumpo, "out!" and winding his trunk round the rigid gludwig, he flung him violently out of the window. as the image fell with a resounding clunk into the vegetable garden below, the elegant elephant sank on his haunches and mopped his brow with one of the red silk bed sheets.
"never--never do i hope to live through such a moment again," he groaned, blowing his trunk explosively. "i thought you were frozen and done for, my boy--done for!" rocking to and fro, kabumpo blinked the tears out of his eyes.
"i don't understand yet why i wasn't," admitted randy, wriggling out of jinnicky's grasp and touching the spot where the staff had struck him.
"someone or something was protecting you," declared the little jinn, nodding his head like a mandarin. "do you carry any charms or talismans against evil, my boy?"
"not a one." turning out his pockets, randy displayed a collection of knives, rubber bands, coins and the other odds and ends that a man usually stores in his pockets. among the strange assortment were two small squat jars and on these jinnicky pounced with a triumphant little crow.
"why, randy spandy jack a dandy, you have two bottles of my best weapon turning elixir! how did you happen to have them?"
"those?" randy squinted down at the bottles in positive mystification. "oh, i must have picked them up in the cellar--of course i did, i remember distinctly now."
"oh, glory be! glory me! har, har, har! am i a good wizard or am i a good wizard? and to think you should have happened on the very thing you'd be needing." jinnicky danced in exuberant circles.
"sh--hush! somebody's coming." crowding all his belongings back into his pocket, randy turned in alarm. half the courtiers and servants were crowded into the doorway. and when they saw jinnicky and his friends instead of gludwig in the royal apartment they began to back away in chagrin and embarrassment.
"oh, it's all right," jinnicky waved airily. "you threw in your fortunes with the wrong man, that's all! you'll find gludwig below in the cabbages. but i forgive you! i forgive you!" he added impulsively as his former mine workers began to stammer apologies and excuses. "go back to your beds now, but see that breakfast is on time and hot and appetizing."
with an impatient nod of his head, jinnicky dismissed them and, looking very downcast and crest-fallen, they hurried away.
it was a long time before the red jinn and his rescuers could bring themselves to retire. there was so much to talk of, to wonder over and to plan. but finally, even randy acknowledged that he was sleepy, and confident that jinnicky would find some way to help planetty and thun in the morning, he curled up on a small red sofa and fell into a peaceful slumber. as for kabumpo, he stretched out on the floor and jinnicky, not caring to occupy a bed so recently slept in by gludwig, made himself comfortable on a bear rug beside the elegant elephant, enjoying the first real rest he had had in seven long months.
word of his return had quickly spread through the red jinn's vast dominions, and when jinnicky and his guests descended next morning a whole loyal black legion were cheering from the courtyard and lined up along the shore. after gludwig had seized the castle and enslaved the household, the rest of the natives had fled for their lives, refusing to stay or acknowledge the red-wigged imposter as their ruler. now that jinnicky was restored and safely at home again, their joy knew no bounds. appearing briefly on one of the castle balconies, the red jinn made one of his best and merriest speeches, telling of his experiences and assuring his faithful flock that gludwig was gone and would trouble them no more. to prove his statement, he pointed to the fallen figure in the cabbage patch. glubdo, fearing jinnicky's anger, had already left for an unknown destination, and now there was nothing to be done but restore the kingdom to its former cheerful status and prosperity.
while the red jinn, kabumpo, randy and nina breakfasted happily on the terrace, a willing delegation marched off to the ruby mines to release alibabble, the courtiers and servants from their long servitude. the miners who had taken their place in the castle and army were only too willing to return to the mines, for with jinnicky back in power their hours were short, their wages high and each miner had his own cozy cottage and garden. the petrified miners who had served in the army that issued out to capture randy and kabumpo were stood along the highways to act as sign posts and also as warnings to all of the hard fate awaiting those who lent their ears to treachery and their arms to rebellion. randy could hardly contain himself while all these necessary matters were attended to. the young monarch spent nearly all his time arranging and rearranging the cushions on jinnicky's throne, where planetty still lay in complete beauty and insensibility. kabumpo was almost as bad, pacing anxiously between the throne and the terrace where thun had been carried by fifty interested blacks.
"even if i cannot bring them back to life and activity, they are a handsome addition to any castle," puffed jinnicky, sinking down at last on one of his red lacquer sofas and fanning himself rapidly with his lid. "oh, my mercy me! don't look at me that way, my boy! of course i'll do my best and double best. but suppose my best is not good enough?"
"oh, it will be," declared kabumpo, giving the red jinn a little pat on the back with his trunk. "i'll bet on your red magic any day in the year. look at the way that elixir saved randy from the magic staff. where is planetty's staff, by the way--sort of dangerous to leave it about!"
"it's locked up safely in my iron cabinet," said jinnicky, closing one eye. "so you really think i'm good, old gaboscis--better even than the wizard of oz, eh?"
"oh, much," asserted the elegant elephant, wagging his head positively.
"all right, then, leave me--leave me," begged the red jinn, fairly pushing them out of the throne room. "i've ordered all my magic brought to me here, and here i'll stay till this pretty little princess and her charger come out of this metal trance. my, mercy me! trance--entrance--entrancing. oh, har, har, har! i've an idea there, my boys!" bouncing off the sofa, jinnicky skipped over to the princess of anuther planet.
"oh, kabumpo! do you think he really has?" whispered randy, as he and the elegant elephant hurried through the door of the throne room and closed it softly behind them.
the hours randy and kabumpo spent waiting for jinnicky to summon them to his throne room were the longest and most anxious they had ever endured.
"even if he does restore them," groaned randy, pacing feverishly up and down one of the garden paths, "he'll have to send them straight back to anuther planet." rumpling up his hair, he looked wildly back at the elegant elephant, who was just behind him. "and if they go," declared the young king in a desperate voice, "i warn you, kabumpo, i shall jump on thun's back and go with them."
"what? and leave me?" gasped the elegant elephant, putting back his ears, "and your kingdom and friends and all your responsibilities? no, no, randy, this won't do. besides, you'd probably perish in that outlandish metal wilderness with nothing to eat and no place to rest your head. you can't do it, my boy, and furthermore, i won't let you."
snatching randy up in his trunk, he held him as tightly as if he were already running away instead of threatening to do so. in the course of this bitter argument and as the young monarch began pummeling kabumpo futilely with his fists, they were both lifted bodily into the air and set swiftly down in the red throne room.
"the master has good news for you," explained ginger. "look!" with his flashing white grin the little bell boy pointed to the throne itself and then, as was his wont, inexplicably vanished. what he saw made randy rush forward and fling both arms round the red jinn's neck.
"oh, you did it! you really did it!" he cried, embracing jinnicky all over again. "how can i ever thank you enough?"
"where am i?" murmured the clear silvery voice that kabumpo and randy knew so well. "oh, what a netiful, netiful castle. randy! randy! and there you are, big bumpo, and thun! but how did we come out of that debasement?"
without bothering to answer, randy seized planetty's hands and looked and looked at her as if he were never going to stop.
"you're the same, and yet different," he mused, scarcely able to believe what he saw. "and thun is the same, yet different, too."
"i am thun the thunder colt, now, then, and always!" announced thun, and gave a frightened jump, for he had actually spoken the words at the same time they went spiraling up into a sparkling sentence over his head. "oh, princess, princess!" he whinnied joyously. "do you hear? do you see? i can talk, i can hear, i can see and hear myself talking!"
at each word thun gave an ecstatic bound and then began racing madly round and round the throne room, in and out between the red pillars, leaping over chairs and tables in a positively hair-raising fashion.
"oh, my! oh, my mercy me!" faltered jinnicky, and scooping up the nonagon cat, he jumped up on a red tabouret. "stop him, somebody! stop him!"
"whoa, there! come back here, thun, come back; we want to look at you!" running after the thunder colt, randy caught him by his plumy tail and hung on till he actually did stop.
"and he doesn't make a sound when he gallops--not a sound," marveled jinnicky, edging nervously over to his throne and taking a seat beside planetty.
"a sound but soundless steed! har, har, har! and do not mind his breath, randy, it cannot burn you now; it's cold fire and will not singe a thing!"
"but how did you do it?" demanded kabumpo, touching planetty lightly with his trunk.
"oh, partly by my red incense, partly by my red reanimating rays, and partly by an old incantation against entrancery," explained jinnicky, as randy brought thun back and handed him over to planetty. "do you feel all right now, my dear, and as beautiful as you look?"
"oh, yes! oh, very yes!" answered planetty, smiling shyly round at the red jinn. "and you, i know it now, you must be the wizard so wonderful of ev?"
"wonderful! wonderful? well, i should say hay hurray!" randy threw his crown up in the air and caught it. "wonderful enough to save himself and us too. oh, so many things have happened, planetty, since you and thun turned to cold metal in that awful cellar!"
"i must make a note," muttered jinnicky, patting thun rather cautiously on the neck. "i must make a note to clean and cheer up that cellar. my! mercy! me! i haven't been down there for years!"
"and if i never see it again, it will still be too soon," grunted kabumpo, leaning up against a red pillar. "look, jinnicky," he muttered out of a corner of his mouth as randy and planetty moved over to one of the windows and randy began to tell the little princess all that had happened on nonagon isle and thun began kicking up his heels and talking to himself just for the fun of the thing. "look, will these two have to go straight back to their own planet?"
"that is what is worrying me," jinnicky said, speaking behind one hand and patting his hound, also released from its enchantment, with the other. "i managed to reawake and reanimate them, but, as you've probably noticed, they are changed. most certainly they are alive, but no longer of living metal, see? the girl's hair is no longer of fine spun metal strands, but it is real hair, still silvery in color as her skin retains its iridescent sheen, but i'm very much afraid, as things are, that the princess and her colt are unfitted for life on that far and rigorous planet of theirs. yes," jinnicky nodded his head emphatically, "i'm very much afraid they'll have to content themselves down here and live, eat and behave generally as natives of oz or ev."
"what?" trumpeted kabumpo so fiercely nina jumped out of jinnicky's arms and hid under the red throne. "oh, say it again!" he begged, swallowing convulsively. "great grump, why this is the best news i've heard since you've come up out of the sea."
"you mean they won't care?" exclaimed the red jinn, rubbing his palms nervously together.
"care!" spluttered kabumpo, waving his trunk toward the small red sofa where randy and planetty sat in rapt and earnest conversation. "they care for nothing but each other, old fellow. right there, my dear wizard, sits the future queen of regalia, or i'm a blue-bearded nannygoat!"
"oh, my, mercy me! you don't say! oh, har, har, har! how delightful! why, this calls for a celebration, a feast and a fiesta." beaming with interest and benevolence, jinnicky banged on the side of his throne with both fists and his elbows. "prepare a feast," he ordered breathlessly, as alibabble, his grand advizier, entered in a calm and dignified manner, showing no ill effects from his long months of servitude in the ruby mines. "prepare a feast, old tollywog, there's to be a wedding, with rings, bells, palms, presents and all the fruity fixings."
"a wedding?" alibabble looked sternly at his master, whom he instantly suspected of being the groom, then as the red jinn, grinning wickedly, waved to the engrossed pair on the red sofa, he nodded briefly.
"in that event," he remarked, backing rapidly away as he spoke, "i earnestly advise your majesty to have a hair cut."
"oh, my mercy me! did you hear that?" screamed the jinn, as he turned to kabumpo, his face very red and angry.
"i certainly did," roared the elegant elephant, giving jinnicky a playful little push. "hasn't changed a bit, has he? and neither have you. the last time i was in this castle he was advising the very same thing."
"that's all he ever thinks of," fumed jinnicky, fingering his long locks lovingly. then as his eye rested again on the happy little princess and the prancing thunder colt, his expression grew milder. "randy! randy!" he called, jerking his thumb imperiously at his royal guest. "see here, my boy," he explained, puffing out his cheeks importantly, as randy came to stand beside the throne. "i have done my part to save your little princess and now you must do yours! unfortunately," jinnicky's face grew long and dolorous, "unfortunately, planetty and thun, from this time on, will be unable to exist on anuther planet, so now, without a home or country, what will become of them?" in mock distress the red jinn stared down at his young friend.
"oh, jinnicky! how wonderful! oh, jinnicky, do you mean it? thank you! thank you! thank you!" pressing the little jinn's hands, randy went racing across the throne room.
"planetty," he whispered breathlessly in the little princess' ear. "how would you like to be queen of regalia, to go back to oz with thun, kabumpo and me and live in my castle for always?"
"oh, i think--" planetty's soft yellow eyes fairly danced with surprise and happiness--"i think that would be very nite. oh, randy, that would be netiful, netiful!"
the feast to celebrate randy's and planetty's wedding was the grandest and merriest in all the merry annals of oz and ev. it was, in fact, a double celebration. the red jinn's return and his victory over gludwig was enough to keep his subjects cheering for days and to honor his rescuers and especially the little princess of anuther planet and her royal consort, the evians outdid themselves, putting on one show after another. there were parades and pageants, fireworks and speeches and so many presents and parties it makes me jealous just to think of them. over and over again planetty and thun rejoiced in their new life and way of living, and eating the delicacies prepared by jinnicky's chef was not the least of its privileges. in the red jinn's castle eating was a pleasure as well as a necessity. but after a month's merry stay, during which every point of interest in jinnicky's vast realm was visited, the travelers bade the little jinn a hearty and affectionate adieu.
mounting kabumpo and thun, and laden with gifts and good wishes, the young king and queen set out for the land of oz and their own royal castle. uncle hoochafoo had already received his instructions and as randy had predicted things were very gay, very different and very cozy in that regal and mountainous little kingdom. planetty's staff, powerful as ever, was a great help and protection to the young rulers and the small red hand bag that packed itself went on many journeys with the little queen of the country.
if this story were beginning instead of ending, i could tell you a whole book of adventures they had traveling with kabumpo and thun through the great land of oz, for these days the elegant elephant spends almost as much time with randy and planetty as he does with the royal family of pumperdink, and most of it in travel. and in oz, what a gay way one travels! the other morning as i lay dreaming of them all, i got to thinking how nite it would be if the horses on milk wagons here were all soundless gallopers like thun!
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58765.txt
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The Cowardly Lion of Oz
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"tazzywaller, i must have another lion," said mustafa of mudge, giving his blue whiskers a terrible tweak. "another lion, tazzywaller, at once!"
"your highness already has nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions and a half!" said tazzywaller bowing humbly.
"oh, that!" interrupted mustafa impatiently. "very careless of you, tazzywaller, to bring me half a lion--the wrong half, too! monstrous annoying to see the back legs and tail of a lion jumping about in the reservation. unnatural, i call it."
"but, your highness will remember that had not a fortunate blow of my scimitar cut off the right half of the lion i would have been devoured, eaten, destroyed!"
tazzywaller's eyes bulged at the unhappy recollection.
"i'd have endeavored to console myself," sniffed mustafa disagreeably, "and panapee would make an excellent chamberlain. but this is wasting time. i must have another lion. a lion, i tell you, at once!"
mustafa's voice rose to a roar. springing from his throne, he began stamping first one foot, then the other. the round face of poor tazzywaller grew paler at each stamp.
"but there are no more lions in mudge," he pleaded. "your highness must know that. the royal hunters have tracked them all down, and even if there were more, we cannot afford another single lion. i beg of your highness to consider the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine already eating us out of our sandals. the mudgers are complaining of the lion tax--"
"silence!" screamed mustafa, jumping into the air so that he could stamp both feet at the same time.
"you're making most of the noise yourself," said tazzywaller sulkily.
"what is all this arguing about?" demanded a sleepy voice, and through a curtain at the back of the apartment appeared the huge, turbaned head of mixtuppa, queen of mudge.
"lions! your majesty," sighed the chief chamberlain, looking uneasily at mustafa's wife, who was even more unreasonable than her royal husband. "his highness desires another lion."
"well, why don't you get him one? you know i can't stand this stamping," wheezed mixtuppa irritably.
"neither can i," grumbled mustafa. "it hurts my royal feet."
"no one asked you to stamp. why don't you stop it?" sniffed tazzywaller.
"will you get me the lion?" asked mustafa, pausing with foot upraised.
"i would if there were any more, but there are no more lions in mudge!" wailed tazzywaller. down came mustafa's foot with a terrible stamp.
"great gazupp!" screamed the monarch of mudge. "what kind of a chamberlain are you? i'll appoint panapee chamberlain in your place and you--you may feed the lions!" he finished furiously.
mustafa clapped his hands sharply and to the small mudger who bounced into the room he snapped, "tell panapee to appear before me at once." he paid no attention to the pleadings of tazzywaller, who was bumping his head on the floor, nor to the advice of mixtuppa, who was wagging her head through the curtain. the next moment panapee stood before the throne. he was as tall and thin as tazzywaller was round and fat. his little eyes snapped with glee at sight of the chamberlain rolling about on the floor. as purse bearer he always had to walk back of tazzywaller in royal processions, and to see his rival in disgrace was an exquisite pleasure to the envious old mudger.
"your excellency sent for me?" asked panapee bowing deeply.
"yes," shrilled mustafa, pushing back his turban and pointing a trembling finger at tazzywaller. "he says there are no more lions in mudge and i, mustafa, must have another lion."
"your highness knows best," murmured panapee, rolling up his eyes and putting his finger tips together.
"you know as well as i that there are no more lions in mudge," cried tazzywaller, springing to his feet and shaking his fist under panapee's nose.
"there are other countries besides mudge," said panapee loftily. "now i presume your highness was thinking of an odd, unusual sort of lion; something bigger and better than the kind now fighting amiably in the royal reservation?"
"how well you understand me," sighed mustafa, sinking back among his cushions. "that's just what i do want, panny--a strange, rare, royal sort of lion; one who will keep the rest in order and add to the honor and dignity of our court."
"i have a book," confided panapee, placing his finger mysteriously beside his nose, "a book of lions, and if your highness will but excuse me i will fetch it from my tent."
"are you going to get a lion out of a book?" asked mixtuppa sleepily. "how stupid of tazzywaller not to have thought of that."
now, while panapee goes for his book, i must tell you that mudge is a blue and barbarous country in the southwestern part of the munchkin country of oz. it is a hot, dry, desert land and the mudgers themselves are a short-tempered, long-legged tribe of troublemakers. they live in blue, striped tents and, if it were not for their bright blue whiskers, you would take them for arabs, as they wear sweeping white robes and turbans to protect themselves from the heat and desert sands.
in olden oz times the mudgers used to descend upon the helpless little countries that surrounded them and carry off everything of value. but glinda, the good sorceress of oz, put a stop to that. one night, flying over mudge in her swan chariot, she had dropped a blue book and it had fallen on the oldest mudger in the kingdom, hitting him a terrible blow on the nose. it had been a blow to them all, for in gold letters on the first page of the book stood this sentence:
"from this day on, any mudger leaving the land of mudge shall lose his head. by order of ozma, ruler of all oz."
there were other warnings in the blue book, but the first had changed the whole history of the country. no mudger was brave enough to venture out of mudge after that, so the thieving raids on other countries had stopped instantly, and the mudgers, deprived of the pleasure of stealing from their neighbors, stole from each other, and were always quarreling among themselves and moving their tents from place to place. the peoples of the surrounding countries would come to the borders of mudge to bargain for the dates, figs and cocoanuts for which the land was famous, but mustafa's grandfather, who was then ruler of the desert kingdom, disagreeably decided that since no mudger might leave mudge no outsider should enter his country. warnings were posted on all the borders of mudge and soon no one came near the horrid little kingdom, so that it went on growing more blue and barbarous all the time, as people are bound to do who have no friends or neighbors.
when mustafa, who really was not a bad fellow at heart, assumed the throne he tried to divert the minds of his quarrelsome subjects by organizing hunts. there were many lions in the uninhabited parts of the desert, and for a time hunting lions kept the mudgers out of mischief. but soon they were quarreling over even that, and the royal hunting expeditions were more in the nature of battles than pleasure excursions.
mustafa, in despair, confided to tazzywaller that he much preferred the lions to his subjects. so tazzywaller had mildly suggested that he keep a few for company. mustafa, who was terribly bored with his duties as king, was delighted with the idea and issued orders that hereafter all lions should be brought to the royal tents.
at first he had kept two or three in a large enclosed cage in his garden, but as his subjects grew more unmanageable, his affection for lions increased. he insisted upon more and more lions, until, as tazzywaller had stated, there were nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine and one-half in the royal collection. mustafa pretended that he kept these lions to frighten away the enemies of mudge, and for this purpose he had a large iron enclosure erected all around the kingdom, so that no one could come in or go out without passing through the royal lion reservation. indeed, when the little munchkin boys and girls recited their lessons, they always described mudge as a country entirely surrounded by lions. but this was only an excuse. mustafa knew well enough that no one dared leave mudge, and that no one wanted to come there, but it sounded well when the people complained of the lion tax.
mustafa's lions were a terrible trial to poor tazzywaller. to keep his position as chief chamberlain of mudge, he must produce a lion whenever mustafa demanded one. this was pretty often. by his orders the whole country had been combed for lions and only the week before word had been brought that there was not another lion left in the whole country. then tazzywaller himself had gone hunting, and after an exhausting trip had come upon the very last old lion of mudge. when tazzywaller tried to capture him, the beast had selfishly tried to devour the fat chamberlain. in protecting himself tazzywaller cut the old lion in two with his scimitar. before he could remedy the disaster the front, and best part, of the lion had jumped over the lion enclosure and disappeared.
in the fairy kingdom of oz nothing can really be killed, so that both halves of the lion were quite unhurt and lively, but mustafa had been very angry when tazzywaller brought him the half he had managed to catch. it had almost cost him his position.
"to think it was i who suggested lions in the first place," groaned poor tazzywaller. "lions! bah! mustafa has a taste for lions and lions have a taste for me!"
"that's odd of them," drawled mixtuppa, rolling her blue eyes at tazzy. "poor taste i call it!"
"silence!" exploded mustafa so sharply that mixtuppa hastily drew in her head. mustafa was already regretting his unkindness, but he was too proud to take back his words. yes, tazzy would have to feed the lions. he sighed mournfully; but just then panapee came whirling through the tent flap, a large book under his arm.
"this book," puffed panapee proudly--but he got no further.
"give it to me," commanded mustafa, snatching the volume from panapee. even tazzywaller edged nearer, and the sleepy head of mixtuppa was again thrust through the curtain.
"famous lions of oz," read mustafa, and opened the dusty volume with trembling fingers. but he got no further than the second page, for there was a picture of the most splendid lion he had ever seen in his whole mudger existence, and underneath, in blue letters, stood the words "this is the famous cowardly lion of oz, king of all forest creatures."
"cowardly lion?" gasped mustafa. "how singular! how rare! why, he doesn't look cowardly at all."
"if your highness will but read," exulted panapee, pointing to the opposite page. breathlessly mustafa began.
"the cowardly lion is one of the most unusual and celebrated lions in oz. for many years he ruled over the forest kingdoms, but in the reign of the famous wizard of oz the cowardly lion was discovered by a little kansas girl named dorothy. he became so attached to dorothy that he accompanied her on her journey to the emerald city, saving her life many times on the way, and proving so brave, in spite of his cowardice, that he won the love and admiration of all oz. since then he has spent most of his time in the capital city, sharing in all the adventures of court celebrities, and of dorothy, who has been made a royal princess. he has, by his many brave deeds, endeared himself to the whole populace and--"
"panny!" burst out mustafa, without waiting to read any more, "panny, that is the lion i want, the cowardly lion of oz!"
"that is the lion he wants!" repeated mixtuppa, nodding her head approvingly.
"and of course he shall have it," sniffed tazzywaller, relieved to think he was no longer chamberlain. "panapee, produce this cowardly lion. at once!"
"it will take a little time," began the new chamberlain of mudge nervously. "an expedition must be fitted out and--"
"how about the warning in the book of mudge?" asked tazzywaller sarcastically. "do you suppose anyone is going to risk his head just for the honor of catching this cowardly lion?"
"it would be a great honor," said panapee, looking slyly at his rival, "a very great honor. i was about to suggest that you, dear tazzywaller, undertake the journey. even though you were to lose your head, you could still feed the lions of mudge."
"me!" screamed tazzywaller, almost turning a somersault. "oh, no, my brave panapee, it would be too great an honor for me. i am only the lion feeder. i must feed them at once!" tazzywaller started on a run for the door, but mustafa called him back.
"you used to give me good advice, tazzywaller," sighed the ruler of mudge. "who do you think could catch this cowardly lion of oz?"
"why not panapee?" asked the former chamberlain wickedly. "he is a strong, brave man."
"yes, but what would your highness do without an adviser?" quavered panapee in a tremulous tone.
"he could take my advice," drawled mixtuppa, "and to begin with i'd--"
what mixtuppa was about to advise will never be known, for right here fifteen mudgers burst into the royal tent.
"lion!" screamed the first. "lion! lion! lion!" screamed all the others, whirling their scimitars until the confusion was terrible.
"let me catch him!" cried tazzywaller, but panapee clutched at his sleeve.
"no, let me!" squealed panapee, brushing past him. "i am chief chamberlain of mudge!"
"perhaps it is the cowardly lion," puffed mustafa, springing rapturously from his throne, and next minute they had all rolled, run or tumbled out of the tent, screaming in a way to curdle the blood of twenty lions. under the largest palm tree in the sandy waste mustafa was pleased to call his garden stood a very lumpy and peculiar-looking lion!
it was raining outside, it was hot and stuffy inside and it was the last day of the circus in stumptown. all over the big tent people moved about restlessly on the hard seats, and grumbled when sudden splashes of rain came pelting through the tent top. mothers were thinking anxiously of the wet journey home, young ladies were worrying about their spring bonnets, and even the boys and girls were only applauding half-heartedly as old billy, the elephant, rang dinner bells in one ring and the glicko sisters swung dizzily from trapezes in the other. the chief clown ran distractedly around both rings. he stood on his head, he walked on his hands, he leaped over the elephant, he pretended he was a balky donkey. but no one laughed. they didn't even smile at his oldest jokes.
"this is too terrible," gulped the clown, stepping behind a pillar. "not one real laugh the whole afternoon! what's the matter with these folks anyway?" he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, hastily powdered his nose and dashed out again.
it was beginning to thunder now, and the animals in the outside tent set up a dreadful roaring. from looking bored, the people began to look frightened. something must be done. the worried clown rushed into the center ring and sprang to the back of the big elephant.
"ladies and gentlemen!" shouted the clown, waving his arms to attract attention. "ladies and gentlemen, i am about to perform one of the most astonishing and amazing feats ever executed--a trick that has astounded the crowned heads of europe, asia and africa. ladies and gentlemen--"
people on the back rows, who were already pushing their way toward the exits, paused. a little girl in the twenty-five-cent seats cheered faintly. thus encouraged, the clown turned a really marvelous somersault and landed on the tip of the elephant's trunk.
"will some small boy kindly step forward," begged the clown, glancing hurriedly along the front rows. "for this trick i need a small, active boy. ah, there he is!"
urging the elephant to the very edge of the ring, the clown snatched a small, red-headed boy from a group of solemn-eyed orphans, who had been brought to the circus for a special treat. the crowd gasped with surprise, and the orphan tried to wriggle out of his coat, but the clown held on firmly.
"one toss of this boy into the air, and he will disappear; a toss of my cap and he will reappear. watch!" cried the clown, putting his fingers to his lips.
"what are you trying to do?" demanded the ringmaster in a hoarse whisper. "you can't really make him disappear, you know."
the clown realized this, but he was going to make that crowd laugh--or disappear himself. with a shrill whistle that made even the old elephant prick up his ears, he tossed the orphan to his shoulder and reeled off the first ridiculous rhyme that popped into his head. and this was it:
"udge! budge! go to mudge! udger budger, you're a mudger!"
a roar of delight went up from the crowd, and a roar of terror from the ringmaster, for the orphan had disappeared--disappeared as completely as a punctured balloon!
"help!" screamed the clown, dancing frantically up and down on the elephant's head. the audience was enchanted and rocking to and fro with merriment.
"that's the best trick i've ever seen," gurgled a fat man, mopping his face. "look at him pretending to be frightened. come on now, bring him back, you!"
the clown cried out another verse:
"udge! budge! go to mudge! udger budger, i'm a mudger!"
there was a tearing rip and a clap of thunder. the crowd stared, rubbed its eyes and stared again. no clown, no orphan! why, this was tremendous! they stamped with glee and shouted their approval. but the ringmaster fell breathlessly against a post, and the owner of the circus, with popping eyes, started on a run for the dressing tent. not a bit too soon, either, for in a few seconds the crowd stopped laughing as suddenly as it had begun. umbrellas were brandished furiously, and people shouted at the ringmaster to produce the orphan at once. the ringmaster was shaking in his shiny shoes, but he resolved to save himself if he could. raising his whip for silence, he announced in his most impressive voice that the best part of the trick was to come--that the clown and orphan were at that minute standing at the circus gate to wave good-bye to the company, one of the most distinguished and delightful companies it had ever been their pleasure to entertain. he clicked his heels together, made a deep bow and the crowd, convinced that he was speaking the truth, began to stream out of the big tent.
without waiting another second, the ringmaster grasped old billy by the ear and ran him toward the animal tent. in five minutes the whole circus force was dashing about in the pelting rain, dragging out cages, prodding the elephants, tugging at the big horses, pulling down the tents.
"something terrible has happened; we've got to move out of here," chattered the owner of the show, rushing from group to group. by the time the indignant old gentleman who had brought the orphans to the circus had been to the gate and back, the first of the heavy circus wagons was already rattling over the hill. the few workmen, hastening the last bits of loading, shook their heads dully when he demanded the orphan and, after threatening and stamping in vain, the distracted old gentleman ran off to fetch the police, with the thirty-nine other orphans splashing delightedly behind him.
police! what could police do against magic? how did the clown know that the rhyme that had popped into his head was an old oz formula? it had carried off the orphan like a skyrocket, and when the clown had frantically repeated the magic words, he too had been snatched into the air, hurled through the tent top, and flung down beside the frightened little boy in the strangest land he had ever seen. fortunately they had fallen on a soft dune of sand, and around them for miles and miles stretched a flat and silvery desert.
neither the clown nor the boy spoke for several minutes. to tell the truth, they were breathless. then the clown sat up and looked doubtfully at the orphan.
"well, here we are," he said, winking more from force of habit than because he felt particularly jolly.
"yes, sir!" gulped the orphan, swallowing hard.
"now don't call me sir," begged the clown, making conversation to gain time. "don't call me sir because i worked in a circus. my name is notta--notta bit more. i was the last of twelve children, and my mother and father could not agree on a name for me. every time my mother said, 'call him augustus elmer more,' my father said, 'not a bit of it.' after while, being a clown himself and a joker by trade, he began calling me 'notta bit more' and notta i've been ever since." the clown winked again. "call me notta, won't you?"
"yes, sir," replied the orphan, swallowing again and trying not to cry. seeing this, notta turned a double somersault and stood on his head.
"and what is your name?" he asked, waving his legs cheerfully.
"bobbie downs," sniffed the orphan, with another swallow.
"how did you get it?" the clown dropped down beside the little boy.
"i think it came with me, sir," said bobbie faintly.
"well, if you don't mind, we'll change it to bob up--for that's what we've done--and bob up sounds more lively than bobbie downs, don't you think?"
while notta was talking he was glancing anxiously around him. "bob," he said finally, "i think we've fallen in with another circus. see, there are the tents, and i hear lions roaring."
"so do i," said bobbie beginning to look more interested than frightened.
"yes, it's either a circus or a sea shore without any sea," continued the clown, running his fingers through the sand. "but anyway, here i am and here you are, and so long as you are here we'll bob up together. let's go on to the main tent and see the show."
bobbie stood up and shook the water from his cap. they were both dripping wet from the storm they had passed through, but the sun and wind of this queer desert country soon dried them off and, conversing almost cheerfully, they trudged through the deep sand toward a large blue, striped tent.
"i've done a heap of traveling in my time," confided notta, "but never in just this way. i've run into some strange places and walked into others; but this is the first time i ever talked myself into a country. there we were in a circus, quiet and natural like, then that rhyme pops into my head. i say it and off we go like a couple of skyrockets. we were just talked into this country, bob, my boy, and a mighty tricky business i call it. but never mind, we'll just follow the rules anyway."
"what rules?" asked bob, looking curiously at some tall palm trees, waving in the distance. he had never supposed palm trees existed outside of geography books.
"why," explained notta, "just four simple little rules i made up to use in case of danger or trouble. first," he pulled out his little finger, "first i disguise myself. if that fails, i'm extree-mly polite. if politeness doesn't do, i tell a joke. if the joke fails, i shout something no one can understand and run like sixty. so don't you worry, bob; stick to me and run when i run and everything will turn out right. do you know what makes me so fat?"
bob shook his head.
"disguises!" whispered notta triumphantly. "i use them for padding. mighty handy when i tumble about. yes, sir, in here." notta fondly patted his bulging suit. "in here i have six marvelous disguises ready to put on at a moment's notice, and in here," notta tapped his powdery forehead, "in here, i've sixty different jokes, and lots of things i don't understand myself, so you see we are prepared for everything."
"yes, sir," said bobbie solemnly, for he was a very solemn little boy. living in an orphan asylum had made him that way and, as for adventures, he had never had an adventure in his life. there were lessons and meals and punishments, and once in a while a fight among the older boys, but no one in that big, busy home had time to talk to bobbie downs, nor answer his questions. so bobbie had grown quieter and more solemn each year of the seven he had spent in the dull gray asylum.
notta looked at the little boy curiously as he trudged along beside him. the kindly clown decided that he was going to like bob up, and right there he decided that bob up was going to have a little fun. "i'll bet he's never laughed out loud in his whole life," thought the clown to himself, and began running over in his head the funniest jokes that he knew. he had just determined on the one about the pig and the pound of bacon, when an ear splitting screech knocked all thought of joking out of his mind. a huge figure, with bristling blue whiskers, had stepped out from behind a palm tree, taken one look at the two strangers and then disappeared in the direction of the blue tent, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"is it blue beard?" quavered bob, clutching notta.
"bob," said the clown, swallowing hard, "i don't know, but we'll just try rule one." fumbling in the bosom of his suit he dragged out a brown bundle, and before the little boy could wink had stepped into it and dropped on all fours.
"i'm a lion," panted notta, "and if i roar loudly enough i may frighten them off. stick close to me, bob, and try to remember the rules. if i run, you run--understand?"
"yes, sir!" gasped bob, his eyes as round as cookies, for notta's disguise was so real that he was almost afraid himself. scarcely had notta cleared his throat for a growl than a white robed company burst out of the blue tent, and descended upon them in a whirl of sand and scimitars. bob was as brave as any boy, but his retired life in an orphan asylum had not prepared him for anything like this. tears started to his eyes. with a scream of fright, he grasped notta's woolly mane.
"you'd better stop crying and get ready to run," whispered the clown nervously and finished his sentence with such a roar that bob jumped quite three feet. but the wild white company kept right on coming and, before notta could get another growl going, a net was thrown over his head, a dozen of the blue whiskered villains were upon him and next instant he was rolling over and over in the sandy road.
bob had shut his eyes tight, expecting to be snatched himself, but when nothing happened he opened them and saw with a little gasp that they were hustling notta, with pricks and prods, towards the billowing blue tent. this was bob's first adventure and he might have run away, but something inside of him, that he hadn't known about, kept him there. right in that moment, and all of a sudden, bob discovered that he was fonder of this clown whom he had known only a few moments than of anyone he had ever known before. he felt that if something terrible was going to happen to notta it might as well happen to him too.
"bob up," the clown had called him. well, bob up he would. with trembling legs, he ran after the shouting company, and managed to squeeze into the royal tent unnoticed, behind the broad back of tazzywaller. for as you have all guessed long before now, it was to mudge that notta had transported himself and the little boy.
notta's disguise, though somewhat askew, still held together and he was growling terribly to keep up his courage, at the same time looking anxiously around for bob. his lion head had been knocked sideways, so that he could only see out of one eye, but what he managed to see with one eye was enough to make him quake with terror. the mudgers were shouting and hopping about in front of a large blue throne, pointing at him with their flashing scimitars. then a tall, particularly thin fellow seized him by the ear. it was panapee.
"lion," cried panapee haughtily, "this is your new master, mustafa of mudge. your highness, here is the lion you were just wishing for!"
"an odd looking beast," puffed the ruler of mudge, tugging at his mustache.
"an awful looking creature i call it," sniffed tazzywaller, who was jealous to think another lion really had been captured after he said there were no more.
"maybe it's the cowardly lion," mused mustafa. "i see that his knees are trembling. are you the cowardly lion?" he demanded, pointing his scimitar at poor notta. the clown roared dismally, to prove he was no coward. how was he to know that in the land of oz all animals can and are expected to talk? why, he did not even know he was in oz, and in the hands of the mudgers.
"he refuses to answer," said mustafa gloomily. "well, a dumb lion is better than no lion at all. take him away, panny, and lock him up with the other lions. i hope he's a good fighter. let me see, that makes ten thousand for you to feed, tazzywaller, if the others don't chew this one up."
he rubbed his hands joyfully together. "i'll come out later on and see how they take to him. but i am not going to be satisfied until i have the cowardly lion, panny. this lion is a cowardly lion but not the cowardly lion. take him away!"
mustafa picked up the lion book and, waving notta out of the tent, fell to looking at the picture of the cowardly lion of oz.
all during this conversation notta's hair had been prickling under his mane. ten thousand lions! sizzling sawdust! better face these wild-looking men than that. rule one had failed, it was time to try rule two.
"come on," growled the mudger at his head and gave the rope around his neck a sharp tug. but before the clown had a chance to move or speak, there was a shrill scream, and out rushed bob up, almost upsetting old tazzywaller. he flung both arms around the trembling lion.
"you shan't take him away," cried the little boy stormily. "it isn't a lion. it's notta!"
"notta?" roared mustafa, lurching forward and looking at bobbie with astonishment.
"not a lion," cried the clown, rising on his hind legs and hastily removing his lion head.
there was a moment of absolute silence following notta's disclosure. with his lion body and clown head he presented an amazing and ridiculous appearance. nothing like this had ever been seen in mudge, and the mudgers simply gaped with astonishment.
"steady now, bob," whispered the clown, putting his lion paw around the little boy. "all we have to do is to be polite--rule two, you know!"
mustafa was the first to recover.
"not a lion!" cried the monarch of mudge hoarsely. "why, how dare you disappoint me like this? did you hear that, tazzywaller, panny, mixtuppa--all of you? he says he's not a lion." a sob of rage choked mustafa's voice.
"i apologize for not being a lion," said notta, in a polite, slightly shaky voice. "ten thousand pardons!"
"ten thousand puddings!" screamed mustafa furiously.
"puddings by all means, if your highness prefers them," corrected notta hastily.
"i told you there were no more lions in mudge," wheezed tazzywaller with a triumphant glance at panapee. "i knew it wasn't a lion all along."
"well, what is it then?" asked mustafa angrily. "the little fellow's a boy of some kind, but this other?" he waved scornfully at the poor clown.
"a wizard, your highness!" hissed panapee. "a wizard, that's what he is."
"now don't call me names," begged notta, extending the front paws of his disguise. "i'm notta."
"not a wizard, i suppose," said tazzywaller scornfully.
"why don't you ask him how he got here?" sighed mixtuppa, reasonably enough. notta stared curiously at the large head of mixtuppa, wagging through the blue curtain. perhaps here was someone who would understand politeness.
"madam, your highness, gracious and lovely lady," began the clown with a deep bow, "we fell into this charming country through no fault of our own."
"well, it wasn't our fault; we have no faults here," snapped mustafa ungraciously.
"how did you get past the lion enclosure?" demanded panapee. "how do you explain this being a lion one minute and a creature of another sort the next?"
"well, there is something very queer about it," admitted notta, rubbing his forehead in a puzzled way. "one minute bob and i were in a circus doing a bit of a trick and--"
"i knew it was a trick," exclaimed panapee triumphantly. "he admits it!"
"silence!" cried mustafa, who was beginning to enjoy the recital. "you were in a circus? tazzywaller, what is a circus?"
"it's a show," explained notta hastily, for he could tell by the puzzled faces of the mudgers that they had never heard of such a thing. "and we were in it. i put bob on my shoulder and shouted a silly rhyme, and in a flash he is gone. i shout it again and i'm gone too!"
"gone where?" asked mustafa, rubbing his chin.
"to here," replied notta, gazing about him uneasily. "funny how a little verse could carry us so far. he recited:
"udge! budge! go to mudge! udger budger, i'm a mudger!"
no sooner had he done so than mustafa sprang into the air and all the mudgers began roaring with fright and fury.
"he's discovered the secret of mudge," shrilled mustafa, pulling out a handful of his whiskers. "how dare you use our own privately patented, particular, magic transformation formula? now you'll be wishing all sorts of people into the country!"
"he's a wizard!" screamed panapee. "i told you he was a wizard! twist his tail; off with his head; throw him to the lions!"
"wait, let me explain," pleaded the clown, but his voice was drowned in the angry hubbub. then all at once a gong at the back of the tent rang thunderously. mustafa, who had already seized the tail of notta's disguise, paused. so did the others. on a platform at the other end of the tent stood tazzywaller, thumping the gong with all his might. the noise was so terrible that even notta and bob, frightened though they were, had to cover their ears. not until mustafa ran to the little platform and commanded tazzywaller to stop, did the awful clangor cease.
"what do you mean by this impertinence?" panted mustafa, seizing tazzy's arm.
"it was the only way i could get your attention," said tazzywaller calmly. "i have something important to say. about lions," he finished meaningly.
"well, what is it?" puffed mustafa eagerly. "be quiet!" he called to the mudgers who were again closing in on notta and bob.
"that person," cried tazzywaller, with a wave toward notta, "is undoubtedly a wizard. instead of snatching off his head, which will be of no use to us, even as an ornament, why not compel him to serve us? he is a wizard, or he would not be in mudge. well then, let him go to the emerald city and bring back the cowardly lion!"
mustafa stared at his former chamberlain in amazed admiration, then flinging both arms about his neck, hugged him almost to suffocation. next instant he had clapped his hands and issued a dozen orders to as many little servitors. at the first the shouting mudgers retired backward from the tent, at the second panapee also retired, leaving bob and notta alone with tazzy and their majesties. outside, the marching and countermarching of the blue guard could be heard as they surrounded the royal tent.
"the rules aren't working at all well, bob," breathed notta anxiously. bob said nothing. he just clutched the clown's hand a little tighter and stared at mustafa in open-eyed wonder.
"now then," chuckled the monarch of mudge, "now then, my handsome wizard, what do you call yourself?"
"notta," began the clown, resolved to be polite as long as possible, "notta bit more."
"notta!" coughed mustafa, opening his eyes wide. "that doesn't sound like a name. it sounds like--"
"a joke," put in the clown, with one of his broad smiles, "a little joke on me. you see it is meant to be funny."
"well, it doesn't amuse me at all." mustafa stared solemnly into the clown's face. "why are you so white? and why is his hair,"--mustafa jerked his thumb at bob--"so red?"
"for the same reason that your majesty's whiskers are blue," replied notta promptly. mustafa did not quite like this answer.
"your business?" he inquired next. "i suppose you deny being a wizard?"
"oh, absolutely!" said notta. "but my business, if your majesty insists, is fun. i make people laugh and thus prolong their lives."
"a funny business," sniffed mustafa, with a puzzled look at tazzywaller. "well, you will have to make me laugh to prolong your life, and the only thing that makes me laugh is lions!"
"lions!" notta wrinkled up his forehead. "i'm afraid lions are not in my line at all. you see i didn't work in that part of the show."
"you pretended to be a lion," interrupted mustafa sternly, "and you have proved yourself a wizard. so unless you can capture the cowardly lion of oz and bring him back to mudge, you shall be thrown into the lion reservation, whereby nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions will tear you to bits. do you agree?"
"tear me to bits!" gulped the clown. "my father often said i'd go to the dogs, but he never dreamed i'd be thrown to the lions. say, is this cowardly lion very fierce?"
instead of answering, mustafa handed him panapee's lion book, saying, "you may read that while i make preparations for your journey."
smiling almost pleasantly, the monarch of mudge linked his arm through tazzywaller's and disappeared behind the blue curtain at the back of the tent. mixtuppa also drew in her head and bob up and notta were left alone.
"isn't it time to run?" asked the little boy anxiously. he had never in his whole life heard so much about lions. but notta put his fingers to his lips and shook his head.
"no use," whispered the clown. "the tent's surrounded. we must pretend, my boy--pretend we are going to hunt this cowardly lion. then, once out of the country, we'll take the first train home."
he sat down on a huge cushion and began turning the pages of the lion book, bob up looking curiously over his shoulder. they were both quite interested in a description of the cowardly lion and princess dorothy, when mustafa came whirling back. he was followed by a small mudger servant, with three white packets upon his head.
"here," said mustafa, with a wave at the packets, "are provisions for three days. travel straight north until you reach a yellow brick road and follow that road till you come to the emerald city. there you will find the cowardly lion."
"but, see here," began notta, who had been doing some quick thinking, "why does not your majesty transport this lion to mudge by the magic verse?"
"for a wizard," sniffed mustafa, "you are astonishingly stupid. that verse only transports people, and one must touch the person."
"well then, why not send some of your valiant tribesmen to capture him? i, i am a stranger here and have never captured a lion in my life."
"because it is written in the book of mudge that any mudger leaving his country will lose his head," droned mixtuppa, thrusting her turban through the curtain. "and if you take my advice you will go at once. all this arguing keeps me awake, and when i'm awake i lose my temper, and when i lose my temper other folks lose their heads, and when that--"
"i'll go," sighed notta, seeing that no sense at all was to be had from this ridiculous pair. he stepped out of his lion disguise and, rolling it up into a small bundle, thrust it into his trouser leg. next he slung the three packets around his neck and, taking bob's hand, declared himself ready to go.
rubbing his hands gleefully, mustafa led them out of the royal tent, through a double line of the mudger guard, to the great iron enclosure that surrounded his kingdom. the lions were snarling and quarreling among themselves, but as soon as mustafa came in sight they began calling him names and screaming for their dinner.
"be quiet, my little pets," chuckled the monarch of mudge good-naturedly. "this is not dinner, only a silly wizard."
"give us the boy, then," roared the largest of the lions, licking his chops.
"give us the boy," roared all the other lions immediately. notta and bob up stared at mustafa's pets in horror and disbelief, for neither had in their lives ever heard a lion talk before. bob, especially, was terribly dismayed by the personal nature of their conversation. but, while they were still trembling, two heavy doors were slipped through the bars, about five feet apart, making a safe and narrow passageway through the enclosure. the gates on the inside and outside of the enclosure were unlocked and mustafa waved imperiously for them to go. this notta and bob lost no time in doing.
"remember," called mustafa warningly, as they scurried through, "if you run away instead of hunting for the cowardly lion, i shall know of it. when a messenger disobeys me, my magic ring turns black. if it turns black i shall know you are deceiving me, and in that case"--mustafa held up his thumb so that notta could see his ring--"in that case i shall take it off, and if i take it off you will both turn as blue as my whiskers and find yourselves unable to move until you decide to do as i have commanded. good-bye, my chalk-faced wizard, a pleasant journey and a swift return!"
notta was too shocked and astounded to answer. grasping bob up more firmly than before, he rushed out the iron gate and off through a field of blue daisies, until the dreadful roaring of the lions of mudge could no longer be heard.
"and this," puffed the clown at last, sinking down under a great tree, "this is what comes of trying to be funny. never try to be funny, my boy."
"no, sir," answered bob, staring anxiously over his shoulder to see whether any of mustafa's lions had followed them.
for a time notta and bob up sat quietly under the tree, each busy with his own thoughts. the clown was repeating to himself mustafa's warning, and trying to recall some mention of such a country as mudge in the geographies he had studied. the little boy was thinking that at this time yesterday he was calmly eating oatmeal and apple sauce, with nothing more exciting ahead than lessons and bed. perhaps he was asleep, and dreaming about lions and blue whiskered mudgers. he touched notta experimentally, to see if he would disappear or turn suddenly to the harsh-voiced matron of the orphan asylum. but the clown only turned a neat somersault, walked a few paces on his hands and sat down again.
"bob," asked the clown, tilting his cap forward so he could scratch his ear, "do i look like a lion hunter?"
bob up shook his head slowly and almost laughed. something inside tickled tremendously, but he remembered, just in time, that laughing was against the rules of the orphan home, so he swallowed instead.
"we're both lion hunters," observed the clown reflectively, "and that being the case we had better start hunting at once, for it would never do for the lions to find us first. it's like a game of hide-and-seek, bob. so long as we are hunting him, this cowardly lion is it. but if we stop hunting, then we're it. in a game of hide-and-seek with a lion, it's your hide or his. being it, means being et, hide-and-seek and all!"
notta glanced slyly at bob out of the corner of his eye to see whether he was going to smile. bob was looking uncertainly at the forest, stretching so darkly ahead, and thinking he would just as soon not play this game of hide-and-seek at all. but as notta had already started toward the forest, there was nothing for him to do but follow. the short, spring afternoon was drawing to a close and a round silver moon showed faintly over the tree tops.
"things might be a lot better, and again they might be a lot worse," mused notta, as they walked along under the trees. "why, if you were in the home, you would probably be eating corn meal mush for supper and--"
"what are we going to have for supper, notta?" asked bob, looking up at the clown inquiringly.
"well, hurrah!" shouted the clown, turning a rapid cartwheel. "you're getting on, my lad; called me notta as natural as a brother. as to supper, that depends on mustafa. let's see what the old rascal has given us."
on a flat stump that happened to be near, notta opened one of the packets and set out a regular feast. there were dozens of small meat sandwiches, there were ripe figs, a jar of honey, and a little jug full of blue tea, which they found most refreshing. after they had feasted, notta carefully packed up the rest and, feeling more cheerful, the two cowardly lion hunters stepped along through the forest.
"i can't make out where we are, at all," said the clown presently, "but in a country where lions talk, and verses fling one about, it's safer to obey orders, don't you think so, bob up, my boy? so long as we travel towards this emerald city we are obeying orders and are safe from mustafa's ring. when we get there is time enough to worry about the cowardly lion. now take an emerald city, bob; did you ever hear of such a place? why, it's as strange as blue whiskers and cowardly lions. everything's strange. in fact, i think we've fallen into one of these fairy tales. i always had a kind of notion they were true!"
"but the cowardly lion liked dorothy," burst out bob quite unexpectedly, "so maybe he will like us." he had been turning slowly over in his mind the few facts he had managed to read in the lion book.
"why, bless my heart!" cried the clown, looking down at bob admiringly, "so he did, and furthermore, didn't that book say dorothy was from kansas?"
bob up nodded solemnly.
"well, then everything's clear as candy!" notta turned a somersault from pure relief. "we'll go straight to this emerald city and tell our troubles to dorothy, and when she learns that we are from the united states, surely she will help us to get back, and if we could take a couple of talking lions along our fortune would be made. why, even barnum and bailey never showed a talking lion."
notta was so enthusiastic by this time that he fairly bounced along. but bob was growing sleepy. he found it harder and harder to keep pace with notta's long legs, and finally fell sprawling over the roots of a large tree. notta had him up in a minute.
"lights out?" chuckled the clown, touching bob's eyelids gently. "well, then, let's go to bed. it's too dark to go on, anyway."
"i don't see any beds," sighed bob, leaning wearily against the clown's knee.
"neither do i," admitted the clown, "but we'll just pretend we're flowers, and sleep on the ground." in a minute the clown had raked a pile of leaves together under the tree and placed bob carefully in the center.
"are there any bears in this wood?" asked bob, looking around doubtfully. it was quite dark now, and the moonlight sifting through the leaves made queer shapes out of all the shadows.
"this isn't a bear forest," said notta positively. "i think it's a fairy forest, bob, and that reminds me of a song i used to know."
reaching over, notta pulled the little boy into his big, comfortable lap, and with a twinkle in his eyes he put his back against the tree and began to sing:
"oh the moon's a balloon on a silvery string, and the sandman holds on to it tight! 'tis a ticklish task-- what would happen, i ask, if he let it fly off some fine night?
"but he knows that there are seven points to a star, that might puncture the moon; and a steeple would finish it quite! how we'd miss it at night, for the moon means so much to some people!"
there was another verse to the song, and bob, leaning drowsily against notta's chest, thought he had never heard anything so perfectly beautiful. he had never sat on a real lap before, nor had a song sung especially for him. so the little boy snuggled down contentedly, his eyes straying to the moon, just visible above the tree tops. why, there was a string on it, a bright silver string, and a little, old man was holding to the end, just as notta had sung!
"fast asleep," muttered the clown, holding bob a bit tighter. and so he was fast asleep and dreaming of the sandman's balloon. notta meant to keep awake, for he was not so sure there were no bears in this dark forest, but the day's experiences had so tired him that, in a short time, he was sound asleep himself.
no sooner had notta's eyes closed, than a little, bent fairyman came tip-toeing from behind the tree. he held his lantern close to notta's face.
"such a beautiful voice," sighed the little fellow to himself. "it would be a shame to have it swallowed up by one of the forest creatures. and this must be a child." he held his lantern close to bob's red head. he watched them for a while in silence, then pulling his silvery beard thoughtfully, set the little red lantern beside them and pattered off into the darkness.
notta had been right. it was a fairy forest. every forest in the wonderful land of oz is a fairy forest, inhabited by strange creatures and peoples. but the clown's song had so pleased the old fairyman that he determined to protect the two strangers from all harm, and though many bears and other beasts came snuffling past, they dared not approach, for the red lantern told them plainly it was "claws off." so grumbling and growling, they went searching further for their dinners.
the little lantern disappeared with the first ray of sunshine and, quite unconscious of the dangers they had slept through, notta and bob awoke almost at the same minute.
"well," yawned notta, winking the only eye he had open, "we're still here, i see." he rolled over and over and turned a dozen handsprings to get the kinks out of his back. "i've often wondered what made flowers so stiff and now i know. it's sleeping on the ground. i'm glad i'm not a flower, aren't you, bob?"
bob nodded and hopped up quite briskly. there was a fine breeze blowing, and the day was so sunny and bright that he felt ready for anything, and just to look at notta made him feel happy.
"do you think we'll find the emerald city to-day?" he asked, skipping along beside the clown, who was making for a little brook just ahead.
"well, according to mustafa, it ought to take three days," answered notta. "but mustafa was never in a circus, and anyone who has been in a circus can travel three times as fast as other folks, so i shouldn't be surprised at all if we were to be eating our supper in this emerald city to-night. if i had only wished old billy along he could have carried us in style."
"the elephant?" exclaimed bob, with round eyes. the clown nodded and, kneeling down on the edge of the brook, began to splash water on his face and hands. bob did the same, and had just taken off his shoes in order to paddle properly, when a cry from notta made him pause.
"now i've done it," wailed the clown dolefully, jumping up and down.
"what?" asked bob curiously.
"washed my face." notta pointed to his face, which was quite red and shiny from the cold water. "and i haven't any powder! have you any powder, bob? oh, my! cold pie! it's hard enough to be funny with a white face, but without one i simply could not joke at all. whatever's to become of us? i'm no clown this way."
bob was terribly distressed, for if notta couldn't be funny nothing would seem the same. he felt hastily in his pockets--not that he expected to find anything, but because he didn't know what else to do--and in the last one his hand closed on a bag of candy the old gentleman had bought for him at the circus. it was squashed and sticky from being slept on, but mechanically bob handed it over.
"why, it's marshmallows!" cried notta in delight. "bob, you have saved the honor of my profession. we must preserve these carefully." he patted his face with a small sugary marshmallow and surveyed his reflection with pleased satisfaction. "i feel funny already," he announced cheerfully. bob was much relieved and notta did look more natural with his face whitened.
"now for breakfast," said the clown, licking the sugar off his lips. it was great fun, bob thought, washing in a brook and having breakfast under the trees. after finishing off some more of mustafa's sandwiches, they started quite briskly through the forest.
"i think the rules are going to work better to-day," chuckled the clown, "i will use disguise number three. number three's a bear, bob up. now, here's our program, first disguise, then politeness, then joke and run. we shall get along famously." notta sprang into the air and clicked his heels together for very light-heartedness.
bob was thinking to himself that notta's last disguise had not helped them much, but he was too polite to mention such a thing, and as there seemed to be no danger in sight he trotted along contentedly, stopping now and then to pick the bright blue flowers that grew everywhere under the trees. the forest was not so large as it had seemed in the night, and in an hour they had come to the end of it and started down a narrow lane.
"well, we're still going north." notta looked complacently at a large sign post that stood at the beginning of the lane.
"north road to d," said the sign briefly.
"wonder what d stands for?"
"because it can't sit down." the sign snapped out the sentence so suddenly that notta tripped and fell over a stone, and bob simply gasped with astonishment.
"they didn't paint any line for it to sit on," explained the sign post patiently.
"where does this lane go to?" gulped the clown, edging over and taking bob's hand.
"it doesn't go any place. it stays where it is."
"see here," puffed the clown in exasperation, "i never heard of a talking sign post, but so long as you can talk, you might give us a few directions."
"i only give one direction and that's north. you can take it, or leave it."
notta tried the post with a few more questions, but it just sniffed sulkily, and seeing no more was to be got out of it, the two hurried on.
"maybe d stands for dorothy," said bob, after a little silence.
"maybe," mused the clown, looking uneasily over his shoulder, "but this is a strange country, and we'll have to take it as we find it. hello, what's this?"
a sudden turn brought them up short, for the lane was closed off by a gray wall, so high one could not possibly climb over and so wide that it would take days to walk 'round. and in the wall were seven heavy oak doors.
"this is the kingdom of doorways," announced a large sign, posted half way up the walls. "be sure to use the right door."
"but which is the right door?" gasped the clown, half expecting the sign to answer him.
"there are seven," exclaimed bob, who had been counting them up on his fingers.
"and only one of them right," choked the clown anxiously. the two stood perfectly still, gazing in fascination at the seven doors.
"which is the right door?" repeated notta, scratching his ear doubtfully.
as bob and notta came closer, they noticed that each door had a brass plate nailed on the center panel, engraved with various names and instructions. "keep out!" directed one shortly.
"well, that surely cannot be the right one," exclaimed the clown, moving hastily to the next.
"don't waken the baby," advised the second door. so notta and bob tiptoed carefully past.
"this way to the dorms. no admittance till february," said the third door.
"and it's only may now. we cannot possibly wait that long." notta took off his hat and made the door a polite bow. "besides," he explained to bob, who was slowly spelling out the words on the fourth door, "dorms stands for dormitories and dormitories stand for sleep. who wants to sleep?"
"king theodore the third," said the fourth door.
"whew!" whistled notta. "another king! come away, bob up, i don't trust these king chaps at all."
"the queen," announced the plate on the fifth door proudly, "adora the first. no one without a title need apply."
"well, we may not be earls, but we're early," chuckled notta, winking at bob.
they hurried curiously to the sixth door. "push!" said the plate.
"but would that be wise?" ruminated notta, rubbing his forehead anxiously. "let's try the last door, bob."
"don't try me too much or i'll fall on your head," wheezed a disagreeable voice. "haven't you anything better to do than go trying poor hard-working doors?"
after a talking sign, notta and bob should not have been surprised. but they were--simply astonished--and for a moment could do nothing but stare.
"this door answers itself," said the plate on the seventh and strangest of all the strange doorways.
"no bread, no ice, no milk; and if you're selling brushes you might as well go at once," continued the door sulkily. "we don't need any."
"we're not!" interrupted notta, in a slightly choked voice. "we just want to get in."
"what for?" asked the door stubbornly. "is it a door matter? have you cards of admission?"
"we're hunting dorothy and the cowardly lion," volunteered bob timidly.
"a likely story," sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to the other. "but what could one expect of people with curly ears."
"we have not curly ears," cried bob, stamping his foot indignantly.
"don't argue," said the door stiffly. "how's your temper--long or short?" it rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at notta.
"what's that got to do with our getting in?" asked the clown impatiently.
"short!" muttered the door triumphantly to itself. "no, you'd better stay out, i think. her highness is very slammish to-day, and the last time i let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. that's the trouble around here--when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the door. sometimes i almost wish i were a sofa cushion."
"i wish you were, myself," frowned the clown, "for then i'd toss you out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. are you going to let us in or not?"
"not!" snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. "and i don't care a slam what you wish."
"bob," said notta, turning his back on the door, "did you ever hear anything like that? let's try number two. i'd rather risk wakening a baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself."
"i'm not afraid of babies," said bob following manfully. the knob of number two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush that both notta and bob fell through. at the first glimpse of that baby, notta clapped his hand over bob's mouth and, rising with quaking knees, pulled him toward the door. for you see it was a baby dragon--a snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. it gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and notta and bob sat down in a weak heap.
"baby," choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon smoke. "well, if that's the baby, preserve me from the rest of the family!"
"will it come after us?" shuddered bob, in a frightened whisper.
"how did you like our little doorter?" the seventh door looked sideways at the two and chuckled wickedly. "still want to get in?"
"certainly," said notta, turning a dozen cartwheels to relieve his nervousness, "but not that way." he winked reassuringly at bob. "before i do anything else i must put on my disguise. no wonder things are going so badly."
"don't you think you look silly enough?" wheezed the door rudely, as the clown drew out disguise number three. notta paid no attention to this remark but, turning his back, struggled hastily into number three. even bob felt reassured, for this time notta was disguised as a bear--a huge and terrible-looking bear. grasping bob's hand he rushed at the door marked "push," with such a ferocious growl that number seven shook like a leaf.
"oh, my hinges," chattered the door, "that went through me like a sword." but immediately afterward it broke into derisive laughter. for no sooner had notta and bob pushed number six, than number six pushed back, and so hard that the two went flying into a clump of blueberry bushes.
"that's the door way to treat 'em, brother," roared seven, and notta picked himself up and straightened his bear skin.
"now some people," muttered the clown, helping bobbie out of the brushes and shaking his paw at the door, "some people would be discouraged. but no more side shows, bob. let's try the queen's door, if we're to be thrown out it might as well be done royally."
there was a silver bell on the queen's door and notta rang it quickly, before either of them had time to change their minds. for a moment nothing at all happened. then the door knob disappeared. but horrors! next instant it shot out, seized the two in a terrible clutch, and dragged them through the keyhole. yes, it really did!
not only had they been pulled through the keyhole, but they felt as if they had been pulled through the keyhole. even notta had nothing to say. he just lay on his back and panted. whether the keyhole had stretched as they went through or whether they had shrunk, i cannot say. i only know they went through somehow and were on the other side of the queen's door.
"cards, please!" a doorman in a handsome blue satin uniform was leaning over them. "are you deaf?" he asked angrily. "are you dumb?" he thumped notta on the head with his silver card plate.
"neither," groaned the clown. "what do you want?"
"your titles," snapped the doorman, looking nervously over his shoulder. as he did so, a vase, three books and a pair of fire tongs struck the wall just above his head.
"oh, the queen is in a fury, whatever shall i do next," he mumbled to himself, dropping the silver plate and then picking it up again.
"let's run," said bob, pressing close to notta. but the clown had already recovered his spirits and was fumbling in his pockets under his bear skin.
"there you are." he calmly dropped two large buttons on the doorman's plate. "just lead us to her majesty at once."
"someone's been at the jam again," quavered the doorman without looking at the buttons. "oh, the queen's in a fury--a fury--a fury!" at each fury he gave a little hop.
"you said that before," observed notta, looking around curiously.
"a fury! a fury! a fury!" persisted the doorman, continuing to hop, and as each hop carried him farther away he was soon out of sight.
"wait!" cried notta, lumbering after him, for his disguise made him clumsy.
"wait!" cried bob up, running after notta.
down the long hall they both ran, and, turning suddenly, found themselves in a large, impressive throne room. the entire wall space was taken up by doors of every size and shape imaginable and before each door stood a doorman similar to the one they had already seen. in the center of the room were two magnificent thrones. on the first sat a large, handsome queen and on the second a small nervous king. the king's crown was entirely made of china door knobs, mounted on gold bars, while the queen's was made of many gold door keys. the queen was looking at the buttons as bob and notta entered.
"buttons!" hissed her majesty contemptuously. "what do buttons stand for?"
"us, your highness!" replied notta, bowing as low as his disguise would permit, and drawing bob forward.
the king twiddled his thumbs and recited:
"b stands for buttons and b stands for bears, b stands for buttons and boy-- bring two chairs!"
"nonsense!" thundered the queen. the doormen hastily brought two chairs and bob and notta sat down.
"i think he'll appreciate rule two," whispered the clown. "he's quite polite himself."
"theodore," said the queen, her face beginning to work curiously, "theodore, i believe they stole the jam. bears and little boys are always stealing jam. and what right have they here without titles? where are their titles?"
"adorable queen," said the clown, half rising and pointing with his paw to the buttons, "those are the badges of our order. we belong, your highness, to the ancient and honorable order of bachelors, and are at present lords of all we survey."
"do you believe that?" the queen turned and squarely faced the king.
"no!" said theodore emphatically, turning to squarely face the queen. "how could i, when there is no such place. where is this all-we-survey?" he asked sternly. "is it in oz?"
notta was so surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken that he sat down with a thump.
"he's a dorm!" screeched the queen, her voice rising higher and higher. "he's a dorm--that's what he is!"
"what's a dorm?" gasped bob, so surprised that he forgot to be frightened.
"a dorm is an animal that lies dormant in cold weather, like a bear or a 'possum, my dear buttons," explained the king, shaking his finger at bob, "but he's got no business here now."
"i see it all," panted the queen beginning to wave her arms. "he didn't come here to sleep but to steal! theodore, he has stolen the jam!"
the king wagged his head from side to side as he repeated this verse:
"he's come without reason and quite out of season; i agree with you, ma'am, he has stolen the jam!"
"put out your tongue!" commanded the queen, waving a bunch of keys at notta. this notta was unable to do, for his bear head had no tongue.
"you see!" shrilled the queen triumphantly, "he is afraid to put out his tongue. slammer," she called, turning to a huge doorman, who stood behind the throne, "what is the punishment for door jam stealing?"
the doorman whisked a little book from his pocket and, after flipping over a number of pages, read in a high nasal voice, "any one caught stealing the queen's door jam shall have his knob twisted and every door in the kingdom slammed on him besides."
"how fearfully unhealthy," muttered notta, rising to protest his innocence. but the queen waved him back, and banging her keys on the arm of her throne called loudly, "slammer, carry out the sentence!"
slammer immediately blew a sharp whistle and every doorman in the room sprang toward the trembling notta.
"stop!" cried bob, doubling up his fists. "he didn't steal your old jam. 'tisn't a bear at all, it's notta!"
"notta?" gasped the king, rubbing his watery blue eyes, and leaning forward.
"not a bear!" puffed the clown, hastily snatching off his bear head, just as the first of the doormen grasped him by the shoulders.
"what do you mean by standing there and telling us you're not a bear?" puffed the king, as soon as he had got his breath.
"it was a mistake, i see that now," said the clown, hastily stepping out of his disguise. "if your highness will overlook it this once, it will never occur again."
"shall we overlook it?" asked the king, turning to squarely face the queen.
adora was staring in amazement at the clown, and being a very curious queen she decided not to have the intruder slammed till she found out all about him. "we will overlook it for the present," she answered haughtily, waving the doormen back to their places.
the king smiled and chanted this couplet:
"she'll overlook it for the present; be seated, please, and both look pleasant!"
bob sat down with a sigh of relief. what queer beings this king and queen were! everything was queer, but for some reason or other bob rather enjoyed it. king theodore was not nearly so fierce as mustafa, and his singular habit of breaking into verse simply fascinated the little boy.
"this brings us to rule three," confided notta in a hoarse whisper. "joke and run, you know!"
"when is a door not a door?" asked the queen, pointing her finger suddenly at the clown.
"when it's adorable, like your majesty," replied notta with a grin. "or when it's a jar of door jam, like the one your highness has just lost!"
before adora had recovered from her surprise, notta pointed his finger at the king and shouted, "why is a tomato like a book?"
"because it grows on a vine," answered king theodore sulkily, "and you needn't scream at me like that!"
"wrong!" said notta triumphantly. "a tomato's like a book because it's red through."
"do you believe that?" asked the king, turning to squarely face the queen.
"no!" said her majesty shortly, "i don't."
"but a book couldn't grow on a vine," objected bob up mildly.
"my books do," insisted theodore, pursing up his lips.
"where were you brought up?" asked the queen, staring at bob severely.
"you needn't answer if you don't want to," whispered the king, as bob squirmed uneasily around in his chair. "the main thing is, what brought you up here?
"if it's a story, rise and speak. what do you want? whom do you seek?"
"it is a story," said notta, springing up quickly, and glad of this opportunity to tell their strange adventures and to ask a few questions about the emerald city. "a long story, your highness," continued notta. in as few words as possible he told of his former life in the circus, of their flight to mudge, of mustafa's determination to have them capture the cowardly lion.
as notta paused for breath, the king said, "shall we let them pass through doorways, my love?" instead of answering the queen leaned over and whispered in theodore's ear.
"her highness wishes to be amused," announced the king, straightening up. "you said in this circus it your business to make people laugh. well, if you can make us laugh you may continue your journey. you may begin now and you may have three trials."
the king folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back vastly pleased with himself. notta's forehead wrinkled anxiously, for queen adora looked as if she had never laughed in her life. but with a wink at bob the clown began. first he let out an ear splitting screech that so alarmed the king his crown fell off. then he turned a complete somersault, chair and all, ran across the room on his hands and cartwheeled back so fast one could not have told whether he was a person or a pinwheel. next he bent double, seized his ankles with his hands and jumped in this singular position entirely over bob, finishing with a neat bow before the queen's throne.
"do you think that's funny?" puffed the queen, turning to squarely face the king, who was mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief.
"no--no!" stuttered theodore, in a slightly cracked voice. "it quite upset me, my love. slammer, where's my crown?" slammer recovered the king's crown and then both their majesties stared solemnly at notta. the clown stared back, a puzzled expression on his round jolly face. then, dragging a huge handkerchief from his pocket, he whirled it over his hand and instantly it tied itself into a foolish rag baby, which the clown clasped to his bosom, crooning:
"i love my baby, 'deed i do, indeed, indeed i do! he has no hair upon his head, but neither, sir, have you!
"but his will grow, it will, i know, as soon as he is big, but yours will never grow--and so you'd better buy a wig!"
"wh--at!" screamed king theodore furiously, and notta, dropping the handkerchief baby, noticed for the first time that the king's head was entirely bald. bob up was holding himself together and smiling into his collar.
"shocking!" coughed adora, looking at the clown through her eye glasses.
"i was singing about slammer," gulped notta, noting in an instant that the chief doorman was bald too. "now just let me tell you a little joke. there was once a triangular pig, who could dance a triangular jig, and--"
"do you believe that?" shrilled king theodore, again turning to face his queen.
"no," snapped the queen, shutting her lips very tight. "how could i?"
"then, if the clouds rolled away, would they be mist?" roared notta, before they could continue their disagreeing. he bounced four feet into the air and pointed playfully at the king.
"i wouldn't miss 'em," replied the king sullenly. "do you think that's funny?" again he turned to the queen, who shook her head emphatically.
"well, i think it's funny!" said bob, jumping out of his chair. he looked indignantly from the king to the queen.
"then why don't you laugh?" asked the king accusingly. poor bob couldn't explain that laughing was a hard matter for an orphan, so he sat down rather suddenly, while notta began looking all around as if he were hunting something. he searched on each step of the king's throne, then he looked into his majesty's lap and, finally, running around to the back peered under theodore's collar.
"what's the matter?" asked his majesty irritably. "what are you looking for now?"
"my joke," sighed the clown, "i'm looking for my poor little joke. it was lost on you. when i asked, 'if the clouds rolled away, would they be mist,' you should have said it's according to the way you spell 'em--see?"
"no," said theodore, sternly, "i don't,
"i only see you are a dunce; you haven't made us laugh, not once!"
the queen nodded emphatically at this and, glaring scornfully at the two intruders, swept out of the throne room.
"last rule," whispered notta, winking at bob--for out of the tail of his eye, he could see the king signaling slammer. rushing forward impetuously he flung up his hand. "could your majesty tell me a word to rhyme with toboggan?" he asked pleadingly. immediately king theodore's face lit up with pleasure. he closed his eyes and began to drum with one hand on the arm of his throne. if there was one thing he adored it was rhyming.
he forgot to finish his directions to slammer and instead mumbled hurriedly under his breath, "choggin, foggin, doggon, noggin, loggin, joggin. ah, i have it--joggin!" he opened his eyes and looked around triumphantly, but the clown and bob up were nowhere to be seen. in fact they had run as soon as the king's eyes closed. for notta, while endeavoring to make their majesties laugh, had discovered that one of the doors said "out." and out they went, bowling over doormen like ten pins in their headlong flight. as the door slammed they slid down a steep dark passageway and in about two minutes shot out into the middle of a dusty road. above them on a high hill rose the grey walls of the singular kingdom of doorways.
"toboggan was right," muttered the clown, rising stiffly. "this country grows odder and odder, bob. what do they call it now--oz? but never mind, we shall have lots to tell each other on stormy nights when we reach the states. lots and lots!"
bob did not answer. instead he clutched notta's wide pantaloon and pointed toward a large clump of bushes. looking out from the leaves was the head of a huge, shaggy lion. a shudder ran down the clown's back. he tried to remember the procedure of bill, the old lion tamer in the circus. "subdue the creature with your eye," bill said. yes, that was what he had said. notta's knees rattled like castanets, but with a frightened gulp he stared the lion straight in the eye. for a moment nothing happened, then with a gusty sigh the lion began to speak.
"what have they done with the rest of me?" it roared mournfully.
"who?" stuttered notta, getting a good hold on bob and making ready to run at the lion's first move.
"the mudgers," wheezed the lion, two tears rolling down its nose. with many gulps and sighs it told them how tazzywaller had cut it in two and imprisoned its back half in the lion enclosure.
"you mean to say that you were cut in half and still live to tell the tale?" gasped notta in astonishment.
"i don't know what you mean by telling the tail. how can i tell the tail anything when all my connections with it are cut off? oh, my poor tail, how it must miss me!" moaned the half lion.
"then you only have two legs," said bob in a relieved tone and coming out from behind notta. the lion nodded gloomily. "if i had four, do you think i'd be standing propped up against these bushes. i'd have eaten you long ago."
"what a blessing," murmured the clown under his breath, "that it's only half a lion."
"i'd like a little sympathy," continued the lion in its mournful voice. "if the little fellow would pat me on the head i think, it would ease me a bit."
"shall i?" asked bob up doubtfully.
"how do we know you won't bite him?" asked notta cautiously.
"i haven't the courage," replied the lion dolefully. "besides my stomach is gone and that rather takes the appetite away, you know. oh, my poor little empty stomach, how dreadfully it must feel! then, to bite a person i should have to work myself up into a rage, and that i cannot do without a tail to lash. and half my heart is missing so i--"
"do everything half-heartedly," finished notta, with a wink at bob.
"exactly," blubbered the half lion. two more tears rolled down its nose, and these so affected bob up that he stepped bravely over and patted its mane.
"harder!" cried the half lion, closing its eyes. "harder! harder!" notta seized a stick and fell to patting the lion's head with this, but it kept roaring harder until bob up and notta were perfectly breathless.
"sorry," puffed the clown at last, "but we'll have to say good-bye now. we're on our way to the emerald city."
"are you?" the half lion opened its eyes and regarded them with new interest. "there's a wonderful wizard in the emerald city," it began in a more cheerful roar. "could you, would you, tell him about my sad separation? tell him i am pining for my better half and perhaps he would put me together again. promise to tell him." the poor beast was so earnest that he almost lost his balance.
"why, certainly we will tell him," said notta, who was the most obliging soul imaginable. "we'll be glad to, old fellow, but i didn't think there were any more wizards."
"no wizards?" coughed the lion, surveying the clown in amazement. "why, oz is full of wizards. just keep going north and you'll soon find that out. i would go along with you, but i haven't quite learned to travel on two legs, and i'm so tired of standing."
"why don't you sit down," asked bob thoughtlessly. the lion groaned and looked at him reproachfully, and seeing it was going to cry again notta began to move off.
"by the way," he asked, pausing suddenly, "did you come through doorways?"
"yes!" sobbed the lion, sniffing with each word, "through the right door."
"which door was that?"
"i don't remember," sighed the half lion drearily. "i remember nothing nowadays. when i used to forget a fact all i had to do was to scratch my head with my hind leg and instantly it came back, but now--." the lion began to sob heavily.
"well, good-bye!" said notta uneasily, taking bob's hand. "if we see this wizard you've mentioned we'll tell him your sad story."
"good-bye," choked the lion, waving his paw feebly.
"i'd like to see a real wizard, notta," said bob up, as they trudged down the dusty road.
"odder and odder!" murmured the clown, shaking his head in bewilderment. "i declare, bob, if you weren't along i should think i were asleep and dreaming all this."
"here's another sign," whispered bob up in a low voice so the sign would not hear him. "wonder if it talks too."
"i dare say they all can if they want to," replied notta. "at any rate a sort of sign language."
"north road to u," said this sign, in large blue letters.
"d stood for doorways. i wonder what u stands for?" mused the little boy, staring up at the sign with both hands in his pockets.
"maybe it stands for us?" chuckled the clown, turning a handspring.
"you!" sneered the sign, giving itself a little shake. "why, i wouldn't stand for you a single minute. i'd rather--." what it would rather notta and bob did not wait to hear. seizing hands, they ran gaily down the road toward the unknown and curious country of u.
quite unconscious of mustafa's evil plans for his capture, the cowardly lion of oz paced to and fro on the wide veranda of the loveliest palace in oz. it was early morning in the emerald city, and ozma and her court had not yet risen, but many of the palace pets were abroad and talking sociably together in the garden. ozma's saw horse was running races with hank, betsy bobbin's small mule, the comfortable camel and doubtful dromedary were ambling down the paths in their wobbly-kneed fashion, while dorothy's little dog, toto, and the glass cat were arguing over the patchwork girl's last verses. they all seemed happy and contented and the cowardly lion, noting this, sighed heavily. "not one of them is ever afraid," he murmured sorrowfully. "i, of all creatures in oz, am the only cowardly one."
"what say?" the cowardly lion jumped, as he always did at an unexpected sound, then gave a little roar of relief as the soldier with the green whiskers stepped out from behind a pillar.
"what say?" repeated the soldier, putting down his gun which was never loaded, and regarding the cowardly lion inquiringly.
"i was saying that i am the only cowardly person in oz."
"well, you can fight, can't you?" the soldier tugged his green whiskers thoughtfully as he asked this question. "now, i am a very brave man, but i can never fight, so there you are." this was perfectly true. the soldier with the green whiskers, who was ozma's entire army, never was afraid, but he always ran at the first sign of danger. while the cowardly lion trembled terribly as enemies approached, he always fought until he overcame them.
"so what's the difference," said the soldier with the green whiskers, shouldering his gun and marching down the steps. "you feel cowardly and act bravely. i feel brave and act cowardly."
"it makes a great difference to me," mumbled the cowardly lion. "i want to feel brave. oh, if only once i could feel brave!" shaking his mane mournfully, he padded down the steps after the soldier with the green whiskers, and soon came upon the comfortable camel and doubtful dromedary, who were swaying idly under a tall breakfast tree.
"morning," wheezed the comfortable camel, twitching his crooked nose. "handsome as ever, i see."
"i doubt that, camy," said the doubtful dromedary, eying the cowardly lion solemnly.
"he's always doubting things," smiled the comfortable camel, rolling his large, limpid eyes. "now, i never do."
"he's right this time. i'm not handsome at all; no coward could be handsome," said the lion gruffly, flinging himself on the ground beside the strange pair. "ah, if i could only feel courageous!"
"you're nice as you are, you dear cowardly old thing," snorted the camel, wagging his head affectionately. "why, if you were brave, you would be just like any other lion. it's being cowardly that makes you so interesting."
"i'd rather be brave than interesting," rumbled the lion sadly. "you know perfectly well that courage is the finest thing in the world."
"i doubt that," put in the dromedary, shifting a mouthful of grass from one cheek to the other, "i doubt that very much."
"what's the matter?" cried the patchwork girl, bouncing out merrily from the other side of the tree. "you all sound as solemn as pokes!"
the patchwork girl is a great favorite in the emerald city. she was made long ago by a magician's wife and brought to life by the powder of life. but ojo, a little munchkin boy, who happened to be present while the magician was mixing scrap's brains, put in a large portion of cleverness and curiosity while the old wizard's back was turned, so that instead of being a good and obedient servant as the wizard had intended her to be, the patchwork girl was full of fun and mischief. indeed, she refused to be a servant at all, and ran off to the emerald city, where ozma has allowed her to live ever since. the emerald city is the capital of oz and located in the exact center of that great and magic wonderland. its palace of green marble and emeralds, its flowering gardens and quaint green cottages make it the loveliest of all fairy cities, and so many strange and delightful people live there it is the most interesting place you could imagine.
first in interest is ozma, the fairy ruler of oz. no one could help loving her. then there is dorothy, who has had more adventures than any little girl you have ever heard of and who prefers to be a princess in oz to returning to her old home in kansas. there is tik tok, a marvelous machine man who is bright as the copper that he is made of, and who can think, walk and work when properly wound. and there's the scarecrow, as lively and accomplished a gentleman as ever advised a queen. oh, think of a live scarecrow! there's jack pumpkinhead, made entirely of wood, excepting his pumpkin head, and there's sir hokus of pokes, a knight so many centuries old that only in oz could he be alive at all. there's the tin woodman, emperor of the winkies, who comes often to the capital to visit his old friends.
there are hundreds of the gentle oz folk, who live in the little green cottages and bow politely when friends pass. there are the magnificent courtiers and palace servants, ready at a moment's notice to pass round lemonade, while the scarecrow dishes out oz-cream and cake. and last but not least there are the amusing animals who have come to live in the royal stables. no wonder everyone is anxious to visit the emerald city. if i could just find a magic umbrella or a handy cyclone i would go myself. why, it would be worth the journey just to hear the cowardly lion and comfortable camel talking together like old cronies. the comfortable camel and the doubtful dromedary were recently discovered by sir hokus of pokes and dorothy, and are comparative new comers in the emerald city, but the cowardly lion was one of the very first of the oz creatures to arrive at the capital and is a prime favorite with everyone from princess dorothy to the royal cook.
but all the time i've been telling you this, the conversation under the breakfast tree has been growing more interesting.
"i thought the wizard of oz gave you a large dose of courage when you first came here," drawled the camel, looking anxiously up at the patchwork girl, who was swinging head down from the breakfast tree.
"he did," mourned the cowardly lion dreamily, "but it has worn off and, though he has tried and tried, he can't seem to mix up any more."
"what is courage? does it grow like potatoes in a row? don't ask me for i don't know!"
shouted scraps, the patchwork girl, diving suddenly from the tree top and bouncing upon the doubtful dromedary. being stuffed with cotton made scraps very daring.
"i've a hunch," began the comfortable camel, very much relieved that the patchwork girl had fallen on his friend.
"where? on your back?" screamed scraps, flinging her arms about his neck.
"i've a hunch," continued the camel calmly, paying no attention at all to the patchwork girl, "that courage isn't the way you feel, but the way you act. as you always act bravely, why worry about the way you feel?"
"but you never felt as frightened as i feel," objected the cowardly lion.
"his knees do quake, his teeth do chatter, his big old heart goes pitter patter! but what's the odds-- though stiff with fright he still can fight with mane and might!"
cried scraps, sitting down with a thud. "the more mane the more might," she finished brilliantly.
"so rub some tonic on your brain and just increase your might and mane!"
"i doubt that," mumbled the doubtful dromedary, looking at scraps reprovingly.
"there might be something in it," said the camel, chewing a wisp of grass in his slow precise fashion.
"my mane is a little thin," mused the cowardly lion, rubbing it thoughtfully with his paw.
"if i were you," said the patchwork girl, rising unsteadily, "i should find a very brave person and then eat him up. that ought to give you a big dose of courage."
"i doubt that," said the doubtful dromedary sharply.
"think how uncomfortable it would be for the poor brave person," sighed the camel. "my dear, i am afraid you have no heart."
"of course i have no heart," cried scraps, starting to run down the path, "but i have a marvelous head."
the comfortable camel sighed and glanced uneasily at the cowardly lion. the cowardly lion had a far-away look in his eye, as if scraps' naughty suggestion had given him an idea, and it was not long before he made some excuse to get away from the two gentle creatures. he wanted to think. after all, why should he, the most famous lion in all oz, forever be called cowardly? he would tell no one, but he would go off on a long journey and perhaps--even to himself the cowardly lion did not say it, but the idea of swallowing a brave person did seem a reasonable way to acquire courage. "i need never tell little dorothy," muttered the great beast uncomfortably, "but how proud she will be when i return full of courage!"
he slipped noiselessly out of the quiet, lovely garden and, avoiding the yellow brick road, struck off through a deep forest toward the munchkin country to the south. many brave woodcutters live in the munchkin forests, and the cowardly lion was resolved darkly to swallow the bravest of them, ax and all. "if only my cowardly heart does not fail me at the last moment," he groaned nervously, as he went crackling through the heavy underbrush. "i could swallow one whole, and that oughtn't to hurt much." already his kind, cowardly, comfortable old heart was beginning to quake at the thought of swallowing a woodcutter. but, arguing and rumbling to himself, he continued his race toward the south. by the time the castle clocks chimed eight, he was miles and miles away from the safe and delightful emerald city of oz.
the cowardly lion was familiar with all the forests in oz, and though the one through which he was passing was so dense that, even in the morning, only a dim light filtered through the trees, he had no difficulty finding his way. in the center of this forest lived a small colony of woodcutters, and the cowardly lion was heading straight for this colony, roaring and growling to keep up his courage. the more he thought about devouring a brave man, the faster he ran. the thing would have to be done quickly or not at all--quickly before his heart failed him entirely. as the hollow blows of an ax came echoing through the stillness, a shiver ran down his back and, when a sudden leap brought him almost upon a tall munchkin forester, he stopped altogether.
at the sound of the crackling branches, the man turned, but when he saw the new comer was a lion, he calmly went on with his work.
"there's bravery for you," gulped the cowardly lion to himself. now was his chance, for the man's back was turned. but it was no use; he simply could not spring on a man brave enough to turn his back, so instead he sighed heavily and sat down.
"how's the hunting?" asked the woodcutter gruffly, after he had brought down his tree.
"why, not very good, thank you," replied the lion pensively. this was worse still. could one eat up a man in the middle of a conversation?
"well, now that's too bad." the woodcutter mopped his brow and turned 'round slowly.
"tell me," asked the lion, blinking his eyes unhappily, "are you a brave man?"
"well, that," pondered the woodcutter, sitting down on a stump and wiping off his ax with a bunch of leaves, "that i hardly know."
"don't you think talking to a lion is pretty brave?" asked the great beast hopefully. he gathered himself for a spring. if the man said yes, he would certainly eat him up and have an end to this disagreeable business. but instead, the woodcutter regarded him closely.
"say!" he burst out, hopping to his feet and giving the cowardly lion a resounding whack on the back, "say, this is an honor. sorry i didn't recognize you at once. boys!" he raised his voice joyfully, "boys, here's the good old cowardly lion, the cowardly lion himself. come on out. we've often heard about you," explained the big man, fairly beaming upon the embarrassed lion, "but as none of us ever go to the emerald city this is the first we've seen of you. how is the scarecrow and ozma, and how's princess dorothy? you see, even though we live in the woods, we know all about you famous folks."
the cowardly lion put his paw to his head and tried to think. it was upsetting to have a man you intended to devour so frightfully polite. "how did you know i was the cowardly lion?" he asked in a husky voice.
"why, first i thought you were like any other lion, then i saw you were all of a tremble, and i says to myself, says i, 'wilby, my lad, you're looking straight at this famous cowardly lion of oz.' i tell you it's a proud day for me. to think i'm talking face to face with a lion who has saved his country as many times as you have. i declare now, it's a pleasure."
before the cowardly lion could answer, a dozen more woodcutters came running toward them and when he had been introduced by wilby whut to each woodcutter in turn, and to the wives and children of each woodcutter, he had neither the breath nor the inclination to devour anybody. the children hastily wove him a flower chain and crowed with delight when he trotted them about on his back. the women brought out their choicest meats and dishes of honey to refresh him, while the men sat around and listened solemnly to all he had to say of doings in the emerald city. why, there had not been such a holiday in the forest since the wicked witch of the west had been destroyed by little dorothy.
the cowardly lion, ashamed of the dreadful purpose that had brought him to the forest, outdid himself to entertain them. and so enchanted were the kindly woodcutters with his conversation that he could not tear himself away until late in the afternoon.
"i'll never be able to eat a woodcutter," groaned the cowardly lion, trotting slowly along in the gathering dusk. "never after the way they have treated me. i'll have to find some other sort of brave person to swallow." scraps' advice was proving difficult right at the start, and very thoughtfully the cowardly lion continued his journey.
it was night time when he reached the edge of the forest--night time and not a brave man in sight. but in the southern part of the munchkin country there are many great mountains and among the sturdy munchkin mountaineers surely there would be a brave man. so the lion, who did not mind at all traveling in the dark, ran steadily toward the south, through quiet little villages, through fragrant fields and meadows, even swimming the broad and turbulent munchkin river. it was rather lonely, and he wished dorothy or sir hokus of pokes were along, but he well knew that neither would approve of his plan for acquiring courage. he was not sure that he approved of it himself, but he kept on arguing in his head and shuddering in his heart, and sighing because he was so great a coward. just as the sun rose he came upon a brave man, asleep under a blue rose bush. he knew he must be brave, because he was dressed as a huntsman and beside him lay a terrible-looking gun.
the cowardly lion's heart began to thump like a triphammer, for he was much afraid of guns. but it did not seem at all fair to swallow a man in his sleep and, though he trembled so violently he could scarcely stand, he determined to waken the huntsman and to ascertain at the same time whether he were brave enough for his purpose. gathering himself together as best he could, he sprang upon the sleeping huntsman. there was a crackle and snap as if he had stepped upon a pillow stuffed with twigs. then an ear splitting shriek flattened back the cowardly lion's ears and fairly curdled his blood. at the same time his tail was seized from behind, and twisted terrifically.
"help! help!" screamed the huntsman, trying to rise.
"ouch, stop!" roared the cowardly lion, while the person who had hold of his tail screamed in seven different keys. the cowardly lion removed his paw from the huntsman's chest. "are you a brave man?" he asked in a quavering voice.
"not very," chattered the huntsman, jumping up and backing cautiously toward a tree.
"well, you don't sound brave," continued the lion in a relieved voice. "a brave man would not call for help. let go of my tail, little boy. it's all a mistake. i don't want this huntsman after all."
"he's not a huntsman," wailed the little boy, running over and clasping the man around the knees.
"not a huntsman?" roared the cowardly lion, waving his tail very fast. "then what--"
"i'm a clown, you rude monster," spluttered the man indignantly.
a clown! well, i should say--and none other than our old friend notta bit more. snatching off his hat and false whiskers, he swung bob up into a tree and nimbly followed himself. when they were both seated on a branch, far above the ground, he looked anxiously through the leaves to see what the lion would do next. "never saw such a country for lions!" he puffed resentfully.
the lion, with one paw shading his eyes, was looking up at them. "are you afraid?" he called pleasantly. "are you afraid? well, don't be, for being a coward myself makes me very sympathetic." at the word coward notta almost fell from the tree.
"bob," whispered the clown hoarsely, "it's the cowardly lion himself! now we mustn't let him know we're going to capture him."
"he's a very bad lion," interrupted bob up tearfully. "he tried to bite you!"
"what say?" called the lion, who could only hear an indistinct muttering.
"he says you are a very bad lion," repeated notta, looking seriously at the great creature below.
"he's right," sighed the lion dolefully. "i am a bad lion. a good lion would have eaten you up by this time, but a bad lion often makes a good friend. come on down. it was all a mistake."
"are you a friend of dorothy's?" asked bob, leaning far out over the branch. at mention of dorothy, the cowardly lion gave a guilty little jump.
"well, i should say so. are you friends of dorothy's?"
"no, but we're from the same country," said the clown, "and if you're quite sure you don't want to eat me up, we'd like to ask you a few questions."
"i've never eaten a man in my life," roared the cowardly lion, rolling his eyes sadly.
"then why start on me?" asked notta, scratching his ear and winking at bob up. now that the incident was over it struck him as terribly funny to be perched in a tree conversing with the cowardly lion. he wished some of his old pals in the circus could see him. he'd never expect them to believe it otherwise. so notta and bob climbed down and the three regarded each other with frank interest.
the cowardly lion had never seen a clown and the clown had never seen a cowardly lion, so there was much to be explained and accounted for. first, notta told of their sudden transportation to mudge, of doorways, and everything else except mustafa's determination to have them capture the cowardly lion himself. they were on their way, explained the clown, to the emerald city to see whether or not dorothy could find a way to send them back to the united states.
"ozma can do that very easily with her magic belt," said the lion, "but i will go with you, for oz is full of dangers for mortal folks like you, and dorothy would not want anything to happen to anyone from her country, i am very sure." he then told them a lot about the marvelous land of oz, with its four big countries and its many little ones.
"this," roared the cowardly lion with a sweep of his paw, "is the munchkin country. to the north is the kingdom of the gillikens, to the west is the winkie country and to the south the quadling country, ruled over by the good sorceress, glinda. but all of oz is under the rule of ozma."
bob's eyes grew rounder and rounder as he told them how dorothy was first blown to oz by a cyclone, of her discovery of the scarecrow, how she had lifted him down his pole and, with the cowardly lion and tin woodman, traveled to the emerald city, then ruled over by the wizard of oz. then he told how ozma, the little fairy ruler, who was the real queen of oz, had been found and placed upon the throne. then came the story of scraps and sir hokus and of tik tok, and of every other amazing person living in the amazing emerald city.
when the cowardly lion paused for breath bob was jumping up and down with excitement. "oh, i do want to see dorothy and the scarecrow! let's hurry," cried the little orphan, throwing his arms 'round the cowardly lion's neck. the kind old cowardly lion blinked with pleasure.
"i'm glad you did that," he rumbled in a husky voice, "for now i know that you trust me, and have forgotten all about that unfortunate mistake!"
"but why did you ask if i was brave?" mused the clown, who could scarcely believe that this merry little boy hugging the cowardly lion was the same bobbie downs who had fallen into mudge.
"because," the lion swallowed self-consciously, "because i am looking for the bravest man in oz."
"what will you do when you find him?" asked notta, carefully folding up his huntsman suit and powdering his nose with another marshmallow.
"now, don't ask me that, please." the cowardly lion raised his paw pleadingly and looked so uncomfortable notta dropped the subject at once. he felt a little uncomfortable himself, for he had determined, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, to tie up the great creature and somehow or other deliver him to mustafa. what else could he do? the clown sighed regretfully, for already he had taken a great fancy to the cowardly lion. but fancy or not, one could not risk turning blue, and he had bob up to think of. to gain the lion's confidence he decided to travel with him for a while toward the emerald city and, so long as they did that with the fixed purpose of capturing the cowardly lion, mustafa's ring could not turn black.
notta said nothing of his plans to bob, for the boy was so happy at the thought of visiting the emerald city, and so delighted with this new and interesting friend, he hated to spoil a bit of his pleasure. so he merely opened another pack of mustafa's sandwiches and they all had a cheerful breakfast together. then, with bob proudly riding the lion, they started off once again toward the north.
"would you mind telling me why you pretended to be a huntsman?" asked the cowardly lion. he had been looking sideways at notta for some time, trying to puzzle the thing out for himself.
"not at all," chuckled the clown, chinning himself on the branch of a tree. "i disguised myself as a huntsman to frighten off any wild animals while we were asleep. i always disguise myself when there is danger in the wind--don't i, bobbie?" the little boy nodded his head solemnly.
"does it help?" asked the cowardly lion in an interested voice. bob up looked thoughtful, but as the clown nodded emphatically, he said nothing. it seemed to bob that notta always picked the wrong disguise, but the clown was so confident and cheerful about it he could not bear to discourage him. so he listened politely while notta explained his rules of disguise, politeness, joke and run. when he had finished the cowardly lion shook his head.
"i suppose," said he, half closing his eyes, "that you cannot help your disguises any more than i can help my cowardice."
"it isn't that i am afraid," explained notta hastily, "but i can fight better when i'm not looking like myself. when i look like myself i feel funny and when i feel funny, i can't fight."
"well, with me," said the cowardly lion, who like most of us enjoyed talking about himself, "the funnier i look, the harder i fight. so don't frighten me, i beg of you, for when i'm frightened i fight terrifically."
"i'll remember what you say," said notta, turning a somersault, and wondering uneasily what the cowardly lion would do when he tried to capture him. but the thought of being captured never entered the lion's head. he was rather glad to have the two strangers turn up this way. it postponed that disagreeable business of eating a brave man. of course, if they should run across one on the journey, well enough, but first it was his plain duty to conduct this clown and little boy safely to the emerald city.
notta was so cheerful and jolly and made so much fun out of everything that the cowardly lion felt repaid for any trouble he was taking and bob up had not been so happy since they had fallen into this bewildering country. toward noon, as the sun grew rather hot, the cowardly lion turned into a small inviting wood which he felt was a short cut to the yellow brick road. but on the very first tree, a large sign made them pause. the sign said, "twenty trees to u."
"i never heard of any country called u," mumbled the cowardly lion, blinking up at the sign in surprise.
"there was one just like this on the road we came down yesterday," said notta. "bob and i wondered what it stood for."
"well, i don't know," mused the lion. "that's the queer thing about oz. even old residents like myself are often amazed to find new countries and peoples where we never expected to find them. according to the maps there are only scattered farms between here and the emerald city. but so long as we have to go through this wood, we might as well see what u stands for."
bob was the first to discover that every now and then the trees were numbered and, following them in the order of their numbers, took them deeper and deeper into the forest. when they reached the tree numbered nineteen, they were alarmed to note that all the other numbers that had guided them had disappeared. the wood had meanwhile grown so dense that they could hardly push on and, when notta suggested that they go back, they found they had lost the way entirely. the cowardly lion was full of stickers and thorns and, while bob picked them out of his woolly mane, the clown climbed the nineteenth tree to make a little survey of the country.
with a shout he came scrambling down. "there's a clearing just beyond, and i think i made out twenty on the tree in the center," puffed notta. "come on!" the clown was growing more interested in this strange country every minute. he could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.
"let me go first. my hide doesn't tear as easily as yours," said the cowardly lion, and he began pushing through the heavy thicket in the direction pointed out by notta. holding up their arms to protect their faces, the others followed and in almost no time had come out on a small clearing.
as they looked the clown clutched bob, while the cowardly lion blinked with astonishment. the twentieth tree was knitting furiously, holding in its long fingers nearly a hundred gleaming needles, and bending its witchy head every once in a while to examine the great, cloudy net that flowed all around it. for some moments they watched in puzzled silence. then bob screamed, the cowardly lion roared and notta gasped with alarm. for the net suddenly swooped down and scooped them up like a school of fish. the tree gave a disagreeable little laugh, quickly knitted the top of the net together and, lifting all its branches at once, tossed the luckless travelers high over its head.
miraculously, as it struck the air, the big porous bag filled out like a balloon and went sailing upward at a terrible rate--the cowardly lion, bob up and notta rolling over and over in the bottom and bumping and banging together in a most painful and unpleasant fashion.
"if you could just stop trembling," puffed the clown, trying to keep out of the cowardly lion's way, "i think it would help."
"but how can i stop trembling when i am so frightened," complained the lion, clutching the swaying net with all four paws.
"i'm frightened too!" wailed bob, who was rolling and bouncing first against one, then against the other.
"it seems to me you're shaking about a lot yourself," said the cowardly lion reproachfully, as notta dove suddenly into his ribs. "what are you trying to do?"
"my disguise!" panted the clown, clutching at his chest. "if i could only put on my disguise."
"aho!" mumbled the cowardly lion, and stopped trembling long enough to grin. but just then the balloon calmed down, and changing its course sailed gently and levelly through the sky, so that the three huddled together in the bottom were fairly comfortable.
"i guess u stands for up. you surely bobbed up this time, didn't you?" notta winked merrily at the little orphan, and then peered curiously through the holes in the net. "this reminds me of a balloon trip i once made for the circus. wonder where we'll land?"
"are we to land at all?" sighed the cowardly lion unhappily. two of his legs had slipped through holes in the net and he was feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. "climb on me, bob, my boy. it will be a little softer. when you've been in oz as long as i have, you'll take nothing for granted." he looked mournfully at the clown who was that moment below him.
"then i'll just take it oz is," laughed notta. "why, here's land now! and we're slowing down." so they were, down--down--down, until they were over a rocky island. when the net was almost resting on a little green hill, it turned completely and suddenly upside down, and shook them out with such violence that they rolled all the way to the bottom. the cowardly lion jumped up first and hurriedly placed himself in front of bob. though he was trembling even more than usual, he knew that he was a better fighter than these helpless mortals. and that there would be fighting he felt reasonably sure, for a great crowd was coming noisily toward them.
notta nervously jerked bob to his feet and stood beside the cowardly lion. there was no time for disguising. "we'll just start with rule two," panted the clown, running his finger hurriedly 'round his collar. "let's be ex-tre-eemly polite. that's the way to meet strangers."
"all right," agreed the cowardly lion in a rather choked voice, "you meet 'em with politeness, and if that fails, i'll meet 'em with something else." he gnashed his teeth to keep them from chattering. as the first of the company reached the foot of the hill bob gave a little scream, but notta calmly stepped forward.
"ladies and gentlemen!" began the clown in his best circus manner, "let me introduce you to the most famous lion in the world, the cowardly lion of oz, as brave as he is cowardly; allow me to present bob up, the brightest little boy in the united states, and myself, a harmless clown whose tricks have astonished the crowned heads of two continents. ladies and gentlemen, let--"
"two creatures and a beast," called the leader of the company, interrupting notta in the middle of a sentence. "two creatures and a beast," repeated the others, staring dully at the newcomers. the cowardly lion growled threateningly at this and notta began running over all the jokes that he knew. as for bob, he was too amazed to do anything but stare, for these were certainly the most curious beings he had ever seen in his life.
to begin with, they had feathers instead of hair. these feathers were small and fine and grew smoothly back from their foreheads, becoming longer at the back and curling softly behind the ears. their eyes were perfectly round and their noses almost like bird beaks. otherwise they were the same as regular folks, except in their manner of walking, for their feet turned in so much that they had to hop, putting one foot down and then hopping over it. before notta could start a joke, the leader of these singular creatures motioned to two behind him. they immediately stepped forward, unfurling as they did so a large banner.
"unwelcome to un," said the banner in crooked yellow letters.
"no use being polite then," rumbled the cowardly lion and, taking matters into his own paws, he gave such a thundering roar that the very ground trembled.
"ginger poppa!" gasped the clown, almost as frightened as the featherheads. the effect on the crowd was simply breath-taking. beginning at the back of their necks, their feathers slowly rose straight on end until each head looked like a huge and quivering feather duster. the cowardly lion tried to roar again, but the best that he could manage was a chuckle. notta took one look, then fell up against a tree and laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. even bob giggled.
"try 'em again," wheezed the cowardly lion. "i think they'll listen to you now. wiping his eyes on his sleeve, notta stepped forward and addressed the leader.
"could you tell us a little about this interesting country of yours, and the quickest way out of it?" he inquired politely. slowly the feathers on the heads of the crowd began to settle.
"'taint a country, it's a skyle," answered the featherhead, blinking rapidly.
"a skyle?" repeated the clown, glancing doubtfully at the cowardly lion, who appeared to be as puzzled as he was. "what is a skyle?" asked notta curiously.
"this is," snapped the leader disagreeably. "you're as ignorant as a fish, aren't you?" then as the cowardly lion gave a threatening growl he continued grudgingly, "a skyle is an isle in the sky, and anyone who has studied skyography ought to know that. i suppose you don't even know what an isle is?" he looked contemptuously at the three strangers.
"i do. an isle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by water," cried bob, delighted to find that geography was of some use after all.
"well," said the featherhead uneasily, "then i guess you'll understand when i tell you that a skyle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by air."
"air!" spluttered notta. "i say, how does one get off a skyle?"
"you'll soon find that out!" muttered the featherhead, and all the others began nodding and clucking for all the world like a company of hens.
"what do you call yourselves?" asked the cowardly lion. now that he knew how to frighten them, he no longer felt afraid.
"we're uns, we are, and nobody but uns are allowed on this skyle. we'll have to take you along to the palace and his royal skyness will decide what's to be done with you."
"another king," groaned the clown.
"isn't it time to run?" asked bob, tugging at notta's pantaloon, for the uns were drawing closer this time, paying no attention to the roars of the cowardly lion.
"no use running, bob. we might fall off. perhaps this king is a better fellow than his subjects.
"take us to your king!" cried the clown, settling his cap determinedly. hopping and muttering, the uns formed two crooked lines, and with the three travelers in the center marched away to the palace. there were many tall trees on the skyle of un and, more remarkable still, every tree had a rough boxlike structure built in its branches, like enormous bird houses. they were reached by rough ladders and the uns seemed to be as much at home on the branches as on the ground. some of the women standing on lower branches were hanging clothes on upper ones as calmly as ordinary folk string the washing up in the yard. but, as notta whispered to bob, what could one expect of featherheads?
the skyle itself was rocky and barren and there seemed to be no farms, buildings nor industries of any kind. "what do you do here for a living?" asked notta, turning to the un beside him.
"fish, mostly," said the un.
"what for?" asked the cowardly lion, treading on notta's heels in his eagerness to hear.
"birds," sniffed the un, looking over his shoulder scornfully. "what did you think we'd fish for?"
"oh, but you couldn't fish for birds," objected bob up, stopping short, while notta burst into a loud roar of laughter. the un glared at all three.
"the air's full of 'em," he announced sharply, and then, as the clown continued to laugh immoderately, his feathers began to ruffle with rage.
"you're idiots!" he screamed, thrusting his sharp beak almost in notta's face. "idiots!" echoed all the other uns immediately. several trod on the clown's toes and, seeing that bob was rather pale, notta hastily changed the subject. not long after that they came to the palace. to bob it looked like a huge barn stuck between four trees. it was about ten feet from the ground and from the top of each tree fluttered a bright yellow flag bearing the word, un.
the cowardly lion trembled a good deal as they went up the rickety green ladder, but with a little help from notta he managed it, and next instant they were in the presence of the king.
"two creatures and a beast, your skyness!" announced the leader of the delegation. then stepping close to notta he shouted at the top of his voice, "his majesty, i-wish-i-was, king of un!" notta's cap fell off and he clapped his hand to his ear. the cowardly lion made a little spring at the un and had the pleasure of seeing the king's feathers rise erect upon his head and wave to and fro.
"approach, creatures and beast," commanded i-wish-i-was in a slightly shaky voice. he was sitting on a high wooden perch, swinging his feet. grouped about him were a number of uns in bright green uniforms that exactly matched their feather hair. notta made a deep bow and bob and the cowardly lion moved forward together.
"how did you come to come here?" asked i-wish-i-was, adjusting a pair of huge spectacles on his terrible beak.
"we didn't come to come at all," said notta hastily. "we were standing under a tree, watching it knit--a very strange sight, your skyness will agree."
"why shouldn't it knit?" snapped the king impatiently. "there's no law against it, is there? in fact, if it were not for that tree, we'd be in a pretty state for fishing nets."
"well, we were caught in the tree's net, the net flew up and here we are," finished notta, determined not to quarrel if he could help it.
"a mighty poor catch, i call you," muttered the king complainingly. he turned to his guard to see whether they agreed with him and they all nodded so hard it made bob dizzy.
"are you willing to become uns?" he asked gloomily.
"i'll not grow feathers for anybody," growled the cowardly lion, shaking his paw at i-wish-i-was.
"wait till you've tried," answered the king loftily. "but what i mean is this: each of you must do something unish, for we are all uns here. i'm unfair--any un will tell you that. bill, there," he pointed proudly to the commander of the guard, "bill, he's ungrateful." then he waved to the un beside him. "and tom's unkind. see what i mean? we're all uns together." the king rubbed his clawlike hands gleefully.
"but i never heard of such a place!" gasped notta.
"of course not! un's positively unheard of," confided the king, smoothing back his feathers complacently. bob's eyes grew rounder and rounder, notta swallowed, and the cowardly lion tilted one ear forward to be sure he was hearing aright.
"why, you're uns already," said i-wish-i-was, with a mean little chuckle.
"you," he pointed his long thin finger at notta, "are unnatural. you," he pointed to the cowardly lion, "are unpleasant. and you," he wiggled his finger teasingly at bob, "you're uninteresting!"
"thanks!" said the clown, taking off his cap.
"and besides that," cried i-wish-i-was, his voice rising to a shrill squeak, "you're all uninvited."
"and bound to be unlucky," gurgled bill of the guard.
"and terribly unhappy," squealed another, dancing up and down.
"and terrifically uncomfortable," added a third. hereupon the uns began hopping frantically about, each shouting something unish, till bob covered his ears and the cowardly lion began to lash his tail with fury.
"stop! stop!" shouted the clown, stamping his foot. "i believe this is the unpleasantest island i've ever been on." loud cheers from the uns interrupted him here. "and if you will tell us the way off we'll go at once."
i-wish-i-was raised his claw for silence, pulled a pad from his pocket, a long feather quill from his head and, dipping it in ink, wrote something in a great hurry. this he handed to the commander of the guard and notta looking over his shoulder read, "push them off at the first opportunity." the guard, not knowing that the clown had read the message, bowed and began whispering to his comrades, while notta scratched his ear and wondered what he should do.
"could your skyness give us a bite to eat?" he asked presently. that, he reflected, would give him time to think.
"certainly not," answered the king, snapping his birdlike eyes. "if you're hungry, go fish, the same as the rest of us do. bill, give them some rods." he winked wickedly at the green guardsman. notta saw him make a little push in the air. bill with a chuckle winked back; then brought three rods and reels and handed them to the clown.
"oh!" cried bob up, "i'd love to go fishing!"
"where do you fish around here?" asked notta, wrinkling up his forehead.
"just go to the edge of the skyle and drop your line over," said the king, and nudged the un nearest him. at this all the uns began nudging and winking first one eye and then the other.
"come on," whispered notta and, tucking the rods under his arm, ran toward the door. the cowardly lion, in his haste to follow, fell all the way down the ladder, but at a quick word from notta jumped up, and as bob joined them they all started on a run for a little clump of trees. "i tell you," puffed the clown, pausing at length to mop his brow, "they are bad uns, sure enough. they mean to push us off the skyle. that's why they sent us fishing."
"just let 'em try it!" roared the cowardly lion, shaking his mane. he had skinned his knees in his fall down the ladder and was feeling quite ready for a battle.
"but shall we go fishing or not?" asked the clown uncertainly. bob up said nothing, but he looked wistfully at the fishing rods. bob had never been fishing in his life, and even the thought of being pushed off the skyle did not seem as dreadful as being deprived of this pleasure. notta saw the look.
"i'm hungry as a lion," said the clown suddenly, "and we've lost mustafa's packets somewhere between oz and un."
"well, you're not as hungry as this lion," rumbled the cowardly lion, with a wink at bob. "it must be long past noon. let's risk it. you fish and i'll watch, and if any of these uns start pushing us--." the cowardly lion gave a roar and shook his paw threateningly at the palace of i-wish-i-was.
to their surprise, none of the uns followed them, and in about an hour they had come to the edge of the skyle. the cowardly lion shuddered as he looked down into the clear blue air, and even notta had a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach as the white clouds went rolling and tumbling past them.
"do you think we'll catch any birds, notta?" asked bob up, venturing so near the edge that the cowardly lion gave a roar of terror. "remember you're not a bird," he warned.
"i'll fix him," said notta. cutting the line from one of the rods he doubled it many times and fastened bob securely to the tree. with what was left, he made a safety belt for himself. then, while the cowardly lion shivered with fright, they sat upon the edge of the skyle and cast their lines far into the air below. "now, bob my lad, don't expect a bite too soon," said the clown, "for fishing is a mortal slow business, but a fine one for thinking, and all of us must think of a way to get off this island before we're pushed off by the uns."
the cowardly lion, with his back to the two fishermen, kept a sharp lookout for the enemy, and all three tried to think. but thinking when you're hungry is hard work. besides, there were so many things to distract one's attention. the sky, as the afternoon advanced, turned a soft and dreamy pink, and the clouds drifting by were of every shape and color imaginable--green, purple, amber and gold--and of such marvelous form that each seemed lovelier than the last. there were castles and tall masted ships, there were caravans and chariots, and once a white and wonderful princess waved to the little boy from the back of a feathery swan. so it was small wonder notta and bob forgot the uns, and even their fishing lines, blowing gently to and fro in the soft pink air waves. then, all at once, bob's line gave a jerk and had he not been tied to the tree he would certainly have been pulled off the skyle.
"oh! oh!" screamed the little boy in delight, "i've caught something!"
giving his rod to the cowardly lion, who was blinking dreamily at a wonderful cloud city, the clown ran to help bob, and hand over hand they pulled up the line. what do you suppose was on it? a goose--a simply enormous goose. it was smoking gently as they drew it over the edge.
"why, it's cooked!" marveled notta, unfastening the line which had caught in the bird's legs. and so it was--cooked in all its feathers with its head tucked under its wing.
"aha, so our goose is cooked, is it?" observed the cowardly lion, sniffing the air hungrily. "must have flown too near the sun."
"well," chuckled notta, "that i don't pretend to know. fishing for birds is strange enough, but catching a cooked goose is almost too good to be true."
"but it is true," exulted bob, clapping his hands, "and i caught it!" while the cowardly lion watched the two rods, and bob proudly picked his goose, notta ran off in search of water. in a few minutes he came running back with a bucket full which he had drawn from a small sky well. the bucket, one of the canvas collapsible kind used in circuses, the clown had fortunately stowed under his capacious belt. as neither meat nor drink was now lacking, they sat down under a small tree and dined quite merrily. the cowardly lion ate one half the goose, bones and all, and notta and bob finished off the rest.
"it looks," said the clown, rising to take a drink of water out of the bucket, which he hung on a branch of the tree, "it looks as if the uns had forgotten us."
"maybe," mused the lion, shaking his mane, "but we mustn't forget them. have you thought of anything yet?"
"not a thing," confessed the clown cheerfully. he turned a dozen cartwheels, walked a few paces on his hands, and ended up with a somersault over bob. "you're a spry one," said the cowardly lion admiringly, as the clown sat down with his back against a tree, "as spry a one as i've ever met."
"thank you," laughed notta. "if thinking came as easily as cartwheeling we'd be off this skyle in no time. but now that we're fed and comfortable, suppose we think again."
"i'd rather fish," said bob up promptly. "can't we fish a little longer, notta?"
"well, there's no harm in it," replied the clown, winking at the cowardly lion, "and as we'll probably have to spend the night here we may as well catch something for breakfast."
"try to catch me something uncooked this time, won't you?" asked the cowardly lion, thumping his tail lazily on the ground. "you know i prefer my food uncooked." bob smiled a little at this and, moving his rod gently to and fro, thought about the comical adventures he was having. notta, with his back to the tree, was fishing too, and everything was very quiet. all around them the light was fading, and the clouds turned from pink to a dull gray and rushed past with an angry sort of sighing. night was coming on, and soon the stars began to twinkle above and below the little skyland. bob had never seen stars so large nor so bright, but then bob had never been so close to them before. he was thinking rather solemnly that it would be fun to catch a star, when notta, oppressed by the silence, burst into a merry song:
"a little chocolate cooky man went calling on a plate. she said, 'sir, it is ten o'clock! why do you come so late?'
"'because i'm made that way,' said he, 'my little china girly, i'm always choco-late, you see, so how could i come early?'
"'and is it not, my darling, better chocolate than never?' the wee plate cracked a little smile. 'oh, sir,' said she, 'you're clever!
"'and you may call to-morrow-- even though you're choco-late!' but pshaw! he never came, because that cooky man was ate!"
bob laughed right out loud, and notta, who had been trying to make bob merry, tossed his cap triumphantly into the air.
"very good," murmured the cowardly lion, waving his tail gently, "except that last line. 'was ate.' isn't that a bit ungrammatical, even for oz?"
"there you go getting unish," teased notta. "i guess i can be ungrammatical in un."
"notta! notta! i've got another bite," screamed bob, hopping about on one foot. that finished the argument.
"hope it's a bite for me," said the cowardly lion. then he gave a little roar of surprise, for over the edge of the skyle came a dog--as dear and shaggy a little bow-wow as had ever barked at an ice man. the hook had caught neatly in its collar and, though it was a little out of breath, it was otherwise unhurt.
"well," rumbled the cowardly lion, rising on his haunches, "so this is breakfast? bob, what do you mean by catching a dog for my breakfast?"
"oh, please," whimpered the dog, rolling its soft eyes in terror. "you wouldn't eat a little fellow who was only out for a walk, would you?" he sat up and begged so prettily bob caught him up in his arms and hugged him. "oh, notta, may i keep him? i've never had a dog!"
"well, now," said the clown, scratching his ear, "i don't see why not."
"don't keep me," wailed the dog piteously, "for i belong to a little boy on another star, and he would miss me very much."
"what kind of a dog are you?" gasped the clown, staring at the little creature. "what do you mean by taking a walk through the sky, and living on a star?"
"i am a skye terrier," answered the little dog, looking anxiously from one to the other. "you wouldn't hurt a little fellow like me, would you?"
"but how will you get home?" asked notta.
"just throw me back into the air," barked the dog, and licked bob on the nose so coaxingly he couldn't bear to refuse, though his heart was heavy at the thought of losing him.
"i guess that other little boy would miss you," sighed bob. so, kissing the shaggy little terrier right on the nose, he dropped him gently over the edge of the skyle, and as they watched he scampered hurriedly over a cloud and then along through the sky, as easily as if he had been on land instead of air. he paused once and looked over his shoulder, then with a joyful bark and wave of his tail ran off, vanishing like a speck in the distance. notta, seeing that bob was down-hearted at losing the little fellow, suggested that they start fishing again. "who knows what we may catch this time?" exclaimed the clown, pushing back his cap, and snapping his line energetically.
almost at once both lines became taut, and when they were drawn up, two shiny silver packages fell from the slender hooks. "dreams for a little boy," said a small label on bob's package. "dreams for a big boy," said the label on notta's package.
with trembling fingers they untied the silver ribbons, and had no sooner done so than bob drooped gently against notta, and the clown fell back against a tree. in another second both were fast asleep--dreaming the lovely stories they had caught in the sky.
it happened so quickly that the cowardly lion was completely taken by surprise. he sniffed the silver papers. "dreams," read the cowardly lion by the light of the stars. "well, i guess they're regular sleeping powders. it's a good thing i didn't catch a dream, for somebody must stay awake and keep guard." the big beast yawned and stretched, then carefully dragging bob and notta back from the edge of the skyle, set himself to keep the watch while they slept.
he was terribly sleepy himself and keeping awake was a hard fight, but the cowardly lion knew that the lives of these two mortals depended upon him, so he walked up and down, and down and up the edge of the skyland, and presently he heard a sound that made him quake with terror. footsteps in the woods! hundreds of them--coming nearer every minute!
"the uns," choked the cowardly lion, and hesitated between waking notta and bob, or advancing to meet the enemy. before he could make up his mind, a whole party, their feathers gleaming strangely in the moonlight, burst out of the trees.
"push 'em off! shove 'em off!" screamed the leader, waving on the rest. it was i-wish-i-was, and in little hops and springs they came tumbling toward him.
with a roar that sounded more terrible than anything you could imagine, because it was mostly made up of terror, the cowardly lion sprang straight at them. down went i-wish-i-was and a dozen of his warriors. shaking and quaking with fear, the cowardly lion made quick springs and snatches, and when the uns with little screams of rage, drew back, his mouth was full of feathers. but they were far from giving up and after a brief parley came on again. once more the cowardly lion struck out, left and right. this time two dozen more were down, but the cowardly lion was slowly being forced toward notta and bob, and the treacherous edge of the skyle.
armed with feathered sticks and screaming horribly, the uns came on a third time, and though the cowardly lion fought them with might, mane, claw, tooth and nail, he was almost smothered by the attack. something of the alarm made the clown stir in his sleep, and the triumphant shout of i-wish-i-was brought him wide awake. he sat up just in time to see the cowardly lion go down under a perfect wave of uns.
"help! help!" screamed notta, but there was no one to help them. he made a little dash to the left, but the line that tied him to the tree caught him with a jerk. he made a little dash to the right, spun around and clasped his stomach in despair. just then the cowardly lion, growling like a whole menagerie, shook off the mass of uns and bounded to his side. feathers were strewn in every direction, and a hundred of the uns lay where they had fallen.
the poor cowardly lion was shaking with exhaustion and fright, but never thought of giving up, and when the uns made another rush, he met them as valiantly as ever. wild screams from the featherheads in the rear made him pause and look over in alarm at notta. the clown, with staring eyes, was mumbling continuously under his breath, and touching first one and then another of the crowd swarming around him, and each time he touched an un, the un disappeared.
the cowardly lion stopped fighting and sat down with a thud. the uns stopped fighting, and those in front began to tread on the toes of the ones in back, in their anxiety to get away. when twenty had vanished in as many seconds, the rest ran howling to the woods.
"well," panted the cowardly lion, rolling his eyes wildly at notta.
"you saved my life, old fellow," cried the clown, giving him an impulsive hug.
"and you saved mine," gasped the lion, as soon as he had breath enough to gasp. "but how did you do it and where are they?"
"in mudge," explained the clown, drawing his knees up to his chin and winking at the cowardly lion, "in mudge and scaring the life out of mustafa, i'll wager. remember the magic verse that brought us here? well, every time an un came near i said:
"udge! budge! go to mudge! udger budger, you're a mudger!"
"marvelous!" sighed the cowardly lion. "but how did you think of it so quick?"
"i had to," replied notta modestly. "you see, when there's nothing else to do i think, and not thinking very often makes me do it rather well. but do you suppose the other uns will come back?"
the cowardly lion shook his head. "not in an 'undred years," he yawned. "and now that they are good and frightened let's all get some sleep."
the cowardly lion was bruised and ruffled, and so tired he could not keep his eyes open another minute. stretching himself beside bob, who had not even heard the battle, he fell instantly into a heavy slumber. notta, lying on the other side of the little boy, was soon enjoying the rest of the dreams in his silver package.
towards morning faint cries aroused the cowardly lion. though only half awake he sprang up blinking his eyes nervously. then he gave a howl of dismay, for notta and bob were nowhere to be seen!
groaning because he had been foolish enough to trust the uns, the cowardly lion ran up and down the edge of the skyle. there was no doubt about it, bob and notta had been pushed off while he was asleep. then a tree, jutting far over the edge, attracted his attention. it was swaying and trembling in a most unusual fashion. at the same time the faint cries that had awakened him were repeated. with a frightened gulp, the lion saw the two fishing lines tied to the tree and, winding his tail firmly around the slim trunk, began pulling up the first of the lines. it was hard work and two or three times he was almost drawn over the edge, but he never hesitated, and presently he had dragged notta safely back to land. the clown waved his hands feebly, then lay on his stomach and panted like a fish. without waiting to restore him, the cowardly lion began to pull up the other line, and presently bob, also breathless and panting, lay beside the clown. they were not only breathless, but quite wet--having fallen into a cloud. the lion, puffing a little himself, watched anxiously. notta, with a long and final gasp, sat up and gave a little sigh of relief.
"that makes the second time you've saved my life," said notta faintly.
"what happened?" asked the cowardly lion.
"well, first," said the clown, talking in little jerks and pausing every few minutes to pat bob on the back, "first, i fell asleep, then, i fell awake. and if it hadn't been for these disguises i should have been cut in two."
"the uns?" asked the lion, opening his eyes very wide.
"yes," said notta, and told how the featherheads had pushed both bob and himself from the skyle and, without stopping to notice that they were tied or to touch the cowardly lion, had run off without making a sound. "it was a mighty good thing we were anchored, eh, bob, my boy? feel better?"
bob shook his head uncertainly, for he was still frightened and dizzy from swinging through the air.
the stars had faded out and the sun had not yet risen and in the cold gray mist of early morning the three huddled together and tried to think what to do.
"first, let's get away from the edge," shuddered the cowardly lion. cutting the fishing lines that had saved their lives, notta set bob on the cowardly lion's back and they moved slowly in the half darkness toward the center of the skyle. the uns evidently had gone off to their homes, and with some matches notta had tucked under his wonderful belt they kindled a little fire and soon were dry and much more cheerful. bob immediately went to sleep, but notta and the cowardly lion kept watch.
for an hour there was not a sound. then the noise of someone sawing wood came distinctly through the still air. leaving the cowardly lion on guard, notta went to investigate. he tiptoed along quietly, resolved if it were an un to wish him away to mudge. as he advanced the sawing grew louder and louder and, peering around a large tree, he saw a huge and ridiculous bird flopped over against a rock, snoring at a great rate.
as notta looked the bird opened one eye, stamped its big claws fretfully, and immediately fell to snoring again. the clown took off his cap, scratched his ear and then burst into a loud peal of laughter, which he could not have helped had he died the next minute. the bird stopped snoring instantly, and opened both eyes.
"what do you mean by waking me when i was sound asleep," it chirped crossly.
"a great many sounds of sleep," corrected notta, winking at the singular creature. "i thought someone was sawing down a tree."
"did you?" the bird looked rather proud and began to puff out its feathers. "i'm the loudest snorer in the sky," it announced, strutting about self-consciously. "that's why my beak curls in this convenient fashion."
it was the bird's beak that had made notta laugh in the first place. it was long and blue, and curved so that it could fit over the comical creature's ear like a personal telephone connection.
"but why does it curl?" asked notta, sitting down and staring at the bird intently.
"so i can hear myself snore," replied the bird. "as soon as i snore in my own ear i wake up and stop snoring." with its claw the snorer adjusted its beak, much as one would adjust a pair of spectacles, and looked blandly at notta. "i'm unusual--don't you think?"
"unusual," whistled the clown. "i'll say you are! and never have i seen such a country. why, if i could take along a few of these freaks, i'd have the finest show on earth." he rubbed his forehead thoughtfully as he thought of the mudgers, the half-lion, and now this bewildering bird.
snorer was about the size of a small child, with enormous feet, short legs and pink feathers. his head was somewhat like that of a large crane, and his eyes were as blue as his beak.
"why are you on the isle of un?" asked notta, as the creature continued to look solemnly at him.
"because i'm unusual," said the bird with a triumphant little hop. "but why are you here?"
"because i'm unlucky, i guess," sighed the clown ruefully. "won't you come along and meet my friends?"
"yes, i'll come with you," said the bird calmly. it put its head on one side and looked at notta. "you're beautiful," it sighed tremulously, "beautifully beautiful. i love you!"
notta had all he could do to keep from laughing, but seeing that snorer was really in earnest, he patted it awkwardly on the head, and started back, the bird hopping happily beside him.
"what's this you've caught?" asked the cowardly lion, blinking suspiciously at notta's odd companion. as for bob, who had wakened a moment before, he gave a little shout of laughter.
"it's because i'm so unusual," whispered snorer, putting up a claw and winking at notta. "tell them my name's nickadoodle."
so notta gravely introduced nick to bob and the cowardly lion and, after nick carefully explained his queer telephone nose, the four regarded one another with deep interest.
"maybe you can tell us the way to escape from un," suggested the cowardly lion in a rather choked voice, for every time he looked at nick, he felt like roaring. before snorer could answer, bob, who had been staring fixedly at the cowardly lion, burst out laughing.
"what's the matter?" demanded the cowardly lion gruffly.
"what's the matter?" asked notta. then he too clapped his hand to his mouth and began to rock backward and forward. "feathers!" gasped the clown, "you've a big bunch of blue feathers in your mane!"
"what?" roared the cowardly lion, angrily putting his paw to his head.
"oh, everyone grows feathers in un," chirped nick cheerily, hopping toward bob. "take off your cap and see."
snatching off his hat bob ran his fingers hastily through his hair. horrors! right at the crown of his head were at least ten stiff red feathers. notta had as many green ones, but his hung down over his right eye when he took off his cap. the desire to laugh at snorer suddenly left them. to laugh at someone who was funny was one thing, but to be funny yourself--well, that was different!
"you'll soon have as many feathers as i have," chuckled nick, regarding them with his head on one side. "i think they're quite becoming!"
"becoming!" screamed the cowardly lion. "well, they'll be coming out by the roots. it's bad enough to be chicken hearted, but being feather headed, i simply will not stand!" he gave the bunch of feathers a furious tweak, but he might as well have tried to pull off his ears.
"we've got to get off this skyland," blustered the poor lion, stamping around in a fury. "i'll jump off before i grow another feather."
bob was thinking that his would come in mighty handy for playing indian.
"i suppose we'll soon grow enough to fly off," said notta, blowing the green feathers out of his eye and pushing them back under his chap. "i say, nickadoodle, can't you tell us a way out of this?"
"i'll tell you one thing," murmured the great bird, nestling close to notta. "you're beautiful, beau-ti-ful!" he rolled his eyes rapturously.
"well, if you don't want my beauty broken to pieces tell us a way to escape," begged the clown, looking nervously toward the edge of the skyland.
"there's only one way for you to leave," said snorer, "and that is in the royal flyaboutabus."
"what is it?" choked notta.
"where is it?" roared the cowardly lion.
"tied to a tree near the palace. but we'll have to wait till the uns go to wish," replied nick, rubbing his head against notta's knee. and while the three listened in amazement snorer told them a bit about life on the isle of un. no one on un, explained nick gravely, ever worked, but each morning they went regularly to wish, and nothing was allowed to interrupt their wishing. for three hours they shouted their wishes as loudly as they could, and i-wish-i-was, because he could wish faster and shout louder than any of the rest, had been made king.
"you'll hear them at it soon," said snorer, adjusting his nose, "and that's the best time for you to leave. afternoons they fish and evenings they fight. wish, fish and fight--that's the program here."
"but how do they get anything done?" asked notta, standing on his head to settle his feathers.
"they don't," replied snorer calmly. "everything is undone; and about your feathers," he pointed his claw at the cowardly lion's mane, "every time anything unish happens to you you'll grow another. first you were unwise to come here. that accounts for one; then you were uncomfortable and unsafe."
"unlucky, unhappy and unfed!" spluttered the clown, turning a somersault with each word. "lead us to the flyaboutabus, old fellow, or we'll soon be as feathered as geese."
"all right," chirped nickadoodle obligingly, "but step softly and do just as i tell you."
"aren't there any good uns?" asked bob with a little sigh.
"well, there was one," nick paused to adjust his nose, which was continually falling off its hook, "but i've forgotten his name, and the others treated him so unkindly that he's hidden himself in a cave somewhere on the skyle. but they do say if he ever becomes king, the uns will all have to reform."
bob was hungry and far from rested, but as he stumbled along the rocky beach he fell to thinking about this good un and wishing he might see him before they left the skyland. but notta was so cheered at the thought of leaving un that every few seconds he sprang into the air or somersaulted over the cowardly lion. the cowardly lion was dreadfully down-hearted. the feathers preyed on his mind, his ears drooped and his tail dragged and nothing notta could say made him feel any better.
"it's all very well for you and bob. you can wear hats and hide your feathers, but a lion in a hat would look as ridiculous as a lion with feathers. i shall be the laughing stock of oz," groaned the poor beast.
"well, it's not so bad to make people laugh," comforted notta. "that is my business, and i know. come with me to america and your fortune will be made." but the cowardly lion only shook his head and padded sadly over the rough stones.
"this is a punishment," thought the poor lion, "a punishment for my wickedness in planning to devour a brave man." and perhaps he was right.
by this time they were so near the palace that nick held up his claw for silence. hiding behind a huge rock, they watched the uns climb down from their tree houses and hurry off to wish, just as sensible folk hurry off to work. "too bad i didn't send i-wish-i-was to mudge," whispered notta.
"hush," said nickadoodle. "as soon as you hear an ear-full of noise run for that third juniper tree." he pointed out the tree with his claw and the three watchers waited anxiously for the signal. soon there was not an un in sight and a second later a perfect explosion of screeches rent the air. it was, as notta explained afterward, an elephant ear-full of noise, for every un on the skyle was wishing at the top of his lungs.
as soon as they had recovered from the first shock, notta, bob and the cowardly lion rushed toward the juniper tree. nick had flown ahead and was already calling down directions when they reached it.
from the top branch of the juniper tree the king's feathery flyaboutabus was tugging merrily at its rope. following nick's instructions, notta climbed to the top of the tree and, hanging on to the rope, managed to bring it down a bit. nick, bidding bob catch him around the neck, flew up next, and their weight brought it down still further. it was still terribly high for the cowardly lion, who could not very well climb the tree.
"hurry! hurry!" croaked nick, flapping his wings warningly. "there's an un." and sure enough, a tardy featherhead was staring at them in astonishment from the door of his tree house. with an ear splitting squall, he fell down the ladder and rushed off to the wishing place to tell the others. prickling with terror, the cowardly lion made spring after spring, but each time he just missed the flyaboutabus. and every time he made an unsuccessful leap, another feather sprouted gaily in his mane. "better cut loose and leave him," whispered nick anxiously, but notta and bob hushed him up indignantly and by jumping tried to bring the bus lower.
"go on and save yourselves," coughed the lion after the tenth attempt. he mopped his forehead dejectedly with his tail, and growled terribly as each feather pricked through. a shout from the clown made him turn. rushing toward them in tumbling waves of fury were the uns, led by i-wish-i-was. in a last despairing frenzy, the cowardly lion hurled himself into the air, and this time his front paws caught the feather wheels of the bus, and bob and notta, pulling together, helped him aboard. there was not a minute to lose, for the uns were already surrounding the tree. just as i-wish-i-was sprang into the lower branches, snorer cut the rope with his knifelike beak and up sailed the flyaboutabus like a balloon released from its string. up, up, up they went, till the wild screams of the uns could no longer be heard. up, up, and 'round and 'round, plunging now this way and now that, till notta, bob and the cowardly lion were too shaken and dizzy to know or care what was happening.
but snorer, more used to flying than the others, kept his head and, waiting his opportunity, seized a long lever that swung loosely to and fro in the front of the bus. he had never been in the flyaboutabus before, but something told him that the lever must guide the movements of the strange vehicle. sure enough, as soon as he took hold of it, the darting about stopped and it flew quite steadily.
"are we still going up?" quavered notta, without opening his eyes. the clown lay flat on his back in the bottom of the bus with bob sprawled on top of him. the cowardly lion had become wedged under a seat and was heaving and puffing unhappily.
"yes, but there's some way to bring it down," chirped nick. "come have a look. i know how to fly myself, but i don't know how to fly a flyaboutabus."
notta rose unsteadily and lifted bob into one of the side seats. then he staggered over to the front of the bus and, holding his head with one hand, peered down at the gear and machinery. there was a row of buttons under the steering wheel and the first button said "slower." notta hastily pushed this one and the great feather wheels on each side immediately slackened their frantic whirling, and while nick held the lever notta investigated their strange flying machine still further. it was shaped like an immense hollowed-out goose, with seats on each side and a high seat near the head. the head turned with the steering wheel and honked loudly when you pushed the button marked "blow." the tail of the goose moved from side to side, and the four powerful wheels whirled around continuously, so that the noise, when the bus flew swiftly, was terrific. now, however, it was running more quietly, and bob, no longer feeling giddy, began to look around with keen interest.
notta had pressed another button marked "middle air--down," and they were slanting gently toward the earth, floating almost without movement of the great feather wheels.
"isn't this fun?" cried bob, giving the clown a little hug as he sat down in the seat ahead.
"well," chuckled notta, "i don't usually fly before breakfast, but i'd fly from un any time."
snorer, who still held the lever, beamed over his shoulder at the clown.
"didn't i manage well?" he chirped happily. "i say, when anything's to be done just leave it to old nickadoodle."
"we can never thank you enough," declared notta. "but how will you get back? will you fly?"
"i'm not going back," exulted snorer, flapping his wings. "i'd be unusual anywhere and i am never going to leave you, you beautiful creature."
"then our fortune is made," said the clown, with a wink at bob, "for in a circus you'd be more than half the show."
"i'll show them how to snore," chuckled nick. "i do that better than anything else. but i'd do anything for you, for i love you with all my heart," continued snorer calmly, "and the boy, too. and i love--"
"don't you dare love me," rumbled the cowardly lion, wrathfully jerking his head from beneath the seat. "i won't allow it!"
"all right," sighed nick, adjusting his nose. "i'll try not to love you, but it's going to be hard work, you're so handsome."
"there! there!" interrupted the cowardly lion gruffly, but he couldn't help looking pleased. "you may like me if you wish," he added mildly. "any land in sight?"
notta leaned far over the edge of the bus. "i think i see a village of some kind far down below. here, bob, you come help steer." so, while nick grasped the lever to hold the bus steady, bob sat in the high seat and turned the great goose head as notta directed, now to the left and now to the right, and in less than an hour, they were floating slowly over a quaint blue city.
"we're still in the munchkin country," rumbled the cowardly lion, standing on his hind legs and looking over the side.
"well, we'll just fly over this town and land in one of those fields," puffed notta uneasily. he was not sure he wouldn't impale the flyaboutabus on a steeple, or run over some of the inhabitants, if he attempted to land in the city itself. as it was they flew quite a distance before he located all the buttons necessary to make a landing. the flyaboutabus came to earth with such a bounce that they all flew up like rubber balls, while the bus continued to fly and bump around the field until notta ran after it and tied it to a tree.
"and now what?" asked nick, carefully putting his troublesome nose on its hook.
"breakfast!" wheezed the cowardly lion, rolling out of a huge bramble bush. "aren't you hungry, bob?"
bob nodded. "but where are we going to get it?" he asked, looking rather puzzled.
"one never knows in oz, but if we look carefully, we'll be sure to find something," answered the lion easily.
"let's make it a game," suggested notta, patting his figure in various important places to see whether his disguises were still safe. "now then, all ready for a breakfast hunt. i'll take this field, nick can take the air and bob and the cowardly lion may have the woods."
bob smiled a little to himself. hunting breakfast in the woods did seem ridiculous but, as the cowardly lion went poking his head in bushes and sniffing around trees in a businesslike manner, bob began to look too. there were plenty of flowers in the woods, and for a time bob found nothing else. at last pushing through a tangle of vines, the little boy found himself standing under a stout little tree that rattled curiously when the wind passed through its branches. there was a sign on the tree. standing on his toes bob spelled it out laboriously. then he called notta in excited little shrieks.
"what is it?" panted the clown, breaking through the vines with the cowardly lion one leap behind him. "are you hurt?"
"no," cried bob, "but i've won!" he pointed gleefully to the tree.
"travelers' tree," read notta, "planted by the wizard wam in the year 1120 o. z. "
"well, hurrah for wam!" chortled the clown, and began walking all around the tree, while the cowardly lion sat down and panted a little from his long run.
the lower branches were gay with many pink cups and on the next, poised over the cups, were the sauciest little tea, cocoa and coffee pots imaginable. higher up grew clusters of covered dishes of every kind. in the very top of the tree was a large nest of some sort. snorer, who came flying back just then, declared it was full of eggs. instead of leaves, the tree flaunted many bright paper napkin blossoms.
"be sure to plant your dishes when you have finished eating," directed another sign quite sternly.
with a happy little chuckle, bob picked a napkin for each, and three for the cowardly lion. then notta broke a coffee cup from its stem, and no sooner had he touched the cup than the coffee pot on the next branch tilted gently and filled the cup with fragrant hot coffee. the clown was so startled that he accidentally brushed off another cup, at which a cocoa pot poured a cup full of cocoa over his head before he had time to duck. spluttering and coughing, notta drew back, but that was the only accident, and as the clown said, it saved him from washing his face.
the cowardly lion drank a dozen cups of coffee, one right after the other. bob had two cups of cocoa, and snorer, holding a tea cup in one claw, sipped the beverage suspiciously, then flew off to find something more to his taste. next, notta picked five dishes of ozish stew for the cowardly lion, a plate full of meat hash for himself and a chop and baked potato for bob up.
nothing could have been jollier than that breakfast. the cowardly lion forgot to worry about his feathers, bob forgot he had ever been an orphan, and notta forgot that he was lost in a strange magic country and in the power of the wicked monarch of mudge. when they could not eat another bite, snorer flew to the top of a tree and brought down dozens of eggs from the nest. strangely enough, they were hard boiled and bob filled his blouse with them, for as notta said, there was no telling where they would be by noon. the cowardly lion now dug a deep hole and they buried all the dishes, which was lots less trouble than washing them, then back they went to the flyaboutabus.
bob chattered quite gaily to nickadoodle, but notta and the cowardly lion walked along in silence. notta, after the valiant way the lion had defended them from the uns, could not bear the idea of betraying this strange new friend. better a thousand times turn blue than have the kind-hearted cowardly lion fall into the merciless hands of mustafa.
"perhaps the old mudger's ring will not work any way," reflected notta uncomfortably. "perhaps it was just a threat to frighten us." if they could just reach this wonderful emerald city and tell their story to dorothy, everything would turn out happily. and that, decided notta, was what he would do.
the cowardly lion, on his part, was thinking how terrible it would have been had he eaten notta on that first morning of their meeting. he felt guilty every time he looked at the jolly, companionable clown. the more he thought about the patchwork girl's suggestion, the more ashamed of himself he felt. why it was perfectly unish, this idea of devouring a brave man. no wonder he had grown a larger bunch of feathers than notta and bob! if there was no other way to acquire courage, he would stay a coward forever and that was the end of that! no sooner had the cowardly lion reached this conclusion, than he, too, felt light-hearted and happy again and began to roar with appreciation at notta's funny antics and jokes.
when they reached the flyaboutabus, it was jerking at its rope as if it was anxious to be off, and so were they all for that matter.
"which way is the emerald city from here?" asked notta, turning to the cowardly lion. "i've lost my bearings." the cowardly lion looked first north, then south. he knew they were in the munchkin country, but their flight to un had confused him terribly.
"i think it's straight ahead," he roared uncertainly. "let's run along the ground for a while till we're sure."
"all right," agreed the clown and, calling to bob, started for the bus. but half way he stopped in horror. bob, though perfectly unconscious of it, had turned as blue as washday. at the same time notta caught the cowardly lion staring at him fixedly.
"what's the matter?" choked notta. "am i blue, too?"
"not very," faltered the lion, whose heart was in his throat at the awful change in his friends.
notta looked down at his hands with a shudder. "i'm as blue as the danube," he muttered unhappily. "but that's all the better. why, a blue clown ought to be the greatest curiosity yet. wait till i reach america with my new skin and feathers." notta went on trying to make a joke of it, but his voice shook a little in spite of himself, and when he tried a light double somersault an even worse thing happened. halfway around he found himself unable to move, and there he stood on his head, powerless to straighten his arms or legs.
there was no doubt about it, mustafa had taken off his magic ring. for when bob tried to run to notta's assistance he was caught with one foot in the air.
"help, help!" croaked snorer, flying frantically from one to the other. his nose came off the hook and hung straight down, but he never even noticed it.
"fly up a tree, can't you!" roared the cowardly lion, as snorer flapped into his face and almost blinded him with his wings.
with a quick spring he reached notta's side. "better lift me down," puffed the clown, for under the blue he was turning crimson from standing so long upside down. the cowardly lion obeyed, and placed him gently on the ground, where he lay as stiff as a statue.
"it's magic!" growled the lion. "blue magic!"
"it's mustafa!" groaned notta, looking dismally at bob. "i guess i'll have to tell you the whole story." in short jerks and gasps, for he could barely move his lips, he told how mustafa had sent them to capture the cowardly lion and of how he had threatened them with the magic ring if they failed to obey him.
"but you did disobey him," breathed the lion, lashing his tail. "even when you knew what would happen, you made no attempt to capture me!" tears of gratitude rolled down his nose. "you're the bravest man in oz," he choked miserably, "but look what it has brought you to?"
"weren't you looking for the bravest man in oz?" asked notta, suddenly remembering their first conversation. "that's how we happened to meet you, i think."
the cowardly lion nodded gloomily, for it was now his turn to confess. with many apologies and sighs he told notta of his quest for courage and his determination to devour a brave man, the bravest man that he met.
"but you didn't do it!" shouted notta triumphantly. "and many a chance you've had if you had cared to take it. cheer up, old fellow, there's some way out of it."
snorer with suppressed gurgles and sobs had listened to both stories. now he held up his claw. "as i understand," croaked the bird, pushing his curly nose back of his ear, "mustafa's ring has turned black because you have not captured the cowardly lion?"
"that's about it," admitted notta, trying to wink at bob, but finding it impossible to move his eyelid.
"well, then," sniffled snorer with a little hop, "why not capture him? wait, i'll get a rope." he flew off to the flyaboutabus, first stopping to comfort bob up. "let us meet magic with strategy," cawed nick, flying back with a long piece of rope in his bill.
"i'll never urge him a step," declared notta firmly. "not if i have to stay blue and still for the rest of my life."
"you won't have to," rumbled the cowardly lion, who was beginning to look quite cheerful. "i'll run all the way to mudge and give myself up to this ridiculous mustafa." he made a little spring, but snorer with a screech barred the way.
"have you no sense?" shrilled nick sharply. "i said strategy." he tied the rope hastily around the cowardly lion's neck and placed the end in notta's stiff hand. and no sooner had he done so than bob, with a little shout, ran over to notta and the clown also found himself able to move about once more. while nick and the cowardly lion watched anxiously, the offensive blue faded out, leaving notta's face white and powdery and bob's rosy and freckled.
"so long as you keep hold of the rope everything will be all right," chuckled snorer strutting proudly up and down, "for while you have the rope the cowardly lion is captured."
"then we'll just run double harness until we think of something else," said the cowardly lion. "tie the rope 'round your waist, notta, old boy. then you'll be sure not to lose me." rather thoughtfully notta obeyed, but he could not help thinking that being tied to a cowardly lion might prove awfully awkward at times. the cowardly lion, however, was in fine spirits, so notta, swallowing his misgivings, stepped with the others into the flyaboutabus. "and now that i'm captured," chuckled the cowardly lion mischievously, "what next?"
"oh, let someone else decide that," yawned snorer. flopping down in the last seat of the bus he was soon sound asleep and snoring loudly.
"let's find dorothy," shouted bob. it was necessary to shout, for nick's snores rattled in their ears like a series of explosions. the cowardly lion and notta looked doubtfully at each other. they were not sure that mustafa's magic ring would allow them to proceed toward the emerald city.
"we'll try it," shouted notta. "which way is it?"
"i don't know," roared the cowardly lion. "let's fly up and look around till i see a familiar landmark. so notta pressed all the buttons necessary to start the bus, and up they went with such a rush that bob almost lost his cap and the cowardly lion's mane waved like a flag. bob put both fingers in his ears, for with nick's snores and the whir of the feather wheels the noise was deafening. when they were about a hundred feet above ground, notta slowed the bus down and ran it gently and evenly over the pleasant blue fields and forests of the munchkins. bob, slipping into the seat beside snorer, put his nose, which had fallen off his ear, back on its hook. immediately snorer awoke and stamped his foot, but in a wink he was asleep again and bob watched in open-eyed wonder, for snoring in his own ear wakened him about every three minutes, and when he wakened he stamped, so that between snoring and stamping the noise was worse than ever.
"i wish our friend was not such a loud sleeper," growled the cowardly lion. "i can't even hear my own heart beat. say, was that thunder or snorer?"
"thunder," quavered notta anxiously. "see how dark it's growing! let's go down!"
"it's raining," cried bob up in the same breath.
notta touched the button marked "faster," and was about to press the one marked "down," when a blinding flash of lightning zig-zagged across their path. the cowardly lion, with a roar of terror, dashed under the last seat of the bus, dragging notta with him. in his clutch to save himself the clown pressed the button marked "turn," so that the flyaboutabus not only increased its speed but churned 'round and 'round till the four occupants were almost knocked senseless. to make matters worse, the rain came down in perfect torrents.
snorer, awakened by the awful clamor, put his wing around bob and clutched the arm of the seat with his curling claws. even so they were shaken up and down till bob's teeth chattered and nearly drowned by the storm. notta and the cowardly lion in the bottom of the bus were faring even worse. every time the clown scrambled to his feet, the cowardly lion, terrified by a new flash of lightning, would spring in another direction and, tied to him by the stout rope, notta would be dragged along.
"help! help! i'm drowning," gurgled notta after the eighth fall. a sudden flash of lightning showed snorer that the flyaboutabus was more than half full of water, and notta lying entirely immersed.
"bob," cried nick, "can you hold on a minute by yourself?" bob nodded his head and with closed eyes grasped the side of the bus. he did not dare open his eyes, for flying in a circle had made him dreadfully dizzy.
snorer sidled cautiously to the edge of the seat and with a little spring jumped on the cowardly lion's back. the big beast was trembling like a runaway race horse, and the beating of his heart shook snorer up and down. but holding on to his mane with one claw, he felt about in the water till his other one fastened in the belt of notta's baggy suit. then he pulled with all his might till, dripping and breathless, the poor clown lay across the cowardly lion's back.
"climb on the seat," directed nick sternly. "do you want to drown the most beautiful person in oz?" with shaking legs the cowardly lion obeyed, nick holding notta safely in place, and when they were both on the seat he begged the lion, with tears in his eyes, to control himself. the cowardly lion, catching a glimpse of poor notta, and realizing for the first time what he had done, wept with embarrassment.
"this is what comes of being tied to a coward," he roared dismally, "but someone clapped me on the back."
"it was a thunderclap," chattered snorer. "just close your eyes and hang together, and bob and i will do the same." hastily he flew back to the little boy, who was rolling and slipping around on the wet seat. notta, wise from past experiences, fastened his arms tightly around the cowardly lion's neck.
"divided we fall, together we stand," he panted weakly. "if you're going to jump give me a signal, won't you?" the cowardly lion made no answer but just dug his claws into the seat and closed his eyes tighter. the wind whistled shrilly in their ears, the rain pelted mercilessly upon their heads and the bus tumbled and tossed through the air like a rudderless ship.
suddenly snorer, who was less affected by the motion of the bus than the others, felt water on his feet.
"somebody bail out the boat," he shrieked in real terror, "it's sinking!" and so it was. the feather wheels, wet and draggled by the rain, moved slower and slower, and the bus was now so full of water that every time it lurched sideways the luckless voyagers were submerged. it was like flying in a very deep and dangerous tub.
"i never expected to be drowned in the air," screamed notta. "shall we jump overboard?"
"do you want to be dashed to pieces?" shouted nick in reply. "hold on to the sides." he called more directions, but the fury of the storm drowned even his shrill voice, and each found he had enough to do to keep from being washed over the edge. the water rose higher and higher and the bus sank lower and lower. with eyes closed, and only their heads above water, the four clung grimly to the feathery edges. when the bus finally struck the ground it did so with such force that they all let go and fell back into the water. the cowardly lion sprang out first, pulling notta along with him. then, realizing bob was still struggling in the water, he impulsively sprang back, seized the little boy in his teeth and jumped out again. a shout from snorer made him pause. notta was bumping along on the end of the rope like a big bag of clothes.
"you've killed him," wailed nick angrily. but just then, with a watery sigh, the clown opened his eyes. immediately he began fumbling in his chest pocket. "what are you trying to do?" screamed snorer.
"my disguise," choked the clown. "i must put on my disguise--first disguise, then joke and run, you know!"
"you don't need any disguise," wailed the cowardly lion remorsefully. "you look like almost anyone."
"i feel the same way," coughed the clown. "am i dashed or drowned or both?"
"neither," croaked snorer sorrowfully. "only tied to a very forgetful friend." the disguises, concealed in various parts of notta's apparel, were dragged down in disfiguring lumps about his knees. there were four bumps on his forehead and one was coming on the back of his head. bob, though shivering and wet, was otherwise unhurt, so he and nick helped notta to the cowardly lion's back, and, dripping and shaken, the air-wrecked party started toward a little hut near which they had fallen.
"where's the fallaboutabus?" muttered notta thickly, as the cowardly lion stumbled over the sill.
"i don't care where it is," groaned the lion. "i hope it's busted. i'm against flying in all its branches." he dropped panting on the hearth, and notta did not even move from his back. the hut evidently belonged to some thrifty woodcutter. it was quite neat and comfortable and there was a fire all ready to light.
bob, feeling very important, started a cheerful blaze, and though the rain still rattled on the roof, inside it was quite cozy and comfortable. notta, with bob's help, took out all of his disguises, and the three that had already been used he hung out in full view. but the clown was so down-hearted when bob started to shake out the others, and seemed to attach so much importance to keeping them secret, that snorer, without unrolling them, carried them into the next room and hung them on hooks to dry. notta was quite thin and fallen without them, but when his suit had dried and he had powdered his nose with some of the woodcutter's flour he felt quite restored, and it was not until then that he discovered his feathers were gone. with a little shout he looked at the cowardly lion and bob.
"we've all shed our feathers," he cried exultantly. "they must have washed away." the cowardly lion was so pleased that he jumped for joy, and started to run and look in the woodcutter's mirror, upsetting notta as usual.
"it's because you're no longer unish," explained snorer wisely, as notta scrambled to his feet and hastened to accompany the lion to the mirror. "when you both stopped planning unwise and unfair things the feathers just naturally dropped out, and bob's followed suit, for there isn't an unish bone in that boy's body," continued snorer, rolling his eyes knowingly. "and now that we've all decided to stick together everything will be as happy as possible."
"we don't stick together very well," sighed the cowardly lion, hanging his head. "did i hurt you, notta, old fellow?"
"not much," said the clown, "but i'll have to use more padding if you are going to be so impetuous." being tied to a cowardly lion was proving even worse than he had expected. the cowardly lion himself felt uncomfortable and ill at ease.
"see here," he rumbled, as they gathered round the fire again, "i think we had better separate. i'll go on to mudge and you three go to the emerald city for help."
"no," objected notta, wrinkling his poor bumped forehead, "let's stick together a bit longer, for i don't know the way to the emerald city, and the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions might tear you to pieces before we got back. traveling in this country is dreadfully uncertain. why, we don't even know where we are now!"
"but the sun's out," cried bob, running to the window. "let's see if the flyaboutabus is still around." the cowardly lion started at once to run toward the door, but notta, with a flying leap jumped on his back and thus avoided another fall. the bus was full of water, but the feather wheels, already somewhat drier, were slowly revolving. as they drew nearer the bus began to run 'round in circles, spraying water in every direction.
"i'll stop it," volunteered snorer and, swooping down over the wheel, quickly pushed the button marked "stop." then notta and the cowardly lion, shoving with all their strength, turned the huge bus over on its side so the water could run out. after this they went back to the hut to fetch the clown's disguises, and then they all sat down under a tree and waited for the bus to dry.
just beyond a little fringe of trees they could see the roofs of a small city, and snorer, sensibly enough, proposed that they run the bus into the city and inquire of its inhabitants just where they were. "though as far as i can make out," finished nick, "if we move toward mudge all will be well, but if we take any other direction this beautiful person," he pointed his claw at notta, "will turn blue."
"regular signals, aren't we, bob?" the clown thoughtlessly turned a handspring, but the short rope spoiled it and the cowardly lion was quite choked.
"we don't twin very well, old fellow, do we?" sighed notta. "but let's see which is the way to mudge, for it seems that to mudge we must trudge."
hopping on the cowardly lion's back he waved him to the left, but at the first step both notta and bob turned quite blue.
"try the right," suggested the clown, pulling the lion's right ear. so the cowardly lion pranced to the right, but had not gone a dozen steps before bob and notta were bluer than ever.
"back!" directed notta, swinging around and seizing the lion's tail. but their blueness only increased.
"straight ahead then," cried notta, standing up and waving his arms. so the cowardly lion obligingly trotted a few paces straight ahead, and as bob and the clown promptly turned back to their natural complexions, they concluded that straight ahead was the road to mudge.
bob could hardly help feeling pleased that it also led toward the strange city, for bob was very curious about oz and its singular peoples, and the little fellow was enjoying every minute of his adventures. even the wreck and the thunderstorm had given him a new kind of thrill.
"we must all think of a way to outwit mustafa," said notta, as they took their places in the flyaboutabus. "but until we do i shall simply follow my usual rules." so saying, he untied, for a moment, the rope that bound him to the cowardly lion and stepped into another of his disguises. this was almost the strangest of the lot. it covered him all but the feet, and in place of their jolly companion stood a huge goggle-eyed fish. the fish skin buttoned down the front, and notta's arms protruded under the fins, but he was unable to sit down. this, however, he bore quite cheerfully and, standing up very straight and stiff, seized the wheel of the flyaboutabus, pressed the button marked "go," and away they did go in a series of bumps and bounces, for the feathery vehicle could not seem to keep its wheels on the ground.
"too bad you did not put on that rig during the storm," chuckled nick, hanging on with both claws. "then you could have swum to earth. but what good is it now?"
"just you wait," promised notta confidently. "when these people, whoever they are, see a fish walking about on dry land, they will do just as i ask them to. you see!" nick looked rather nervous as he adjusted his nose, and the cowardly lion shook his head doubtfully.
"but he cannot help his disguises any more than nick can help his snoring, or i, my cowardice," whispered the big beast huskily to bob. bob up said nothing, but he always felt uncomfortable when notta put on one of his queer costumes. the bus was bouncing and jerking so crazily that conversation was now impossible. as they came nearer and nearer to the strange city, it became at once apparent that it was unlike any city or town any of them had ever seen or visited. even the cowardly lion, old oz adventurer that he was and accustomed to unusual sights and places, gave a snort of surprise as the flyaboutabus rushed through the glittering glass gates.
mustafa, seated on his blue throne, stared steadily at his magic ring. he had done little else since bob and notta's departure, and in consequence was beginning to squint fearfully. on his lap lay the lion book, and when he was not gazing at his ring, the blue-whiskered monarch looked longingly at the picture of the cowardly lion.
in one corner of the tent, in a large cage, crouched the twenty uns notta had wished into mudge, and in the tent top were twenty blue patches where they had burst through. at first mustafa had been terribly angry and ordered the featherheads thrown to the lions. but mixtuppa, pleased by the color and brilliancy of their feathers, begged that they be saved, so she might always have fresh feathers for her turbans. then the uns, seeing that mustafa was almost as wicked and bad tempered as themselves, promised to teach him all the unish they knew--so that every hour mustafa was growing unhappier and unpleasanter.
panapee stepped about breathlessly on tiptoe, for each time notta had done anything to turn mustafa's ring black the ruler of mudge had flown at his royal chamberlain and shaken him unmercifully.
"he is escaping, you villain!" screamed mustafa the first time--that was when notta had determined not to betray his faithful four-footed friend.
"help! ouch! does your majesty expect to stop him by pulling my beard? let go! take off your ring," spluttered the unhappy mudger, "there is no magic in my whiskers."
realizing the truth of this, mustafa snatched off his ring, with what alarming consequences to bob and notta we all know. since then his watchfulness had increased, and even while he ate he held his thumb before his eyes so that no move of the clown would escape him. while mustafa kept watch, the royal jewelers worked day and night upon a gold collar, studded with sapphires, and the forger of swords and scimitars hammered early and late upon a heavy gold chain--for once the cowardly lion entered mudge, mustafa was determined he should never leave the kingdom. tazzywaller, who was still lion feeder, peering at intervals through the tent flap thanked his lucky stars he was no longer high chamberlain of mudge.
"when this cowardly lion actually appears will be time enough for me to be reinstated," muttered the wily fellow to himself. "meanwhile let panny take his majesty's ill-tempered thumps and shakings!"
"tents and trapezes!" shouted notta bit more, as he tried to keep the flyaboutabus in the center of the glass street.
"i think we had better run straight through," roared the cowardly lion, beginning to tremble slightly. "i don't like the look of this at all."
"well, whatever happens, try to remember you're tied to me," begged notta, straightening his fish head hastily.
"then woe betide us," sighed the cowardly lion.
nick put his wing around bob and all of them gazed in bewilderment at this bewildering city.
"preservatory," said a large sign just beyond the glass gates, and over the whole city hung a sweet, smoky haze. the houses had glass fronts and were more like cupboards than ordinary dwellings. each had three stories, or as bob up explained later to dorothy, three shelves. and on these shelves, swinging their legs, sat the oddest individuals in oz. from head to knee they were enclosed in glass jars. their arms and legs came through especially cut places, but these were carefully soldered so as not to let in any air. and their heads, somewhat flattened by the glass lids, had a squashed and foolish look.
as the flyaboutabus bounced merrily along the main street, they began to tumble off the shelves and run down the glass steps of their comical houses. they made no attempt to keep out of the way, so notta hastily stopped the bus. but even so, one managed to get under the wheels and bob shivered as the creature's jar splintered to bits on the glass paving stones.
"now you've done it," groaned nick, slamming his nose back on its hook. the jarred populace evidently thought so too, for they began hopping up and down, shouting all sorts of threats and abuse. the four travelers could only hear a dull muttering, for the voices of the creatures did not carry through their lids, but the visitors could tell from the dreadful faces they were making through the glass that they were being threatened and abused. the cries of the unhappy victim under the wheels were quite distinct.
"save me! save me, or i shall spoil!" he cried in heart-rending tones.
notta was so moved by his evident distress that he impulsively started to jump out of the bus, forgetting the tie between himself and the cowardly lion. he therefore got a terrible wrench that twisted his fish head sideways, so he could not see at all. while bob was straightening this out, the jar-men dragged their companion from beneath the feather wheels, and a simply enormous fellow came running down the street. in one hand he had a pad and in the other a pencil.
"looks like the prime pickle," chattered snorer, as the jar-man began scribbling on his pad.
"you have broken the peace," read notta, as the angry official held up his pad. he was magnificently attired under his jar and was evidently a person of some importance. he had, however, been preserved by pickling and was of an unhealthy shade of green.
notta leaned out of the bus and, seizing the pencil and pad, wrote back, "he broke himself, save the pieces."
the rage of the preserves, as they read these words, increased to a perfect fury. one, evidently a relation of the broken man, snatched off his lid and cried shrilly, "you'll be minced for this!"
the prime preserve again scratched furiously on his pad, "you are under arrest. come with me," directed the pad, when he held it up.
"this is because i forgot the rules," sighed notta. "if i had been more polite this would not have happened. shall we fly or follow?"
"let's follow," rumbled the cowardly lion. "we can fly any time, and i'd like to see all the preserves while i'm about it, for i think dorothy will enjoy hearing about them."
notta ran the flyaboutabus slowly and carefully down the glass street after the solemn jar-men, the rest of the population following at a safe distance. bob's eyes grew larger and larger and when a preserved dog ran briskly in front of the bus he gave a shout of glee.
"i think oz is the funniest place in the world, don't you, nick?" cried the little boy merrily.
"well," chirruped snorer, "as i was never any place else, i can hardly say. look, look! there goes a canned cat!" and so it was, as canned a cat as you'd ever want to see.
but right here their guide turned the corner and they found themselves in the presence of another queen. they knew she was a queen, for on the pad held up for their inspection the guide had written, "preserva the great." notta stopped the bus before the low glass throne and they stared in wonder at her majesty. preserva seemed as much surprised as they.
"well, i'll be jellied!" wheezed the queen, taking off her lid and thrusting out a moist head. bob thought she need not have said this, for she was jellied already--her face and royal robes being a quivery and delicious pink.
the prime preserve seemed very much alarmed at the queen's action and quickly wrote on his pad, "shut your lid." bob considered this dreadfully disrespectful, and snorer began to chuckle with enjoyment. preserva quite meekly obeyed, but her eyes, behind the thick glass of the jar, grew larger and larger, and finally, snatching the pad from the prime preserve, she dashed off in great excitement these words, "a tomato can would be about right for him!" holding up the pad she pointed joyfully at notta.
"serves you right for coming as a fish," chortled the cowardly lion. "so we'll have to take you back in a can. well, well!"
then he craned his neck to see what else the queen had written. a rapid conversation was going on between preserva and their guide. one would write a message and pass it to the other. the other would snatch the page and dash off an answer, and so quickly was it done, the four in the bus had all they could do to keep up with the conversation.
"pickle the boy, can the fish, mince the lion and pot the fowl."
commanded the queen.
"now that's what i'd call taking pot luck," chirped nick, balancing himself on the edge of the bus.
but the prime preserve replied, "why not preserve them whole for the royal museum?"
while the queen was considering this suggestion, notta began feeling in the pockets under his disguise for a paper and pencil, so that he could get into the conversation, but without result.
"no use being polite! let's joke and run," puffed the clown, after an unsuccessful search. leaning over the edge of the bus, he tapped the queen sharply on the jar. preserva dropped her pad and pencil and almost rolled from the throne. inside the jar, they could see her jellied figure bubbling with fright and indignation. the prime preserve also trembled in his jar, then leaning down to read the last command of her majesty, he ran off as fast as his crooked green legs would carry him.
"fetch the imperial squawmos," read the cowardly lion, with an amused twinkle in his yellow eyes as notta tore off the page.
"if we stay here it is plain we shall be pickled to death," scrawled the clown, "so we bid you a fond but final farewell."
the queen leaned forward, the better to read notta's message and, while nick, bob and the cowardly lion fairly rocked with merriment at her discomfited expression, she suddenly unscrewed her lid.
"help!" screamed preserva loudly, sticking her head out of the jar. "help! help!" then back went her head and down went the lid, only to have the whole performance repeated the next second. this she kept up at regular intervals until the whole party were simply convulsed. but it would have been wiser had they, instead of laughing, looked behind them, for presently a terrible thump on the back sent all the scales on notta's disguise to trembling. it was the imperial squawmos, followed by all the preserves in the city. while a dozen ran to calm the agitated queen, who was still quivering in her jar, the rest surrounded the flyaboutabus. most alarming of all, the imperial squawmos was not in a jar. she was, in fact, a huge and towering cookywitch with a passion for preserving. and a cookywitch, i don't mind telling you, is next in wizardry to a sorceress. she had put up the inhabitants of the entire city and was the real ruler of the preserve.
"a fish!" shrilled the cookywitch, prodding notta with a fork as long as an umbrella. "ah, what an extreme pleasure. i have canned cats, dogs and people, but never a fish. and a boy," she chucked bob familiarly under the chin. "spare the jar and spoil the child," she quoted with a dreadful wink that sent snorer circling into the air, where he flew uneasily over the heads of his luckless companions.
"off to the preserving kettles with you!" shrilled the squawmos, and notta, in real alarm, made a dash toward the buttons to start the bus, but the cookywitch brought down a heavy iron spoon, that she carried in one hand, and crushed the entire steering gear. the clown, seeing that escape for the time being was impossible, decided to go back to rule two and gain a little time by politeness.
"imperial and imperious squawmos," began notta, speaking somewhat stuffily through the fish head, "why are you so determined to preserve us against our wills, and why have you preserved these others?"
the squawmos immediately put down her fork, for she was terribly fond of conversation, and she could not very well converse with the preserves, whose language at best was an indistinct jargon.
"strangers," wheezed the squawmos, "since i am to have the pleasure of putting you up i don't mind explaining my little system. in a jar, barring breaks, you will last for years, and needing neither food nor drink will find it quite unnecessary to work. so you see, we put ourselves up here for the same reason most housewives preserve their fruit--to keep from working."
"put yourselves up to keep from working," gasped notta. "but i love my work!"
"then you are very different from most people," observed the squawmos, looking at the cowardly lion with great interest. "but, never mind, you will soon be a perfect preserve. and this lion--he will look perfectly handsome in a jar. let me see, shall i put him up in vinegar or preserve him in spices?"
the cookywitch closed her eyes and notta, winking warningly at the cowardly lion, who was about to spring on the imperial monster, cautiously moved his hand toward the only button in the flyaboutabus that the iron spoon had not smashed--the button that said "up!"
the prime preserve saw him and made indistinct gurgles of protest under his lid, but before he could warn the cookywitch or the prime preserva, notta had pressed the button, and the flyaboutabus, with a jerk that sent hundreds of the jar-men crashing to the glass pavement and knocked squawmos head over heels, rose into the air. snorer made a flying leap and caught it on the wing, so to speak, and in a flash they were hurtling toward the sky.
notta, jerking off his disguise, frantically felt for all the buttons, but they were hopelessly broken.
"this continual flying about makes me light-headed," groaned the lion, hanging on to the arms of the seat with both paws.
"where are we going, notta?" gasped bob, edging close to snorer and peering giddily over the edge of the bus.
"up as far as it takes us, and then--" notta shuddered and clung dizzily to the wheel. and up they did go, faster and faster, until they lost all track of time and place and had not even breath enough to talk. then, with a terrific crash, the flyaboutabus ran into a small day star, turned completely over and spilled out the whole company.
there, caught by its feather wheel, it hung on the point of the star, while notta, bob, nick and the cowardly lion fell head over heels through the air. nick caught himself first and, flying after bob, edged himself around until the little boy was on his back. notta and the cowardly lion were falling together, first one and then the other on top, and nick had to fly rapidly to keep pace with their falling.
"oh, my quills and feathers!" spluttered the faithful bird, "they'll be shattered to bits! oh, my tail and top knot! what shall i do? bob i can save, but that beautiful clown will be broken to pieces!"
though falling, as notta explained afterward, did give one a sinking sensation, it was not nearly so unpleasant as he had expected and, when he looked up and saw bob safely on snorer's back, he fell more calmly, trying now and then to do the side stroke and calling encouragement to the cowardly lion. earth as it came in view was not very encouraging and snorer screamed with fright when he saw the rocky nature of the country into which his friends were tumbling.
"good-bye!" roared the cowardly lion, looking up mournfully at the clown, who was at that minute a little above him. "i'll never forget you, for you are a brave man in spite of your disguises." the clown was too affected by this speech to answer and, when he glimpsed the jagged rocks below, he decided that soon he would be disguised as a pan cake. so he merely waved to the others and closed his eyes.
like a flash nick darted down and set bob on a huge bowlder. then, with wings spread, he flew up and down, intending, if possible, to break notta's fall with his own feathery body. but notta and the cowardly lion never did finish their fall--for as they whizzed past a tall, craggy rock, jutting out from the side of a mountain, a stone arm reached out and miraculously caught the rope that held them together.
"scrags and scrivets! what kind of birds are these?" cried a grating voice, and down from the ledge stepped a roughly hewn man of stone. swinging notta and the cowardly lion easily in one hand, he came crunching toward nick and bob.
bob put his arm around snorer's neck, and nick, clapping his nose on its hook, prepared to fly from this new danger. dangling from his end of the rope, notta sighed mournfully to think he had not disguised himself, and the cowardly lion, after one look at the stone hand that held them, closed his eyes and began to tremble violently. the stone man was about three times the size of an ordinary man and carved out of a huge block of granite. his features, though rough hewn, were not unpleasant and notta, after a few false starts, ventured a remark.
"it was very kind of you to catch us," faltered the clown.
"it wasn't kindness; it was curiosity," rasped the stone man frankly. "i've been watching you fall for some time, and i must say you're the oddest looking creatures i've seen in a stone age."
as he said this, the stone man placed them on a flat rock that was on a level with his nose. and as he could not sit down, he leaned up against another rock and regarded them inquisitively.
"come on up here," he called gruffly to snorer, "and bring that little fellow with you." rather reluctantly, nick flew up with bob, and the four fallers tried to compose themselves and catch a bit of the breath they had lost on the trip down. the stone eyes of the stone man rested longest on the cowardly lion. "i like you best," he remarked presently. "you're better made than these others and not so likely to crumble. they look too soft to last long." he poked his stone finger experimentally into notta's ribs, and only the clown's disguises saved him from serious injury.
"don't do that," growled the cowardly lion sharply.
"what a lovely voice," mused the stone man almost to himself. "tell me, what are you?"
"i'm a cowardly lion," roared the big beast huskily, "so don't frighten me, for if you do i'll pound you to pebbles."
"i don't believe he could do it," creaked the stone man, turning to notta. "do you?"
"well, he's a terrible fighter," admitted the clown, with a reassuring wink at bob, "but let's not talk of such disagreeable things. since you were kind enough to catch us perhaps you will tell us who you are."
"crunch is my name," answered the stone man, picking up a rock and crumbling it to powder in his hand.
"i think we'd better be going," quavered snorer tremulously. "we're late as it is." nick had no desire to fall into the stone man's clutches.
"don't go," begged crunch. "i haven't talked to anyone since i was excavated."
"how long ago was that?" asked notta, scratching his ear.
"oh, several ages ago," replied the stone man carelessly. "but i'm much older than that, for i was hacked out by a primitive oz man to decorate his cave. but a landslide caved in the cave and i was buried for several centuries."
"who dug you up," roared the cowardly lion, "and how is it you are alive?"
"a wizard named wam dug me up," explained crunch in his scratchy voice, "and brought me to life with a shaker of magic powder. i tried to thank him, but he ran away before i could catch him, so i've stood around ever since trying to find out what one does with a life."
"great grandfathers!" choked the clown. "fancy being alive for centuries and not knowing what to do. why, there are hundreds of things to interest you, especially in a magic country like oz. you could travel, and help other folks not so strong as yourself. you could offer your services to the queen, or even build a city!"
"could i?" gasped crunch. he stared off into space as if he saw himself doing all these things, and the idea was almost too amazing to believe. then, bringing his stone heels together with a click, he announced determinedly, "i'll do it! i'll travel, i'll help people, i'll see the queen and build a city!"
"hurrah!" cried notta. "that's the way to talk. and since we are traveling, why not join us?" crunch, he decided, might prove useful in a battle.
"can i walk beside him?" asked the stone man, pointing at the cowardly lion.
"if you're steady on your pins," rumbled the cowardly lion, "and promise not to fall on me."
"where does the queen of this country live?" asked crunch, after he had promised not to fall on the cowardly lion.
"in the emerald city," piped up bob, who had been listening to the stone man's conversation with deep interest.
"oh, that must be over there," said crunch, waving toward the east, "for often at night, when i've climbed stone mountain, i've seen bright green lights twinkling in the darkness."
"why, of course it is," roared the cowardly lion in great excitement, "though why you have never gone over to find out i cannot imagine!"
"that's because you were never a stone man," sighed crunch solemnly.
"then we'll soon see dorothy and the scarecrow!" cried bob, clapping his hands. "come on, let's go to the emerald city right away."
nick flew off to the top of the mountain to investigate for himself.
"you forget mustafa's enchantment," sighed notta, pointing sadly to the rope that still bound him to the cowardly lion. "i daresay if we took a step toward the emerald city, mustafa would ring us up again."
"who is mustafa and why has he enchanted you?" demanded crunch, rubbing his stone forehead noisily. notta explained as much of their story as he thought the stone man would understand, and when he had finished crunch gave a little spring that almost knocked them from the ledge.
"why, it is as clear as cobbles," he roared, bringing down his fist upon a rock and splintering it to fragments. "you are weaker than i and, as i have fully determined to help someone, let me help you. where is this mustafa of mudge? take me to him and i will pound him to powder and disperse him to the winds."
before notta could answer nick came flying back to assure them that he had really seen the emerald city from the mountain top and that it lay scarcely a half day's journey away.
"then it seems to me," said notta, who had been doing some quick thinking, "that the time has come for us to separate. bob, nick and i will hasten to this emerald city and appeal to ozma, dorothy and the wizard of oz. meanwhile the cowardly lion can start toward mudge and thus mustafa's ring will not betray us. but before he reaches there we will have found a way to help him."
"and i will go with the cowardly lion," declared crunch promptly, "for i would rather help him than any one else."
"hurrah!" cried bob up, and so it was all decided. then notta sat on the cowardly lion's back and he sprang down from the ledge. next snorer flew down with bob, and the clown untied the rope that tied him to the lion. immediately he and bob turned blue, but when the cowardly lion took a few steps south, the blue quickly faded out. notta was so relieved to be free that he turned six somersaults, stood on his head, and ran several paces on his hands, while bob and nick shouted with glee.
"crush and crumble me!" rasped the stone man, eying the clown in alarm, "is that the way men get about nowdays? the men i watched in the stone age never did that and i simply could not manage it, you know."
"don't try," begged notta, and nick hastened to assure him that most men walked in the usual fashion--one foot before the other.
"mudge should be exactly southwest from here, so come on, old cave man, let's be moving. together we'll conquer the whole tribe of mudgers," said the lion.
"you won't have to," cried notta, giving the cowardly lion an affectionate hug, "if this wizard of oz is as clever as he's said to be."
crunch waited impatiently while nick and bob bade the cowardly lion good-bye. having stood around for seven centuries, he could not bear to waste another second, and when the cowardly lion at last declared himself ready to go he tramped off joyfully, each step shaking the ground like a small earthquake and enveloping the poor lion in a cloud of dust.
"good-bye!" called bob up shrilly, as they turned into a narrow rocky path and disappeared behind a small mountain.
"good-bye!" roared the cowardly lion, bravely waving his tail in farewell.
so much had happened since their flight from un that notta had forgotten all about the time of day, but when he started up the mountain, he grew so faint, he had to sit down on a rock. bob, too, looked pale and weary, and every few hops nick would close his eyes and indulge in a tremulous snore.
"great elephants!" puffed notta at last, squinting up at the sun. "it must be nearly five o'clock and we've had nothing to eat since morning. have you still got those eggs, bob up?"
bob felt hurriedly in his blouse and, with a triumphant smile, produced the eggs they had picked from the travelers' tree. they were somewhat squashed, but when the shells had been removed they tasted delicious to the famished travelers. washed down with some water from a little spring, the food renewed their strength and courage for the journey ahead.
"i hope nothing happens to the cowardly lion," said bob, as they started up the mountain again, "for i love him."
"so do i," croaked the snorer, who was flying a little ahead, "and i shall miss him very much when we go to america to make our fortune. but, of course i could not leave that beautiful person." he rolled his eyes proudly at notta, and the clown quite unconsciously sighed. life in a circus would seem terribly tame after this marvelous trip through oz.
"we ought to be home to-morrow, if everything works out," he remarked soberly, with an anxious glance at bob. at the word "home" the little boy shivered slightly, for home to him meant a great, dreary institution where little boys whom nobody wanted were grudgingly sheltered and eternally shaken. in his heart he hoped the magic of this wizard of oz would not be strong enough to send them back. notta was wondering to himself whether the managers of the home would trust a little boy's future to a clown and resolving darkly that, if they wouldn't, he'd take him anyhow. but he said nothing of this to bob up, and presently broke into such a comical song bob forgot all about going back. this was the song:
"a goblin's ears are very long, a goblin's nose goes wabble, but what i'd really like to know is what makes goblins gobble?
"perhaps they gobble 'cause they're imps-- and dreadfully imp-olite! pshaw, all they do is squabble hobble, gobble through the night!"
"speaking of night," chuckled snorer, balancing on the branch of a low tree, "we'll probably have to spend it in that forest below, for it would hardly be safe to travel in the dark and it'll be dark by the time we're down this mountain."
"well," laughed notta, "it wouldn't be the first time bob and i have slept in a forest, and your snores ought to scare off any wild animals."
"that's so," sighed nick, adjusting his nose, and quite satisfied he flew on ahead. the path was rough and uneven and, though notta and bob frequently slipped and slid, in another hour they were safely down the mountain. it was dusk as they stepped into the strange forest, and bob fancied the trees were peering down at him kindly. they were so tired notta paused under an immense maple tree and nick leaned up against the trunk and fell instantly to snoring and stamping, while notta began gathering branches and leaves for beds. the clown spread his old lion disguise over bob's pile and the little boy, stretching out comfortably, gazed up at the first star twinkling merrily in the evening sky and thought how strange his narrow bed at the home would seem after this. the wind sighed in the tree tops with a gentle and soothing sound, and even nick's snoring seemed comforting and pleasant to bob up.
"bob," said notta, as he dropped down beside him, "this is the friendliest forest i was ever in."
bob nodded, and at this a little rustle went rippling through the forest as if the trees had actually heard him, and in the same instant each tree quietly opened its trunk and drew forth a fiddle. before notta and bob had recovered from their surprise a wave of music swept through the wood, now soft, now loud, but more entrancing than any they had ever heard. and the trees, swaying and bending in the dim starlight, plied their bows with more skill than any orchestra in the mortal world. for bob and notta, you see, had come to the fiddlestick forest of oz.
of all his adventures, bob remembered this strange concert longest. the fairylike music, that even made the moon bend down to listen, the drumlike accompaniment of nick's snores and the misty faces of the trees themselves, bending down in the dim starlight, all added to the enchantment. bob could not remember falling asleep, for all through his dreams marched the music of the fiddles--but he must have slept, for opening his eyes suddenly, he found the sun out and shining merrily. he looked around to ask notta whether he had dreamed about the fiddles or really heard them, but notta was nowhere to be seen. nick, too, had vanished.
rather alarmed, bob jumped up. as he did so a large green leaf with white lines traced on it fluttered to the ground.
"you may use the fiddlebow boat," said the leaf and, looking up, bob fancied the big tree was smiling at him. so he made a stiff little bow and, holding fast to the leaf, started off uneasily to find his friends. the sound of water rippling over stones took him to the left, for he was terribly thirsty and in a few seconds he had come out on a rapid little stream. the water was so clear bob could see the white stones gleaming on the bottom. throwing himself down, he took a long, satisfying drink. when he straightened up he was astonished to see a boat tied to a slim birch that leaned far out over the water's edge.
"why, this must be the fiddlebow boat," cried the little boy, hastening over to examine it. it was of a smooth and satiny garnet, and exactly the shape of a huge, hollowed-out fiddle. it rode gaily at the end of its pink line, and this discovery only made bob more anxious than ever to find the clown. calling first notta and then nick, he ran back to the big tree, and just as he reached it was horrified to see a witch bending over the pile of leaves he had slept on. with a shrill scream bob turned to flee but the witch came bounding and hobbling after, calling to him in pleading tones not to run away. but the more the witch called, the faster bob ran, and he might have been running yet, had he not tripped over the roots of a tree and fallen headlong. in an instant the black hands of his pursuer jerked him to his feet.
"bob! bob!" cried the witch remorsefully, "don't you know me? bob, it's notta--only old notta!"
"notta?" gasped bob, for he was entirely out of breath and trembling like a leaf.
"there! there!" coaxed the clown. "it's only one of my disguises." as bob continued to regard him with disfavor, he explained hurriedly, "you see we're going to this emerald city, bob up, where every other person is more or less magic. now, what attention would they pay to a silly clown? why, they might not even listen to me. but if i pretend to be a powerful witch, princess ozma and the wizard of oz, whom we've been hearing so much about, will hasten to do what i say."
"you'll frighten them," said bob stubbornly, but notta shook his head.
"people in fairy cities aren't frightened as easily as little boys," he chuckled knowingly. "and just look what i've found you for breakfast!"
in bob's cap he had gathered nuts and berries of every kind, and bob, seeing notta was determined to go to the emerald city as a witch, said nothing more but began to eat hungrily. after a hearty breakfast, nick came flapping back and was so startled by the clown's disguise that his nose fell off the hook with a crash. but notta soon reassured him and, as bob was tingling with impatience to show them the boat, they finished the berries in great haste.
"this is the friendliest forest i ever was in," repeated the clown, viewing bob's discovery with delight. "this will take us out faster than we could walk and it's much safer than the flyaboutabus. now then, all aboard for the emerald city!"
gathering up his witch skirts, notta leaped into the fiddlebow boat and, seizing the long oar, pushed it in close to the bank. snorer alighted on the end, and bob settled himself cozily among the cushions. merrily the boat went dancing down the stream, propelled by notta's strong arm. the only thing that marred bob's pleasure was the thought of notta's disguise. but he determined to tell dorothy, or the first person they met, that the clown was not a witch, but the jolliest fellow in the world. somewhat comforted by this thought, bob gave himself up to pure enjoyment.
"did you hear the fiddles last night?" asked the little boy presently.
"bob," sighed notta, "i did, and never heard any like it in the whole of my travels."
"it must have been my snoring you heard," said nick, preening his feathers busily, for he wished to appear at his best in the emerald city. notta laughed uproariously at this and almost upset the boat. they all felt light-hearted and gay, and bob was no more like the solemn little orphan who had fallen into mudge than nick's snoring was like the music in the fiddlestick forest.
"i wonder if there are any other boys and girls in the emerald city besides dorothy?" asked bob, after a little pause. "and i wonder if dorothy ever heard of un or doorways?"
"you'll have plenty to tell this little girl from kansas, eh, bob up?" smiled the clown, and snorer, after adjusting his nose, related all that he knew of the emerald city, which unfortunately wasn't much, as very little news of the capital ever came to un.
"i hope the cowardly lion is having as pleasant a journey as this," said notta, as they skimmed along under the branches of the trees, "and i hope crunch is behaving himself properly."
"i should think he'd be a hard person to get along with," chirped nick, giving the clown a nudge so he would be sure to see the joke.
"because he's made of stone, you mean?" replied notta. "well, trust the cowardly lion to manage him. hello! looks as if we were out of the woods."
a turn of the rapid little stream had brought them into a broad meadow and the fiddlebow boat stopped of its own accord.
"guess this is as far as it goes," puffed the clown, after vainly endeavoring to push it forward with the oar. so he guided it to the bank and they all hopped out.
"but it doesn't seem right to leave it here," observed notta, scratching his ear anxiously. no sooner had he spoken than a tall tree near the edge of the water leaned down, seized the boat in its branches, and passed it along to the next tree, and in a second it was being tossed lightly from tree to tree, much to the amazement of notta and bob.
with wonders happening every moment, you would expect them to be used to it, but each time they were newly astonished. when the last trace of the magic boat disappeared, they struck out across the meadow, for already over the top of a little hill they could see the sparkling green towers of the emerald city of oz.
nick, hopping sidewise, paused every few minutes to see that his curly nose was safely on its hook. notta began rehearsing long speeches he meant to make to the lovely little ruler of oz, while bob skipped between the two, nearly bursting with excitement. on the other side of the meadow they came to the yellow brick road mentioned by mustafa. from the windows of the little green cottages scattered here and there, the inhabitants looked at them curiously, and several of the quaintly dressed town folk whom they met on the road, at sight of a witch, took immediately to their heels. but without waiting to explain themselves or talk to anyone, the three hurried on to the gates of the emerald city itself.
bob gazed with round-eyed delight, nick began to snort with surprise, and notta, who had seen in the course of his travels every great city on two continents, was struck dumb with amazement, for the capital city of oz outshone them all in beauty and magnificence. its streets of green marble sparkled with emeralds, and the palace, rising majestically from its flowering gardens, shone with splendor in the bright morning sunshine. the guardian of the gate was breakfasting in his cottage, and nick flew over the bars and, turning the emerald key, quietly admitted bob and notta.
"let us proceed to the main tent," puffed the clown a bit nervously, for he felt ill at ease among so much magnificence. he had forgotten every word of his speech and, with a sigh, resolved to stick to his old rules--disguise, politeness, joke and run. "though i see no reason why we should have to run," he muttered uneasily, settling his witch hat a bit more firmly.
it was still rather early and the gardens were deserted, but all at once bob, who was a bit ahead of the others, spied a little girl in pink, sitting on the edge of a fountain, reading.
"it's dorothy!" cried bob, waving excitedly. "she looks just like a picture in the lion book! come on!" immediately snorer spread his wings and flung himself into the air. notta grasped his black cloak and catching bob's hand started on a run for the fountain.
the flapping of nick's wings made dorothy look up. with a little scream she jumped to her feet, for any little girl, even though she is a princess of oz, cannot help being afraid of witches.
"help!" cried dorothy, turning to run. but just then she caught sight of a gold bucket that always stood beside the fountain, and she remembered an experience she had had long ago with the wicked witch of the west. water had melted one witch--why not another? seizing the bucket, she filled it hastily at the fountain and, just as the witch, strange bird and little boy reached her, she flung its contents over the witch's head.
"oh! oh!" screamed snorer. "you have insulted the most beautiful person in oz."
notta, taken completely by surprise, could do nothing but choke and splutter.
"wait!" panted bob, for dorothy was refilling the bucket. but he was too late and down splashed another bucket on notta's head, carrying away his hat and drenching his black wig. unable to speak, notta began to wave his arms, and this was anything but reassuring to dorothy. snatching a little silver whistle that hung on a ribbon on her neck, she blew on it shrilly. the next instant running feet could be heard on all the garden paths and in a twinkling bob and notta were surrounded.
"what is it?" boomed sir hokus of pokes, dorothy's knight errant. he brought his mailed fist heavily down upon notta's witch shoulder. the soldier with the green whiskers, not to be outdone, grasped bob up and tik tok leaned over stiffly and seized snorer by the neck. more and more people kept arriving, and though bob tried his best to make himself heard, in the general confusion his voice was drowned out, and in disgrace they were marched to the palace.
ozma was having a quiet game of checkers with the scarecrow and looked up in amazement as the company burst into the throne room.
"a witch!" shrilled the patchwork girl, dancing madly at the head of the procession,
"a witch, a witch, as black as pitch, has come to steal your throne and sich!"
"if they would only stop screaming," thought poor bob, looking anxiously at the lovely little figure of ozma of oz. just then they did, for ozma, glancing in surprise and displeasure at the witch, raised her scepter for silence.
"who found this witch?" asked ozma anxiously, for witches of any sort distressed the kind little fairy ruler.
"who found witch?" repeated scraps, waving her cotton arms wildly; but at a reproving nod from the scarecrow she subsided. before dorothy could answer, tik tok's machinery ran down and his iron hold on nick's neck relaxed, much to his relief.
"villains!" squalled snorer, flapping into the air. "this is a fine way to receive friends. i've a mind to pull out your beard," he screamed angrily, beating his wings in the face of the soldier with the green whiskers.
"run, bob," he cried, as the terrified soldier let go of the little orphan. everyone was so surprised at snorer's sudden outbreak and his unusual appearance that they simply gasped. but notta, realizing what a bad impression they were making, called pleadingly for snorer to take his claws out of the soldier's whiskers, and as bob up added his voice to notta's, snorer let go and retired sulkily to the top of a golden cabinet. "they're worse than uns," he muttered, stamping his foot.
"i think there is no harm in the boy," whispered the scarecrow to ozma, for he noticed that bob made no attempt to escape.
"why do you travel in the company of a witch?" asked ozma rather sternly.
"he's not a witch!" cried bob up miserably. "he's notta!"
"not a witch?" puzzled ozma, wrinkling up her brows.
all the celebrities stared suspiciously at their prisoner, but as sir hokus had him firmly by one arm and the tin woodman by the other, notta could not remove his disguise.
"the boy has spoken the truth," quavered the clown. "if these gentlemen will let me go for a moment i will prove that i am not a witch."
"don't let go," advised the scarecrow, wrinkling his cotton forehead, "for she may bewitch us. have little dorothy tell her story." so, while bob fumed with impatience and notta groaned at the delay, dorothy told how they had come flying toward her in the garden.
"but if it had been a witch, wouldn't she have melted when you threw the water on her?" asked trot, who had listened so far in silence. she liked the looks of this little boy and felt that some mistake had been made.
"call the wizard of oz!" cried jack pumpkinhead. this was such a reasonable suggestion bob wondered how a pumpkinhead could have thought of it. as there seemed no way of convincing these interesting folks that the clown was not a witch, bob gave it up for the moment and began examining them with close attention.
tik tok simply fascinated the little boy, and he immediately decided that, next to notta, he had never seen anyone more jolly than the scarecrow. even the knight, now that he had his visor up, no longer alarmed bob up. and when the comfortable camel thrust his long neck in through one of the windows to inquire what was the matter bob burst out laughing in spite of himself. right here the little, bald wizard of oz came bouncing into the throne room, a small black grip clutched in one hand.
"if this person is a witch," sighed ozma, after the scarecrow had related all that had happened, "she must be destroyed. can you discover by your magic whether or not it is a witch?"
"certainly," said the sprightly little wizard, laying out his tools in a businesslike manner. snorer flew down from the cabinet in alarm.
"will it hurt?" he cawed uneasily.
"if she is not a witch she has nothing to fear," replied the wizard, eying snorer with amazement.
the wizard, sending for a tumbler, first mixed a pink and green powder together and then added a drop of red liquid that immediately set the powder to sizzling. when it bubbled to the top he flung the contents of the tumbler directly in the witch's face. sir hokus and the tin woodman ducked and notta spluttered, but the fiery liquid trickled harmlessly off his nose.
"it is not a witch!" smiled the wizard of oz, turning to ozma.
"then why do you pretend to be?" asked the little queen. her voice, though still stern, sounded very much relieved. taking heart, notta begged his two captors to release him. this they did, and the clown hastily tore off his wig and stepped out of the black cloak.
"why, it's a clown!" cried dorothy in delight.
"i told you he wasn't a witch," shrilled bob up, wriggling away from the soldier with the green whiskers and rushing over to notta bit more.
"well, bless my heart!" cried the wizard of oz, bounding down the steps of the throne two at a time. "this is a surprise. sir, let me embrace you!" and as notta made no objection he gave him several good hugs. "i used to work in a circus myself," beamed the little wizard, "and i tell you a clown is a sight that makes me homesick!"
"as to that," said notta with a little bow to ozma, "this country surpasses any circus i was ever in!"
"can you do funny tricks?" asked dorothy.
"he can somersault, cartwheel, stand on his head, walk on his hands and he knows lots of songs--don't you, notta?" cried bob, dancing with excitement.
"so do i," shrilled scraps jealously, "and if he thinks i cannot stand on my head, let him watch." sir hokus of pokes restrained the reckless girl, and ozma, tapping on the arm of her throne for order, begged notta to explain his presence in the emerald city and his reason for coming as a witch.
"we are sorry to have treated you so rudely," said ozma gravely, "but we must blame your costume for that."
"certainly," said scraps, shaking her cotton finger at notta. "if you come as a witch you must expect to be treated every witch way." notta looked rather embarrassed as he explained his rules of disguise, politeness, joke and run.
"i always seem to choose the wrong disguise," sighed the clown.
"don't you think it is better to be natural?" asked the scarecrow in his jolly voice. "especially when you are naturally so nice?" notta was quite flustered at this charming speech.
"first be nice and then be natural. how's that for a rule?" cried scraps brilliantly, and they were all so relieved that the clown had turned out so well they laughed heartily.
"ver-ry good," ticked tik tok, whom somebody had wound up. "i am natu-ral-ly bright be-cause i am nat-u-ral-ly cop-per!"
"well, after this," said notta, when the merriment had subsided, "after this, i will be myself, for i guess it is better to be yourself even if you are a clown."
"but how did you reach oz? who is this little boy? and do introduce us to your feathered friend," begged the scarecrow, who had been glancing curiously from one to the other.
"this," said notta, drawing bob close to him, "is bob up, an orphan from philadelphia, and the bravest and best little boy in america."
"hello, orphan!" cried scraps genially:
"orphan, orphan, howdedo, you love me and i'll love you! first you're here, then gone again, do come orphan on again!"
a stern "hush" from the knight silenced her, and notta introduced nickadoodle from un. nick immediately took the floor, and carefully demonstrated his telephone nose, which he explained had been invented by uncle billy. so, everyone, including the scarecrow, came down and shook him gravely by the claw. then, as they were all anxious to hear what had brought the three travelers to the emerald city, they grouped themselves about the throne and notta started to tell the history of his amazing three days in oz.
but just as he was explaining in a spirited manner their flight to mudge, a bustle in the great hall without interrupted the story, and a breathless footman came rushing in to announce the arrival of glinda, the good sorceress, who ruled over the quadling country of oz.
"something must have happened!" cried ozma, jumping up in distress.
"don't be so previous, my dear," begged the scarecrow, himself falling down the steps of the throne to show how collected he was. but at that instant glinda herself swept into the throne room. twelve little maidens in lovely red dresses held up her long train and bob up, looking at glinda's beautiful face and lovely flame-colored robes, thought he had never seen a more radiant fairy. the courtiers and celebrities hastily made way for glinda.
hurrying up to ozma the sorceress asked anxiously, "where is the cowardly lion? has anyone seen the cowardly lion?"
now, strangely enough, no one in the palace had missed their big chum, but at glinda's words they all began shaking their heads and looking uneasily at one another.
"why, i haven't seen him for two days," cried dorothy, with a worried little frown.
"we have!" cried bob up, forgetting for a moment he was in the presence of royalty. "we saw him yesterday."
"what's happened?" cried notta. "i see now we never should have left him."
"why, do you know the cowardly lion?" asked ozma in surprise, for notta had not yet come to their meeting, nor even told them of mustafa's determination to add the cowardly lion to his collection.
so, as quickly as he could, and without stopping to describe doorways or un, the clown told his story.
"ah," sighed glinda, as he finished, "that explains the entry in the magic record book. hurry up, my friends. some of us must go instantly to mudge."
"what did the records say?" asked dorothy, and all the celebrities looked frightened and anxious, for the cowardly lion was a great favorite. the magic record book is one of the treasures of oz. it tells, just as they happen, all the events in that marvelous country and in every other country.
"it said," began glinda in her soft voice, "that the cowardly lion is in grave danger, and unless help comes before noon he will be destroyed."
"wha--aat?" shrilled notta in horrified tones, while sir hokus of pokes began sharpening his dagger on his leg and the scarecrow fell on his nose from the very shock of the thing.
"where's my magic belt?" cried ozma, clapping her small hands frantically. "jellia, fetch my magic belt!" ozma, with this belt, meant to transport as many of the company as possible to mudge.
but before the little serving maid returned, notta himself had accomplished that very thing. glancing around hurriedly, he began touching everyone who looked as if he might prove useful in a battle. sir hokus vanished first, for notta was very much impressed by the knight's warlike appearance, then the tin woodman, because his ax looked so sharp, then tik tok, because he was so solid and dependable, then glinda because she was a sorceress and the wizard because he was also versed in magic, then dorothy, because she was crying and bob because notta could not bear to leave him behind and then snorer, because he had proven himself so faithful.
ozma, who had forgotten about the magic verse, was startled almost out of her senses by these sudden disappearances. she put up her scepter to object, but notta ran forward and touched her too and she was gone with the others.
"help!" wailed scraps, tumbling out of the window, and the rest of the company began backing into corners. but the clown, now satisfied with his army of invasion, seized the yellow hand of the scarecrow and repeated his verse for the last time:
"udge! budge! come to mudge! udgers budgers, we are mudgers!"
in a flash they were in mudge--every single person the clown had touched. and the sight that met their eyes was simply terrifying.
to understand how the cowardly lion made the journey to mudge in one day instead of three, we must go back to the afternoon he started down the mountain with the stone man of oz. crunch, as he tramped along beside the cowardly lion, was thinking harder than in all the stone ages of his hard life. the wizard wam had given him brains of a sort, and though they had not been used before the events of the afternoon had brought them quite suddenly into action.
the mountain where crunch had stood for so many centuries, while quite near the emerald city, was never visited by anyone, so that the stone man knew very little of life as it was lived in oz. notta's suggestions had aroused his curiosity, and for the cowardly lion he was developing a great fondness. as the afternoon progressed the cowardly lion grew positively embarrassed by his terms of endearment.
"you are the handsomest creature in oz," insisted crunch over and over, "and if you were only of stone you would be more beautiful still."
"very still," rumbled the cowardly lion, putting back his ears. "though i suppose," he added thoughtfully, "a stone lion is never afraid." to change the subject he began telling crunch about his cowardice, and how he had started out originally to find himself some courage.
"would it make you happy to be afraid of nothing?" asked the stone man in his grinding voice.
"perfectly happy," sighed the cowardly lion, "for though i fight when danger threatens, i suffer terribly from a desire to run away."
"then if you had no desire to run away you would be perfectly happy?" asked crunch, with a stamp that threw the cowardly lion off his feet. "why, i can easily fix that!"
"do you mean to say you could give me courage?" roared the cowardly lion, stopping perfectly still in his tracks.
"i know a trick to fix you so that you will never again be afraid," answered the stone man, rolling his eyes from side to side. "that is one thing i can do."
"who taught you magic?" rumbled the cowardly lion suspiciously.
"no one," grated crunch, "but this hard little secret was in the brains wam wished into my block head. shall i change you now?"
the cowardly lion sat down and scratched his ear with his hind leg. he had lived long enough in a magic country to believe anything possible, but somehow this huge, craggy giant filled him with misgivings.
"i'd like to think about this a little longer, if you don't mind," he answered cautiously. "tell me more about it, can't you?"
crunch shook his head solemnly. "if i told you it wouldn't work. better let me change you, old fellow."
"no," wheezed the cowardly lion uneasily, "i think i'll wait a bit, i tell you," he added, brightening up, "let's not try it until this little mudge affair is over. it isn't quite right to think of ourselves when my good friend notta is in danger. help me first and change me afterward."
"all right," agreed the stone man, starting stolidly forward, but several times the cowardly lion, glancing up unexpectedly, caught him moving his stiff lips and looking at him with such a stony glare that it sent a shiver of terror down his spine.
"now, see here," roared the lion, planting himself determinedly in crunch's path. "you must promise me not to try that trick till i'm ready. i've been frightened all my life and i don't wish to be frightened into a courageous lion without knowing it."
"oh, all right," grumbled the stone man again, "but i don't see any sense in all this delay. what if your friends do turn blue? it won't hurt them, and why should you put yourself in the clutches of this wicked old mudger?"
"that is my affair," roared the cowardly lion, shocked at crunch's unfeeling words. "i suppose a person entirely composed of stone cannot help being hard and unsympathetic," he reflected to himself. aloud he called, "come along, let's hurry," and hurry they did as fast as their legs would carry them.
a munchkin farmer, whose cottage they passed just at dusk, gave the cowardly lion a hearty dinner, but he shook his head doubtfully at crunch, who had propped himself up against a barn while the lion ate.
"he'll break something," whispered the farmer nervously. "he's too heavy to be walking about. what's he doing alive anyway? has ozma seen him? or the scarecrow? here, here!" he called angrily, as the barn began to creak and lean to one side, "you'll have to lean against something else!"
"i'll stand right here, and nothing will budge me," grumbled crunch disagreeably. at this the cowardly lion swallowed the rest of his dinner at one gulp and started to run down the road. he knew that the stone man would follow him and he did not want the poor farmer's barn demolished.
"i thought you were going to help people," he roared reproachfully, as crunch overtook him.
"no, i've changed my mind," announced crunch with a terrible grin, "i'm only going to help you." the cowardly lion started to lecture the stone man, but, as he paid not the slightest attention, he finally gave it up and trotted along in silence. he was growing wearier every minute, and finally on the edge of a little wood he stopped altogether. night was coming on, and after the flights and excitement of the past two days the cowardly lion felt he must snatch a little rest.
"crunch, old rock, will you keep watch while i get a little sleep?" he yawned. the stone man nodded impassively. he had watched men sleep in the long ago stone age and, though he could not see any use in this strange custom, he concluded it was another tiresome habit of these creatures not brought to life by magic.
with a long sigh, for he sadly missed his jolly companions, the cowardly lion stretched himself out under a tree and almost instantly fell into a heavy slumber. for a time the stone man stood perfectly still. then he began to mutter crossly to himself. the idea of waiting until they reached mudge to try his trick was not pleasing to the stony fellow, for after the change, though he had been careful not to say so, the cowardly lion would be absolutely in his power. and, with the cowardly lion, he meant to return to his lonely mountain and stand happily ever afterward.
already the thought of offering his services to the queen and building a city had begun to bore him. this pounding about chipped his toes and jarred his granite. why had he ever made that ridiculous promise to the cowardly lion? but made it was, and a stone man can no sooner break his promise than his head. kicking the earth up fretfully, crunch tried to think of a way out of the difficulty. just as the twentieth star came pricking out in the heavens, he had an idea. crunch, being of stone, never tired and could therefore travel indefinitely. if this mudge business had to be got through with, then the sooner they arrived in mudge the better. he knew that he could go three times as quickly as an ordinary flesh and bone man, therefore he ought to reach mustafa's kingdom by morning.
snatching into the air a startled munchkin shepherd, who was strolling along with his hands in his pockets, he asked him the way to mudge. when the lad's teeth stopped chattering long enough to tell him, he dropped him carelessly on the ground and picked up the cowardly lion. the next instant he was running with all his might toward mustafa's dreadful desert, trampling under his feet any fences or small buildings that got in the way, and jarring the whole country with his heavy strides. the cowardly lion awakened almost immediately and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but escape from those mighty arms was an impossibility.
"where are you going?" he growled angrily, the words being fairly jolted out of him.
"to mudge!" shouted crunch without slackening his speed. "i promised not to change you to a courageous lion till we finished with mustafa. well, now, i am going to finish mustafa."
"stop!" implored the cowardly lion, but he might as well have argued with the wind, and to continue the argument, when crunch's every step deprived him of his breath, took the whole of his strength and determination. but continue it he did, with roars, threats and rumblings. to these the stone man paid not the slightest attention, and finally the cowardly lion was too exhausted and shaken to utter another roar.
"there's no use reasoning with me," crunch had insisted stubbornly, "for i am a hard mass of mineral matter. i will take you to mudge because that i promised to do, but as soon as we reach mudge you will be mine forever!"
the cowardly lion had not even strength to tremble at these awful words, so he closed his eyes and tried not to think about mustafa and his nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions, nor crunch and his terrible threat. it would be impossible for notta and bob to reach mudge in time to help him now, so the poor cowardly lion resolved to fight as long as he could, and then bravely resign himself to whatever fate had in store for him. at every step of the stone man, he more bitterly regretted the moment he had trusted himself to the company of this treacherous giant.
whether he fell asleep, or was shaken into unconsciousness, the cowardly lion never knew. the next thing he remembered was leaning up against an iron enclosure and hearing crunch calling loudly for admittance into mudge. for the stone man had run, without turning so much as an inch out of the way, directly to the land of the mudgers.
the sun was high in the heavens, and winds from mustafa's desert blew hotly in their faces. the mudger guard, hearing the terrible clamor, came running to see who was hammering on the gates, and when they saw crunch and the cowardly lion they turned and flew toward their master's striped tent.
mustafa, still gazing fixedly at his ring, hardly heard their terrified description of the stone giant. all that he heard was the wonderful news that a lion, undoubtedly the cowardly lion of oz, had at last been delivered into his power. calling panapee, and running so fast he lost both of his sandals, mustafa rushed out to the lion enclosure and with trembling hands unlocked the gates. fortunately the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions were in another part, and when he waved for crunch and the cowardly lion to enter, they did so without disturbing mustafa's ferocious pets. the cowardly lion wobbled slightly, for he was still shaken by his terrible journey, but the stone man tramped defiantly toward the blue whiskered monarch of mudge.
"welcome!" wheezed mustafa, waving his scimitar. panny, with an outraged glance at the stone man, climbed the nearest palm tree.
"i understand you wished to have me captured," growled the cowardly lion, trembling slightly, but resolved to go through with this disagreeable business.
"don't say captured," cried mustafa slyly. "let us say that i wished to have my court honored by your cowardly and perfect presence. i understand you are a terrible fighter," he added, tugging at his whiskers joyfully.
"shall i crush or crumble him?" asked crunch, interrupting mustafa's further remarks and ramblings. and then mustafa for the first time became really aware of the stone man. the more he examined, the more horribly aware of him he became.
"panny!" he shrilled, looking all around for his chief chamberlain, "panny, call out the guard!"
"call them out yourself," chattered the trembling chamberlain, frightened out of his usual submissiveness. "i'll not stir from this tree." crunch made a snatch at mustafa, but the cowardly lion hastily intervened. wicked though mustafa had been, the kind-hearted lion was not going to stand by and see him crushed to a crumble. he motioned for crunch to follow him a few steps aside and quite sulkily the stone man obeyed.
"this is my fight," puffed the cowardly lion. "now be a good fellow and keep out of it till i need you."
"how long will it take?" grated crunch, slightly mollified. to tell the truth, he wanted to think over the formula needed to change the cowardly lion. one of the magic words had slipped his stone memory.
"oh, an hour or two," answered the lion uneasily, determined, if he could, to escape from both of these treacherous villains.
"all right, old fellow," crunch smiled as he said this. he felt he could afford to be generous, for in a few hours the cowardly lion would belong to him for good. so he leaned stolidly against the enclosure, while the cowardly lion hurried after mustafa, who was running in a cloud of sand toward his tent.
"where's that animated tombstone?" gasped mustafa, sinking down on his throne.
"outside," panted the cowardly lion, too tired to notice the signal that passed between mustafa and two guardsmen in the opening of the tent. in an instant a gold collar and chain had been clapped 'round his tawny neck.
"now then," exulted mustafa, "who says you're not captured." forgetting all about the stone man and his threats, he bade the two guardsmen drag the cowardly lion to the royal enclosure. as they left through an opening in another side of the tent, crunch knew nothing of their going. the cowardly lion planted all four feet and roared terribly but six more guardsmen came to help the others and ignominiously he was dragged along.
"now we shall see a famous fight, and discover whether this cowardly lion is as brave as he is said to be," chuckled mustafa, shuffling along beside him. the part of the enclosure to which they were taking the lion was widened out into a regular arena. already the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions, with noses pressed against the bars, were watching the approach of their rival. for mustafa had talked so long and tiresomely of the cowardly lion, who was coming to fight the whole company of them, that they considered him an enemy to be destroyed upon the spot. they did not have long to wait, for while two guardsmen opened the gates of the enclosure, six more with the ends of their scimitars urged the cowardly lion forward. stars! what an array of eyes, tails and gleaming teeth! what a thunder of savage growls, roars and rumbles!
before they made a spring at the cowardly lion an unexpected interruption startled them. it was sir hokus of pokes, falling down like a ton of kitchen tins beside the monarch of mudge. and before the lions had stopped blinking at that, down rattled the tin woodman and tik tok, glinda and the little wizard of oz, followed by dorothy, snorer and bob and last of all, ozma, the scarecrow and notta bit more.
"help!" screeched the guards running in every direction.
"it's raining royalty!" shrilled tazzywaller, who had sneaked out to witness the fight. "fly for your life!" the fat little lion feeder tugged at mustafa's robe, for he had at once recognized princess dorothy and ozma of oz. but before mustafa could flee, or the company from the emerald city had caught their breath, mustafa's lions, recovering from the shock of so many fallers, sprang with nine thousand different dreadful roars toward the cowardly lion.
dorothy screamed and the scarecrow recklessly tried to squeeze himself through the bars, but before anyone from the emerald city could raise a hand, crunch, aroused by the thumps and roars, came pounding upon the scene. just as the cowardly lion crouched to meet the overwhelming rush of mustafa's lions, the stone man held up his arm and shouted seven magic words!
seven magic words! no sooner were they uttered than the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions were turned to so many stone statues--some just as they were about to spring, some half way in the air, so that they came clattering heavily down one on top of the other, and the poor cowardly lion at the bottom of the heap!
"somebody stop him!" gasped ozma who was sitting exactly as she had fallen on a small sand dune. sir hokus of pokes sprang bravely at crunch, but his sword snapped at the first thrust, and the stone man, paying no more attention to the people from the emerald city than if they had been so many flies, began bending out the iron bars of the lion enclosure. mustafa, petrified with terror, might have been a statue himself, and the mudger guards had long since taken to their heels.
"what have you done?" wailed notta, trying to attract the stone man's attention. he seized an iron bar that crouch had loosened and began valiantly belaboring crunch about the shins.
"oh, hello!" rasped crouch, glancing down at the clown. "back again? well, i've taken your advice, you see."
"my advice!" groaned notta.
"yes." crunch, who had now broken an opening for himself, stepped into the enclosure. "i've helped the cowardly lion by changing him to stone. now he will never feel cowardly again, and what's more, he belongs to me!" leaning over, he began tossing mustafa's lions aside as if they had been so many paper weights.
"oh, help!" screamed snorer. "aren't there any wizards here to stop this fellow? are you going to sit like images while he runs off with the bravest lion in oz?"
"i must think!" groaned the scarecrow, putting his white cotton glove to his head, while dorothy and bob ran close to the bars and looked anxiously for the first glimpse of their old friend.
but glinda and the wizard of oz already had their heads together. "first," whispered the little wizard of oz, "we will let him find the cowardly lion, for those statues would be too heavy for us to lift. then, we will deprive him of all power to move."
tik tok and sir hokus had followed the stone man into the enclosure, but a stone lion flung carelessly to one side, knocked tik tok head over heels, and sir hokus, deciding that flight was the better part of valor, retired to a safe distance, where he began threatening the stone man with every sort of destruction from hammering to hanging. but crunch continued calmly tossing the lions about, and at last uncovered the cowardly lion himself. he recognized him at once, for his mane, a mass of stony waves, stood straight on end. the cowardly lion, you see, had been petrified in one of his most trying moments, and, while he was preparing to fight with all his might, he could not control his mane and hence looked as natural as possible.
dorothy could not help crying as crunch tucked this lifelike image of her old chum under his arm and prepared to tramp off. but he got no further than two steps, for at the second step the combined magic of glinda and the wizard of oz deprived him of all power to move. crunch dropped the cowardly lion with a crash that chipped off a piece of his mane, and with one foot raised in the air stood perfectly motionless. the stone man was no longer alive!
"oh!" cried notta, frightened by the ease with which glinda had deprived the stone giant of life, "who will bring the cowardly lion to himself again?" and at once everyone ran over to the poor petrified lion, and tugging and pulling, managed to get him to his feet.
"it was the only thing we could do," puffed the little wizard of oz, gazing up worriedly at the huge statue of crunch. "he did not know how to use the gift of life, and would only have brought more trouble upon us."
"isn't this trouble enough?" cried dorothy, throwing her arms around the cold, still figure of the cowardly lion.
"there, there, my dear! glinda will find a way out of all this," comforted the scarecrow, and notta and bob joined him in his efforts to console the little girl, while sir hokus and the tin woodman ran to help tik tok to his feet.
"all this has happened because of you!" declared ozma, stamping her foot for the first time in her gentle little life, and looking sternly at mustafa.
"and for a punishment," she pointed at the huge, craggy figure of crunch, "for a punishment this stone man shall stand forever in mudge, a monument to your greediness and folly."
"take away his ring," whispered bob, tip-toeing up to the little fairy ruler, for he had seen mustafa slyly beginning to take it off and bob knew its dreadful power. without losing a minute, ozma commanded mustafa to hand over the ring. tremblingly, the wretched old mudger obeyed. so much had happened in the last few minutes, he was positively stunned by his misfortune. not only had he offended the ruler of all oz, lost the cowardly lion and his ring, but all of his other lions were turned to stone. jerking his turban over one eye, the miserable monarch shuffled mournfully to his tent, and no one cared enough to stop him. then, as the whole party was heartily disgusted with the hot, desert city of the mudgers, glinda, by a quick transportation phrase, wished them all safely back to the emerald city.
there, for several hours glinda, the wizard of oz, and ozma worked over the cowardly lion, but all of their magic failed to undo the stone man's spell, and it looked as if the huge beast would have to spend the rest of his life as a garden ornament. twenty of the palace servants bore him down the steps and placed him gently in the center of a large flower bed, and all the inhabitants of the city came and gazed sadly at their once lively and cowardly comrade.
"he is the image of himself," choked the scarecrow, hanging a wreath of daisies round his neck, which was still adorned with mustafa's gold collar.
"but i don't want an image," cried princess dorothy and, climbing on the cowardly lion's stone back, she cried as if her heart would break. notta and bob were too overcome by this dreadful misfortune to think about themselves. it did not even seem right to enjoy the lovely sights in the emerald city, so the clown and little boy sat on a bench in the garden and gazed sorrowfully at the monument of their faithful old friend.
then, all at once bob jumped up with a little shout. "look," he cried, waving his cap joyfully. "look! he's coming alive again!" and so he was! for tears are more magic than anything else, when it comes to melting stone, and every spot where dorothy's tears fell was beginning to quiver with life. when notta ran to the palace with the news, the excitement was tremendous. everyone, from ozma down to the littlest kitchen maid, came to weep over the cowardly lion, and bring him back to life. the tin woodman cried a perfect torrent of tears and quite rusted his chain. the scarecrow and scraps had not a tear in their cotton constitutions, but snorer made up for this by crying enough for three. everybody cried, and in less than a minute the dear, old kind-hearted lion opened his eyes. shaking himself sleepily, he looked inquiringly at the weeping company and wanted to know what was the matter. all talking at once, and each trying to hug him first, they explained what had happened. the cowardly lion remembered nothing after being pushed into the lion enclosure. you can well imagine his relief when he discovered what a hard and horrible fate he had escaped.
"all this comes of my foolish wish for courage," roared the cowardly lion, shaking his mane, which was quite perfect except for the piece crunch had broken off. "i would rather be a cowardly lion for five minutes than a stone lion for a century. why, a stone lion has not enough sense to be frightened."
"hurrah for the cowardly lion of oz!" shouted the scarecrow, and bob up, who felt more at home among these odd and friendly people than he had ever felt anywhere in his life, climbed on the cowardly lion's back and hugged him with both arms. dorothy hopped up again too, and in triumph they all trooped back to the throne room.
"and now," sighed the little queen of oz, sinking down among the soft cushions of her emerald throne, "let's have the whole story!" nothing could have exceeded her amazement, as notta told of their marvelous adventures in oz--of doorways and un and preserva the great, of the flyaboutabus and the fiddlebow boat. dorothy was so curious about the skyle of un that they all ran to look in ozma's magic picture, which shows any place or person one wishes to see.
"show us the uns," commanded ozma breathlessly, and bob and notta almost tumbled over backwards when the magic picture showed them i-wish-i-was and his featherheads. a great battle was in progress, for i-wish-i-was was furious at the loss of the flyaboutabus. the guards and their friends on one side and the wicked ruler on the other were fighting tumultuously. sticks and feathers were flying in every direction and they were even pulling down their tree houses.
ozma shook her head gravely, but bob up, who had been thinking about the only good un ever since they left the skyland, suddenly remembered his name and triumphantly whispered it to ozma. instantly ozma, with the help of glinda and the wizard, commanded the good un to come out from his hiding and sit upon the throne. the fighting ceased at once and the uns began to look at one another with puzzled expressions, as if they could not remember what they had been quarreling about. bob and notta and the cowardly lion shouted with approval, forgetting in their interest that the uns in the picture could not hear them.
the good un's name was unselfish and, as glinda assured ozma that the skyle would thereafter be ruled wisely and well, they all returned to the throne room. after dorothy had hugged notta a dozen times for his devotion to the cowardly lion, and the clown had turned his best somersaults, told his best jokes and generally made himself so funny that everyone was doubled up with laughter, ozma again raised her scepter for silence.
"i suppose," said the little fairy regretfully, for she had taken a great fancy to the clown and snorer and bob up, "i suppose that now you are anxious to return to america."
notta took off his cap and scratched his ear, a habit he had when puzzled or embarrassed.
"don't go yet!" begged dorothy, seizing the clown's arm imploringly. as for bob up, he retired behind an emerald pillar so that no one could see that he was crying.
"oh, yes," cawed snorer, flapping down from the back of a tall chair where he had been enjoying a noisy little nap. "oh, yes, we must go to america and make our fortune. i am going to have my nose patented and teach the people there how to snore properly."
"that's right," agreed notta soberly. "i'm a family man now and must go back and earn enough to send bob to college, and i must save up for my old age, for clowns can't be tumbling around the country forever."
"why, it's nothing but fun," cried scraps, who had been quiet as long as she could contain herself.
"not always," sighed notta. "making people laugh is the hardest work in the world. look how easy it is to make them cry? but come along, bob up. it's high time we were going, and if this little lady will just say the magic word we'll bid you all good-bye. i must be saving up for my old age," he repeated mournfully.
when notta was sad, he always thought about his old age, and the idea of leaving the cowardly lion and all of this merry and childlike company made him sad indeed. and ozma, who is the cleverest little mind and heart reader anywhere in the world or out--ozma guessed his secret.
"don't go!" cried the little queen impulsively. "stay with us and you won't have any old age. stay in oz, dear notta, and be happy forever."
at this the excitement was terrific. every man, woman, child, animal, and celebrity added his or her voice to ozma's, and when the clown, with tears in his eyes, accepted the little queen's generous offer, they seized hands or paws, as the case might be, and danced merrily 'round bob, snorer and notta bit more.
"you shall have the jolliest cottage in oz," promised the scarecrow, when the excitement had subsided a bit.
"a tent would seem more homelike," whispered notta in the cloth ear of that charming gentleman. and a tent he did have, on the outskirts of the emerald city--a tent shared with snorer and bob, where, with the help of the charming and unusual inhabitants of oz, the clown gave the most surprising shows that had ever been seen in that magical country.
bob, in his good fortune, did not forget the half a lion, and the wizard of oz reunited the unfortunate creature, after bringing both halves, with the aid of ozma's magic belt, to the emerald city. the poor beast, whose hind quarters had fortunately escaped crunch's stone spell, was so overjoyed to see his tail again that he raced round in circles for several hours after his reunion.
as for mustafa, he grew amazingly rich from the sale of his stone lions, and you can see them any fine day, guarding the doors of public buildings or standing proudly in the various parks of oz. but in spite of his great wealth, he was far from happy, for his eyes, from staring so hard at his ring, had become hopelessly crossed, and cross-eyed he remained to the end of his days.
bob up is friends with everyone, but most of all with button bright, a little boy who once visited sky island and who could not hear enough of the skyle of un.
notta has saved up enough for bob's entire education and has gone off to confer with professor wogglebug, president of the college of art and athletic perfection, about the future of the little boy.
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61681.txt
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Grampa in Oz
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king fumbo of ragbad shook in his carpet slippers. he had removed his red shoes, so he could not very well shake in them.
"my dear," quavered the king, flattening his nose against the cracked pane, "will you just look out of this window and tell me what you see?"
"my dear" was really the queen of ragbad and years ago, when she had first come to the old red castle on the hill, she had worn her crown every day and was always addressed as "your majesty!" but as time passed and affairs in the kingdom had gone from bad to worse, my dear, like many another queen, had taken off her crown, put on her thimble and become plain mrs sew-and-sew, and with all her sewing she had barely been able to keep the kingdom from falling to pieces. she was stitching a patch on the king's thursday cloak at this very minute i am telling you about.
"what now!" gasped the poor lady, and rushing to the window she also pressed her nose to the pane.
"do you see what i see?" choked king fumbo, clutching at her hand.
"i see a great cloud rolling over red mountain," panted mrs sew-and-sew. "i see the red geese flying before the wind. i see--" here she gave a great bounce and brushed past her husband--"i see my best patch work quilt blowing down the highway!" moaned mrs sew-and-sew, stumbling across the room.
"ruination!" spluttered the king as the door slammed after his wife. "shut the bells! ring the windows; fetch prince tatters and call my red umbrella! grampa! scroggles! where is every ragbad-body?"
grampa, as it happened, was in the garden and grampa was an old soldier with a game leg who had fought in nine hundred and eighty ragbad battles and beaten everything, including the drum. just now he was beating the carpet. tatters, the young prince of ragbad, was off on a picnic with the redsmith, and scroggles, the footman-of-all-work about the castle, was mending a hole in the roof, so none of them heard the king's calls.
finally, seeing that no one was coming to carry out his commands, fumbo began to carry them out himself. first he clutched his red beard and jumped clear out of his carpet slippers. next he slammed the window on his thumb. with his thumb in his mouth he hurled himself upon the bell rope, pulling it so violently the cord broke and dropped him upon his back. having failed to ring the bell, he wrung his hands--and well he might, for the room had grown dark as pitch and the wind was howling down the chimney like a pack of hungry gollywockers.
"i'll get my umbrella," muttered king fumbo, scrambling to his feet, but just as he reached the door, ten thousand pounds of thunder clapped the castle on the back and so startled poor fumbo that he fell through the door and all the way down ten flights of steps. and worse still, when he finally did pick himself up, instead of running into the throne room, he plunged out into the garden and the storm broke right over his head--broke with such flashing of lightning and crashing of thunder, and lashing of tree tops, that the king and such other luckless ragbadians as were out were flung flat on their noses, and the ones who were indoors crept under beds and into cupboards and wished they had been better than they had been. even grampa--who was far and away the bravest man in the country--even grampa, after one look at the sky, rolled himself in the carpet he had been beating and lay trembling like a tobacco leaf.
"this will certainly spoil the rag crop," sighed grampa dismally, and as he spoke right out in this frank fashion of the chief industry of ragbad, i'd better tell you a bit more about the country itself, for i can see your nose curling with curiosity and curly noses are not nearly so becoming as they used to be.
to begin with, ragbad is in oz--a small patch of a kingdom way down in the southwestern corner of the quadling country. in the reign of fumbo's father it had been famous for its chintz and tapis trees, its red ginghams and calico vines, its cotton fields and its fine linens and lawns. indeed, at one time, all the dress goods in oz had been grown in the gardens of ragbad.
but when fumbo came to the throne, he began to spend so much time reading and so much money for books and tobacco that he soon emptied the treasury and had no money to pay the chintz and gingham pickers, nor to send the lawns to the laundry--they were always slightly dusty from being trodden on--and one after another the workers of ragbad had been forced to seek a living in other lands, so that now there were only twenty-seven families left, and the cotton fields and calico bushes, the chintz and tapis trees, from lack of care and cultivation, ran perfectly wild and yielded--instead of fine bolts of material--nothing but shreds, tatters and rags.
the twenty-seven remaining ragbadians, including the redsmith, the miller, the baker and twenty-four rustic laborers, after a vain attempt to do the work of twenty-seven hundred, gave up in despair and became common rag-pickers. from these rags, which fortunately were still plentiful, mrs sew-and-sew and the good wives of ragbad made all the clothing worn in the kingdom, besides countless rag rugs, and the money obtained from the sale of these rugs was all that kept the little country from absolute and utter ruin.
of the splendid courtiers and servitors surrounding fumbo's father only three remained, for i regret to say that neither the servants nor the old nobility had been able to stand the hardships attendant upon poverty, and they had left in a body the first morning mrs sew-and-sew had served oatmeal without cream for breakfast. the army, too, had deserted and marched off to jinxland because the king could not buy them new uniforms, so that only three retainers were left in the old red castle on hill. pudge, the oldest and fattest of the wise men, had stayed because he was fond of his room in the tower and of mrs sew-and-sew's coffee. scroggles, the second footman, had stayed because he had old-fashioned notions of his duty, and grampa, though long since discharged from active service, had stuck to his post like the gallant old soldier he was, and as there were no battles to fight, he tended the furnace, weeded the gardens and helped king fumbo and mrs sew-and-sew bring up their son to as fine a young prince as any in oz.
it was of prince tatters--during all this bluster--that grampa was thinking as he lay shivering under the carpet, and as soon as the thunder stopped hammering in his ears he stuck out his head. the wind, after snatching off ten roofs, the wings from the red mill and shaking all the little cottages till their very chimneys chattered, had rushed away over red mountain. it was still raining, but grampa, seeing that the worst was over, crawled out of the carpet and began to look for trouble. and what do you s'pose he found? why, the king, or at least, the best part of the king!
"ragamercy!" shrieked the old soldier, jumping behind a tapis tree, a thing he had never done in all of those nine hundred and eighty battles. but his conduct does not surprise me at all, for fumbo had lost his head in the storm, and was running wildly around without it--stumbling over bushes and vines and stamping his stockinged feet in a perfect frenzy of fright and fury. now, of course, you will say at once that fumbo is not first king to lose his head and i can only answer that he is the first i ever heard of who went on living without it, and if ragbad were not in the wonderful land of oz i should say at once that the thing was impossible. in oz, however, one may come apart, but no one ever dies; so here was poor fumbo, with his head clean off, as live and lively as ever.
breathing hard, grampa peered around the tapis tree again to see whether his eyes had deceived him. but no, it was the king, without a doubt, and without his head. "whatever will mrs sew-and-sew do now," groaned grampa, and pulling his campaign hat well down over his ears dashed out and seizing fumbo's arm began splashing through the garden, dragging the king along after him. mrs sew-and-sew had already reached the castle and was sitting on the broken-springed sofa that served for a throne, sneezing violently. she had not only rescued her quilt, but she had caught a frightful cold. all the colors in the quilt had run together, and this last calamity so upset the poor lady that she began sobbing and sneezing by turns. but right in the middle of the fifteenth sneeze, she looked up and saw the old soldier with the game leg standing in the doorway.
"now don't be frightened," begged grampa, advancing stiffly and dripping water all over the rug. "don't be alarmed, but at the same time prepare yourself for a blow."
mrs sew-and-sew, with her damp kerchief in her hand, had already been preparing herself for a blow, but now, dropping the handkerchief, she sneezed instead and when, glancing over grampa's shoulder she caught sight of the king, she sneezed again and fainted dead away and rolled under the sofa.
"this is worse than a battle," puffed grampa, dashing between the king and the queen, for every time he tried to help mrs sew-and-sew the king fell over a chair or upset a table.
"halt! about face and wheel to your left, can't you?" roared the old soldier, mopping his forehead. but to these instructions fumbo, having no face about him, paid no attention. instead he wheeled to the right and swept all the ornaments from the mantel down on the old soldier's head, and then jumped on grampa's good foot so hard that grampa forgot for a moment he was a king, and thumped him in the ribs. then, muttering apologies, the old soldier seized a curtain cord and tied fumbo to a red pillar. this done, he reached under the sofa, pulled out mrs sew-and-sew, and having nothing else handy gave her a huge pinch of snuff. just as she came to, in from the garden, splashing water in every direction, rushed prince tatters and in from the kitchen pelted pudge, the aged wise man.
"the rag crop is ruined and the king will lose his head!" panted pudge, who had a bad habit of predicting events after they had occurred.
"has lost his head," corrected grampa, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"but grampa!" stumbling across the room, prince tatters shook the old soldier by the arm. "when--how--why--what will he do?"
"do without it," sighed the old soldier, glancing uneasily at fumbo.
"the king has lost his head, long live his body!" wheezed pudge, rolling up his eyes.
"now don't cry, my dear!" begged grampa, scowling reprovingly at pudge and patting mrs sew-and-sew on the shoulder. "having no head really saves one no end of trouble. no face to wash! no more headaches, no ear aches, no tooth aches!" grampa's voice grew more and more cheerful. "no lectures to listen to, no spectacles to hunt, no hair to lose, no more colds to catch in it. why he is really better off without a head!"
but mrs sew-and-sew refused to be comforted and rocking to and fro moaned, "what shall we do! what shall we do? what shall we do?"
"i tell you," proposed pudge, pursing up his lips importantly. "let's all have a strong cup of coffee." as this seemed a sensible suggestion they all filed into the big red kitchen of the castle, leaving fumbo kicking his heels against the stone pillar.
"i suppose," sighed the old soldier, stirring his coffee with the handle of his sword, "it would do no good to hunt for the king's head in the garden?" drying out before the blazing fire in the kitchen stove and sipping mrs sew-and-sew's fragrant coffee the little company had grown more calm.
"i'll just have a look," said prince tatters, pushing back his chair, but the old wise man shook an impatient finger at the very idea of such a thing.
"when a king's head goes off it goes off," declared pudge huskily--"way off as far off as it can go."
"how far is that?" asked the old soldier. "and--"
"hush, i am thinking," wheezed pudge, ruffling up his hair with one hand and holding out his coffee cup with the other. "i am thinking and presently i shall speak. another cup of coffee, ma'am!" this was his seventh cup and after he had sipped it deliberately, scraped all the sugar out of the bottom and licked the spoon, he set down both cup and saucer, flung up his hands and spoke. "let prince tatters go in search of his father's head," said the old wise man of ragbad. "let him seek at the same time his fortune, or a princess with a fortune, for otherwise he will end as a common rag-picker."
"but suppose," objected grampa, who tho' an old bachelor himself had romantic ideas about marriage, "suppose he cannot love a princess with a fortune. suppose--"
"it is not wisdom to suppose!" sniffed pudge. "hush! i am thinking and presently i shall speak again." he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead and after a short silence, during which mrs sew-and-sew took a quick swallow of coffee and grampa a hasty pinch of snuff, he spoke again. "it is the rainy day," announced pudge in his most solemn voice, "the rainy day i have long predicted. as the king has lost his head we must ourselves see what he has saved up for it. come!"
marching to the king's best bed chamber, pudge flung open the cupboard and there beside fumbo's worn cloak hung the only thing he had saved up for a rainy day--a huge red umbrella.
"and must tatters go out into oz with only this to protect him from danger?" wailed mrs sew-and-sew, beginning to sneeze again.
"no!" declared grampa, stamping his good foot. "i myself will accompany him!"
"oh, grampa!" cried the prince, who was too young to realize the dangers of head hunting or the hardships of fortune finding, "may we start at once?"
"hush!" mumbled pudge, holding up his finger, "i am thinking." blowing out his cheeks, he stood perfectly quiet for about as long as it would take to count ten.
"to-morrow morning will be the time to start," said the old wise man. "let us return to the king." sobering a bit at the thought of his unfortunate father, prince tatters followed them down stairs, but every now and then he gave a little hop, for the idea of setting out upon such an adventure thrilled him tremendously. when they reached the throne room, fumbo was leaning quietly against the post. he had evidently become more used to the loss of his head and was busily twiddling his thumbs.
"if we could just get him a false head till we find his own," sighed grampa, thumping the king affectionately on the back, "he would look more natural. ah, i have it!" plunging out into the wet garden, the old soldier plucked a huge cabbage and hurrying back set it upon the king's shoulders. but no sooner had he done so than fumbo broke the cord tying him to the pillar, rushed to the kitchen and tried to climb into the soup pot! indeed, mrs sew-and-sew snatched off his cabbage head just in time to save him from this further calamity.
panting a little from the exertion and surprise they all sat down to think again. but by this time the news had spread into the village, and the twenty-four rustic laborers, the miller, and the baker and the redsmith came hurrying to the castle to offer their services. they were subjects to be proud of, let me tell you, though a little odd looking in their patched and many colored garments. they listened in respectful silence while grampa told all he knew of the strange plight of king fumbo.
"i will make the king an iron head," volunteered the redsmith eagerly. he had a forge next to the mill and did all the iron work in ragbad.
"no, no!" protested grampa. "iron is too hard. do you want mrs sew-and-sew to break her knuckles?" he finished indignantly, then dodged behind a pillar, because it was not generally known that mrs sew-and-sew boxed the king's ears every morning.
"i will make the king a new bun--er--head," puffed the baker, stepping forward importantly, "a head as good as his own!"
"you mean a doughnut?" asked grampa in astonishment. "why, that would be splendid!" fortunately no one heard him this time and as mrs sew-and-sew was pleased with the idea the baker hurried into the kitchen and with several raisins, some flour, spices, milk and butter, kneaded up and baked a head that was the image of fumbo's own. it had melancholy prune eyes, red icing for hair and cinnamon whiskers. once it had been glued on the king's shoulders everyone drew a deep sigh of relief and fumbo himself walked calmly to his throne and sat down. promising to bake new heads as they were needed, the baker said good-night, and as it was growing late the others said good-night too and marched back to the village to repair the damage done by the storm.
but in the castle itself, there was little sleep that night. king fumbo never closed his prune eyes, for the baker had given him no eyelids. prince tatters, though packed off early to bed, could do nothing but twist and turn and think of the wonderful adventures he would have seeking his fortune. mrs sew-and-sew sat up till the morning star rose over red mountain, mending and piecing the few poor garments the prince possessed, and thinking up good advice to give him with his breakfast.
grampa, too, had much to occupy him, oiling his gun, packing his knapsack and polishing his sword and game leg. many old soldiers do a lot of talking about game legs, but grampa had the real genuine article. it buckled on at the knee and was an oblong red and white ivory box that opened out like a checker board when one wanted to play. jointed neatly on the end of this was another red box that grampa used for a foot, and that contained the little red figures one used for playing. the game itself was known as scrum and was a great favorite in ragbad, being a bit like checkers, a bit like parcheesi and a bit like chess.
grampa was very proud of his game leg, for it not only served him in place of the one he had lost in battle, but whiled away many dull hours, and being hollow was a splendid place to store his pipe and tobacco. the old soldier had seventy-five pipes and deciding which of these to carry with him took longer than all his other preparations. at last even this important matter was settled and he lay down to snatch a few hours' sleep before morning. and morning came in almost no time, the sun rising so bright and cheerily that even mrs sew-and-sew took heart, and when grampa stuck his head in the kitchen door to see how breakfast was coming she told him how she intended to refurnish the entire castle when he returned with the king's head and the fortune.
"fine!" cried the old soldier, who was in excellent spirits himself. "and if you will just sew a button on this shirt i'll be ready to start at once!" so while grampa went on with the breakfast mrs sew-and-sew, who was frightfully clever with her needle, sewed a button on the shirt. that was all grampa needed to complete his outfit, so he hurried up stairs to waken the prince, and at eight o'clock precisely the old soldier and tatters issued forth from the palace gates.
grampa wore the red uniform of the ragbad guards, with its scarlet coat and checkered trousers and carried not only his knapsack, gun and sword, but his trusty drum as well. prince tatters, over his many colored rag suit, had flung the shaggy skin of a thread bear, and with the big umbrella grasped firmly in one hand and a box of lunch in the other, presented so brave and determined an appearance that the twenty-seven good men of ragbad, drawn up to bid them farewell, burst into loud cheers. the children waved their hats and handkerchiefs and strewed the path of the two heroes with the bunches of posies and ragweed they had risen at dawn to gather. mrs sew-and-sew and the king stood on the balcony waving their arms--she waving both hers and his--for poor fumbo, with his dough head, had no way of knowing what the excitement was all about and stood there without so much as blinking a prune.
"good-bye!" choked mrs sew-and-sew, steadying fumbo with one hand and fluttering her apron with the other. "don't forget your father's head!"
"good-bye!" shouted pudge, leaning far out of his window in the tower to wave his red night cap. pudge never rose till ten.
grampa touched his cap, prince tatters waved his umbrella, and having taken the patched flag of ragbad from scroggles, who had accompanied them thus far, they wheeled sharply to the left and marched down the broad red highway that led straight out into other and dangerous lands of oz!
"grampa," said prince tatters, after the two adventurers had marched along for a time in silence, "pudge did not tell us where to look for my father's head, nor where to find the princess and the fortune."
"trust a wise man for that," replied the old soldier, striking a match on his game leg and lighting his pipe.
"then where are we going grampa?" asked the prince, shifting his umbrella to his other arm and adjusting his stride to that of the old soldier.
"that," puffed grampa, "depends on the four-pence." stopping short, he took a small coin from his pocket. on one side was the head of king fumbo and on the other the coat of arms of ragbad. "i may not be a wise man," explained grampa, tossing the coin in his palm, "but i am sure your father's head can only be restored by magic. there are but two people left in oz who are permitted to practice magic. one is glinda, the good sorceress and queen of our own quadling country and the other is the wizard of oz, who lives in the palace of princess ozma, ruler of all oz."
tatters nodded impatiently, for he had learned all this in his history book.
"so," continued grampa, "we must march either to the east--for glinda's castle is in that direction--or to the north to the emerald city and the palace of ozma of oz. which shall it be? heads for ozma, arms for glinda!"
up flew the four-pence and prince tatters, dropping on his knee, gave a little cry of delight--for fumbo's head was uppermost.
"the king has decided himself," chuckled grampa, pocketing the coin, "so north we go to the emerald city. we'll be on our way, my lad, and who knows but on the way we may pick up a fortune or a princess--and a couple of new pipes and some rare old oz tobacco," finished the old soldier, half closing his eyes. these last two items did not interest prince tatters, but the thought of visiting the capitol of oz, of seeing princess ozma, the little fairy ruler, and being presented at court, sent the prince, who had spent his whole life in the shabby little kingdom of ragbad, marching along the red highway so fast that grampa had to do double time to keep up with him.
tatters began rehearsing all mrs sew-and-sew had taught him of court manners and speech and wondering whether he had better speak to grampa about his bad habits. the old soldier had but two. one was eating with his sword and the other was taking snuff, but after a sidelong glance at grampa, trudging happily at his side, the prince decided to wait until they reached the emerald city before offering any advice on etiquette. even tatters did not realize how long a journey this would be. he knew in a general way that oz is a great oblong kingdom, divided into four large countries and many small ones, and that the emerald city is in the exact center.
on the maps of oz in the prince's geography the southern quadling country was marked in red; the country of the west, which was settled by the munchkins, was marked in blue; the northern gilliken country in purple; and the land of the winkies, which lay to the east, was colored yellow--for these were the national colors of the countries represented.
though grampa and tatters had by this time left ragbad far behind them, they were still in the quadling country and all the little farms and villages they passed were of cheery red brick or stone and the people themselves dressed in the quaint red costume of the south. tulips, poppies and red roses nodded over the tall hedges; the fields, rusty with sorrel, had a reddish tinge and all along the highway giant red maples arched their lacy branches. at noon they stopped under one of these maples and had a bite of the lunch mrs sew-and-sew had prepared for them, but their pause was short for both were anxious to reach the emerald city as soon as possible, to learn from the wizard of oz the best way to recover fumbo's head. to make the marching easier, the old soldier played a lively rat-tat upon his drum, and as they passed through the quiet quadling villages many heads were popped out the windows to see what all the racket was about. but soon these villages became farther and farther apart, and the country more wild and unsettled and just as the sun slipped down behind the treetops they came to the edge of a deep blue forest.
"a long march," puffed the old soldier, mopping his forehead, "but we're getting along, my lad, for this is the beginning of the munchkin country."
"do you think it's safe?" asked prince tatters, peering anxiously into the gloomy forest.
"safe!" cried grampa scornfully. "well i hope not. fortunes are never found in safe places my boy. shouldn't wonder if there were a bear behind every tree," he continued cheerfully. "shouldn't wonder if there were a dragon or two lying in wait for us. come on!" thrusting his drum sticks through his belt and waving his sword, the old soldier plunged recklessly into the blue forest, shouting the national air of ragbad at the top of his lungs.
"oh, hush," begged prince tatters, glancing uneasily from side to side and treading close upon grampa's heels, "someone might hear you. oh! what's that?" for with a shrill scream a great bird had risen from the branches of a tree just ahead and flown squawking into the air.
"that's supper!" chuckled the old soldier, and raising his gun he took aim and fired. there was a sharp crash as the bullet struck home, then down fell a large reddish fowl.
"well?" the fowl rasped sulkily, as prince tatters and grampa ran forward, "what am i supposed to do now? i've never been shot before."
"a bird that's shot is not supposed to do anything," said the old soldier severely.
"oh," sighed the bird, "that's easy!" and putting down its head, it lay quietly on its side.
"it's a rooster!" exclaimed the prince, touching it with one hand, "an iron rooster!" at this the bird sprang up indignantly.
"you may shoot me if you want, but i'll not lie here and let you call me names," it shrilled angrily. "where are your eyes? can't you see i'm a weather cock?"
"do you suppose i'd have wasted a good bullet on you if i had? i may have an iron constitution but i don't eat cast iron birds," sniffed grampa. "what do you mean, flying through this forest deceiving hungry travellers?"
"i don't know what i mean," replied the weather cock calmly, "for i've only been alive since last night. what do you mean yourself, pray? must everyone have a meaning like a riddle?"
grampa stroked his whiskers thoughtfully over this remark.
"but how did you come to be alive?" asked the prince, leaning on his red umbrella and regarding the bird with deep interest--for even in oz weather cocks usually stick to their poles.
"there was a storm," explained the cock, lifting one claw, "lightning, thunder, wind and rain. one minute i was whirling around on the top of my barn and next minute i was spinning through space. then all at once i came in contact with a live wire, there was a flash, i was charged with a strange force and to my infinite amazement i found that my wings would work and that i could crow. so i crew and flew and flew and crew, till i fell exhausted in this forest."
"humph!" grunted grampa. "a likely story. in the first place there are no live wires in oz and--"
"oz!" screeched the weather cock, "i didn't say oz. i was on a barn near chicago when the storm broke. have you never heard of chicago, you odd looking, old creature?"
"never," answered grampa emphatically, "but wherever you started from, you're in oz now and you might as well get used to it. come along, tatters. there's nothing to be gained by arguing, it only makes me hungry."
"but tell me," the weather cock fluttered into the air, "what am i to do with my life?"
"keep it--if you can," chuckled the old soldier and started off between the trees. but tatters was loath to leave this singular bird.
"let him come with us grampa," coaxed the prince. "he won't need anything to eat and he might help us find the fortune."
"yes, do," crowed the weather cock. "i can waken you in the morning, tell you which way the wind blows and fall upon the heads of your enemies. have you any enemies?" the weather cock asked hopefully.
"not yet," murmured the prince, looking ahead into the shadows,--"but--"
"shouldn't wonder if he would make a good fighter," reflected grampa, half closing his eyes. "never saw a cock yet that wasn't game. do you agree to join this company, obey all commands and go by the name of bill?"
"i'll go by the name of bill, but what name shall i come by?" asked the weather cock, putting its head on one side.
"the same, you iron idiot!" shouted grampa, who was a bit short tempered. "do you agree?"
"yes," crowed the weather cock, putting up his claw, solemnly.
"then forward fly," commanded the old soldier. and up into the air with a rusty creak flung the weather cock and just beneath marched grampa and the prince. as they progressed through the ever darkening forest, tatters told bill of the great storm in ragbad, how he was seeking his father's head and his own fortune.
"your father lost his head in the same storm i found my life," wheezed the weather cock earnestly, "so it is only fair that i should help you."
"hah! we shall be helped by fair means or fowl!" chuckled the old soldier, who would have his little joke--but it was lost on bill, who was already looking around for the king's head and the fortune. and though he was not quite sure what a fortune was, he felt confident that he should find one. it had grown so dark by now that grampa soon called a halt. under a tall blue tree the little company made camp. bill was most helpful in collecting wood and prince tatters put up the red umbrella, which was so large that it served them admirably for a tent. a little beyond the rim of the umbrella grampa kindled a fire, and after a cozy supper of toasted sandwiches the old soldier unbuckled his leg and he and prince tatters settled down to a quiet game of scrum. bill flew to the top of the blue tree to observe the wind and the weather, and nothing could have been more peaceful. the stars twinkled merrily above, the fire crackled cheerily below and tatters had just beaten grampa two games to one, when a hundred little snaps in the underbrush made them turn in alarm.
"great gum drops!" gasped the old soldier, jumping to his foot.
tatters snatched up the umbrella and, using it for a shield, began to back away, for in the circle of the firelight and completely surrounding the blue tree stood a company of bandits. they were tall and terrible, with great slouch hats and blue boots. pistols and daggers by the dozen bristled in their belts and nothing could have been fiercer than their whiskered faces and scowling brows.
for a moment no one spoke. grampa frowned angrily and prince tatters tried to look as if he was not scared. as usual, bill was calm.
"are you going to stop here and let them call you gum drops?" sneered the leader, plucking a dagger from his boot. he took one stride forward, then pitched on his face and lay perfectly still--for the weather cock, convinced that this was an enemy, had fallen hard upon his head. the suddenness of the blow surprised the outlaws and while they drew back in confusion grampa leaned down, seized his wooden leg and buckling it on as he ran, joined prince tatters, who by this time had his back against the tree.
"go it bill!" shouted the old soldier, laying about with his drum sticks.
"here i go by the name of bill!" screeched the excited weather cock, rising into the air again. "here i come by the name of bill. su-cumb, you blue monster!" and down went a second bandit. this enraged the others, and though prince tatters poked away valiantly with the big umbrella, and grampa knocked out three of the outlaws with his drum sticks and bill fell upon the heads of two more, they were hopelessly outnumbered. in a minute more they were overpowered, bound with heavy ropes and dragged through the forest to the bandits' camp. even the weather cock swung head down from the belt of one of the robbers.
"i'm so disappointed i could cry," blubbered the robber chief, pulling out his red handkerchief. "shake them again skally, shake them hard!" before him on the ground lay the few possessions of grampa and tatters--an old silver watch, the four-pence, a rusty pen knife and two copper medals. the chief had recovered from the terrible blow of the cast iron weather cock, but had a large black lump over one eye. bill, who insisted on crowing in a dozen different keys, had been muffled in the bandit's cloak and put under a rock.
"i told you they were a poor lot," sniffed skally, but nevertheless, he seized first grampa and then tatters and shook them violently by the heels. this he could easily do, being eight feet tall and exceedingly muscular. two red gum drops rolled out of grampa's pocket, but that was all.
"and they're not even frightened," complained the bandit in a grieved voice, as skally set the two roughly on their feet.
"frightened!" puffed grampa indignantly. (after the two terrible shakings he had only breath enough to puff.) "you didn't think a flock of bush-whacking bandits like you could frighten an old soldier like me, and a young prince like tatters, did you?"
"prince!" gasped the bandit, blinking at tatters through the smoke of the wood fire, while the rest of the outlaws began to slap their knees and roar with merriment.
"yes, prince," shrilled grampa, "and don't make faces at me, you ugly villain."
"well!" roared the chief, after another long look at tatters, "he may be a prince to his mother, but he's a pain in the eye to me!"
"then shut your eyes," advised grampa promptly. "i'd do it for you if i were not tied up. in a fair fight i'd beat you any day."
"we've taken everything they have. shall we hang them or let them go?" asked skally in a bored voice.
"no you haven't," screamed grampa defiantly. "no you haven't. take my picture you scoundrel! take my rheumatism! take my advice and clear out of this forest before i report you to the princess of oz."
even prince tatters, who really was frightened at the fierce appearance of the bandit, had to laugh a little at the surprised expression on the chief's face as the old soldier continued to stamp and scold. and the more grampa scolded the more cheerful the bandit became.
"he reminds me of my old father," he remarked in an admiring undertone to skally.
"does your old father know you're a bandit?" shouted grampa sternly, "holding up honest adventurers and getting your living by breaking the law?"
"father always told me to take things easy," replied the chief, popping one of grampa's gum drops into his mouth. "'vaga,' he said to me over and over again, 'always take things easy, my boy,' and i do," grinned the robber wickedly. "but business is mighty slow in this forest lately. kings and princes are getting poorer and poorer every day. look at him!" he waved scornfully at tatters. "not worth a shoe button and the whole week it has been the same story. all we got to-day was a wizard, but he was as false as his whiskers--couldn't even change leaves to gold or sticks to precious stones. all he had with him was a bottle of patent medicine. now medicine," yawned vaga, touching with his boot a long green bottle that lay with a heap of rubbish near the fire, "is something i never take."
"but i thought wizards were not allowed to practice magic in oz," put in tatters, surprised into speech by the bandit's last statement. "it's against the law isn't it?"
"so are bandits!" roared yaga. "but i'm here just the same, my boy, taking things easy, and when i've saved up enough i'm going to open an inn and take things easier still."
"another way to rob honest travellers," groaned the old soldier, "but now, as you've taken our four-pence and our time, untie these bonds and we'll return to our camp."
"let him tell his story," suggested skally, "it might entertain us and they certainly owe us something for all this trouble."
"no, i've decided to make outlaws of them," announced yaga calmly. "the old one is a fine fighter and can be a father to me; the young one would frighten anybody; as for the cast iron bird it can be melted up into bullets."
"what shall we do now?" whispered tatters, seizing grampa's arm. the old soldier winked encouragingly.
"not bad at all," he murmured aloud, as if he were half pleased at the idea of being a bandit. "plenty of fighting and it's as good a way as any to make a fortune. swear us in mr vagabandit, swear us in my son!"
the bandit chief was surprised and overjoyed at grampa's change of heart. he immediately ordered skally to untie the captives. each was given a black mask and a dagger and, having raised their hands and solemnly agreed to break every law in oz, they were welcomed with cheers and shouts into the outlaw band. after the excitement had died down, they all gathered about the fire and grampa told them the history of ragbad, how he had got his game leg and of the nine hundred and eighty great battles he had fought in. the bandits listened attentively at first, but the old soldier's recital was so long that presently one and then another of the bandits fell asleep, and by the time grampa had reached the nine hundredth battle the whole company lay sprawled about the fire, snoring like good fellows instead of bad ones. prince tatters, his head on the skin of the old thread bear, was asleep too.
"more ways than one of winning a battle," chuckled the old soldier, smiling behind his whiskers. first, he recovered his watch, medals and the four-pence. they were still on the ground beside vaga. protruding from the robber's pocket was a rough blue pouch. very carefully the old soldier drew it out. "this will pay for the shakings," said grampa, stowing it away in his game leg. "i'll sample the scoundrel's tobacco when we're well out of this." as he straightened up the long, green bottle of patent medicine caught his eye. "i'll take this along too," he muttered, sticking it in his pocket. "maybe it will help my rheumatism."
the fire had died down and it was so dark and forbidding in the blue forest that grampa decided to snatch a few hours' rest before making an escape. stretching unconcernedly beside long-legged skally he fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. and so well trained was this old campaigner that in two hours, exactly, he awoke. the sun had not yet risen, but in the dim grey light of early morning grampa could make out the forms of the sleeping bandits. stepping softly, so as not to waken them, he touched tatters on the shoulder. the prince started up in alarm, but when grampa, with fingers to his lips, motioned for him to come he seized his red umbrella and tip-toed after him.
"have i lived to this age to be an old father to a bandit?" puffed grampa indignantly as they hurried along. he shook his fist over his shoulder. "farther and farther away is what i'll be." grampa laughed a little at his joke. "but we can't go without bill," he muttered suddenly, as they passed the rock under which the robbers had thrust the valiant weather cock. with some difficulty they lifted off the rock and, first whispering strict orders for silence, unwound bill from the various coats and cloaks. then tatters, fearing the creak of bill's wings would arouse the bandits, stuck him under one arm.
"wish i knew where they kept their supplies," whispered the old soldier as they pushed on through the heavy underbrush and made their way around gnarled old trees. "my teeth need some exercise."
"what a dreadful lot of crows there are in this forest," mused the prince, who had scarcely heard grampa's last remark. "why the trees are black with them!"
"well, do you expect me to eat crow?" sniffed the old soldier, waving his sword to disperse a flock of the birds that were circling around his head.
"no, but--" tatters got no further, for at that instant crows of an entirely different nature made them both leap into the air. the sun had risen and as the first rays penetrated into the dim forest bill flew out of tatters' arms and, perching on a low branch, burst into such a brazen clamor of cock-a-doodle-doos that the whole forest rang with it.
"hush! halt! stop that alarm!" gasped grampa. "now, you've done it!"
"oh, bill, how could you!" groaned the prince. snatching off the skin of the thread bear, he flung it over the iron weather cock and seizing him unceremoniously began to run after grampa. they had already put a goodly distance between themselves and the bandits, but a few minutes after bill's crowing shots came echoing through the wood and the next instant they could hear the outlaws crashing through the brush. they sounded like a herd of elephants.
"we'll have to hide," panted the old soldier. "here, crawl into this hollow tree." without a moment's hesitation, grampa dove into the tree himself and tatters, taking a firmer hold on bill and the red umbrella, followed.
"is there room?" gasped the prince. "grampa, are you there?" but grampa was not there. neither, for that matter, was tatters himself, for his feet instead of resting on earth, rested on nothing. a great wind whistled past his ears and blew his hair straight on end.
"the temperature's falling!" the voice of the weather cock came stuffily through the bear skin.
"everything's falling!" gasped the prince of ragbad, hugging bill and the red umbrella close to his chest. "everything!"
you can easily understand what had happened. there was no bottom to the hollow tree. when grampa, prince tatters and bill crawled into the hole, they simply disappeared. they dropped--down--down--down!
now falling, when you first start, is a hair-raising business, but after you have fallen for a mile and twenty minutes and nothing serious happens you grow rather used to the feel of it. and that's how it was with tatters.
"bill," he shouted presently--he had to shout for the rush of air carried away his words as fast as they were spoken--"bill, where do you suppose we're falling to?"
"south by west," crowed the weather cock promptly. the prince would have liked to continue the conversation, but it took too much breath, so he began planning how he should land without breaking grampa, for certainly grampa was somewhere below. rather sorrowfully he reflected that they were falling farther away from the emerald city every minute. he wondered where his father's head was, and what mrs sew-and-sew would think if she could see them tumbling down this hollow tree. would it never grow lighter? would they never reach the bottom and what would happen when they did? just as he came to this point in his wonderings, tatters dropped into a clump of pink bushes so hard that for several seconds he could do nothing but gasp.
"well," crowed bill, beginning to flutter restlessly about in the bear-skin, "are we here?"
"yes, thanks to you. you're discharged!" roared the old soldier, as prince tatters picked up himself and his red umbrella. grampa had been less fortunate in his landing. he sat in the middle of a cinder path, blinking rapidly, and as bill scrambled out of the bear-skin and hopped after tatters, he raised his gun threateningly.
"you're discharged without pay," repeated grampa angrily. "what do you mean by crowing and betraying us to the enemy?"
"i couldn't help it," answered bill in an injured tone. "it is the nature of a cock to crow and i've helped the sun to rise."
"and us to fall," scolded grampa. "well, you're discharged!" rolling over with a groan, he drew the bottle of patent medicine from his pocket. fortunately it was not broken, but it had made a dreadful dent in grampa.
"but wherever in oz are we?" exclaimed prince tatters, trying to change the subject, for he did not intend to have bill sent off in this hasty fashion. the old soldier pretended not to hear and continued to stare resentfully at the bottle of medicine. on one side was pasted a green label and tatters looking over his shoulder read, with some surprise:
sure cure for everything. follow the directions on the bottle.
beneath in tiny printing was a long list of ailments. grampa ran his finger hastily down the list until he came to breaks, sprains and bruises. "one spoon-full immediately after falling," directed the bottle.
without a word, grampa took a tin spoon from his knapsack, uncorked the bottle and swallowed the dose.
"why, it's the wizard's medicine!" cried tatters, watching him anxiously, for no sooner was the stuff down than a broad grin overspread grampa's face. "good thing i brought it along--works just like magic--never know i'd fallen," puffed grampa, completely restored to good humor. "better have some, boys." the old soldier smiled at his companions.
tatters, who was not hurt at all, shook his head and bill, who had flown into the air to examine the bottle, shook his wings.
"well--good-bye!" wheezed the weather cock hoarsely. "you don't need me to direct you now--you can follow the directions on the bottle. here i go," he finished sulkily, "here i go by the name of bill!"
"don't go," begged tatters, looking pleadingly at the old soldier. now grampa, remembering the splendid way bill had fallen upon the bandits, had already relented, but he never apologized.
"company fall in!" he commanded gruffly, putting the wizard's medicine in his pocket. tatters winked at bill and bill, muttering something about having fallen in already, began to march down the cinder path. they had dropped into a small park surrounded by a hedge that grew up as high as they could see. a soft glow shone through the hedge and by its rosy light the three adventurers began to examine their surroundings with great interest. the park itself was pretty enough, but after marching entirely around it and finding no break in the hedge, grampa looked rather worried.
"it's a good enough place for a picnic," puffed the old soldier, dusting his game leg, "but then we're not on a picnic!"
"no," sighed tatters, sinking down on a bench, "we're not on a picnic, for there's nothing to eat."
"if you were made of iron like i am you would never be hungry," crowed the weather cock, proudly. "i am glad i am cast in iron, but what shall we do now, mr grampa?"
"fly up and see how high the hedge is," directed the old soldier, "while tatters and i try to cut an opening." pleased to be of some service, bill hurled himself upward, and grampa with his sword and tatters with his rusty pen knife began hacking at the hedge. but as fast as they cut away the twigs, others grew and after ten minutes hard work they gave up in despair. then down came bill with the discouraging news that he had flown as high as he could, and the top of the hedge was still nowhere in sight. "but the wind is blowing north," finished the weather cock calmly.
"bother the wind!" sputtered grampa.
"must we stay here till we starve," groaned tatters, "and never find my father's head or the fortune at all?"
"fortune," repeated bill, putting his head on one side as if the word brought something to his mind. "don't worry about that, for i have already found the fortune." and while grampa and the prince stared at him in amazement, he touched with his claw a tiny golden key. it was suspended on a thin chain round his neck and neither of them had noticed it before.
"why, where did you get that?" asked tatters.
"i picked it out of the robber chief's pocket," explained bill, rolling his eyes from one to the other.
"you'd make a fine bandit," chuckled grampa, "but that's not a fortune, old fellow!"
"then what is a fortune?" asked bill, looking terribly disappointed.
grampa pulled his whiskers thoughtfully, for a fortune, when you come right down to it, is hard to explain.
"well," he began slowly, "it might be gold, or jewels, or land. anything precious and rare," he finished hastily.
"isn't this gold?" demanded bill, holding up the key.
"oh, grampa, maybe it's the key to the bandit's treasure chest," interrupted tatters excitedly. "let's go back and hunt for it."
"and how are you going?" inquired the old soldier sarcastically. "falling down trees is easy enough, but you can't fall up trees like you can fall up steps. however," he added quickly, seeing tatters' downcast face, "there must be some way out. let's look again."
"i'm going to keep this key," mused tatters in a more cheerful voice, "for i believe it will help us." he gave bill a little pat on the head as he took the chain off his neck, and somewhat comforted, but still mightily puzzled, the iron weather cock hopped after grampa. this time they circled the hedge more slowly, the old soldier taking one side and tatters and bill the other. it was bill who made the discovery--for shining through the leaves on the left side the weather cock caught the gleam of gold!
"the fortune!" he crowed loudly. "the fortune!"
it was not a fortune, but a golden gate, and pushing aside the leaves and twigs grampa and tatters stared through the bars into the loveliest garden they had ever seen. the gate was unlocked, and when grampa pressed upon it with his shoulder it swung noiselessly inward. fairly holding his breath, tatters stepped in after the old soldier, and bill had just time to hop through before the gate swung shut again. grampa gave a low whistle and tatters an involuntary cry of admiration. flowering vines and bushes filled the air with a delicate fragrance; paths of silvery sand wound in and out among the trees and arbors; crystal fountains splashed between the flower beds; and bordering each path and grass grown lane were trees glowing with magic lanterns, lanterns that bloomed as gaily as the blossoms themselves and lighted up the garden with a hundred rainbow sheens.
it was all so strange and beautiful that tatters and grampa scarcely dared breath but bill, having been alive only two days, seemed to think magic gardens quite usual affairs.
"come on," he called excitedly, "let's find the fortune!" but a golden sign on the nearest magic tree had caught tatters' eye and, paying no attention to bill, he tip-toed over to it.
"this is the garden of gorba," announced the sign. "mystery and magic in all its branches."
grampa had come up behind tatters. "gorba," muttered the old soldier softly. "now where?" he pulled the bottle of patent medicine from his pocket and squinted first at the sign and then at the bottle. "the same!" puffed grampa, for written in gold letters at the end of the list of ailments was the name gorba.
"this must be the garden of the wizard that rascally bandit was telling us about," muttered grampa uneasily. "he must have been on his way here when they held him up. maybe he's here now! hush! be careful! watch out now! i wouldn't trust a wizard as far as i could swing a chimney by the smoke!"
"maybe he will tell me where to find my father's head," whispered tatters excitedly.
"well," admitted grampa, starting cautiously down one of the silver paths, "that would be a good turn, but a wizard's more likely to turn us to good gate posts or caterpillars."
"i refuse to be a caterpillar," rasped the weather cock. he had flown down and was hopping close to grampa's heels. "i'll give him a peck in the eye!"
rattling his iron wings, bill looked around anxiously.
"well, don't forget you're under orders," snapped grampa severely. "no forward falling, crowing or pecking till i give the word, understand?"
"i don't believe he's a bad wizard," observed the prince quietly, "his garden is too pretty."
"pretty is as pretty does," sniffed grampa. "he's practising magic, which is against the law, and you can't get around that, besides--" just here grampa trod upon a small flagstone path that led across a broad stretch of lawn and never finished his sentence at all, for the stone rose a foot into the air and started bouncing across the green at such a rate the old soldier teetered backward and forward and did a regular toe dance to keep his balance.
"wait!" shouted tatters in alarm, and running after grampa, himself stepped upon one of the lively flag stones. up rose the stone and the next thing the prince of ragbad was bouncing after the old soldier, waving his red umbrella and calling frantically for bill. but bill was already aboard the third stone, and before any of them had sense enough to jump, the stones bounced straight under a silver fountain, dumped off their three startled passengers and went skipping back to their places in the walk.
"variable winds and heavy showers," crowed bill dismally.
"scraps and scribbage!" sputtered the old soldier. "i told you that wizard was a villain. company fall out!" he commanded gruffly. this the company lost no time in doing.
"oh, well," laughed tatters, rolling from under the drenching spray, "it saves us the trouble of washing our faces. but what made them do it grampa?" grampa gave himself an angry shake and marched stiffly over to the flagstone path. carved neatly on the last stone were these words:
gorba's stepping stones, guaranteed for seven centuries.
stand on the right foot to go east, on the left to go west. stand on both feet to go south. to go north stand on your head.
"well, north's the way we want to go!" cried tatters eagerly as grampa finished reading. "maybe they'll carry us all the way to emerald city."
"not me!" snorted the old soldier, taking a pinch of snuff. "stand on your head if you like, but i'm going to travel right side up or not at all. do you want to break your neck?" he demanded indignantly.
"it would be a little rough," admitted tatters, remembering the way the stones had bumped, "but it's pretty good magic just the same." grampa grunted contemptuously and tightened the fastenings of his game leg, but even the old soldier could not stay cross long in this enchanting garden, and when a moment later they happened upon a cluster of peach trees he grew quite cheerful again.
"always did like peaches for breakfast," he sighed, impaling one on his sword. twirling the sword and taking little bites all round, he looked with half closed eyes down the long vistas of lantern lanes. "i wish mrs sew-and-sew could see this," sighed the old soldier pensively. tatters nodded, but he was impatient to see more of the wizard's garden, so filling his pocket with peaches, he ran down the narrowest of the lanes after bill, who had already flown ahead to have another look for the fortune. opening out from this lane was a smaller and enclosed garden filled with the strangest bushes tatters ever had seen. each one grew in the shape of an animal. there were bears, tigers, lions, elephants and deer and the eyes, noses and mouths were marked by blossoms of the proper size and shape, that grew cunningly just where they were needed. they looked so life-like that for a moment the prince was frightened, but after he had prodded a lion bush with his umbrella and it neither roared nor lashed its green tail he proceeded from one to the other quite as if he were in a museum. and certainly gorba's animals were queer enough to grace any museum.
"wonder how he makes 'em grow this way?" murmured tatters, finishing his last peach.
"might as well wonder how he happens to be a wizard," chuckled grampa, who had come up quietly behind him. "why, this is better than a zoo, it's a whole blooming menagerie, and if we knew the secret of it we could travel all over oz growing deer and rabbit bushes in the castle gardens and your fortune would be made in no time. but as we don't know the secret of it," concluded grampa, squinting at his old silver watch, "we'd better forward march and see if we can find a way out of here." with many backward glances, tatters followed him down another of the lantern lanes, but they had scarcely gone half way when the hoarse voice of the weather cock came screeching overhead.
"the princess! the princess! i have found the princess!" crowed bill, falling with an iron clang in the path before them.
"be quiet," warned the old soldier anxiously, "do you want the wizard to get you? now then, what's all this nonsense about a princess?" grampa winked at tatters and tatters winked back, for neither of them had much faith in bill's discoveries. but the weather cock was too excited to mind. hopping stiffly ahead and pausing every few seconds to urge them forward with a wave of his wing, he led them to the very center of the enchanted garden. there, on a bed of softest moss, surrounded by a rose blown hedge, lay the loveliest little maiden you could ever imagine!
"the princess," repeated bill huskily. "the princess!"
"you're wrong," breathed the old soldier, pushing back his cap and tip-toeing forward, "you're wrong. it's the queen of the may!" and it surely seemed that grampa had guessed correctly, for bill's princess was a little lady of flowers. her face, hands and neck were of the tiniest white blossoms, her eyes, deep blue violets, her mouth a rose bud and her nose and brows delicately marked with pink stems. her hair, blowing backward and forward in the fragrant breeze, was the finest spray of flowering fern, and her dress was most enchanting of all. the waist was of every soft, silken flower you could think of, buttoned all the way down the front with pansies, while her skirts--a thick cluster of blossoming vines--fluttered gaily about her tiny lady slippers.
"why!" exclaimed the prince of ragbad, "she's growing in the flower bed. oh, grampa, if she were only alive!"
"i wish she were myself," sighed the old soldier. "this wizard must know a deal of magic to grow a little fairy like that. mind what you're about there," he called sharply to bill. the weather cock had flown over the hedge and was hopping so close to the flower girl it made grampa nervous.
"but look!" crowed bill. "looky look!" under the hedge and padlocked to a small iron ring in the ground was a gold watering can. it did not take grampa and tatters long to leap over the hedge after that, for as the old soldier said himself, the wizard was doubtless away and it was their plain duty to see that this little flower maid had a freshening spray before they left the garden. first tatters tried to wrench the can loose. the golden chain on the padlock was so slender it should have broken at the first tug, but it held like iron. then grampa tried his hand, but with no better luck; next both grampa and tatters tugged together, bill doing his bit by jerking out the prince's coat-tails.
"more magic!" panted grampa, sucking his thumb. "the only way to get it loose is to find the key."
"the key," shrilled tatters, suddenly diving into his pocket. "why, i wonder if this is the key?" jubilantly he produced the tiny gold key bill had taken from the bandit and the next instant he had fitted it in the padlock.
"vaga must have stolen that from the wizard when he took the medicine," mused grampa, "and that wizard's mighty particular with his old gold can." he sniffed scornfully as tatters slid it from its chain. "here, i'll fill it at the fountain."
"but it's already full," answered the prince of ragbad, giving it a little shake.
running over to the mossy bed, he tilted the gold can forward and sprayed the little flower lady from top to toe. stars! no sooner had the last drop fallen than a perfectly amazing thing happened--so amazing that grampa and tatters clutched each other to keep from tumbling over backwards and bill flew screaming into the nearest tree. for the little flower maiden slowly and gracefully rose from her bed, poised a moment on tip-toe and then, with a merry little laugh, bounded over to grampa and tatters and seized their hands. next thing they were whirling round and round in the jolliest fashion imaginable, faster and faster and faster, till everything grew blurred and all three tumbled down in a heap.
"oh, forget-me-nots--isn't that fun!" trilled the little flower girl, jumping lightly to her feet. "oh, i've wanted to do that always!"
"who--who are you?" gasped tatters, for grampa, between loss of breath and astonishment, was perfectly speechless.
"why, just my own self," smiled the little creature, flinging back her feathery hair.
"how do you blow? how do you blow?" shrieked bill, falling in a heap beside her.
"he means how do you do," puffed grampa, laughing in spite of himself. "you'll have to excuse him for he's a weather cock and used to talking to augusta." then as the little maiden still seemed puzzled, grampa finished his sentence. "augusta wind," chuckled the old soldier, with a wink that made them all laugh except bill, who continued to regard the flower girl intently.
"are you a princess?" asked bill, with his head anxiously on one side.
"no," mused the little girl slowly, "i don't think i'm a princess, let--me--see. oh, i remember now the old wizard telling the birds my name was urtha, because i'm made of earth!"
"go along with you then," snapped bill crossly. "we're looking for a princess."
"don't mind him," begged tatters jumping up hastily.
"tell us about yourself, miss posy," cried grampa, straightening his cap and feeling his game leg slyly. in the dance it had turned completely around. "i declare you're the loveliest little lady i've met in all my travels."
the roses in urtha's cheeks seemed to grow pinker at grampa's words.
"there isn't much to tell," she began softly. "i don't seem to remember anything but this garden. i guess i just grew," she finished with a little bounce that sent her skirts flying out in every direction.
"and whatever was in that gold watering can brought you to life. i believe you're a fairy," said the old soldier solemnly.
"no! no!" laughed the little flower girl, seizing a long trailing vine. "i'm just urtha." and using the vine as a skipping rope she flashed up and down the silver paths so swiftly that it made tatters and grampa blink just to follow her dancing steps.
"what are you going to do now that you are alive?" asked tatters as she paused for a moment beside him.
"just going to be happy in this garden," replied urtha with a little shake of her lovely fern hair.
"i wish we could stay too," sighed tatters, for he could think of no end of games he could teach urtha, and even the emerald city, he reflected, could not be lovelier than this enchanted garden. grampa gave a start at tatters' words and, suddenly recalled to his duty, gathered up his gun and knapsack.
"it's been a pleasure to know you, my dear," said grampa gallantly, taking off his cap, "but we'll have to be marching on now, for we've a long journey before us."
"oh!" urtha gave a little cry of dismay. "didn't you grow in the garden too?" grampa shook his head and as quickly as he could told her how king fumbo had lost his head and how he and tatters had set out to seek it and the prince's fortune. urtha was almost as much puzzled over a fortune as bill. indeed, the whole of grampa's story was confusing--for you see it was the first story the little flower maiden had ever heard. but prince tatters and the old soldier interested her tremendously. she touched grampa's medals shyly and could not admire tatters' patched and many colored suit enough. as for bill, she blew him so many kisses that the embarrassed weather cock flew and hid himself in an oleander bush. saying good-bye to dear little urtha was a difficult business, but at last grampa, with a very determined expression, shouldered his gun and tatters reluctantly picked up his red umbrella.
"come on!" shouted bill, impatiently sticking his head out of the bush. "come on, or we'll never find the head, the fortune and the princess." as urtha had not turned out a princess he had lost all interest in her.
"but i'll miss you," sighed urtha, and drooped so sadly against a tree that tatters promptly fell out of line and began to comfort her.
"you won't miss us," said grampa, looking uneasily at his watch, "you can't miss people you've just met, you know." the old soldier was faced with a problem the like of which he had never before encountered, and he was plainly at a loss to know what to do.
"i've known you longer than anyone else. i've known you my whole life," sighed urtha wistfully.
"but you've only been alive five minutes," smiled the old soldier indulgently.
"why don't you join the army like i did?" inquired bill, who was anxious to be off.
"oh, couldn't she?" begged tatters eagerly. grampa shifted his feet and looked uncertainly at the little flower maiden. she seemed too frail and delicate to set out on a journey of adventure. "but," reflected the old soldier, "if she's a fairy nothing can harm her and if she's not, someone ought to look out for her. as we brought her to life we're responsible."
"come along with you," cried grampa recklessly. so away through the wizard's garden marched this strange little army, the patched flag of ragbad fluttering from the top of tatters' red umbrella and the little flower maiden falling out of line every few minutes to dance gaily round a tree or skip merrily through a fountain.
she fairly seemed to float above the flowers that blossomed along the way, as her dainty feet slipped from daisy to daisy. prince tatters could hardly keep his eyes away from urtha as she danced along the way. and grampa smiled happily at the delight of the two happy young people.
it was twilight in the wizard's garden. all the lanterns burned low and the birds twittered drowsily in the tree tops. grampa and tatters sat wearily upon a golden bench--for after a whole day's march they were no nearer the emerald city than before. indeed, there seemed no way out of the enchanted garden. they had lunched satisfactorily on the fruit of a bread and butter bush, and grampa's knapsack was full of nicely spread slices, but for all that each one of them felt tired and downhearted.
urtha, on the contrary, was as fresh and merry as in the morning and, seated under a willow tree, was weaving a daisy chain for bill.
"she is certainly a fairy," mused grampa and absently pulling a blossom from a near-by bush he popped it into his mouth. "we'll take her back to ragbad, my boy, and won't she liven up the old castle! i tell you, now--" suddenly grampa stopped speaking and clapped his hand to his belt. his eyes grew rounder and rounder and tatters, turning to see why he did not finish his sentence, gave a little scream of fright.
"help!" called the prince of ragbad in an agonized voice. "help! help!" urtha was beside him in an instant, while bill circled wildly overhead.
"he's growing," breathed the little flower maid softly.
"yes," groaned tatters distractedly, "he's growing a chimney!" and tatters was quite right. not only was the old soldier growing a chimney, but a bay window as well. the chimney had knocked off his cap and grown brick by brick as the horrified prince looked on. the bay window, of fancy wood-work and glass, jutted out at least three feet beyond grampa's waist line. (the old soldier had always been proud of his slim figure.)
"give me my pipe," panted grampa in a choked voice. he had no idea what was happening, but felt too terribly dreadful for words. tatters sank on one knee, snatched the pipe from its place in his game leg and lit it with trembling fingers. then it was that he caught sight of the sign on the bush beside grampa. "house plants," said the sign distinctly.
"oh!" wailed the prince, suddenly remembering that grampa had eaten one of the blossoms, "you've eaten a house plant and there's a chimney sticking out of your head."
"there is!" roared grampa, puffing away at his pipe in great agitation. "well, that's what comes of this pesky magic. a chim-nee! well, i'll try to bear it like a soldier," he finished grimly. a perfect cloud of smoke rose from the chimney at these valiant words. too overcome for speech, tatters covered his face.
"don't you care!" cried urtha, flinging her arms 'round grampa's neck. "it's a sweet little chimney, and so becoming!"
"the wind is blowing north," crowed bill, disconsolately following the direction of the smoke as it curled up grampa's chimney. "if i see this wizard i'll fall on his head. i'll give him a peck in the eye, five pecks, but say!" bill paused in his circling and swooped down upon the old soldier. "how about the medicine?" grampa and tatters had forgotten all about the wizard's green bottle, but at bill's words the old soldier drew it quickly from his pocket.
"i don't believe there's any cure for chimneys," puffed grampa, running his finger anxiously down the list. he was so nervous that his hands shook. to tell the truth he expected to grow a flight of steps or a veranda any minute.
"here, let me look," begged tatters, snatching the bottle from grampa. but though there was everything on the green label from ear ache to lumbago, no mention was made of chimneys or bay windows at all.
"but it says 'cure for everything,'" insisted bill, perching stubbornly on grampa's shoulder.
"this is worse than a battle!" moaned grampa, rolling up his eyes. "i'm poisoned, that's what i am."
"poisoned!" cried bill triumphantly. "then find the cure for poison." hurriedly tatters consulted the label. "for poison of any nature, two drops on the head," directed the bottle. so while urtha and bill watched nervously, tatters uncorked the bottle and let two drops of the magic liquid fall down grampa's chimney. there was a slight sizzle. tatters rubbed his eyes and bill gave a crow of delight. the chimney had melted and the bay window was gone and the gallant old soldier quite himself again. urtha was so happy that she danced all the way round the golden bench and grampa jumped up and ran to look at himself in a little pond.
"no worse for it," mused the old soldier, stroking the top of his head tenderly and patting his belt with great satisfaction, "but that's the last bite i'll take in this garden." as grampa turned to go, a particularly bright little flower bed caught his attention. the flowers grew right before his eyes, dropped off their stems and were immediately succeeded by other ones. even in the dim lantern light the old soldier could see that they were spelling out messages.
"gorba will return to the garden at twelve o'clock." this announcement bloomed gaily in red tulips, and while the old soldier was still staring at it in astonishment, the tulips faded away and another sentence formed in the bed:
who stays all night shall leave here never, he'll be a lantern tree forever!
in yellow daffodils, the sentence danced before grampa's eyes. "a life sentence!" panted the old soldier wildly, and without waiting for more he plunged across the garden.
"tatters! bill! urtha!" shouted grampa, his own voice hoarse with excitement. "the wizard's coming back and we've got to get out of this garden or be lantern trees forever!"
"forever!" gasped the prince of ragbad, who had scarcely recovered from the chimney business. as fast as he could, grampa told of the flower messages, and when they hurried back to the bed, a pansy sentence had already grown there.
"good-night," said the pansies politely, then fluttering off their stems, blew like gay little butterflies across the lawn.
"good night!" choked grampa bitterly. "it's the worst night i ever heard of. i won't be rooted to the spot, nor a tree for any old wizard wizzing. come on! company 'tenshun!"
"here i come by the name of bill," crowed the weather cock, hurling into the air.
"but what are we coming to?" panted tatters, shouldering his red umbrella dutifully, while urtha kept anxiously beside him.
"we're going back to those stepping stones," puffed grampa, stumping along determinedly. the lanterns winked lower and lower and soon it was so dark and shadowy they lost the path entirely. smothering his alarm, grampa marched doggedly on, bumping into benches and trees, but never once pausing.
"they ought to be here some place," wheezed the old soldier and then stopped with a grunt, for he had run plump into an iron railing in the dark.
"what is it?" whispered tatters, straining his eyes in the gathering gloom.
"why, it's a flight of steps," cried grampa in the next breath. feeling for the gate, he entered the little enclosure and struck a match. by the flickering light, he saw six circular golden steps and on the top one in jewelled letters were just three words: "gorba's winding stairway." then the match sputtered and went out.
"winding stairway," puffed the old soldier joyfully. "why, this must be the way out. they wind up, i'll bet a gum drop! get aboard everybody. hurry! here loveliness!" taking urtha's hand, grampa guided her up the first step. tatters stood on the second with bill on his shoulder. grampa mounted quickly to the top and striking another match looked anxiously for directions. there were no more inscriptions, but under gorba's name was a tiny gold handle. the match was burning lower and lower and just as it went out grampa seized the handle and turned it sharply to the left. then--"great gollywockers!" gasped the old soldier, clutching at the rail. "it's winding down!"
poor grampa, in his hurry, had turned the handle the wrong way, and next instant the brave little company were whirling down the wizard's winding stairway, 'round and 'round, down and down, 'round and down, down and 'round, until they were too dizzy to know where they were going.
"hold on!" called grampa wildly. "hold on! hold on! hold on!" and hold on was about all they could do.
on the same bright morning that grampa and tatters started from ragbad, the peer of perhaps city sat cozily breakfasting with percy vere. percy was a poet and attended to all the guess work in perhaps city. true he was a terribly forgetful poet, but he did the best he could and was a prime favorite with the old mountain monarch. perhaps city itself is a tall, towered city of gold set high in the maybe mountains of oz. so steep and craggy are its peaks that none of the dwellers in the city ever descend into the valleys below. indeed there is little need of it, for life in perhaps city, owing to the jolly nature and good management of old peer haps, is so delightfully entertaining that the people have no desire to leave. the happsies themselves are of the light-hearted and old-fashioned race of winkies, who in olden oz times, settled all the countries of the east. the only one who ever left the city at all was abrog, the high sky prophet of the realm, and to his goings and comings no one paid much attention, for he was a queer, silent old man, who spoke but once a year and only then to prophesy as to the weather, crops and important events that would take place in the town.
so far these events had all been happy and fortunate ones, and on this sunshiny morning, old peer haps, buttering his muffins in his cozy breakfast room, felt so well pleased and content with his lot that he fairly beamed upon percy vere.
for his part, percy vere always was happy and, beaming back at the king, he shook his long locks out of his eye and laughed merrily at old peer. percy vere always felt that his patron enjoyed his breakfast particularly if percy opened the proceedings with a verse, so he sang, as breakfast was served, this ditty:
"oh, muffins mellow light and clear, fit diet for a mountaineer; oh, muffins pale and yellow! oh, muffins sweet to sniff and eat, how you refresh a--a--"
the poet's merry blue eyes grew round and puzzled, as they always did when he forgot a word.
"fellow!" chuckled the peer, taking a sip of coffee. "percy, my child, you are ridiculish!"
"i am ridiculish, i know it; a young, a poor forgetful--er"
"poet!" spluttered peer haps, with another chuckle.
"thanks old nutmeg!" sighed percy, helping himself to another muffin. "you always know what i mean."
"nut meg!" roared peer haps. he never got over being amused at percy's informal way of addressing him. "nut meg! well, i'll be grated!" and immediately he was, for at that very moment, the folding doors flew open and in rushed abrog the prophet.
"greater than all other rulers in oz, great of the greatest!" began the old man, salaaming before peer haps, "a great misfortune threatens, approaches, is about to take place."
"what?" cried the peer, choking on the last bit of his muffin. it was strange enough to have abrog speak at all when it was not the day for prophecy, but to have him speak in this foreboding fashion was simply too terrible.
"speak out! speak up!" cried the forgetful poet, leaping to his feet:
"speak out, speak up and then get hence, we cannot stand this dire-- this dire, this dire--"
"suspense," finished peer haps automatically. "yes, speak up, fellow!" he cried anxiously.
"in four days, a monster will marry the princess!" wailed abrog, pulling his peaked cap down over his eyes. "in four days, four days, four days!" and having said this, he began to gallop 'round the breakfast table, peer haps and the forgetful poet right after him. you, yourself, can imagine the effect of such a message on the merry old peer of perhaps city. why, he prized the little princess above all his possessions, yes, even above his yellow hen who was a brick layer and laid gold bricks instead of eggs. indeed, she had done more than anyone else to lay the foundation of his fortune.
"what kind of a m-monster?" stuttered the forgetful poet, waving his muffin.
"where is my daughter now?" demanded peer haps, seizing abrog by the whiskers, for there seemed no other way of stopping him. abrog waved feebly toward the window and, rushing across the room, the peer and the poet stared out into the garden where the sweetest little princess in all the countries of the east was gathering roses. she waved gaily to the two in the window, and, with a shudder, peer haps turned back to abrog.
"let me see the prophecy," he demanded, holding out his hand. abrog produced a crumpled parchment and after one glance the old peer covered his face and sank groaning into his enormous arm chair. the forgetful poet had read over his shoulder and instantly burst into all the melancholy poems he knew. "oh, hush!" begged the old monarch at last, "and you," he waved wildly at the prophet, "can you do nothing but run 'round that table like a merry-go-round goat?"
"i could marry the princess myself," rasped abrog, coming to a sudden standstill before the peer. "if she were already married to me, a monster could not marry her," he leered triumphantly.
"to you!" shrieked percy vere, crushing his muffin to a pulp.
"you weazened, wild, old, whiskered dunce, be off! be gone! get out, at--at--at--at--"
percy began hopping about on one foot groaning, "what's the word, what's the word?"
"once!" finished peer haps, mopping his forehead and glaring at abrog, for he was stunned at the old man's suggestion. "it wouldn't do at all," he muttered gloomily. "why, you're a thousand years old if you're a day, and she's the only daughter i've got."
"well, you won't have her long," sneered abrog, gathering his robe about him. his black eyes gleamed wickedly from beneath their bushy brows. he was furiously angry, but quickly hiding his feelings he began to move slowly toward the door. halfway there he paused. "since you refuse my first solution of the difficulty, i will endeavor to think of another one. i used to know a little magic," he wheezed craftily. "i will retire to my tower to think."
peer haps nodded absently. he was too dazed to think himself and could only mutter over and over, "a monster! a monster! my daughter! a monster!"
"the fellow's a fool!" choked percy vere. "he's as full of ideas as a dish pan. why he's a monster himself!"
"but there's something in what he says," groaned the old peer unhappily. "if my daughter were already married when this monster came, he could not carry her off. i have it! percy, we'll marry the princess at once, to the likeliest lad in perhaps city."
"to me!" cried the forgetful poet, tossing back his long locks and sticking out his chest complacently.
"well--er," the old monarch looked a trifle embarrassed, "you're hardly the man to marry and settle down to a humdrum royal existence. i was thinking of young perix."
"you're right," agreed percy, mollified at once. "marriage would interfere with my career, o peer. shall i fetch our pretty little princess?"
"yes, call her at once," begged peer haps, clasping and unclasping his hands, "but don't frighten her, percy my boy, no talk of marriage or monsters!" percy felt that the only thing he could do, under the circumstances, was to lapse into verse.
"i go, i go, on heel and toe to fetch the sweetest girl i know, the princess of perhaps city, as sweet as sugar full of tea!"
caroled the forgetful poet, bounding through the door into the garden. peer haps smiled faintly, then remembering the monster, frowned and began drumming nervously on the arm of his chair. he did not even look up when the yellow hen hopped into the room, and, with a self-conscious cluck, laid a gold brick on the mantel.
"what's the matter?" asked the hen sulkily.
"everything!" groaned peer haps, straining his eyes for the first sign of percy and the princess. "everything!" at that instant percy rushed back.
"the princess is lost, gone, mislaid!" cried the forgetful poet, crossing his eyes in his extreme agitation.
"you speak as if she were an egg," clucked the yellow hen, but no one paid any attention to her and in a huff the spoiled creature flew out the window and dropped a gold brick on the head of the chief gardener. but no one, except the chief gardener, paid any attention to this either, for peer haps had raised such a clamor over the disappearance of his daughter that the whole castle was in an uproar. indeed in five minutes more every woman, man and child in perhaps city had joined in the search for the missing princess. after they had searched high and low, and everywhere else for that matter, percy suddenly bethought himself of the prophet and, rushing up the fifty steps to his tower, thumped hard upon the door. there was no answer. percy flung the door open and there was no prophet. abrog was gone too!
in the face of this new calamity the dreadful prophecy about the monster was almost forgotten. peer haps sank down upon his throne and in spite of his sixty years and three hundred pounds wept like a baby.
"he's perfectly perfidious!" exclaimed percy vere, who was entirely out of breath from the steps. all the courtiers solemnly shook their heads.
"a villain old and hideous, and perfectly perfidious, has run off with our daughter. what shall be done to him, o peer, this prophesighing profiteer deserves both death and--and--"
"slaughter," sobbed peer haps convulsively. then mopping his face he sat up. "someone must follow him at once and bring her back!" thundered the old monarch. "a thousand gold bricks to the man who brings her back. a thousand gold bricks and the princess' hand in marriage!" at this there was a great shuffling of feet and the young men of perhaps city began to exchange uneasy glances.
"down the mountain?" asked perix faintly.
"where else?" demanded peer haps, glaring angrily at the young nobleman whom he had intended for his daughter.
"but we might be dashed to pieces. it is terribly unsafe," stuttered perix unhappily. all the other happsies began to shake their heads and murmur sadly, "unsafe, very unsafe!"
"well, how about my daughter?" roared the poor monarch, puffing out his cheeks. "will no one go after my daughter?" there was more shuffling of feet, but not a voice was raised. we must not be too hard on these young happsies, remembering that in all their lives and in the lives of their fathers and grandfathers no one had ever descended maybe mountain excepting abrog the old prophet.
"i'll go myself!" spluttered peer haps explosively. but as he arose with a great groan, the forgetful poet rushed forward and embraced as much of the peer as his arms would circle.
"you'd be broken to bits!" cried percy distractedly. "suppose you stumbled. i, i will go and find the princess and this meddling, miserable prophet."
"you! why you'll forget what you're after before you start," sneered perix disagreeably.
"as to that," said percy, snapping his fingers under the young fellow's nose, "i may forget a word now and then, but i don't forget how to act when my king is in trouble!"
"hurrah!" shouted the gardener, throwing up his hat. he had recovered from the shock of the gold brick. "hurrah for percy vere; he's the bravest of the lot!"
"but how will you go?" quavered peer haps. he was torn between relief at percy's brave offer and sorrow at the thought of losing his prime and favorite companion.
"here's how," cried the valiant poet. rushing down the golden steps of the palace, percy leaped over the gate and plunged recklessly down the steep mountain side. percy was well accustomed to hill-climbing and met with no mishap as he plunged downward.
dorothy had been to see the tin woodman and now, with toto, her small shaggy dog, running at her side, was skipping merrily down one of the wide winkie lanes.
"i think nick chopper looks very well, don't you toto?" said dorothy, tickling his ear with a long feathery weed.
"woof!" barked toto reproachfully. toto--like all other dogs in oz--could talk if he wanted to, but toto, being originally from kansas, preferred his own language. just then, seeing a lively baconfly, toto gave another bark and dashed across a daisy field. away fluttered the baconfly, and you have no idea how fast these little rascals can flutter, and away, his ears flapping with excitement, pounded toto, and away after toto ran dorothy, for she was always in fear of losing her reckless little pet. up and down, here and there, 'round and 'round, darted the mischievous baconfly, until toto's tongue hung out and he simply panted with exhaustion. then with a spiteful sputter, the baconfly disappeared under a rhinestone, and after scratching and whining and even growling a little, toto gave up the chase and trotted rather sheepishly back to dorothy.
"that was really too bad of you toto," panted the little girl reprovingly. "you wouldn't eat a poor little baconfly, would you?"
"woof, gr-rr woof!" sulked toto, which was kansas for "you bet i would!" pretending not to understand this last remark, dorothy fanned herself with her broad straw hat and started slowly back toward the lane. but the baconfly had led them such a roundabout chase that when she did come to the lane she turned in exactly the opposite direction from the way she had intended, and instead of walking toward the emerald city she began walking away from it. but as neither she nor toto was aware of this fact, they progressed most cheerfully, dorothy carrying on a one-sided conversation with the saucy little bow-wow. occasionally toto would bark or wag his tail, but most of the time he listened in superior silence to the little girl's chatter of the fun they had had in nick chopper's tin castle.
now how nick chopper came to have a castle is a story in itself, for nick has, in the course of his strange and interesting life, risen from a wood-chopper to emperor of all the winkies and from an ordinary blood and bone man to a real celebrity of tin. yes, nick is entirely a man of tin, as you can see by referring to any of the histories of oz. in these same histories it is recorded how a wicked witch enchanted nick's ax, so that first it cut off his legs, then his arms and finally his body and head. but you cannot kill a good ozman like nick chopper and after each accident he hied him to a tin-smith for repairs. first the tin-smith made him tin legs, then tin arms, next a tin body and at last a tin head, so that he was completely a man of tin. and this same little dorothy, on her first trip to oz, had discovered the tin woodman, rusting in a forest, had oiled up his joints and taken him to the emerald city itself. there the wizard of oz had given him a warm, red plush heart, which he still has and since then nick has been in almost every important adventure that has happened in the wonderful land of oz. ozma, the little fairy ruler of oz, finding nick so dependable and so unusual, has made him emperor of the east, and the loyal little winkies have built him a splendid tin castle in the center of their pleasant yellow country.
dorothy herself was first blown to oz in a kansas cyclone and after a great many visits to this delightful country, determined to stay for good. ozma, with the help of her magic belt, transported dorothy and uncle henry and aunt em and toto to the land of oz. uncle henry and aunt em have a comfortable little farm just outside of the emerald city, but dorothy and toto have a cunning apartment in the emerald palace itself, for ozma cannot bear to have dorothy far away. the two girls--for ozma herself is only a little girl fairy--have been through so many adventures together that they are almost inseparable, and to show her love and affection for this little girl from the united states ozma has made dorothy a royal princess of oz.
but through all her honors and adventures dorothy has remained the same jolly little girl she was in kansas. every now and then she puts aside her silk court frocks, slips into an old gingham dress and steals off for a visit to some of her friends in the country.
"we'll soon be at the scarecrow's, toto; shall you like that?" she asked, after skipping along for five whole minutes without speaking. "perhaps he'll have corn muffins and honey and--whatever's that?"
"little girl! little girl!" a voice came echoing high and clear down the sunlit lane. toto pricked up his ears, and dorothy, shading her eyes, turned in the direction of the voice. running toward her was a young man clothed all in buff--an extremely excited and agitated young man--and by the time he reached dorothy and toto he was perfectly breathless.
"well--" began dorothy, hardly knowing what else to say.
"not very well, thank you," puffed the young man, slapping at his face with a yellow silk handkerchief. on closer inspection dorothy saw that his handsome suit was torn and muddied and the young man himself exceedingly scratched and weary.
"i am most unhappy," he continued, regarding her mournfully. "at least, when i can remember to be. it is hard to be unhappy in a lovely country like this."
"then why do you try to remember to be?" asked dorothy with a little laugh, while toto made a playful dash at the stranger's heels.
"a great deal depends on my remembering," explained the young man eagerly. "if i forget to be unhappy i may forget why i fell down the mountain and why i am wandering in this strange country without friends or food."
"well, why are you?" dorothy could control her curiosity no longer.
"i am seeking a princess," replied the youth solemnly.
"a princess! well, will i do?" dorothy smiled mischievously and while the stranger stared at her, round-eyed, she made him her prettiest court bow. the result was extremely funny. the forgetful poet--for of course you have guessed all along that it was he--extended his arms toward toto and cried accusingly:
"i looked the maiden in the eye, i looked her up and down, she says she is a princess, but, she hasn't any--any--?"
toto barked indignantly at this limping poetry.
"i suppose you mean crown," giggled dorothy. "yes i have too, but it's at home, in ozma's castle."
"the crown is in the castle, the castle's in the town; the town is in the land of oz, but how about her--her--"
he stared helplessly at dorothy's gingham dress and, with another little scream of laughter, dorothy finished his verse. "gown!" spluttered the little girl. "do you always talk like that?"
"pretty often," admitted percy vere apologetically. "you see, i am a poet. and i know who you are now. you're princess dorothy herself!" he smiled so charmingly as he said this that dorothy could not help smiling back.
"i've read all about you in peer haps' history books," confided percy triumphantly. "shall i address you as princess?" as he asked this question the troubled expression returned to his eyes. "you haven't seen a princess anywhere around here have you?" he added anxiously. dorothy shook her head and toto began sniffing under all the bushes as if he expected to find a princess in any one of them.
"a little princess, passing fair, with rosy cheeks and yellow--yellow--"
"hair," put in dorothy quickly. "who is she? who are you and how did she get lost? let's sit down and then you can tell me all about it."
"he's exactly like a puzzle," thought dorothy, with an amused little sniff. so percy vere sat down beside her under a spreading jelly tree and as quickly as he could he told of the strange happenings in perhaps city, of the prophecy about the monster, of the strange conduct of old abrog, the prophet, and finally of the disappearance of both the princess and the prophet.
percy himself had fallen down the steep craggy sides of maybe mountain, arriving in a scratched and bruised heap at the bottom. all morning he had been wandering through the fields and lanes of the winkle land and dorothy was the first person he had encountered.
"well, i think you were just splendid," breathed the little girl, as the forgetful poet finished his story. percy had tried to gloss over the young men's refusal to go in search of the princess, but dorothy had guessed quite correctly what had happened.
"i'll bet that old prophet carried her off himself," she declared positively.
"i think so two, i think so three, i think so four, where can they--?"
percy mopped his brow and looked appealingly at the little girl.
"be," supplied dorothy obligingly. "i'm sure i don't know, but we can soon find out. you just come to the emerald city with me and we'll look in ozma's magic picture."
"why you are wise as you are pretty; let's hasten to
smiling all over because he had actually finished his own verse, the forgetful poet helped dorothy to her feet and both started gaily down the lane, dorothy telling the poet all about the interesting folk in the capitol and percy vere telling dorothy all about the city of gold on maybe mountain. dorothy's idea of looking in ozma's picture, like all of her other ideas, was a mighty good one, for this picture has a magical power enabling a person to see whomever he wishes, so that one look would disclose the whereabouts of the lost princess of perhaps city. but at every step, they were putting a longer distance between themselves and that look. for at every step, thanks to that little baconfly, they were going farther and farther away from the emerald city of oz.
they had eaten the lunch the tin woodman had thoughtfully put up for dorothy, and now, as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, the little girl looked anxiously ahead for familiar landmarks. but instead the lane--which should have led straight to the scarecrow's tower, which is halfway between the tin woodman's palace and the emerald city--the lane suddenly came to a stop in a scraggly little woods.
"that's funny!" mused dorothy, looking around in surprise.
"are we lost?" asked percy, leaning wearily against a tree.
"hello! hello, why here's a sign tacked up upon this prickly--prickly--"
without bothering to finish the verse, dorothy hurried over to the pine.
"look out for the runaway," advised the sign, in large red letters.
"runaway!" cried dorothy, snatching toto up in her arms. "good gracious! i wonder what kind of a runaway it is?" they were not long left in doubt, for while percy was still staring nervously all 'round, there came a hiss and a snap and 'round a big rock shot the runaway itself, scooping up the two travellers before they had time to even wink a single eyelash.
"this is p-perfectly preposterous," blustered the forgetful poet. both he and dorothy were sitting in the middle of the runaway and percy vere hastily slipped his arm around the little girl to keep her from falling off. the runaway road itself was humping along like some dreadful sort of serpent, jouncing and bouncing them so terribly that talking was almost impossible.
"wonder where it's running!" gasped dorothy, hugging toto so tight he began to growl a little. from somewhere ahead a gritty voice answered her.
"i'm running straight to a pepper mine," roared the runaway, "and you'll make a handsome pair of pepper diggers."
"p-pepper diggers!" groaned percy vere.
"pepper diggers, not that please, the very idea makes me, makes me--"
"ha-ha-ka kachoo," sneezed percy miserably.
"pepper doesn't grow in mines. it's a plant," shouted dorothy indignantly.
"well, this pepper mine of mine was planted," replied the road, twisting 'round to stare at dorothy with its stony eyes. neither dorothy nor the forgetful poet answered this time, for the bumping and bouncing had grown so much worse that it was all they could do to hold on to each other and keep from biting their tongues off. nothing like this had ever happened to the forgetful poet before. he was simply stunned. but dorothy had been in so many strange adventures and had had so many odd experiences in the land of oz, that she was already planning to outwit the runaway.
"it wouldn't be safe to jump off," thought the little girl, "for we'd probably be broken to bits, but--" her eyes travelled upward to the trees and bushes that were flashing past as the runaway flung itself recklessly through the forest--"if we caught hold of a low branch the old road would go on without us," she reflected triumphantly.
as well as she could, for bumps and bounces, she whispered her plan to percy vere. he nodded enthusiastically and transferred toto to his blouse, so that dorothy would have both hands free. then, when a huge tree loomed up ahead, they both began to count, and as its branches stretched over the runaway, they hurled themselves upward and held on for dear life. beneath slithered the road and not until the last yellow length of it had flashed by did dorothy and percy vere let go. percy dropped to the ground first, gently lifted dorothy down, and took the frightened, wiggling little toto out of his blouse.
"whew!" breathed dorothy, leaning dizzily against percy, "that's the worst ride i've had for a long time. wonder where we are?"
"do--we--do--this--often?" panted the forgetful poet, looking at dorothy with round eyes. "i'm perfectly pulverized!"
"well, i never met a runaway before," confessed dorothy, "but you never can tell what's going to happen in oz, so first thing we'd better do is to find out where we are!"
"we're in a forest dark and deep, i hope the bears are all--are all--"
"asleep! so do i!" sighed dorothy, and began tip-toeing along under the great lonesome trees, toto keeping close at her side and percy vere treading softly behind her.
before grampa and his little company had recovered from the shock of winding down instead of up, the strange stairway gathered itself together, and, with a sudden jerk, shook them all off.
"break ranks!" roared the old soldier, kicking out wildly with his game leg.
"i don't want to break my ranks," said bill crossly. tatters and urtha were too startled to say anything and for a few seconds they simply fell in surprised silence. the hollow down which they were tumbling was wide and dimly lighted with a soft, spooky glow. the air was thick and heavy and they were falling much slower than grampa and tatters had fallen down the hollow tree. first fell urtha, her flowery skirts fluttering gracefully around her; then fell tatters, clinging to bill with one arm and his red umbrella with the other; then the old soldier, his gun, drum, sword and knapsack rattling like a box full of marbles.
"i feel exactly like a butterfly. are we flying, dear mr soldier?" laughed the flower maiden presently.
"no, my poor child," puffed grampa, staring down at her anxiously. "we're falling!"
"falling asleep?" asked urtha contentedly.
"depends on how we land," groaned the old soldier, and suddenly remembering his last landing he snatched the wizard's medicine bottle from his pocket.
"is there anything on the label about falling?" panted tatters, who was close enough to notice the old soldier's action. grampa held the bottle close to his eyes, and though reading while falling is one of the hardest things i know of to do, after a deal of squinting the old soldier read out the following: "for falling hairs, one drop in full glass of water!"
"but we're not hares," wheezed bill indignantly.
"and if our hair stopped falling and we fell on, we'd be scalped!" puffed grampa hoarsely. "besides there isn't any water, so there's nothing to do but fall!"
"stormy weather! stormy weather!" predicted bill gloomily. "look out below, look out, look out, look out!" as the weather cock came to his last look out, the air grew suddenly lighter, the speed of the four fallers increased and next thing, with a great splash and splutter, they had plunged into a deep underground lake. blowing like a porpoise, grampa rose to the surface.
"one drop in water," choked the old soldier and, treading water furiously, he began to look around for his little army. in the dim green light he could see urtha floating like a tiny island of flowers on the top of the water--her fine spray of hair spread out 'round her lovely little face. a short distance away tatters was making frantic efforts to keep afloat but, with the iron weather cock and the enormous umbrella, it was a difficult business and every few minutes the poor prince of ragbad would disappear under the waves. grampa himself, handicapped as he was by a game leg and so many weapons, found swimming a dreadful exertion and by the time he reached tatters he was completely exhausted. he still grasped the wizard's bottle in one hand.
"wet--very wet!" the head of bill appeared above the water and then went under, as tatters took another dive toward the bottom.
"grampa, i'm drowning!" gulped the poor prince, reappearing for a second on the surface. it never occurred to the prince to drop bill or his father's umbrella. grampa himself had shipped so much water he had no breath to speak, but he flung his hand out desperately toward the prince and, as luck would have it, it was the hand holding the wizard's medicine.
"d--don't drown!" begged grampa, his eye fixed desperately on the green label. "wait, there's a cure for it." treading water again, he clutched tatters by the hair and pressed the bottle to his lips. "one swallow and you'll swim like a fish," promised grampa.
"my head's swimming already," muttered tatters weakly. it was all the prince could do to get the stuff down, for he had swallowed quarts of the lake already. grampa was so interested in watching the effects of the dose that he forgot to move his feet and went down himself. but just as the water closed over his head he put the wizard's bottle to his own lips, took a hasty mouthful and jammed in the cork. immediately he bobbed to the surface and, with a great sigh of relief, saw tatters floating on top of the waves, bill perched precariously upon his chest. grampa felt as buoyant as a cork and, using his gun as an oar, steered toward tatters and urtha and soon all three were bobbing along side by side.
"this medicine's the only good thing that wizard ever invented," said grampa, sticking the bottle through his belt. "feeling better, old boy?"
tatters shook his head feebly. he could not help thinking how far out of their way they had fallen, and how very far they were from the emerald city and even from ragbad itself. he blinked hastily at the thought of mrs sew-and-sew and the cozy red castle on the hill, and he hoped pudge had remembered to feed his pigeons. tatters himself never expected to see them again. only urtha seemed really to be enjoying the adventure. her little flower face was wreathed in smiles and her lovely flower frock fairly sparkled with freshness.
"isn't this fun!" she kept repeating merrily. "isn't this fun?" grampa nodded, but not very enthusiastically.
"do you think we'll ever get back on top again?" asked tatters gloomily.
"of course," spluttered grampa. "we've fallen down about as far as we can fall and from now on things will take an upward turn, you see. hello, this water's kinda hot! great swordfish, what's that noise?"
"the fortune! the fortune!" shrieked bill, jumping up and down upon tatters' thin chest and ducking the prince at every jump. "the fortune!"
with a great effort, grampa sat up in the water, which was already beginning to steam, and then fell backward with a terrific splash.
"halt!" commanded grampa, trying to push against the current with his sword. "stop! halt!" a great roaring was in their ears and the green light had changed to a red hot glow. now tatters sat up. then he, too, began to kick wildly about in an effort to stop himself. and no wonder! they were being carried straight toward a roaring red island of fire!
"the fortune! the fortune!" screeched bill, more excited than ever.
"fortune!" groaned grampa, reaching out to catch urtha, who was floating rapidly past. "misfortune! halt! stop! everybody back!"
"better stop backing and look on that bottle," gulped the prince of ragbad. "better see if there's any cure for--for this!" he waved desperately ahead. and grampa, with a little choke of fright, pulled out the wizard's medicine. "burns, scalds and heat strokes," faltered grampa. "well, we'd better take the cure for all three. a teaspoonful was prescribed in each case and with trembling hands the old soldier measured out the doses. bill could not swallow, so the old soldier dashed the medicine over his head."
"i think you're a fairy," puffed grampa, throwing a dose in the face of the surprised little flower girl, "but if anything should happen i'd never forgive myself." tatters came next and by this time the water was so hot that grampa himself began to groan with discomfort. so he hastily swallowed his three spoonfuls, corked the bottle and prepared for the worst. but immediately everything grew better. the waves of heat from the island seemed only pleasant breezes now and the steaming water did not even feel hot. before they had time to wonder at all this, they were washed up on the burning sands of fire island itself.
"is it the fortune?" asked bill, hopping out of tatters' arms. "you said land--or gold, and this is a golden land."
grampa was too dazed to answer. finding himself completely fire proof was strange enough, but actually walking on an island of fire seemed unbelievable.
"wonder what pudge would say to this," mused grampa, as tatters rushed over to his side. urtha was already dancing about on the glowing sands as happily as she had danced in the wizard's garden.
"here come the firemen!" cried prince tatters, and rather anxiously the old soldier turned to meet the islanders. the people of fire island were as interesting and unusual as their island, being entirely of red and blue flames, and so light upon their feet they fairly flashed about over the glowing rocks.
"shall i fall on their heads?" inquired bill. "is it a fight?"
"no," answered grampa, squinting a bit from the glare, "i believe they're friendly." and the old soldier was right, for as the fire islanders came nearer they waved their arms gaily and seemed delighted with the unusual appearance of their visitors. a little ahead of the others strode a tall man, who was made entirely of glowing, red hot iron. except for this fact, he might have been any village blacksmith and his face was so round and jolly that tatters immediately took heart.
"prince forge john the first!" called two small flame pages, as the fire monarch reached the party on the beach. prince forge john bowed, grampa saluted, bill crowed and urtha--breaking off a flowery spray from her skirts--held it out prettily to the ruler of fire island.
"what a charming little fairy!" cried prince forge john in his hot crackling voice. "and you," he turned pleased eyes upon grampa and tatters, "how brave you look, and it," with a wave at the weather cock, "how beautiful it is--all of splendid iron!"
"thanks," crowed bill. "i'm useful, too. if you will tell me where to find the head, the princess and the fortune, i'll tell you which way the wind blows. head? fortune? princess?" finished bill, as if he were repeating a lesson.
prince forge john looked so confused at this speech that grampa stepped forward and hastily explained all that had happened since king fumbo had lost his head, ending up with the wizard's garden, the discovery of urtha and their fortunate use of gorba's medicine.
"h-m!" mused prince forge john, rubbing his iron chin. "so you're seeking the head of this lad's father and the lad himself seeks a fortune and a princess? well, i have not seen the king's head, but the prince may stay here with us, marry one of our fire maidens and make a fortune in the fire works. there's many a fortune been snatched from the fire. how would you like that, my boy?"
"yes, do stay and marry me," cried one of the little flame maidens, running impulsively up to the prince.
"you are so odd and you look so interesting!" tatters looked terribly embarrassed, for he was fearful that the maiden would scorch his nose. "i--i must find my father's head first," stuttered the prince, backing away uneasily, "and if your majesty could tell us of a way back to oz--" tatters bowed again and looked appealingly at grampa.
"well, you might go up in smoke," suggested prince forge john slowly. "i think, myself, that this wizard's medicine will wear off presently and then you'll all burn up."
"oh," groaned the old soldier, snatching out his handkerchief, "why do you think such terrible thoughts?"
"would it hurt?" breathed urtha, who hated to see anyone unhappy.
"is there no fire escape?" choked tatters, with bulging eyes.
prince forge john shook his head. "i'd like to help you," he murmured gravely, "but you are so strangely made i don't see how i can. better just stay on here. burning's not so bad and i think you'd burn a long time." several of the fire islanders nodded as the prince said this, but grampa and tatters could find no consolation in such a prospect.
"and marching north seemed so easy!" wailed poor tatters, leaning heavily on his red umbrella.
"never mind," sighed the old soldier, "i'll think of something else. let's jump back in the water," he proposed brightly.
"but if the medicine wears off boiling would be just as bad as burning," objected tatters, with a little shudder.
"that's so," admitted grampa. "it seems, my boy, that every cup of soup has at least one fly!"
"there's a fly on your nose," screeched bill, hopping up and down. and so there was--a saucy little fire fly. there were fire flies everywhere--darting here and there among the fire flowers and over the fields of waving fire weeds.
"better stay," repeated prince forge john hospitably. "anyway let us show you a bit of the island."
grampa nodded, for he did not know what else to do, and so he and the others followed sadly after the prince and his cortege. there were no houses on fire island, but each flame family had its own open fire place. between stretched meadows of clear blue flame and many beautiful gardens, where, from flowing beds of red hot coals, lovely fire flowers arose.
the stems were of green flame, the tops of yellow, blue and red. the prince picked a bouquet of these strange posies for urtha and, to grampa's surprise, the fire flowers neither burned the little flower girl nor went out in her hands.
if it had not been for the dreadful thought of burning up that hung over them, the old soldier and tatters might have enjoyed their trip across the island. but as it was they got little pleasure from it. even prince forge john's fire works, where all the hearth fires and kitchen fires are manufactured and the fourth of july roman candles and sparklers are made, aroused in them no enthusiasm. when they reached the other side of the island, the prince offered each member of the party a box of fire crackers for refreshments and this made grampa smile in spite of his worry.
"no use setting ourselves off before our time!" chuckled the old soldier, handing them back with a bow. the prince looked a little hurt, but he and the rest of his company ate up their fire crackers with relish and after prince forge john had finished his sixteenth box he had a sudden idea.
"i've thought of a way to save you," cried prince forge john, fairly crackling with pleasure. "you can just go to blazes!"
"what?" shouted grampa, who, being in the army, thought he was insulted.
"yes," repeated forge john calmly. "you must go to blazes. see that dark house across the waters there? well, you'll find him on the other side of that."
grampa shaded his eyes and, looking across the green, sulphurous waters surrounding fire island, made out a great tower of darkness. it was quite easy to see, for every other place was lighted with the ruddy glow from the island.
"fetch the boat," ordered the prince briskly, and while grampa and tatters were still gazing in stupefaction at the tower, several of the fire men began shoving an iron boat down the beach. unceremoniously forge john took them by the arms and helped them in. to tell the truth, he was growing sleepy and anxious to be rid of these singular visitors.
"the flower fairy may stay," he yawned graciously, but urtha had no such intention. gently disengaging herself from a group of the fire maidens, she ran after the boat and sprang lightly in beside tatters.
"what do you mean? where are we going? hold on here!" blustered the old soldier. but prince forge john merely waved his firm arms and the two fire men began to row away as fast as they could.
"good-bye," called the prince, with another yawn. "i'm sorry you wouldn't stay and burn with us."
"we're going to blazes, to blazes, to blazes!" crowed bill, who had flown up into the bow of the boat.
"that's right," crackled the flame man nearest to tatters. "he'll soon send you up."
"but who--who is blazes?" asked the prince of ragbad, stretching out both his hands imploringly.
"the keeper of the volcano," answered the second rower, looking at tatters intently.
"lightning, thunder, hot winds and earthquakes!" crowed the weather cock wildly.
grampa flopped hopelessly into the bottom of the boat.
by the time grampa had recovered enough to sit up the boat was scraping on the black rocks at the foot of the dark tower.
"cinders! soot!" called the rowers loudly. in answer to their hail a door opened cautiously and the keepers of the dark tower peered out.
"what's wanted?" asked the first hoarsely, while the second swung his dark lantern toward the party in the boat.
"take these men to blazes and tell him to send 'em up!" directed the flame men together and, almost pushing grampa and his little company from the boat, they jumped in and started to row back to their island. the dark tower was wet and clammy and made of moss that soaked up the rays of light from fire island as a sponge soaks up water. the keepers of the tower themselves looked burnt out and cindery and far from agreeable.
"you go!" said soot, after a contemptuous glance at the newcomers. "i've got to keep the light out."
"all right!" agreed cinders. "come on you, whatever you ares!" there was no way to get back to fire island, so grampa motioned for the others to come and in silence they followed cinders over the black, slippery rocks. bill perched on grampa's shoulder and tatters held fast to urtha, who for the first time seemed a little frightened.
"being alive is so strange," sighed the little flower girl, stepping along tremulously.
"it's not always like this," whispered the prince comfortingly. he was terribly frightened himself, but resolved to be as brave as he could before this lovely little lady of flowers. the dark tower seemed to be on the mainland of this queer underground country and, after a short march over the rocks, they came to a steep gray mountain. there was a door in the center and cinders hammered on this with a poker he carried under one arm. the door opened immediately and a hot red glare smote the travellers in the face.
"john says to send these creatures up," grumbled cinders, backing out of the light.
"i hope that medicine's still working!" groaned grampa. "do you still feel cool?"
"pretty cool," faltered the prince of ragbad. "but--"
"come in," roared the huge fireman, who had opened the door, "do you want to give me a chill?" snatching tatters by one hand and urtha by the other, he jerked them through the door and grampa, seeing that cinders was about to slam it shut, sprang in quickly after them. blazes was about twice as tall as the men on fire island and his flaming face was cruel and ugly.
"so you're to be sent up?" he sneered, staring curiously at the bewildered little company. "well, you're not worth an eruption, but orders are orders, so up you go!"
grampa could find no words to answer, for his eyes were glued in horror upon the boiling lake of lava, churning about a few feet below. thick green smoke curled up toward them in clouds and just as he was about to order a hasty retreat to the door the keeper of the volcano seized a forty-foot poker and plunged it into the lake.
next instant it had risen to the top, caught the four fire-proof travellers in its sulphurous waves and hurled itself frothing and bubbling to the top of the earth. being erupted from a volcano is such a noisy, smothering, altogether terrifying experience that grampa and his little army could not have told what was happening had they tried. and had it not been for gorba's medicine they would have blown clear out of the story, but, thanks to the medicine, the boiling lava did not injure them and having hurled them from the middle of the earth and some fifty feet higher than the earth, the liquid immediately surrounding them began to harden and form a flying-island.
of course grampa and tatters were too dizzy to know this and the first indication they had that the eruption was over was a dreadful bounce and a perfect shower of water. the water brought them to their senses and--fearfully opening their eyes--they looked around. horrors! the volcano was in the kingdom of ev, on the other side of the deadly desert, and had flung them clear into the nonestic ocean itself! this great body of water lies far to the northwest and mighty few ozites have ever reached its shores.
"well," coughed grampa, rubbing his game leg vigorously, "i thought we were goners, but i see we are survivors. are you all right? are you all here?"
urtha shook her lovely fern hair out of her eyes and, strange as it may seem, the little flower girl had come through the eruption without crushing a single posy.
"fair and cooler!" wheezed bill, hopping up on a little ridge of the hardened lava.
"but how did we get here?" asked tatters, rubbing his eyes.
"you'll have to ask blazes," puffed grampa, "but i must say i prefer water to fire." already the spirits of the old soldier were beginning to rise. "we may be far from home, but we're on top again and still moving." grampa took a few marching steps and waved his sword.
"and what are those?" asked urtha, standing on tip-toe to point at the stars. in the wizard's garden there had been no sky. tatters explained as best he could and the little flower girl clasped her hands and gazed up in delight. "they're sky flowers," she confided to bill, but the weather cock was too busy looking for the fortune to answer.
"seems to me we're shipwrecked," observed tatters gloomily. their little island was bobbing up and down on top of the waves and there was no land of any kind in sight. but grampa, who had been investigating the contents of his knapsack, gave a little chuckle. the bread and butter they had picked in the wizard's garden--not being entirely fire proof--was nicely toasted and looked so crisp and inviting that it made grampa's mouth water.
"what you fussing about?" said the old soldier, winking at the prince. "'tisn't everybody can have their supper cooked in a volcano." he handed tatters a great pile of the toast and after the prince of ragbad had eaten a dozen slices, he began to feel more cheerful himself.
"all we need is a little sleep," yawned the old soldier, after they had finished off the toast, for neither bill nor urtha needed food. "if bill will keep watch, you and i had better turn in, for there's no knowing what may happen to-morrow."
"i'll keep watch," promised bill readily.
"hush!" warned grampa suddenly, for urtha, wearied by her strange adventures, had fallen fast asleep in the middle of counting the stars and lay in a fragrant heap, her lovely violet eyes closed tight and all the big and little posies that made up the wonderful little flower girl herself were asleep too.
"if she hadn't been a fairy," whispered grampa, looking down at her affectionately, "she would have wilted long ago. we must take good care of her, my boy, for i doubt if there's as lovely a little lady anywhere else in oz."
"she's the only luck we've had," mused tatters, "and i wish--" the prince looked up at the stars and did not finish his sentence but, rolling up the skin of the old thread bear, he made a pillow for urtha's head and he and grampa went tip-toeing to the other side of the island and stretched themselves on the ground. the motion of the little island, as it rode lightly over the waves, was very soothing and before long the old soldier and the young prince were sound asleep too, leaving only the weather cock on guard. and bill, in all the years he had spent on the barn near chicago, had never felt so important. perched on the highest ridge of the island, he kept a sharp look-out in all directions, scanning the tumbling waters of the nonestic ocean for signs of a fortune and a princess and talking softly to himself in the starlight.
grampa was having a fine dream. he was being presented at court and was just about to shake hands with princess ozma herself, when he was wakened by a ton of kitchen tins falling down a mountainside. or that's what it sounded like to grampa. leaping to his feet, the old soldier snatched up his gun. tatters and urtha were both sitting bolt upright, rubbing their eyes.
"it's bill!" yawned the prince sleepily. with an exclamation of disgust, the old soldier threw down his gun and covered his ears. the weather cock was indulging in his morning crow and helping the sun to rise. just as grampa thought he could not stand it another minute, the frightful clamor ceased.
"the sun has risen," announced bill calmly, "and there's land ahead!"
it was a bit foggy but, crowding to the edge of the island, the little company saw that they were being carried straight toward a land of ice and snow. tatters and urtha had never seen snow before, for there is no snow in oz, but grampa had read all about such things in fumbo's books and, while he was explaining, the little island bumped on the snowy shores of this strange ice-bound land.
"all off!" cried grampa, seizing urtha by the hand. tatters ran back for his umbrella and the skin of the old thread bear; then jumped after grampa and the flower maiden.
"colder and colder!" predicted bill, flying after the prince and settling on the branches of an ice-covered tree. but tatters was not thinking of the weather. with round eyes, he was studying a huge sign that stretched between two tall hemlocks.
"the illustrious island of isa poso," announced the sign, and in smaller letters, "beware of the dragon."
"great gollywockers!" gasped the old soldier, reading over tatters' shoulder. "can't they give a feller a rest?"
"what's a dragon?" asked urtha, touching tatters on the arm.
while tatters was still studying the sign and explaining a dragon to urtha, the old soldier stepped over to another tree where an even larger sign was displayed. this is what it said:
reward!
one-half the kingdom and the hand of the princess poso to the slayer of the dragon enorma.
chin chilly the third, king of isa poso.
"hah," cried grampa, with a little skip, "this is more like it!"
"like what?" asked tatters, blowing on his stiff fingers.
"like olden times. in my youth," said grampa solemnly, "young lads served in the armies of strange kings, slew monsters and were rewarded with half the kingdom and the princess' hand. let us immediately slay this dragon, my boy, and win the reward. then all that will be left for us to do will be to find your father's head."
"and i'll find the dragon," volunteered the weather cock, rising into the frosty air.
"what shall i do?" asked urtha, running up to the old soldier.
"just be your lovely little self," smiled grampa, "and stay where we can see you. why, just to look at you makes me feel like a conquering army with banners flying."
urtha was so happy at grampa's neat little speech that she blew him a kiss and began dancing in circles over the shimmery snow and wherever urtha's foot rested the snow melted and flowers sprang up, until there were circles of posies pricked out against the snow. grampa and tatters were so interested that they almost forgot the icy wind that was blowing over this white, frozen land. but soon the prince, who in spite of the skin of the thread bear was thinly clad, began to shiver and the old soldier to shake in good earnest. first he stood on one foot and then on the other--and longest on the other because that was his game leg and not subject to frost bites.
"a game leg's a mighty fortunate thing," wheezed grampa huskily, "but i wish we were like urtha--then we wouldn't feel this pesky wind. let's march on, for if we stay here we'll freeze stiff." marching on an empty stomach through a strange freezing land was not the pleasantest thing in the world but both grampa and tatters stepped out bravely, the young prince smiling over his shoulder every few minutes at the little flower maiden. "it's a lucky thing we're not being followed," whispered grampa, and it certainly was--for after them, in a tell-tale row, pansies, tulips, daffodils and forget-me-nots marked out the steps of the light footed little flower fairy.
"i hope we track down this dragon soon," groaned tatters, pausing to stamp his foot and rub the end of his nose. icicles were forming on grampa's whiskers and the sun, flashing on the snow, almost blinded the gallant old soldier. he was almost ready to quit.
"no wonder the king calls himself chin chilly," chattered grampa dismally. "my chin's chilly too; i'm chilly all over. urtha, my dear, do you see anything that looks like a dragon?"
"i see a bright light," called urtha, who was dancing ahead of the shivering adventurers.
"i feel a warm wind!" cried the prince of ragbad excitedly.
"the dragon! the dragon!" screamed the weathercock, appearing suddenly over the top of a bleak, icy hill. before bill's warning had died away, the dragon itself hove into view and, with a great roar, came tobogganing down upon the frightened little company like a scenic railway train. urtha jumped behind tatters, tatters drew his umbrella and grampa looked down the sights of his gun into the flaming throat of enorma herself. for a moment nothing happened, for the dragon, now that she was down the hill, seemed to wait for them to make the first move.
"don't shoot," begged the prince of ragbad imploringly. "don't shoot yet grampa, it's the first time i've been warm to-day!"
grampa's whiskers had already thawed out and the heat from the fire-breathing monster was so comforting that they almost forgot their fear. the dragon, on her part, seemed more curious than angry.
"well, i'll be snowballed!" she snorted, wagging her head from side to side. "how did you get here?"
"it's a long strange story," sighed grampa, lowering his gun and holding his hands toward the waves of heat that blew from the dragon's nostrils.
"we fell, swam, sailed and exploded," crowed bill, flapping his wings over the dragon's head.
"well, before you melt, would you mind telling me why you came at all?" asked enorma, with a terrific yawn.
"melt!" exclaimed grampa, his eyes snapping, "why, i'm just beginning to thaw out."
"well, you'll soon be entirely out of the way," said the dragon comfortably. "the folk hereabout melt at my mere approach." enorma yawned again and began to pant a little, from her slide down the hill.
"humph!" grunted the old soldier. at the first yawn he had made a startling discovery--at the second he was sure he had made it. taking out his snuff box, the old soldier tip-toed close to the monster and flung the entire contents in her face.
then, "run for your lives!" shouted grampa, starting off at his best pace. and it is well that they quickly obeyed this command, for the sneezes of that dragon shook the entire island and sent the snow in blinding flurries all around them.
"what--what's happened?" asked the prince of ragbad, peering out wildly from behind an icy cliff.
"your fortune's made, that's all!" announced grampa proudly. "more ways than one of winning a battle."
stepping out, and motioning for the others to follow, the old soldier approached the still quivering monster. tears streamed from her eyes and she was still sneezing broken-heartedly.
"enorma is as false as her teeth!" puffed grampa, and with astonishment tatters and urtha saw that the dragon was perfectly toothless--having lost her one and only set at the first pinch of grampa's snuff.
"will you finish her off, or shall i?" asked the old soldier, rattling his sword in businesslike fashion. before tatters could answer enorma gave a frightened moan and began scuttling across the snow fields like an express train bound for atlantic city.
"halt! stop! or i'll fall on your head! come back here at once and be slaughtered!" screamed bill, flying after her while the others followed as fast as they could on foot. but in the end enorma finished herself for, turning to see how close grampa and tatters were coming, she plunged headfirst into an icy stream and put herself out--completely and entirely out--for a dragon can no more stand a dash of water than a furnace, or a witch!
when grampa and tatters reached the edge of the stream, enorma was floating like a great green log on the surface, only a tiny puff of smoke to show that she had ever been a roaring, fire-eating, sure-enough monster.
gentle little urtha wept a bit but tatters soon comforted her. then he and the old soldier moored enorma fast to a tree, so that they would have proof of their valor when they met the king of the island. they were all warm from the encounter with the dragon, but it soon wore off and it wasn't long before they began to shiver again.
"wish we'd brought one of those house plants along," sighed tatters.
"wish i could get my teeth in one of mrs sew-and-sew's ragamuffins," murmured grampa, trudging gloomily over the snow.
"bill's found something," called urtha, who was dancing a few steps ahead. just then down came the weather cock to announce that he had discovered the dragon's cave. it was tunneled out of a huge, snowy hill and at one end burned a roaring fire. dragons, as you know, drink flame as other creatures drink water and enorma always kept a huge pile of trees burning in her cavern.
"bill, you're a real explorer!" cried grampa and, taking off one of his medals, he hung it 'round the weather cock's neck. stacked against the walls of the cave were great piles of frozen meat, for enorma--in spite of her false teeth--had been a mighty huntress. in a trice grampa had a bear steak sputtering on the fire on pointed sticks and nothing could have been cozier than their breakfast.
"i told you our troubles were over," beamed the old soldier, handing tatters a portion of the steak on a tin army plate. "all we have to do now is to claim the reward, find the king's head and journey back to ragbad." grampa grinned with satisfaction.
"but how can we do that?" asked tatters dubiously. "there's the ocean and the sandy desert between."
"don't worry," advised grampa, settling comfortably before the fire. "this old chin chilly will be so delighted to have the dragon out of the way that he'll probably send us home in a golden ship with our pockets full of diamonds. how will you like that, loveliness?" urtha was playing hide and seek with bill but at grampa's words she came over to the fire.
"i'll like it if tatters does," said the little flower fairy, smiling shyly at the prince of ragbad.
"well, i'll like it," admitted tatters, "especially with you along, for we can dance on the deck and play scrum. why, i've never had time to teach you yet. grampa, won't you lend us your leg?"
"not now," objected the old soldier. "duty before pleasure, my children. remember that we have not found this chin chilly, nor claimed the reward. as we're warmed up and fed we'd better start hunting again."
"here i go by the name of bill," crowed the weather cock, flinging out of the cavern. grampa stowed some of the dried bear meat in his knapsack and then, forming his little company in line, gave the order to march away.
"first we'll have another look at the dragon," said the old soldier, "and then we'll try to find the palace of isa poso."
so down the snowy hill they marched and slid and they had just come to the banks of the stream when harsh voices from the other side of a clump of trees made them stop short.
"flowers!" screamed the first voice. "pull them up, tread them down! who dares to plant flowers on isa poso?"
"foot-prints, too, chilly dear," grunted a deeper voice. "here is an animal with unmatched feet."
dropping on his knees, the old soldier peered around the frozen tree trunks and saw two of the islanders bending over the tracks they had made when they chased enorma. they were towering men of snow, with faces of roughly cut ice and so cruel and forbidding in appearance that just to think of them makes me shudder. fortunately grampa was not so easily frightened as i am.
"animals indeed!" spluttered the old soldier. "company! forward march!" and grampa rushed through the trees so fast that tatters and urtha had to run to keep up. so suddenly did they burst out upon the little group of islanders that several of the snow men fell over backwards.
"where is the king?" shouted grampa, giving his drum such a whack that three more of the company collapsed. but they quickly recovered themselves and, instead of answering, the tallest snow man flung out his arms toward urtha.
"stand still!" he commanded angrily. "you're ruining my island. look at the foolish creature cluttering up the place with flowers!"
urtha shrank back toward tatters and the young prince, speechless with indignation, grasped his umbrella and prepared to attack. but grampa restrained him and with another resounding whack of his drum strode up to the speaker.
"is this your island?" asked the old soldier, stamping his game foot.
"yes, and what are you doing on it?" demanded chin chilly, stamping his snow foot. "just to look at you makes we want to melt!"
"go ahead and melt," advised grampa coldly--by this time he was very cold--"but before you do and before you give us any more of your chin music, hand over the reward. i lay claim to half the kingdom and the princess in the name of prince tatters of ragbad!"
"has he slain the dragon?" asked the king, with a gasp of surprise. his manner changed at once and, looking as pleasant as a fellow with icicle whiskers well can, he turned to tatters. the prince of ragbad nodded shortly, for he had not forgotten the king's rudeness to urtha, and grampa waved his sword toward the body of enorma, still floating half in and half out of the water. running down to the edge of the stream, the snow men began to hug one another and dance up and down with excitement.
"this way! this way!" chuckled chin chilly, rubbing his hands together gleefully. grampa, his head held high and his chest thrust out proudly, followed--for grampa felt that this was a great day in the history of ragbad--but tatters was beginning to have misgivings about the princess of isa poso.
prince tatters had little time to think of either the ship or the fortune, for after a short march over the snow, chin chilly stepped across a small neck of land and the little army found themselves on a great block of ice, only connected with the island itself by the narrow strip on which they had crossed. a messenger had already been dispatched for the princess and, standing first on one foot then on the other, tatters impatiently awaited her approach. urtha, remembering chin chilly's distaste for flowers, kept perfectly still, holding fast to tatters' coat-tails and peering anxiously in the direction the messenger had taken.
"just like the old days; just like the old days!" boasted grampa, stamping up and down to keep warm. but when, a moment later, the princess of isa poso actually appeared, the old soldier nearly fell from under his hat. yes, really! for the princess was a maiden of ice and, wrapped in her robes of snow, she stared at the prince of ragbad so frigidly and with such cold and dreadful disdain that a chill ran down his spine and icicles formed on his lashes.
"my boy," stuttered grampa, rushing over to his side, "i'm afraid we've been a bit hasty. let us consider this matter a little further."
"none of that," fumed chin chilly, bustling forward hastily. "none of that. my word is my word. i insist upon keeping it."
"we'll take your word if you'll keep your daughter," began grampa quickly. but, advancing with mincing little steps, the icy princess held out her hand. her nose was so long and sharp that it made tatters squint but before he could make any objection she seized his hand in her cold clasp. at the same moment all the snow men except chin chilly sprang back across the little neck of land.
"run!" panted grampa, tugging tatters by the coat.
"run!" gasped urtha. but before tatters could run there was a blinding flash. chin chilly had raised his sword, snapped off his daughter's hand and, seizing her by the other one, he dragged her back across the strip of land. then, before a body could wink, the snow men with their sharp axes chopped away this connecting link, leaving grampa and his company marooned on the desolate iceberg.
"you have my daughter's hand, but she's already grown another," shouted chin chilly maliciously. and so she had! the little party on the ice could plainly see that for themselves. "you have my daughter's hand and that is your half of the kingdom," shrieked the wretched old snow king, nearly bending double at his own joke.
"half the kingdom and the princess' hand!" snorted the old soldier in a fury. "i'll snap off his whiskers! i'll pound him to snow flakes!"
gathering himself together, grampa prepared to jump back to isa poso. but tatters, flinging the hand of the princess as far as he could, seized grampa around the waist. and it is well that he did, for already there was a great stretch of tumbling waters between the iceberg and the island.
"he has no more honor than a swordfish!" spluttered grampa, breaking away from the prince. "i've never been so insulted in my life!"
"where is the golden ship?" demanded an indignant voice. "where are the diamonds? what have you done with the princess?"
dropping with a thud that sent a shower of ice splinters into the air, the weather cock planted himself before grampa. he had been looking all over isa poso for chin chilly and had arrived just in time to see his friends sailing off on the iceberg.
"oh, bill!" cried urtha, giving the iron bird an impulsive hug, "i thought you were lost!"
"where is the golden ship? where are the diamonds?" insisted the weather cock, slipping out of urtha's embrace.
"oh, go crack yourself some icicles," muttered the old soldier crossly. he did not like to be reminded of his cheerful prophecy. "go crack yourself some icicles, bill, that's all the diamonds you'll get."
"there isn't any ship--nor any diamonds--nor anything!" said tatters, wrapping the skin of the old thread bear more tightly about him and staring drearily over the tossing waters of the nonestic ocean.
"but you don't have to marry the princess," urtha reminded him softly, "and even if this isn't a golden ship couldn't we dance and be happy?"
"well, if we don't dance, we'll freeze," fumed grampa, beginning to stamp up and down. "we'll freeze anyway," he predicted gloomily. "look pleasant, my boy. we might as well freeze as attractively as possible. they'll carve us a monument on a block of ice, no doubt: 'frozen in the line of duty!'"
tatters coughed plaintively and began to tramp sadly up and down after grampa.
"don't freeze," begged the little flower fairy, clasping her hands in distress and keeping step with the down-hearted adventurers. "why, where's that funny bottle?" she asked suddenly.
"the medicine! what have you done with the wizard's medicine?" crowed the weather cock, flapping his wings. now so much had happened to the old soldier since the eruption that he had entirely forgotten gorba's cure for everything. but at urtha's words he snatched it out and, there, listed under colds, chills, frost bites and exposure, grampa found a remedy for their troubles.
"you've saved our lives, my dear," sighed the old soldier, measuring out four drops for tatters on a spoonful of snow. and everything was better after that, for as soon as grampa and the prince swallowed the marvelous mixture they began to tingle with warmth and even an iceberg could not long be cheerless with a little fairy like urtha aboard. everywhere she stepped gay posies blossomed and soon there were circles and circles of them bobbing in the bright sunshine. urtha and bill did not feel the cold, and as grampa and tatters were now frost proof, their whole outlook changed. the huge iceberg was sliding along through the choppy waves at high speed and the sensation was not only pleasant but highly exhilarating.
"which way are we going?" asked the old soldier, sitting down recklessly on a cake of ice.
"east," announced the weather cock, after twirling around three times like a top.
"that's good," sighed grampa, "for east of us lies oz and the nearer we come to oz, the farther we get from isa poso."
"i never want to see it again! and if that is a sample of your princesses, i'll be like you, grampa, and never marry," said the prince, taking a seat beside the old soldier. "i think, myself, that if we can find my father's head, we'd better just go home anyway. we could work hard in the gingham gardens, raise bigger crops and--"
"and i'll help you," smiled urtha, drifting about over the ice like an old-fashioned bouquet and filling the frosty air with a lovely fragrance.
"but the fortune," objected bill, staring at the prince in horror. "we have to find the fortune."
"that's right," agreed the old soldier, remembering mrs sew-and-sew's words about refurnishing the castle. "we mustn't give up yet, just because we've bumped into some odd and chilly places. just wait--there are lots of princesses in oz, and fortunes too!"
"well i prefer fairies," sighed tatters, with a smile at urtha.
"look!" cried the little flower girl delightedly. "let's pretend this is a silver ship and there--" as a spray of crystal drops dashed over the side of the iceberg--"there are the diamonds! let's dance!" she looked so coaxing and so cunning that tatters sprang up impulsively and the two went skipping, sliding and twirling all over the ice until they were dancing on a perfect carpet of flowers.
"teach her the ragbad quadrille," called grampa. "if we're going back with a fortune, there'll be high old times in the red castle and urtha will want to know the dances the same as the other girls. wait, i'll play it for you."
seizing his drum sticks, the old soldier broke into the spirited measures of the ragbad quadrille and soon tatters and urtha were bowing and gliding, turning three times to the left and four to the right, pretending to change partners with a dozen imaginary courtiers--all troubles and dangers forgotten.
"this reminds me of old times," said grampa, stopping at last from lack of breath. "and you'll never be a wall-flower, my dear!" chuckled the old soldier, wagging his finger at the little fairy.
"let's play scrum," proposed tatters, who was perfectly breathless too.
"oh let's!" cried urtha. so grampa obligingly unfastened his game leg, and the prince and little flower girl were soon deep in the mysteries of the queer old game of scrum, bill keeping score on the ice and the old soldier, with half closed eyes, thinking of the good old days when he was a lad and a hero to all the pretty girls in ragbad.
"first peaceful moment we've had since we left the old country," mused grampa and, reaching down, he picked up his pipe and tobacco. tatters had removed them from the game leg before they started to play. absently grampa filled his pipe from one of the pouches--the blue pouch he had taken from vaga, the bandit. all this time it had lain forgotten in grampa's game leg. without realizing that he had used the robber's tobacco, grampa felt for a match. at the same moment urtha and tatters finished their fifth game of scrum and, closing up the game leg, they buckled it back in place.
"now tell me all about ragbad," begged urtha, leaning against grampa's knee. this tatters was only too delighted to do, for the young prince was heartily homesick and, as he could not be in ragbad, talking about it was the next best thing. so he told little urtha all about his pigeons and the redsmith and pudge's tower--where you could see clear out into jinxland--and of the fun he and grampa had in the old castle and of mrs sew-and-sew's garden. the old soldier nodded from time to time and at last, taking up his pipe, he began to smoke. i say began, for at the third puff a simply astonishing thing happened. bill vanished instanter [and you know how quick that is]. tatters turned to a great black crow, urtha to a crow of vari-colored feathers, and grampa, himself, to an old crow with a game leg.
"help!" cawed the old soldier, dropping the pipe from his bill and beginning to hop wildly over the ice.
"daisies and dahlias, i can fly!" twittered urtha, circling aloft. "come on tatters and try it!"
"he's a crow!" shrieked grampa. "i'm a crow, you're a crow! what's happened and where's bill?"
"here i am," screamed a frightened voice. but though they stared and stared they could see nothing at all--for bill had turned to a cock's crow, which of course can only be heard and not seen.
"poor bill, there's nothing left but his crow," cawed grampa.
"it's magic," gasped tatters.
"it's that pesky wizard," added the old soldier, stamping his game foot and ruffling up all his feathers, for grampa did not realize he'd smoked yaga's tobacco.
"but now that we're crows why not fly?" asked urtha merrily. she did not seem to mind her feathers at all. "let's fly back to oz!"
"why, so we can!" cried tatters. "all the way over the nonestic ocean and sandy desert, straight to the emerald city itself. someone's helping us, grampa," finished the prince of ragbad, fluttering into the air.
"wish they'd mind their own business," croaked grampa crossly. "being a crow is no help to me. but come on. we might as well fly while we can. bill, you lead the way and see that you keep us pointed east and crow every few minutes, will you, so we can hear where you are."
"all right," agreed the weather cock readily, and they could tell from the flutter of his iron wings that the puzzled bird had gotten under way.
"here i go by the name of bill!" he crowed loudly. "invisi-bill!" chortled the old soldier, rising into the air. "come on crows!"
tatters quickly followed grampa and after tatters flew urtha, higher and higher and higher, until the iceberg became only a tiny speck, bobbing up and down in the blue waters of the nonestic ocean.
for a time the adventurers flew in silence, each one pondering the strange events that had crowded upon them in the past few hours. "invisi-bill" continued to lead the way, grampa, prince tatters and urtha winging after him.
"good sleep, how did you enjoy your morning?" asked percy vere brightly.
"pretty well," smiled dorothy, sitting up with a little yawn. "how did you enjoy your sleep?"
"there was a rock in my bed," said the forgetful poet thoughtfully, "and then i got trying to think of a word to rhyme with schnetzel."
"how about pretzel?" suggested dorothy, smiling a little to herself at the forgetful poet's earnestness.
"and what is a schnetzel?" dorothy smiled sweetly.
"it's a green mocking bird," explained percy vere, tossing back his hair, "and it does live on pretzels. my dear, you have a wonderful mind."
"woof!" interrupted toto. he had been up for hours and wanted his breakfast. the three travellers had been forced to spend the night in the deep forest to which the runaway had brought them. the forgetful poet had piled up a soft couch of boughs and leaves for dorothy and toto, but had flung himself carelessly under a tree. however, it took more than a hard bed to dash percy's spirits and, after running up and down a few paces to get the stiffness out of his bones, he began to sing at the top of his voice, filling in the words he forgot with such comical made-up ones that dorothy could not help laughing.
"i think we are going to have a lucky day, mr vere," said the little girl, hopping up merrily. "don't you?"
percy, who was washing his face in a near-by brook, nodded so vigorously that the water splashed in every direction.
"i should say!--april, may!" he called gaily.
"why do you put in april may?" asked dorothy, running over to splash her own hands in the brook.
"to keep in practice," puffed the forgetful poet. "is that plain--aeroplane? is that clear--summer's here? i'm always afraid i shall run out of rhymes," confided percy, drying his face on his yellow silk handkerchief. "so when i'm talking in prose, i usually add a line under my breath."
"oh!" said dorothy, and lowered her head so that the forgetful poet would not see her smile. "you'll like scraps," observed dorothy presently. "she's a poet too." and as they walked through the fragrant forest, dorothy told him all about the patch work girl, who lives in the emerald city. scraps, as most of you know, is one of the most famous characters in oz, being entirely made from a patch work quilt and magically brought to life.
"does she make better verses than i do?" asked percy jealously.
"no," answered dorothy, shaking her head, "not any better, and yours are such fun to finish." this speech so tickled percy vere that he recited a verse upon the spot, waving his arms so ferociously that toto hid under a rock. the little dog peered out from his hiding place to hear the strange young poet deliver this jingle--which his little doggie head could not comprehend in the slightest:
"as i came out of snoozleburg, i met a melon collie; he wept because he said he felt so terribly unjolly!
"i patted him upon the head; he bit me on the shin-- which goes to show just what a horrid temper he was--was--"
"in," giggled dorothy, "and did he really?"
"no, unreally," chuckled the forgetful poet, leaning down to give toto's ear an affectionate little tweak. "unreally! unreally! unreally! as unreally as the breakfast we had this morning. dorothy, my dear, i'm as weak as tea!"
"well, you don't look it," laughed the little girl mischievously. "but i see a hut between those two pines. perhaps someone lives there."
"tut tut! a hut; let's hasten to it! if the door is shut i'll jump right--?"
"all right!" said dorothy merrily. "c'mon!"
the door was shut but when the forgetful poet turned the knob it opened easily and they found themselves in a small, simply furnished cabin. there was no one home, but there were eggs, coffee, bacon and bread in the cupboard, so percy made a fire in the little stove and dorothy quickly prepared an appetizing breakfast.
"it must belong to a woodcutter," said dorothy as they sat down cozily together, "and i don't believe he'll mind."
"i'll leave a poem to pay for it," said percy loftily.
"and i'll leave my ring," added dorothy. she was a little afraid the woodcutter might not appreciate percy's poem.
while dorothy washed up the dishes percy scribbled away busily on some sheets of paper he had found on the table and, after a good many corrections, he pinned the following verse up on the wall:
"we've eaten up a little bacon and eggs and such and now are takin' our leave. accept our thanks, and you should feel a little honored to have entertained with humble fare a really celebrated pair-- a princess and a poet, who wish you good-luck, good-day, a--"
dorothy took the pencil and added a large dieu to percy's last line. then, leaving her gold ring on the table, she skipped after the forgetful poet and toto, who were already out of doors and anxious to be off.
"which way shall we go?" dorothy paused a moment. "i think the emerald city is in this direction," she decided at last, facing toward the west.
"well, i hope so," sighed percy vere, "for otherwise we shall never find the princess. i wish i'd flung that prophet out of the window--so i do!" you see the young poet was getting very much discouraged.
"but even if you had, there still would be the monster to think about," dorothy reminded him. "and if she's lost from us, she's lost from the monster, too!"
"that's so," said the forgetful poet, cheering up immediately. "you think of everything, don't you. i'm going to write a book of verse about you when i get back to perhaps city."
"that'll be nice," smiled dorothy. "but let's hurry up and see how far we can be by noon-time." and hurry up it certainly was, for the path dorothy had chosen grew steeper and steeper. it wound in and out among the trees and was so rough and full of stones that they had to stop every once in a while to rest.
"it's a mountain--go fountain!" panted percy vere, after they had toiled steadily upward for more than an hour.
"never mind," puffed dorothy, tucking toto under her arm--for the poor bow-wow was completely worn out--"when we reach the top we'll know where we are."
the trees had thinned out by this time and clouds of vapor hid the top of the mountain from view, but dorothy and the forgetful poet kept climbing upward--on and on and up.
"it's a dreadful blue mountain," said dorothy at last, leaning against a rock.
"it's blue as blueing," groaned percy vere, shaking a stone out of his shoe. "what's this?"
"what's that?" cried dorothy, in the same breath. now this--as it happened--was a clothes horse, full of petticoats and pajamas--and as the two travellers stared at it in disbelief it kicked up its pegs and dashed off at a gallop, its petticoats and pajamas snapping in the breeze. and that was a wash woman--a wild, wild wash woman, her hair dragged up on top of her head and held in place by a couple of clothes pins. she had a clothes prop in one hand and a cake of soap in the other. hurling both with all her might at percy vere, she turned and scrambled up the mountain, screaming in a dozen different keys as she scrambled. the clothes prop missed, but the great cake of soap caught percy squarely in the stomach.
"ugh!" grunted the forgetful poet, sitting down from the shock:
"how rude, how rough, how awfully wasteful-- the lady's manners are dis--dis--?"
"gusting," panted dorothy--who was too frightened to make a rhyme.
"can you fight?" she asked breathlessly, helping percy to his feet. "i think there's going to be a fight. look!"
percy snatched up the cake of soap that had felled him and turned to see what was coming. through the clouds of steam that hung over the mountain top there suddenly burst a terrible company.
toto hid his head in dorothy's blouse and the forgetful poet could think of no verse to express his feelings. no wonder! a charge of wild wash women is enough to frighten the bravest traveller and that is exactly what was coming. an army of wash women armed with long bars of soap, bottles of blueing, clothes props, wash boards, tubs and baskets. they were huge and fat, with rolled-up sleeves and cross, red faces, and the faster they ran the crosser they grew, and the crosser they grew the faster they ran.
"doesn't seem polite to fight the ladies, but--" percy raised his arm and flung the cake with all his might at the head of the advancing army. it struck her smartly on the nose and, with a howl of rage, she dropped her wash tub and rushed upon the two helpless adventurers.
"wash their faces! iron their hands and wring their necks!" she roared hoarsely.
"what are you doing here you--you--scutter-mullions!"
before either could answer, and percy was racking his brains to think of a word to rhyme with scutter-mullions, she had dorothy by one arm and the forgetful poet by the other, shaking them until they couldn't have spoken had they tried--while the others pressed so close (as dorothy told ozma afterwards) it's a wonder they weren't smothered on the spot. but at last, weary of shaking them, the wild wash woman flung them down upon a rock.
"you're a disgrace to our mountain!" she panted angrily. "look at your clothes!" (to be quite truthful dorothy and the forgetful poet were looking shabby and dusty in the extreme.)
"give me his coat! give me her dress! snatch off their socks!" screamed the other wash women, making little snatches at the two on the rock.
percy put his arms protectingly around dorothy and toto showed all his teeth and began to growl so terribly that even the head of the wash women stepped back.
"what are you doing on monday mountain?" she demanded indignantly.
"monday mountain?" gasped percy vere. "did you hear that, dorothy? we're on monday mountain! great blueing, black and blueing!" finished percy, with a groan.
"stop mumbling and speak up!" shouted the wash woman threateningly.
"stop shouting and shut up!" barked toto unexpectedly.
"we're searching for a princess," explained dorothy, in the surprised silence that followed toto's remark.
"a princess! oh, mother!"
out from the dreadful group sprang a perfectly enormous wash girl.
"tell them, tell them!" she gave the leader of the tribe a playful push. "oh, mother, may i have him?"
"my daughter is a princess," announced the wash woman grandly, "princess of the tubbies, and as this yellow bird pleases her he may remain."
"and marry me?" exulted the princess of monday mountain, clasping her fat hands in glee.
"marry you!" shouted percy vere, springing to his feet. "never! absolutely no--domi-no! dorothy. dorothy, do you hear what they are saying?"
dorothy did not, for she had both hands over her ears. the shouts and screams of the tubbies, at percy's refusal to marry their princess, were so shrill and piercing that she thought her head would split with the racket.
"to the wash tubs with them!" screamed the queen furiously. "wash their faces, wring their necks, hang them up to dry!"
and, seizing upon the luckless pair, the wild wash women bore them struggling and kicking to the top of monday mountain--toto dashing after--and the herds of clothes horses that graze on the mountain side scattering in every direction as they passed.
for an hour the three crows and invisi-bill flew steadily over the nonestic ocean, and flying was so unusual and pleasant a sensation that they were too interested to talk. besides, grampa had warned them in the beginning to keep all their strength for flying, for there was no telling how long they would remain crows and it would be extremely dangerous to change back while up in the air and over the ocean. so, except for the occasional calls of bill to let them know which way to go, they crossed the great ocean in silence.
"land!" screamed the weather cock, as the rocky shores of ev came into view.
"well, that's over!" cawed grampa, alighting thankfully on a rough cliff. "now we must cross this country and the sandy desert. anybody tired?"
urtha and tatters shook their heads and no one could see what bill did, so after a few minutes' rest they rose into the air again and flew swiftly over ev--on and on until they reached the great desert that entirely surrounds the magic kingdom of oz.
"fly higher!" commanded the old soldier, for he had read so much of the deadly nature of this desert that he wanted to be as far above it as possible. so the little flock of crows and invisi-bill soared high into the air and they crossed the desert even faster than they had crossed the nonestic ocean, fear lending speed to their wings. and when at last the lovely land of the winkies spread out below them, the old soldier gave a crow of delight. "just keep on this way and we'll be in the emerald city by noon time!" exulted grampa. "forward for ragbad and oz!"
"and flying is such fun," chuckled urtha, circling close to the old soldier. "i don't care how long i am a crow. but, oh mr grampa, there's a gun sticking through your feathers."
"what?" croaked the old soldier in alarm.
"i feel heavy," spluttered tatters suddenly, and grampa saw that from the waist down he was tatters and from the waist up he still was crow.
"down! everybody down! down as fast as you can fly," ordered the old soldier in a panic. he himself could feel his feathers turning to clothes and his wings seemed too light to hold up his body. half flying and half falling, half people and half crows, the little company shot downward, and it is mighty lucky they started down when they did. as it was, they turned back to themselves and landed at one and the same minute, and the landing was so hard that, for a moment, no one spoke at all. the old soldier broke the silence.
"why, there's bill," cried grampa, who was sitting calmly in the middle of a yellow rose bush. he had grown somewhat used to falling about by this time. "how do you feel, bill?" asked the old soldier, extracting several thorns from his person.
"how do i look?" asked the weather cock anxiously.
"handsome as ever," said grampa, eying him closely. "being invisible hasn't hurt you at all, and how are the rest of my old cronies?"
"i'm all right," smiled urtha, jumping up lightly. the little flower maiden was looking as beautiful as ever.
"so am i," said tatters, "but i'd like to know how we happened to turn crow, and whether it's going to happen often. you know, grampa, it would be mighty inconvenient to be turning backwards and forwards any minute. i am sure it would be very unpleasant."
"well, it helped us over a couple of bad places," mused the old soldier. "the mischief, boys! i've lost my pipe!" grampa clapped one hand to his pocket and the other to his chin.
"you dropped it when you were a crow," tatters reminded him. grampa did not answer, for out of his pocket he had drawn the blue tobacco pouch of vaga, the bandit. in the excitement following bill's disappearance all the tobacco had spilled out, but the pouch grampa had thrust into his pocket just before he turned crow. here, at any rate, it was, and on the flap this amazing sentence: "to turn people to crows, smoke this tobacco. one puff will keep a company of captives crows for one hour, two puffs, two hours, three puffs for three hours, and so on."
"so that's the reason there were so many crows in the blue forest!" shouted grampa indignantly. "so that's why we turned to crows. it's three hours to the minute," he puffed, pulling out his watch.
"what are you talking about?" asked tatters crossly.
"us," chuckled grampa. "it was the bandit's tobacco that did the trick." showing them the blue pouch, he explained how he had smoked the magic tobacco instead of his own and how just three puffs had kept them crows for three hours. "a couple more puffs and we'd have been all the way to the emerald city," sighed the old soldier regretfully. "how-some-ever, marching is more to my taste."
"what about eating? that's more to mine." tatters yawned--for flying had made him quite hungry.
"all right," agreed grampa, and, unfastening his knapsack, he took out one of the dried bear steaks and busied himself with making a fire. fortunately they had lost none of their possessions by turning to crows--that is nothing except grampa's pipe.
"i love this country," said urtha, sitting solemnly beside the old soldier. "i believe i like oz better than the wizard's garden."
"it's the top of the world," boasted grampa, dropping the steak into his campaign frying pan. tatters, meanwhile, had found a pink plum tree and came back with his cap full of plums, so that he and grampa had a most satisfying luncheon. bill, as usual, was searching for the fortune and, while they were eating, urtha merrily skipped rope with a long spray of honeysuckle.
"cheer up, boy," said the old soldier, for the prince was looking rather thoughtful. "we're on the right track now and only a day's march from the capitol."
"storm coming! storm coming!" shrilled the weather cock, dropping down suddenly beside the fire. "wind! thunder and possible showers!"
"oh, g'wan!" scoffed grampa, gathering up his tin camp dishes. "you g'wan, bill."
"i don't want to go on," said the weather cock stubbornly. "there's a storm coming, i tell you." and sure enough, at that minute, a great gust of wind scattered the camp fire, blew off grampa's hat and sent a cloud of leaves scurrying over the meadows. tatters reached for his red umbrella, which was never far from his side and urtha, her flowery skirts flying out like ribbons on a may pole, came hurrying back.
"i've thought of something!" screamed bill. he had to scream to make himself heard, for the wind had risen to a perfect gale. "if the king's head was lost in a storm, why wouldn't it be found in a storm!"
"snuff and nonsense!" shouted the old soldier, picking up his hat and jamming it over his ears. then, as the first spatter of rain came pelting down, he dashed under the big red umbrella. tatters had all he could do to hold it steady and several times the wind nearly jerked him into the air. so grampa seized the handle with both hands and urtha, also, took hold.
but it was no use. the gale was too much for them and before they had time to let go, the red umbrella whirled up like a balloon, carrying them all along.
"here i come by the name of bill!" shrieked the weather cock and, flinging himself aloft, he scrambled on top of the king's umbrella. but even bill's weight could not bring it down.
"why this," laughed the little flower fairy, as the umbrella soared up toward the clouds, "this is better than flying!"
"better hold on," advised grampa grimly, "there's nothing between us and earth, but air." the wind rose higher and higher, the rain swirled all around them and tossed them about like rag dolls. the three clung desperately to the umbrella but in ten minutes they had risen above the storm area and were sailing straight toward a great patch of pink skyland. about halfway over, the umbrella drifted slowly downward and grampa and tatters, rather uncertainly, stood up in the pink clouds.
"will we drop through?" asked the prince doubtfully, still keeping hold of the umbrella. after a few steps they found it quite as secure as the real earth.
"how soft it feels," murmured urtha and, letting go of the umbrella, she began skipping over the fluffy cloud meadows, posies springing up wherever she stepped, just as they had on isa poso. and so fresh and beautiful did the little flower girl appear against the pink of the clouds that grampa and tatters simply gasped and a little sky shepherdess, who had been resting on a cloud bank, picked up her crook and came running over to touch urtha.
"are you a fairy?" asked the little shepherdess breathlessly.
"are you a princess?" demanded bill, fluttering down in front of the little sky lady before urtha had time to speak at all. bill never allowed anything to interfere with business.
"oh, no!" the cunning little lady swung her moon bonnet and fluffed out her skirts, which were all embroidered with stars. "oh, no, i'm only a shepherdess!" she answered modestly.
"well, we're looking for a head, a princess and a fortune," rasped bill impatiently.
"what do you shepherd?" asked the old soldier, pushing bill hurriedly aside. "i didn't know there were any sheep in the sky."
"not sheep," cried the little maiden, throwing back her head and laughing heartily, "not sheep, but stars! i tend all the baby stars and keep them from falling out of the milky way," she finished, smiling shyly at tatters.
"you do," marvelled the prince of ragbad, "well, where are they now and what do you call yourself?"
"i never call myself, but the stars call me maribella," answered the little shepherdess, with a demure bow. "they're asleep now. are you really looking for a princess?"
tatters nodded and urtha, slipping her arms around maribella's waist, kissed her on both cheeks.
"i wish you were the princess," sighed urtha, stepping back to look wistfully at the little sky maiden.
"why?" asked maribella curiously.
"because you're the only one we've seen who is lovely enough to marry the prince," said urtha. tatters looked mightily embarrassed at urtha's speech and grampa, drawing maribella aside told her the whole story of their adventures.
"well," mused the little sky maiden as he finished, "there aren't any princesses or fortunes in the sky, but there are lots of heads here in the clouds."
"there are!" roared grampa in astonishment. maribella nodded.
"didn't you know many earth people have their heads in the clouds?" she asked seriously. "why there's a whole company of them on the other side of this very hill."
"forward, march!" cried the old soldier excitedly. "urtha, tatters, bill, fall in with you!" so fall in they did, and maribella was right, for on the other side of the cloud hill were nearly a hundred heads, resting lightly on the pink clouds. some were smoking, some stared straight ahead and others were carrying on a lively conversation between themselves.
"father!" screamed the prince of ragbad, for king fumbo's head was almost the first they spied. fumbo was talking quietly to the head of an inventor of market baskets with legs and he turned in some surprise at tatters' call.
"the head! the head! we have found the head!" crowed bill exultantly, and burst into such a hurrah of cock-a-doodle-doos that several of the smokers dropped their pipes and king fumbo looked positively frightened.
"your majesty," said grampa reproachfully, as bill finally subsided, "how could you leave us like this? we've been through earth, air, fire and water to find you."
"well, i guess the jig's up," sighed fumbo sorrowfully, "but it's been a great treat, grampa, getting off like this. how's everybody?"
"everybody was well enough when i left," said grampa a bit stiffly, for he couldn't help feeling that fumbo could have got home if he had wanted to. "everybody's well enough, except your own body and that looks mighty silly with the doughnut they have given it."
"so they gave me a dough head! well, won't that do?" asked the king fretfully of the old soldier.
"oh, father, please come back," begged tatters, falling on his knees before the king's head.
"you must certainly resume your body," declared the old soldier sternly. "how did you get up here in the first place?"
"it was the storm," began fumbo, rolling his eyes from one to the other. "my head never was on very tight, you know."
grampa nodded dryly. "so it blew off," continued the king calmly, "and then i had on a wing collar," fumbo coughed apologetically, "and the thing flew right well, so i flew till i came to this cloud and here i've been ever since. i suppose i must go back if you say so, but it's a poor business, old fellow. how are you going to get down from here? how did you get up? who is this little miss rosy posy and that iron billed bird you have with you?"
"this is urtha," explained tatters proudly. "we found her in an enchanted garden. and that's bill. we found him in the blue forest and--oh, father, we've had such strange adventures."
"tell me all!" sighed fumbo, closing his eyes and smacking his lips with anticipation.
"not unless you come back with us," said grampa craftily.
"we were in an island of fire," began tatters, while urtha, who was pressed close at his side, nodded excitedly.
"what!" exclaimed fumbo, opening his eyes as far as they would go. "i'll come!" he decided hastily, "and you must tell me every single bit of the story."
grampa smiled slyly, tatters promised and before he could change his mind, the old soldier thrust the king's head into the pink bag maribella had used for her knitting. then, accompanied by the little sky shepherdess, grampa and his army prepared to leave the sky. the other heads looked very sulky as they passed by but, paying no attention to their mutterings, grampa marched to the edge of the great pink cloud.
"now what?" mused the old soldier, staring down anxiously. "are there any steps or air ships about, my dear?"
maribella shook her head. "but there's a rainbow," she cried suddenly. "could you use that?" arching from the edge of the cloud and down as far as they could see, curved a wide glittering rainbow--for the storm was over and the sun was shining through the clouds. dancing down the rainbow came a fairy almost as lovely as urtha herself. it was polychrome, the rain king's daughter, and when maribella explained that grampa and his company were from oz, she insisted upon kissing them all--for polychrome had visited in oz many times and had met with some fine adventures there.
"come on," cried polychrome gaily, "i'll show you how to travel on a rainbow." seizing urtha by the hand, she began running down the bow as you and i would run down steps. calling good-bye to maribella, grampa and tatters quickly followed, the prince carrying his father's head and the red umbrella and grampa balancing bill upon his shoulder.
"now all we have to find is the princess and the fortune, and a couple of new pipes," sighed grampa.
"ah, let's go home without them," begged tatters eagerly. "i want to show urtha the castle and the pigeons. we don't need a fortune to be happy, grampa."
"now don't give up yet," advised grampa, turning to wag his finger at the prince. "there's always a fortune at the end of the rainbow. look! i believe we're coming down in the winkie country, and when we do," grampa pulled his whiskers determinedly, "i'm going to get myself an anchor. i'm tired of this flying and falling about."
"use me," crowed bill, but as he spoke the bow grew suddenly so very slant that instead of running they began to slide--faster and faster and faster.
"good-bye," called polychrome mischievously. "i'd come with you, but it's my daddy's birthday and we're having a party in the sky."
just as polly came to "party," grampa and his army came to the end of the rainbow and tumbled off in fine style. none of them was hurt in the tumble, and all scrambled to their feet as quickly as they could.
"good-bye, polychrome," called urtha. she was the only one who had breath enough to speak.
"good gracious," puffed the old soldier, "i hope we've not broken your father's head."
"well, if it's not broken it's badly cracked," raged the king stuffily, from the inside of the bag. "if you're going to fling me about like this i'll not stick with you, do you hear?"
the adventurers smiled and silently put their fingers to their lips, and king fumbo decided that further protest was useless.
the two days that grampa and his little army had been adventuring in the wizard's garden, on fire island and isa poso, dorothy, toto and the forgetful poet had spent as prisoners on monday mountain. only the friendship of princess pearl borax had saved them from actual harm, for the queen of the tubbies had nearly carried out her threat of wringing their necks. but the queen finally had sentenced them to the wash tubs, and from morning till night dorothy and percy vere had been forced to bend over the wash boards with the rest of the wild wash women tribe.
several times during the first day percy vere had almost agreed to marry the dreadful daughter of the old wash woman, for he could not bear to see dear little dorothy working like a slave. the forgetful poet himself had never done any hard work, and in an hour he had rubbed all the skin from his knuckles and all the buttons from the clothes. but dorothy would not hear of his marrying pearl borax, so, hiding his own discomfort, percy did the best he could to keep her cheerful, reciting his ridiculous rhymes and waving the shirts, stockings and pantaloons around his head whenever the queen's back was turned. even so, keeping cheerful was hard work and often both grew downhearted.
"and ozma thinks i'm having a fine visit with the tin woodman," sighed dorothy wearily, toward the end of the second day.
"and peer haps thinks i'm rescuing his daughter," groaned percy vere, letting the queen's red table cloth slip back into his tub and staring mournfully down monday mountain. then seeing that dorothy was actually near to tears, he tilted his cap over one eye and whispered this verse into her right ear:
"it's wash, splosh, rub and hang 'em up for dryin', if sumpin doesn't happen soon i'll simply bust out--?"
"cryin'!" dorothy smiled and dashed the tears out of her eyes. "here comes the old lady!" she finished hurriedly.
"isn't she simply sinoobious," sniffed percy, dousing the red table cloth up and down in the water.
"what did you say?" roared the queen of the tubbies.
"i said," grinned percy mischievously:
"her highness is so beautiful her brightness dims the eye, i'll work here and be dutiful until the day i, i--?"
"die!" spluttered dorothy, and the clumsy queen lumbered on with a pleased smirk.
"better make up your mind to marry pearl," she called over her shoulder and pearl borax blew percy a wet kiss over her tub of clothes. toto, who was tied to dorothy's tub, growled fiercely--for he loathed the whole tribe of sloppy, messy wash women.
"we must think of a way out," gasped the poor poet unhappily, for life on monday mountain, where every day is wash-day, and every dinner is of potatoes and cabbage, was not to be endured. they had been over the matter a hundred times before and there really seemed no chance of escape at all. the tubs of the tribe were ranged in a circle around the mountain top, so that dorothy and the forgetful poet were always under guard. a white fence ran around the mountain, a few feet below. you may have heard of a fence running around before, but this was the first fence dorothy ever had seen that actually did run. it was tall and spiked and flashed 'round and 'round, till just watching it gave one the headache. it was too high to jump and the gate only came opposite dorothy and the forgetful poet once a day.
when they had been dragged up the mountain, the queen had addressed a low word to the fence. immediately it had stopped and they had all come through the gate. but what was the word? ever since his capture percy vere had been trying to puzzle it out and now, leaning his elbows on his wash board, he began trying again. indeed he thought until he had twelve wrinkles in his forehead and all at once, like a flash of lightning, it came to him--such a short, sensible word that he gave a triumphant skip. next instant he was splashing the clothes in his tub so vigorously that none of the wild wash women heard him give dorothy a few quick instructions. in five minutes the gate would be opposite and one minute before the five were up, the three prisoners dashed down the mountain.
"stop!" shouted percy vere, imperiously hammering upon the fence with a rock. oh, joy! it did stop and, as the gate was now exactly in front of them, percy vere opened it boldly and pulled dorothy and toto though. no sooner were they out than the fence began to spin around as fast as ever, so that before the wild wash women, who saw them escape, could follow the gate was half way around the mountain. with howls of rage and fright--for the tubbies knew that the queen would be furious--the dreadful creatures overturned their wash tubs, and a perfect torrent of hot soapy water came cascading down the mountain side, upsetting dorothy and the forgetful poet and making the path so slippery that they never stopped sliding till they reached the bottom. breathless, drenched and shaken, but otherwise unhurt, they picked themselves up and, without pausing to rest, all three began running as fast as ever they could away from monday mountain.
"how--did--you--ever--think--of--telling the fence to stop?" puffed dorothy, stopping under a broad tulip tree.
"had to!" gasped percy, dropping heavily to the ground and leaning over to pat toto, who sat, with closed eyes and tongue out, trying to catch up with his breath. then percy delivered this gem:
"far from the tubbies, little princess, and wouldn't they starch and blue and rinse us--"
"did you say princess?" interrupted a voice. dorothy and percy both jumped and toto gave a frightened bark--for sitting on a lower branch of the tulip tree was our old friend bill.
"did you say princess?" crowed the weather cock. percy was too surprised to do anything but nod and the iron bird rattled into the air screaming: "the princess! the princess!" and flew over the tree tops.
"i don't see any princess," sniffed the old soldier, coming to an abrupt halt and eying the two travellers critically. grampa and his army had barely recovered from their tumble off the rainbow before bill's cries, announcing the princess, brought them hurrying to the tulip tree, where dorothy and percy vere were resting.
"am i dreaming?" gulped the forgetful poet, clutching dorothy's hand. "am i dreaming or what?" his eye roved from grampa's game leg to tatters' many-hued suit and finally came to a rest on the lovely little flower fairy.
"there is the princess," insisted bill, pointing his claw at dorothy.
"snuff and nonsense!" snapped the old soldier scornfully. "you're a regular false alarm, bill, always going off at the wrong time. why, that's only a dusty little country girl and no proper match for the prince at all!"
grampa's lofty speech brought percy quickly out of his dream.
"don't you be so migh and highty," muttered the forgetful poet, drawing himself up proudly. "you don't know what you're talking about, you--"
"no offense! no offense!" observed grampa coolly. "it's not the child's fault that she's not a princess. i dare say she's a very nice little girl, but we're looking for a princess!"
"why, so are we!" cried dorothy in surprise. "but you needn't be so impolite."
"she is a princess, too, and do you mean to stand there and tell me that that young ragbag is a prince?" percy vere stared at tatters long and earnestly and then, rolling up his eyes murmured feelingly:
"a prince of rags and scraps and patches, and then they talk to us of matches! the prince of what? the prince of where he has a bird's nest in his--er in his--"
"hair," giggled dorothy. poor tatters blushed to his ears and hurriedly tried to smooth out his hair with his fingers.
"come on!" cried grampa indignantly. "they're crazy!"
"if you'll believe he's a prince, i'll believe she's a princess," put in a soft voice and urtha, who had been listening anxiously to the sharp speeches on both sides, danced up to the forgetful poet.
"that's fair enough," agreed percy vere, smiling at the little flower fairy:
"you believe in us, and we'll believe in you, and if you say so i'll believe that six and one are--are--?"
"two," said dorothy, "only they're eight. you mustn't mind percy's forgetting. you see, he is a poet," she explained hastily.
"let me out! let me out! what's all this noise?"
dorothy and the forgetful poet exchanged frightened glances and toto crept back of the tree-trunk with only one ear showing, for the voice certainly had come from a bag on the prince's shoulder.
"not a dream, but a night mare!" choked the forgetful poet, as the prince of ragbad calmly took his father's head out of the knitting bag and held it up toward them.
"don't be alarmed," purred fumbo in his drowsy voice, as the two clung to one another in a panic.
"i'm not alarmed, i'm--i'm petrified!" gasped percy, looking over his shoulder to see whether the path was clear in case he should desire to run.
"it has a crown on," whispered dorothy nervously. "it must be a king. i once knew a princess who had dozens of heads and took them off. maybe he's like that."
"you're speaking of the princess languidere, i presume," drawled fumbo. being a great reader, fumbo was well acquainted with all the celebrities in oz. "no, my dear, i am not like that; as it happens i have only one head and it blew off, as you can plainly see. this young man you see here is my son and he is carrying my head back to my body. and now you may tell me your story," commanded the king, smiling graciously. his glance rested curiously on dorothy. "you are known to me already," continued the king. "grampa, this is princess dorothy of oz, and she is even prettier than her pictures, if you will permit me to say so."
"i told you she was a princess," crowed the weather cock triumphantly. "have you a fortune with you, girl?"
"the dorothy who lives in the emerald city?" gasped tatters, almost dropping his father's head. "the dorothy who discovered oz?"
dorothy nodded modestly and grampa, covered with confusion at the memory of his sharp speech, tried to hide behind tatters.
"never mind," laughed dorothy, seeing grampa's embarrassment. "i really don't look like a princess now. you see we've had such a hard journey, falling down a mountain and all, we're kinda rumpled."
"we've been through a week of wash-days," groaned percy vere, straightening his jacket and looking ruefully at his red hands. "i'm sorry i didn't realize you were a prince." he turned contritely to tatters. "mistakes all around, you see."
"well, we've had a hard time, too," admitted the prince of ragbad, making another frantic attempt to smooth his hair.
"ask her if she has a fortune?" insisted bill, settling heavily on the prince's shoulder.
"hush!" said tatters, giving bill a poke.
"oh, goody! goody! we're all going to be friends." urtha spread out her flowery skirts and danced happily around the little group. "oh, forget-me-nots and daisies! oh, dahlias and pinks!"
"and you're the whole bouquet, miss may!" cried percy vere, but he was immediately interrupted by fumbo.
"stop!" cried the king's head. "let us keep these stories straight. you said you were looking for a princess. what princess?"
"company, sit down!" ordered the old soldier gruffly. he had commanded the expedition so far and was not going to be bossed around at this stage of the game. tatters and urtha promptly obeyed, the prince carefully holding his father's head in his lap. dorothy and percy vere, after their long run, were glad enough to rest. so down they all sat in a big circle under the green tree, bill and toto in the center, staring at one another curiously.
"now, then, mr er--mr--" grampa nodded condescendingly at the forgetful poet.
"vere," put in percy politely.
"now then, mr vere, let us have your story," said the old soldier, taking a big pinch of snuff. so, with many interruptions from king fumbo--who seemed to know all about perhaps city--and many lapses into verse, the forgetful poet told of abrog's prophecy about the monster, of the strange disappearance of the little princess and abrog himself, of his tumble down maybe mountain and of his and dorothy's adventures since then on the runaway and monday mountain.
"humph," grunted the old soldier, when he had finished. "i wouldn't trust a prophet as far as i could swing a chimney by the smoke. that prophet has run off with her. you can bet your last shoe button on that and, since we are searching for a princess ourselves, we might as well look for the princess of perhaps city. what do you say, my boy?" grandpa glanced questioningly at tatters.
"i'll be glad to help princess dorothy and this--this poet, but--" already tatters had made up his mind to return with urtha to ragbad, regardless of fortunes and princesses.
"no buts about it," roared the king's head indignantly. "she'll be a splendid match for you, my son, and peer haps, from all reports, is one of the merriest monarchs in oz. why, i dote on him already!"
"can't all this wait till we find the princess?" protested percy vere nervously. "no use rushing matters, you know." all this talk of marrying rather upset him. tatters looked gratefully at the forgetful poet and decided to forgive him for his rude verse.
"of course it can wait," agreed the prince heartily. "the first thing to do is to rescue the princess."
"no, the first thing to do, is to tell us who you are," laughed dorothy, who could restrain her curiosity no longer. "why, we don't even know your names or how you happened to be in this part of oz."
"we followed the directions on the bottle," explained bill importantly. "we fell, swum, exploded, sailed and flew!"
"you tell them," begged tatters, looking appealingly at the old soldier, for he could see that bill was going to mix things dreadfully.
"yes, you tell us," commanded fumbo. he had not yet heard the story of their journey from ragbad himself, and was even more curious about it than dorothy. so grampa took the center of the circle. now, next to fighting, the old soldier loved to talk and, next to fighting, talking was the best thing he did. his recital of the experiences of his little army during the past three days was so thrilling that dorothy and percy simply held their breath and toto's ears waved with excitement. dorothy was particularly interested in bill and the strange manner in which he had been shocked to life. being from the united states herself, it seemed real homelike to meet a fellow countryman, even if he was only a weather cock. as for percy vere--who had lived all his life on maybe mountain--nothing could exceed his astonishment as grampa proceeded from one adventure to the next.
"do you mind if i close my eyes," percy muttered weakly, as grampa reached the point in his story where they had discovered urtha growing in the wizard's garden. "do you mind if i close my eyes? i can believe anything with my eyes shut."
"not if you close your mouth also," snapped grampa and went right on with his story, never even stopping for breath until he had reached their last tumble from the rainbow.
"professor wogglebug will have to write a whole new history," breathed dorothy, as grampa settled back in his place, "and ozma will never allow the bandit to stay in the blue forest nor gorba to practice magic in his hidden garden. oh, my! i do believe you can help us find the princess after all. you are so brave and interesting." dorothy smiled at grampa and tatters and the forgetful poet, opening his eyes, stared dreamily at the little flower fairy.
"if i had my arms, i'd embrace you all," exclaimed fumbo feelingly, "and you shall have hugs all around as soon as i get back to my body. you're a credit to the country, and bill here shall have a perch on the highest tower in ragbad and little miss posies--"
"but the princess!" exclaimed bill anxiously, "and the fortune! we can't go back without them!"
"too late to hunt for them to-day," chuckled grampa and indeed, while they had been talking, the sun had dropped down behind the daisy splashed hill, leaving the world bathed in a pleasant dusk.
"we're all tired, so we'll have supper and make camp here," decided grampa sensibly. "then to-morrow we'll start after that prophet with gun, musket, sword and bootleather!"
"that's the talk!" cried percy vere, jumping up to help tatters gather wood for a fire. with such good company, the last of the bear steaks from isa poso and the berries gathered by little urtha tasted better than a feast, and nothing could have exceeded the jollity of that evening 'round grampa's camp fire.
between the forgetful poet's verse and the old soldier's jokes, they were simply convulsed and finally, when they had talked over their adventures to heart's content, dorothy, tatters, the forgetful poet and urtha settled down to a quiet game of scrum. soon the only sound to be heard was the click of the checkers on grampa's game leg and the loud snores of fumbo's head, which hung from a branch of the tulip tree in the pink knitting bag of maribella, the little sky shepherdess.
bright and early next morning grampa lined up his little army and, after a short council, they determined to continue their march to the emerald city and learn from ozma's magic picture just where abrog and the lost princess of perhaps city were to be found. although breakfast had been a light affair of water and berries, they were all in excellent spirits and, with grampa's drum beating out a lively march, they stepped merrily down the shady winkie lane. grampa and the forgetful poet led off, dorothy and the prince of ragbad followed, the prince carrying his father's head and his red umbrella. urtha danced in and out to suit her own sweet fancy, bill flew ahead and toto trotted contentedly behind.
"here i go by the name of bill!" crowed the weather cock exultantly. "by the name of b-hill!"
grampa winked at percy vere and percy vere winked back. "isn't he ridiculish?" whispered the forgetful poet merrily. "but then, we're all ridiculish in spots." his eyes rested a moment on grampa's game leg. "yes," continued percy vere, with a droll nod, "everything, when you come to think of it, is simply sinoobious. why do we call ourselves an army, pray, when we might just as well call ourselves a footy? have we not as many feet as arms? why do we say 'good-day' on a rainy morning and--"
"one thing at a time, one thing at a time!" objected the old soldier testily. "aren't you afraid you'll strain your brain, young man?"
"i think and think both late and early, for thinking makes the brain grow curly!"
chuckled the irrepressible poet, at which grampa beat such a tattoo upon his drum that the next verses were quite drowned out. but as soon as grampa stopped drumming, percy burst out again:
"i met a spick and spaniard once, he was so spick and span, he even had his toes curled up believe me, if you, if you--?"
"i can believe anything mr vere," said grampa grimly.
"then try this!" roared the forgetful poet, waving his arms.
"if fifty boats and fifty crews were gathered in a group, why wouldn't it be proper, sir, to call the crews a croup? admit, old dear, that this is clear-- as clear, as clear as--"
"soup!" groaned grampa in spite of himself. "vegetable soup," he added bitterly and, reaching in his pocket, jerked out the wizard's medicine.
"what are you doing?" asked percy curiously, as he ran his finger hurriedly down the green label.
"looking for a cure," said the old soldier, raising his eyebrows significantly. but there was no cure for forgetful poetry on the green label, so with a sigh grampa returned the bottle to his pocket. "what can't be cured must be endured," said the old soldier glumly and, pursing up his lips, he began to whistle a sad tune. dorothy and tatters exchanged amused glances and urtha, who had been skipping beside percy vere, touched him on the arm.
"is the princess of perhaps city pretty?" asked the little flower fairy timidly. she could not bear to think of tatters marrying an ugly princess.
"i should guess, mercy yes! i should say, april, april--?"
"trouble ahead! trouble ahead!" crowed bill, before anyone could finish the verse. just then a turn in the lane brought them plump into a huge fenced-in park. the fence was much too high to climb and stretched as far on either side as they could see.
"i never saw this place before," said dorothy, peering curiously between the bars, "but maybe if we knock on the gate someone will let us in. then we can march through and out the other side."
"here's the gate," called percy vere, who had run a little ways to the right, "and here's a sign."
"play!" announced the sign over the gate. "all work on these grounds forbidden." just below was a smaller sign--"no trespassing!"
"well, we don't want to trespass, we want to jes' pass through," chortled the forgetful poet and, before anyone could stop him, he had hammered hard upon the gates. immediately loud roars of laughter sounded all through the park, footsteps scurried over the lawns and the next instant the gayest company that dorothy ever had seen came crowding forward--pierrettes and pierrots, hundreds of them, the girls in full skirted frocks with tall saucy caps, the men in pantaloon suits and frills. while they smiled and waved through the bars, the king of play, who looked, as dorothy told ozma afterwards, exactly like a court jester--the king himself swung open the gates and, with a low bow, invited them to enter. so, of course they did, and before grampa could give the order to break ranks or fall out, or even say hello, the play fellows had fallen upon his army and simply borne them away. only bill escaped and nervously he hovered over his friends, determining, if necessary, to drop on the heads of this exuberant company.
"wait! stop! halt!" puffed the old soldier, who was being dragged toward a merry-go-round by five of the mischievous pierrettes. dorothy and percy vere were being rushed as unceremoniously to the swings, while a dozen of the pierrots were begging urtha for a dance. tatters, holding his father's head high above his own, was hustled off to a high wooden slide and to nothing that any of them said would the play fellows pay the slightest attention. indeed, there was so much noise and confusion, they could not have heard if they had tried. bands played and fountains played and the play fellows played, and the creak of the swings and the squeak of the merry-go-rounds and the roars of the delighted pierrettes and pierrots, as they hustled their visitors from one amusement to another, were enough to deafen a gate post. toto, after one shocked glance at the boisterous company, scampered off and hid himself in a button bush, where he watched anxiously for a chance to escape. poor bill, trying to keep all of the company in view at once, flew in dizzying circles over the park, almost cross-eyed from the strain.
after his sixteenth merry-go-round, grampa gave up trying to explain and, staggering over to a soap bubble fountain, fell in. but the play fellows quickly pulled him out and insisted upon his joining in a game of tag. the only bright spot in the whole dreadful experience was the finding of a bubble pipe, which grampa hastily picked from its bush and thrust into his pocket.
percy and dorothy fared no better. "this is worse than washing!" groaned the forgetful poet, as a wild company of pierrettes dragged them 'round and 'round the mulberry bush.
"play! play! play!" shouted king capers, dashing from group to group and banging the company right and left with his belled and beribboned scepter. "play! play! play!"
"i never knew fun was such hard work," panted tatters to bill, who was circling immediately above his head. the poor prince was black and blue all over from sliding down the slides, but every time he objected the play fellows would pull him to the top and scream with merriment as he came sliding down again. there were too many heads to fall on, and bill--powerless to help--screamed his rage and indignation at the mannerless crowd. there was much to be seen and marvelled at in the play grounds, but as the company agreed later, playing when you want to play and being forced to play are two quite different things, so that the balloon vines, top trees and checker bushes went almost unnoticed. indeed all that any of them could think of was getting away.
urtha was the first to make her escape. the little flower fairy had been treated so gently and considerately by grampa and tatters, since her coming to life in the enchanted garden, that she did not know what to make of the rude manners of the play fellows. when they began snatching flowers from her hair and pulling her roughly from place to place, her violet eyes widened with terror and dismay. watching her opportunity, she sprang away from them and sped like the wind itself across the gardens. now the runner does not exist who can outdistance a fairy, so it was not long before urtha left her tormentors behind. and better still, the little flower fairy had run directly into a wicket gate leading out of the play grounds. opening the gate she slipped through and then, because she was still frightened, she kept running and running till she was as lost as one raindrop in a thunder shower.
there is no telling how long the others would have been forced to endure the teasing of the play fellows, if a gong had not sounded from a distant part of the grounds. immediately the whole company trooped off: and, without waiting to find out the meaning of the bell, grampa's army rushed to the nearest exits.
"i'm done for!" gasped percy vere, rolling under a tree. "let me curl up like a pretzel and bake--i mean die!" toto, who had followed close upon the heels of the harassed company, curled up beside him.
"but where's urtha?" cried tatters, staring around wildly. "where's grampa?"
"she ran away long ago," crowed bill, flying over the fence. "that way!" he pointed his claw toward the east.
"oh, dear! oh, dear, where is the old soldier?" wailed dorothy, jumping up and down with impatience. "we ought to get away from here quick."
"i'll find him," volunteered bill. "wait here." back went the devoted weather cock and, after flying over the entire play grounds, he found grampa asleep under a checker bush.
"wake up!" cried bill, jumping up and down on his chest. "the coast is clear. forward march, by the name of grampa!"
the old soldier stirred uneasily, rubbed his eyes and then sprang up but immediately tumbled down again, for while he slept, the wretched play fellows had run off with his game leg.
"what in time?" blustered the old soldier, picking himself up again. but being a man of action and, seeing a crowd of pierrettes emerging from a big hall not far away, grampa snatched up a long handled croquet mallet and, using it as a crutch, hobbled with all his might toward the exit pointed out by bill. here he was met by percy vere and dorothy and after a startled look each seized one of his arms and away they ran as fast as five legs would take them. percy carried the king's head and dorothy the red umbrella. tatters had dropped both when he discovered that urtha was missing and had dashed off in search of her. and it was not long before he picked up the trail, for every step of the flower maiden was marked out in daisies and forget-me-nots. paying no attention to rocks, sticks, brambles and thorns, the prince of ragbad pushed on, his only thought to find and comfort the sweet and lost little fairy who had made the days so pleasant and the journey so happy for them.
seated on a great gold cushion on the lowest golden step of his palace sat peer haps, pointing his telescope with trembling fingers down maybe mountain. it was the fourth day mentioned in abrog's prophecy, the day the monster was to carry off the princess, and still no word had come from the forgetful poet. between grief over the loss of his daughter and worry over percy vere, the poor old monarch had got no sleep at all and was so cross and snappy that the pages and courtiers went stealthily about on tip-toe, their fingers to their lips.
"can't you make a verse, idiot?" roared the peer, glaring at perix who, with another telescope, sat close beside him. perix moved up a couple of steps and sadly shook his head.
"but look," he stuttered in the next breath, "someone is coming up the mountain."
"is it the monster?" puffed peer haps anxiously. "has it two heads?" dropping his own telescope, he snatched the young nobleman's glass and glued his eye to the top. then, with a loud shriek of joy, he tore open the gates and plunged recklessly down the steep mountain side. and certainly the dear old fellow would have rolled to the bottom had not a sturdy oak intervened and put a stop to his plunging. it was the fortunatest place of all for a stop, because, right below the oak, climbing easily over the rocks and stones, was the lost princess herself. not quite herself, perhaps, but enough so for her father to recognize her. holding tight to the oak, the old peer leaned down and seized her hand. the next instant he had her in his arms and was running up the mountain as recklessly as he had just plunged down. but some good fairy kept him from tumbling and, once up the golden steps, he brushed past gaping courtiers and pages and never stopped till he had reached the great throne room.
setting the princess on a green satin sofa, he gave her a hasty kiss and, without stopping to question her about her strange disappearance, locked the door and rushed from the room. beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. true, the princess was found, but she certainly was changed and, worse still, at any moment the monster might appear and carry her off. thudding down the corridor, peer haps burst into the apartment of the tall high humpus of perhaps city. humpus was also chief justice and attended to all state weddings. the peer was determined to have the princess marry perix at once and settle this monster matter once and for always. explaining this as he went along, he dragged the scandalized justice to the steps to fetch the groom. but perix had disappeared and with him every single young and single nobleman in perhaps city. for though peer haps had run quickly, with his daughter in his arms, he had not run quickly enough, and word of the mysterious change in the princess had already spread over the city.
"she is bewitched," perix had whispered to the others in a panic and--feeling in his bones that peer haps would insist upon him marrying her anyway--the faint-hearted youth had hidden himself in a rain barrel and the other young noblemen, equally alarmed, had run to the darkest cellar in the castle. hopping on one foot and then on the other, peer haps called each one by name. but there was no response and, sinking down upon the golden steps, the poor king wept with rage and discouragement. but the lord high humpus had been staring down the mountain for signs of the monster, and now he plucked the peer sharply by the sleeve.
"look!" hissed the chief justice, every curl in his white wig fluttering with excitement. "look!" knocking upon the great gates of the city was a weary, travel-stained young stranger. it was the prince of ragbad. for the flower trail had led him straight to the foot of maybe mountain. there he had lost his way, for maybe mountain is covered with wild flowers of every description, so that it was impossible to trace farther the footsteps of the little fairy. but tatters had kept on, nevertheless, determined, if necessary, to search the whole mountain until he found her. naturally, he did not know he was so near the forgetful poet's old home. but when, after a hard climb he reached the mountain top and spied the splendid castle of peer haps, he decided to continue his search there and waited impatiently for someone to open the gates.
"he looks honest," sputtered the chief justice, raising his brows significantly, "and in spite of his rags he is not unhandsome. suppose--"
to the rest of the sentence peer haps paid no attention, for he had already flung down the steps and pulled tatters through the gates. grabbing him by the arm, he hurried him up the steps and along the hall before the startled prince could say "jack robinson." the lord high humpus, straightening his wig, had dashed after them, and, while peer haps unlocked the door of the throne room, he held tatters tightly by the hand.
"what's the matter?" demanded the astonished youth. he was exhausted and out of breath from his scramble up the mountain. "what's the matter? i am looking for a lost fairy. have you seen anything of her?" but instead of answering, the chief justice put his fingers to his lips and drew the young man into the throne room itself. there was a confused mumble of words, to which tatters, who still was too weary and breathless to argue, paid small attention. he nodded absently to some question of the white-wigged dignitary and the next minute was being crushed in the embrace of the singularly fat old gentleman who had dragged him up the steps.
"you have saved us!" cried peer haps, tears of joy zig-zagging down his cheek. "my son! my son! how can i ever repay you!"
"son?" the prince of ragbad sprang back aghast.
"congratulations!" chuckled the chief justice, clapping tatters on the back.
"on what?" gasped the bewildered young prince, whirling 'round.
"on your marriage." the chief justice made a deep bow toward the cloaked figure, whom tatters had not seen until now.
"my marriage?" the distracted youth clapped one hand to his head and the other to his heart and fell backwards upon a page who had just run in to announce visitors. but before the page could announce them, grampa, percy vere, dorothy and toto burst into the throne room. it had not been long before they, too, had picked up the flower trail of urtha and later the footprints of tatters himself. you can imagine the delight of the forgetful poet to find himself once more on familiar ground. it was a hard pull up, for the old soldier had but one leg to climb with, but they had finally reached the top of the mountain, and, waving aside courtiers and servants, they had hurried immediately to the throne room.
"have you seen anything of a little fairy?" puffed all three together, and then seeing tatters, apparently having a fit in the arms of a page, they stopped short. "why, tatters, whatever's the matter?" dorothy dropped the red umbrella and ran over to the prince of ragbad.
"matter?" choked the poor prince, tears streaming down his cheeks. "matter! i'm married to i don't know whom--that's what's the matter!" and before dorothy could make head or tail of his story the forgetful poet and peer haps had rushed at each other with such an outpouring of affectionate greetings, such hugs and claps upon the back, that nothing else could be heard at all.
"this is worse than a battle," groaned the old soldier, bracing himself against the table.
"it's an outrage, an utter outrage. pick me up! pick me up! do you hear?" the wig of the chief justice rose into the air and turned round three times. the voice had certainly come from a pink bag at his feet, for the forgetful poet, in his excitement at seeing the old peer, had carelessly dropped fumbo's head. pale with terror, the high humpus fled from the throne room, and it was just as well, for there was noise and confusion enough without him. as no one else heard fumbo, he had to stay where he was.
"but the princess!" cried percy vere, extricating himself at last from the peer's embraces. "i could not find her, but all these people are going to help and--"
"don't worry about that," beamed peer haps, waving toward the quiet little figure. "she is not only found, but married. now let the monster appear if he dare. this young man has saved the day."
"do you mean to say you are married?" roared grampa, thumping on the table with his fist and glaring over at tatters. "why didn't you wait for us? where's urtha? where's the princess? why is she all covered up like this? i insist upon seeing the princess."
"one minute! one minute!" begged peer haps, stepping between grampa and the cloaked figure. "my daughter is bewitched just now and cannot be seen, but i'm sure the spell can be broken, and then--"
"and you've married a bewitched princess?" with another angry glance at poor tatters, grampa bit off a piece of his bubble pipe and sank heavily into a pink armchair. dorothy had been trying her best to unravel the strange mix-up and now stepped forward.
"let tatters tell what happened," said the little princess, stamping her foot imperiously. "it wasn't his fault, grampa." she spoke with such firmness that peer haps fairly gasped. then, stealing a second glance and recognizing her instantly as a princess royal of oz, he motioned for tatters to speak.
so the prince of ragbad rose up and in breathless sentences explained how he had been seized at the gates of the city and tricked into marrying the princess.
"but isn't that what you were going to do anyway?" asked percy vere, when the prince had finished. "weren't you looking for a princess and a fortune when i met you? and didn't we all decide to hunt the princess of perhaps city? well! here she is--and there you are! the only difference is that you have married her a little sooner than you intended and saved her from an unknown and dreadful monster. nothing so terrible about that. my hat!" percy vere smiled coaxingly at the prince and encouragingly at peer haps, for he did not like to see any of his friends unhappy.
"but i was only going to rrr-rescue her," wailed tatters.
"the difference is that we haven't seen the princess," put in grampa more mildly. "we'd save anybody from a monster, but don't you think, mr vere, it was unfair to marry tatters to a princess he's never even seen?"
"idiot," screamed a harsh voice. whirling around, the startled company saw a bent and dreadful old man standing just inside the long window. "idiot!" he shrieked again, pointing a long trembling finger at peer haps. "you have married your daughter to a monster!"
"it's abrog," gasped percy vere, clutching dorothy's hand.
"monster," roared grampa, and hopping over to the prophet, he seized him by the beard. "how dare you call tatters a monster? i'll fight you!" puffed the old soldier furiously.
jerking away, abrog leaned down, picked up fumbo's head and set it upon tatters' shoulders. "see," he screamed wildly, "you have married your daughter to a monster with two heads." and as peer haps, who knew nothing of tatters' story, fell back aghast, fumbo stuck his head out of the bag and began scolding everyone in the room.
in the uproar that followed and while percy, dorothy, and grampa were trying all at once to explain things to the old peer, the prophet himself began to move stealthily toward the princess. only tatters saw this. placing his father's head carefully on the table, he reached out and, just as abrog reached her, the prince seized him roughly by the collar. but he was not quick enough. abrog had already snatched away the cloak and there--trembling and sorrowful--stood the princess of perhaps city, herself. tatters loosed his hold upon the prophet.
"urtha," cried the overwrought young bridegroom and took the frightened little fairy in his arms.
you can well imagine the surprise of grampa and his little army to discover that the flower maiden whom they had been loving all this while was really the lost princess. how the story ever would have been straightened out had it not been for dorothy, i have no idea.
"why didn't you tell us it was urtha?" shouted grampa, shaking his finger indignantly at peer haps. "and who is urtha?" gasped the astonished old monarch, fanning himself with his crown, for he was in such a state by this time that he hardly knew what he was doing. "my daughter's name is pretty good--isn't it, my dear?"
the little flower fairy shook her head solemnly. "my name is urtha," she insisted softly. "isn't it, tatters?"
"she's bewitched," groaned the king.
"she's bewitching," corrected grampa.
"stop! stop!" said dorothy. "we'll never get things straightened out this way. everybody sit down and--quick--quick--catch that prophet!" abrog had been slyly edging toward the door, but the forgetful poet, with a quick bound, brought him back.
"now then," said dorothy, when they were all seated, "i believe abrog is at the bottom of the whole business. let's make him tell. did you bewitch this princess?" she demanded sternly.
abrog only mumbled and scowled and refused to speak a word. "better answer this young lady," puffed peer haps warningly. "she is a princess of oz, and can have you well punished."
"speak up, you old villain!" shouted grampa, waving his sword over the prophet's head. but abrog stood still and stubbornly refused to say a word, until the old soldier suddenly bethought himself of the wizard's medicine. "maybe there's a cure for the tongue tied on this," muttered grampa. taking out the bottle, he began to scan the green label. at the first sight of the medicine, a dreadful change came over the prophet. he turned a sickly green and began to tremble violently.
"give me that bottle! give me that bottle, and i will tell all," he panted, trying desperately to snatch it from grampa.
"don't you do it," cried the prince of ragbad. "why, grampa, i believe--i believe this is the wizard himself."
"but it says 'gorba'" muttered the old soldier, holding the bottle high above his head. "don't you remember?"
"gorba!" exclaimed dorothy, writing the word with her finger in the air. "why g-o-r-b-a is a-b-r-o-g spelled backwards!"
"abrog and gorba!" shrieked percy vere, bounding to his feet. the poet instantly broke into verse in his customary style:
"abrog and gorba are one and the same-- a prophet and wizard wrapped up in one--one--one?"
"name!" finished peer haps, almost tumbling from his throne.
"this is the most exciting story i ever was in," wheezed the head of fumbo, from its place on the table. the prophet had fairly crumpled up at dorothy's discovery and, seeing that further resistance was useless, he whined out the whole of his story. determined to save pretty good from the monster and marry her himself, he had decided to change her to mud. for a princess as ugly as mud, even a monster would not marry, explained the old villain tearfully. so for this purpose he had carried her to the hidden garden, where all his magic appliances were kept. but so sweet, lovely and good was the little princess of perhaps city, that the evil spell of the wizard, instead of changing her to a muddy image as abrog intended, had turned her into a bewitching little flower fairy. disappointed at the way his magic had worked, abrog had nevertheless resolved to keep her under the spell until after the day of the prophecy and then change her back to her own self and marry her at once. but when he returned to the garden he found her gone and he had hurried as fast as he could back to perhaps city. how he had been robbed of his magic medicine on the first day he bewitched urtha, and how urtha herself had been released by tatters and grampa, we know.
"but what about this monster?" panted the old soldier, as abrog finished speaking and began uncomfortably shuffling his feet on the golden floor.
"let me see that prophecy," demanded dorothy. the unwilling prophet drew the crumpled parchment from his sleeve.
"a youth, wrapped in the skin of an old bear--a youth with two heads upon his shoulders and carrying a red umbrella--will marry the princess of perhaps city," read dorothy in some surprise.
"why, that's tatters!" cried the little girl in delight.
"of course it is," declared grampa. "why, there isn't any monster at all. whoever said there was?" he stared around triumphantly and peer haps pointed angrily at the old prophet, who was hopping about in a vain attempt to escape.
"what shall we do to him?" asked the forgetful poet, seizing abrog by the collar and holding him, kicking and struggling, in the air. some said this and some said that, but it was grampa, running his finger quickly down the trusty green label, who finally decided the matter. for listed under sorcery he found a sure cure for abrog.
"break a saucer of the mixture over the sorcerer's head," directed the bottle severely. so a saucer was quickly brought and, paying no attention to the squalls and screams of the scheming old prophet, grampa broke it over his head. at the first crack of the china, abrog disappeared and, as every one jumped with surprise, a little brown mouse scurried across the room.
"well, he won't do much harm in that shape," sighed grampa, as toto went sniffing all around the throne under which the mouse had disappeared.
"but my daughter!" cried peer haps suddenly. "who will unbewitch the princess now?" the company exchanged dismayed glances, realizing too late that they should have forced abrog to disenchant urtha before they punished him.
you are probably wondering why urtha herself had stood so silently during all the commotion in the castle. well, in the first place the little flower fairy was so frightened by her experiences with the play fellows that her only thought had been of escape. with the prophet's spell had gone all memory of her former existence as princess of perhaps city and when peer haps had found her on maybe mountain and hurried her back to the castle she was more frightened still. not knowing where she was, nor what to do, the confused little fairy had done nothing at all. trembling under the big cloak, she had stood and waited for something terrible to happen and when at last she did hear the familiar voices of tatters and grampa and thought they were angry at her, she trembled more than ever and was afraid to speak or move at all. but now that the mystery was about cleared up, urtha was so happy just to be with the prince of ragbad again that she paid small attention to the excitement about her enchantment. neither did tatters, for the lovely little flower fairy suited him exactly as she was. while they were whispering cozily about ragbad and other terribly important matters, dorothy and grampa got their heads together and solved the last of the adventurers' problems. for dorothy, bending excitedly over grampa's shoulder, discovered a cure for enchantment on the wizard's bottle. "three drops on the head," advised the green label. grampa squinted anxiously into the bottle, for he had poured nearly the whole contents over abrog.
"is there enough?" whispered dorothy. grampa, shaking his head doubtfully, tip-toed over to urtha and, while percy vere, peer haps and dorothy watched with breathless interest, he shook the bottle over her head. one drop! two drops! and--after a violent shake--three fell upon the soft fern hair of the little fairy. as the third drop fell the little flower girl melted away before their eyes into a rainbow mist of lovely colors. out of the mist stepped a no less lovely princess--a princess so like urtha that grampa blinked and tatters could hardly believe his senses. though no longer a little lady of flowers, urtha still carried the flowers' lovely colors and the flowers' lovely fragrance in her exquisite little person. violets were no bluer than urtha's eyes; roses never pinker than urtha's cheeks; apple blossoms no fairer than urtha's skin.
trembling with relief and happiness, peer haps clasped her in his arms and, with the little princess on his knee, insisted on hearing every word of the long, strange story. and about time it was that he did, for all this while he had been trying to explain to himself the presence of fumbo's head. but when grampa had told their adventures from beginning to end, peer haps welcomed the king of ragbad as heartily as if his whole body were present, and they all sat down to talk things over.
just as grampa was telling again exactly how they had discovered urtha, there was a loud screech in the corridor, and in flew the brave weather cock, whom no one had missed in the terrible commotion.
"here i come by the name of bill," crowed the excited bird and, flying over to grampa, he proudly dropped grampa's lost leg into his lap. for while the others had hurried up the mountain bill had flown back to the playground and snatched grampa's leg away from king capers and two of the mischievous pierrettes who were deeply engrossed in the game of scrum. it had taken bill some time but here at last he was and, joyfully buckling on his leg, grampa danced a jig on the spot. for now his happiness was complete--peer haps having already given him a pipe. everyone made such a fuss over bill that he felt fully repaid for his trouble.
indeed, it was hard to tell who, of all that merry company, was the merriest--the forgetful poet at finding himself safely home, peer haps at finding his daughter, grampa at the recovery of his leg, urtha and tatters or dorothy and toto at the splendid way the adventure had turned out.
chuckling with delight, peer haps ran off to fetch his yellow hen, for he was determined that tatters should have the fortune--a reward of a thousand gold bricks.
"is that the fortune?" asked bill indignantly, as he placed the yellow hen in tatters' arms. "why, it's nothing but a bunch of feathers!"
"don't you crow over me," screeched the yellow hen and, flying up, she laid a gold brick upon the table, much to the astonishment of bill and the delight of the others.
while they still were laughing there was a blinding flash, and the yellow hen, bill, toto, peer haps and every other single person in the throne room disappeared. yes, sir, they were gone--as gone as a box of last year's christmas candy.
gone, you say. but where? i might as well tell you at once that they were gone from perhaps city because they already were in ragbad standing in a surprised group in the shabby ballroom of the red castle. for ozma, looking that morning in the magic picture to see why dorothy had not returned to the emerald city, had seen the little girl and her companions and all day had been following their adventures.
with the aid of a powerful radio belonging to the wizard of oz, she had heard the whole story grampa had just related and determined, by her magic belt, to send them all safely home.
"they've had enough adventures," smiled this wise little ruler, and because she knew dorothy, the forgetful poet and peer haps would want to meet mrs sew-and-sew and the rest of tatters' friends, she had sent them along too. but, best of all, she had, aided by the wizard's magic, wished fumbo's head firmly and permanently back upon his body. when pudge and mrs sew-and-sew, aroused by all the confusion, came running to see what was the matter, imagine their surprise to find fumbo in full possession of his head, welcoming peer haps, dorothy and the forgetful poet to ragbad.
and now what a flurry of introductions and explanations, what hugs, kisses and congratulations all 'round! mrs sew-and-sew could hardly believe her good fortune and had to kiss tatters every few minutes to see if he were really there and urtha every few minutes to see if she really were true. after she had heard the whole story from beginning to end, she sent pudge off to summon the twenty-four rustic laborers and rushed off to prepare such a feast as the old red castle had not known since her own wedding day--a feast with six kinds of ice cream and seven kinds of cake and two helpings of turkey for everyone. far into the night the merrymaking lasted, for after the feast itself the old soldier insisted that they dance the ragbad quadrille.
"oh, let's!" cried the princess, remembering how she and tatters had danced upon the iceberg. so lines were quickly formed on each side of the ballroom.
"come along, monster!" cried urtha, leading off merrily with the prince, as grampa burst into the spirited music of the dance. mrs sew-and-sew and peer haps came next, then the forgetful poet and dorothy, then fumbo and pudge, the twenty-four rustic laborers filling in as they were needed. not until the loud crows of bill announced the rising of the sun did the party break up, and only then after a hundred rousing cheers had been given for the prince and princess of ragbad. after luncheon next day, dorothy and toto, peer haps and the forgetful poet were magically transported back home by thoughtful little ozma but, before she left, dorothy made them promise to visit her in the emerald city and i have no doubt that they will.
when dorothy reached home the first person to greet her was her old friend, the tin woodman, smiling as he always smiles.
from that day on, let me say, ragbad was a changed kingdom for, as the twenty-four rustic laborers sold the gold bricks as fast as they were laid by the yellow hen, there was plenty of money to buy supplies and care for the linens and lawns. grampa and tatters had record crops and soon everything was so prosperous that mrs sew-and-sew took off her thimble, put on her crown and became queen of ragbad again.
as for tatters and urtha, the last i heard of them, they were happy as the days were long--as happy as only the dear folk in oz know how to be. so that is all of the story of the princess who was once a fairy, the poet who forgot his words, the old soldier who was always a hero and the prince who went in search of his father's head.
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65849.txt
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The Lost King of Oz
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the king of kimbaloo was kind'a jolly, and kinda jolly was the king of kimbaloo. and no wonder he was kind'a jolly! he had made a great fortune in buttons, and had one of the coziest castles in oz. it was set in the very center of a thick button wood in the gilliken country, and had more chimneys and windows than any dozen castles i can think of.
the castle owed much of its coziness to rosa merry, the quaint little queen of kimbaloo, who kept it spick and spandy and simply blooming with flowers. this she could easily do, for in the castle garden grew a simply enormous bouquet bush, where old and new fashioned bouquets blossomed in bewildering profusion. there were violets and rosebuds edged with lace paper, lovely red roses tied with satin bows, daisies and daffodils, pinks and larkspur, and every other sort of delightful nosegay you could ever imagine. no matter how many were gathered, others immediately blossomed, so that rosa merry had made almost as much of a fortune in bouquets as kinda had in buttons, and could have jelly-roll every lunchtime if she cared to.
there were some who thought the castle, built as it was of dark purple button wood, studded with rows and rows of bright buttons, extremely odd, but it suited kinda jolly and rosa merry right down to the cellar and the five hundred inhabitants of kimbaloo thought it extremely magnificent. no doubt they were right. however that may be, anyone who had seen kinda jolly and rosa merry walking in the gardens on pleasant summer evenings would have had to admit they were the most lovable little couple in the land. kinda was short and fat and rosa was short and merry. they both dressed in the purple costumes of the gillikens, but their robes were trimmed all over with buttons that chinked delightfully when they walked and almost dazzled one by the brilliance of their colors.
king kinda's crown was made of silver buttons to match his whiskers and rosa's was of gold to match her curls. both had cheerful dispositions to match their crowns, so that life in kimbaloo was cheerful for everyone. the kimbles themselves lived in tiny cottages scattered about under the trees, and as they were all girls and boys, they were all happy and light hearted as birds in the button wood. half of them worked for the king and half for the queen. yes, every morning, the two hundred and fifty merry little maids would run into the castle garden, where rosa merry would fill their arms with bouquets from the bouquet bush. then away down the queen's highway, that led through the wood into the winkie country, they would hurry--and so charming and quaint were the queen's little flower girls no one could help buying their posies. so by noon time they would come back with empty arms and heavy pockets and nothing to do for the rest of the day but swing in the hammocks or dance in the gardens.
the boys' work was almost as delightful. every morning they would scamper into the button wood with kinda jolly and shake down a good crop of buttons. then each button boy would fill his button box with a gay assortment and set off down the king's highway to sell them to the good dames in the gilliken country. there are no stores in oz, so they never had any trouble in disposing of their wares, especially the collar buttons. the men of the gilliken country are as good at losing collar buttons as men in your own town, so by noon time the button boxes would be full of coins and the button boys would come racing back to the castle with nothing more to do for the rest of the day but play quoits or "button-button-who's-got-the-button?"
altogether, life in kimbaloo was as jolly as possible. indeed, there was so much laughing to be done that king kinda had a town laugher to help out on particularly funny days and to keep him from busting all the buttons from his purple vest. yes sir, everybody in kimbaloo was laughing and happy--excepting one and that person was the king's cook. mombi never laughed at all, and how she came to be cook i will tell you at once. she was not a native of kimbaloo and, though no one in the kingdom knew it, mombi was really an old gilliken witch. long ago, for her wicked transformations, she had been deprived of her magic powers by glinda, the good sorceress, and given enough to live on honestly and comfortably.
but after you have been a witch all of your life, it is dreadfully hard to settle down to being just an ugly old woman. mombi had stood it as long as she could, and then one day she had closed up her little hut at the foot of the gilliken mountains, taken her crooked stick, and set out to seek a position as cook in one of the castles of oz--for she felt that only among a great many kettles and cauldrons could she ever be contented or at home. besides being cross and crooked, mombi was so ugly and ill-tempered that most of the castle doors were slammed in her face, but one day she had come to kimbaloo. hobbling through the button wood she found king kinda jolly under a shoe button tree. falling upon her knees mombi begged him so hard to let her remain as cook that the gentle old monarch finally consented, though much against the advice of hah hoh, the town laugher. but kinda, thinking her a poor and needy old woman, had kept her nevertheless, and as mombi, like many another old witch, was an excellent cook, he had never regretted his bargain. in spite of her wonderful cooking no one had ever grown really fond of her, but she was treated with consideration and respect and allowed to do pretty much as she pleased in the castle kitchen.
so while everyone else in the kingdom was being useful and happy, mombi went muttering and sputtering about among the pots and kettles and every minute when she was not cooking she was trying to remember her magic formulas, mixing pepper with onions, onions with cinders, and cinders with suspender buttons. but stir as she would, nothing ever came of it, for mombi had forgotten every witch word she had ever known. she knew a good many other words, however, and said very nearly all of them when her magic failed to work, flinging her stick into the air and hopping up and down with rage and disappointment. but as she never allowed anyone in the kitchen but herself, there was no one to witness her shocking behavior, until snip, one of the king's button boys, climbing through the window one afternoon to steal a cooky, caught her right in the midst of a frightful incantation.
"salt--vinegar--mustard--mutton! the king shall be a collar button!"
that was what snip heard mombi mumble, bending over a peppery mixture on the fire. so dreadful was her expression as she scowled into the frying pan that snip tumbled from the window sill into a rose bush. picking himself up, he rushed down the garden path convinced that the king was done for. but there was kinda jolly, with his silver crown, walking calmly under the button trees. snip looked again to be sure kinda was not turning to a collar button and then, a little ashamed of being so easily frightened, he crept back to the ledge to see what mombi would do next. he was just in time to see her fling the frying pan down the cellar steps and kick over a basket of potatoes. then, grumbling and snarling and rubbing her shins, she limped into the garden to fetch the goose kinda jolly had bought for dinner--for magic or no magic the cooking had to be attended to. the goose had come straight from a neighboring farm and was still in the flimsy wooden crate. scowling and scolding, mombi slammed the crate on the table and ripped off the top slats.
as soon as the slats were removed, the goose thrust its head out of the crate and peered about the kitchen. as he looked at the big white bird, snip had a feeling that there was something human about him. the old witch-cook made a grab at the bobbing white head.
"help!" squawked the luckless bird, as mombi seized it roughly by the feathers. then, catching a really good look at mombi, it reared up its neck till its eyes were on a level with her own. "you!" cried the goose, so shrilly that snip's hair rose up and waved to and fro under his stiff little hat. he was not surprised to hear the goose talk, for all beasts and birds in the land of oz converse, but its next words were so strange and mysterious the little button boy nearly lost his balance again.
"woman!" hissed the goose, thrusting its bill under mombi's long nose, "woman, what have you done with the king?"
the king! poor snip, crouched uncomfortably on the narrow sill, trembled with terror, for this time he was sure mombi's incantation had taken effect and had turned king kinda to a collar button. mombi herself seemed as astonished as he. dropping her hands at her sides, she peered sharply at the great white goose.
"well!" wheezed the old witch, blinking her eyes rapidly, "well, if it isn't pajuka, and simple as ever he was!"
"whose fault is that?" complained the goose bitterly. "who took away my elegant figure and gave me this ridiculous shape?"
"you always were a goose," sniffed mombi. "all you needed was a bill and feathers. you're one of the best transformations i ever did," she added proudly. "what are you fussing about anyway?"
"would you like to be a goose?" asked the bird indignantly. "i should think you'd be ashamed of yourself, you old scundermutch!"
"i don't care a waffle what you think," retorted mombi, "but if you care to think anything more, be quick about it, for your time has come."
"time?" puffed the goose. "what time?"
"dinner time," said mombi unfeelingly. "you are tired of being a goose. well then, you shall be a dinner and i trust you will pan out well!"
"dinner!" screamed the goose, fluttering all of his feathers. "you wouldn't dare serve me for dinner. i'm a prime minister and you know it."
"prime goose, you mean," snickered mombi, reaching behind the table for the ax.
now all this, as you may well imagine, was frightfully interesting to snip. raising himself on his elbow he saw the two glaring furiously at one another.
"don't sass me woman!" hissed pajuka, flapping his wings.
"i'll apple sass you," sneered mombi. "the sooner you're roasted the better. you know far too much." she made a snatch at the goose, but pajuka, with a quick flounce, freed himself from the crate and soared into the air.
"help! help! this woman is a witch," he honked loudly. "help! help!"
"hush!" raged the old woman, dropping the ax and running to slam the door. "do you want to rouse the castle?" it was her turn to be alarmed now, for in kimbaloo mombi enjoyed more privileges than she would anywhere else, and she was not anxious to have it known that she was a witch and so be turned out of the kingdom. "be quiet i tell you," she wheezed angrily. "what are you making such a racket about?"
"mombi a witch!" snip could hardly believe his ears, but frightened as he was he could not help chuckling. "who wouldn't make a fuss at roasting," thought snip, peering around the edge of the sill to see what pajuka would do. the goose had settled on a cupboard high above mombi's head.
"very well," he breathed heavily. "i will be quiet, but now you will listen to me. i demand that you instantly restore my proper shape or--" he gave a loud squawk that made mombi leap a foot into the air.
"how can i? how can i?" chattered the witch, wringing her hands. "i've forgotten all my witchcraft. do you suppose i'd be here as a cook if i had my magic powers, you ridiculous old bird!" snip could see pajuka's eyes grow round as buttons at this dismal news.
"what?" wailed the unhappy goose. "must i continue forever to lead this simple life? must i associate with ducks and farmers to the end of my days?"
"you ought to be glad you're alive at all," mumbled mombi uncomfortably. these words had a startling effect on pajuka.
"ah!" groaned the goose remorsefully. "here i've been thinking of myself when it is the king who matters." and stretching his long neck he repeated the question that had so alarmed snip in the first place. "woman!" rasped pajuka hoarsely, "woman, what have you done with the king?"
"not so loud," begged mombi, raising her stick and glancing uneasily over her shoulder, as if she half suspected someone were listening. then, seeing pajuka was going to honk again, she added defiantly, "i don't remember what i did with him!"
now snip, who loved king kinda jolly with all his heart, was stunned at this dreadful news. undecided whether to run for help or stay and listen, he finally decided to stay and crept close to the inner edge of the sill.
pajuka seemed stunned too. "how frightful," choked the goose dolefully, "how careless of you to mislay the king. how dare you forget?"
"well, there's no use quarreling about it," grumbled mombi. "who cares anyway? ozma is queen now and nobody even remembers there was a king of oz!"
"of oz!" snip, between relief at finding nothing had happened to king kinda jolly and shock at the old witch's words, lost his hold on the window bars and fell straight into mombi's arms.
"a spy!" shrieked mombi, beginning to shake him backward and forward. "a spy!"
"now who's making a racket," demanded pajuka triumphantly. "keep that up and you'll have the whole castle about our ears. besides, if he's a spy, where is his spy glass?"
"idiot!" hissed mombi, but she lowered her voice and stopped shaking snip. "why, you're as simple as you look," she muttered contemptuously.
"and you're as wicked," retorted the goose, staring sharply at snip. "let that boy alone or i'll honk my head off." snip's ears were buzzing from the shaking and he looked gratefully at pajuka.
"do you think i'm going to let him carry his tales to kinda jolly? no sir! into the soup kettle with him," puffed mombi, rushing snip toward the stove. but at her first step, the white goose flung himself at her head with such an outcry that she stopped at once.
"let the boy alone," panted pajuka. then, seeing that it was useless to appeal to mombi's goodness he began to appeal to her badness. "the king will reward you generously, if you restore him to the throne," began pajuka craftily. "nothing is to be gained by this quarreling. let us put our heads together and find the king of oz."
still holding snip tightly by the wrist, mombi sank upon a crooked stool and, half closing her eyes, began to think of the bad old days before little ozma was queen--the bad old days when witches had been free to practice their arts and she herself was one of the most powerful witches in the land.
"i'll do it!" declared mombi suddenly. "but how shall we find him when i forget what i have done with him?"
"i'd know him anywhere," gulped pajuka, two tears dropping off the end of his bill. "haven't i been hunting him all these years?"
"yes, but i think he is transformed," muttered mombi uneasily. "if the king is not himself how do you expect to recognize him?"
"i'd know him in any shape," insisted the goose. "but try--try to remember. you turned ozma to a boy and me to a goose. what did you do with the king?"
so interested had the two become by this time, they had almost forgotten the presence of snip. but snip was listening with all his might, his ears fairly tingling with curiosity. the lad, like many another gilliken boy, was perfectly familiar with the history of oz. for while they gathered buttons in the wood, king kinda had read them many a strange chapter from the big purple history books.
snip knew that oz was a great oblong kingdom divided into four parts with the capital, a splendid emerald city, in the exact center. the northern land was the gilliken country and kimbaloo was but one of the many kingdoms in that interesting section. the eastern part of oz belonged to the winkies; the southern country was the quadling country; while the western lands belonged to the munchkins. snip knew the names of the rulers of oz as well as you know the names of the presidents--perhaps even better--for as only a part of oz history has been written down there have not been so many. the first ruler mentioned was the famous wizard of oz, who had flown to the marvelous country in a balloon from omaha. it was the wizard who had built the famous emerald city, and who had given ozma, the little girl ruler, into the keeping of an old witch. this witch had already captured the king, ozma's father, and very little was known about the royal gentleman.
the wizard had ruled oz for years. at last, desiring to return to america, he had made the scarecrow emperor. this lively man of straw had held the throne until captured by an ambitious girl named jinjur, and her army of girls. but jinjur was only ruler for a few days and was herself captured by glinda, the good sorceress of the south, to whom the scarecrow had gone for help. glinda, looking through her magic record books, had discovered that ozma, who had been deposed by the wizard, was still in the old witch's clutches. so glinda had compelled her to restore ozma to the throne. the witch had transformed the little princess into a boy named tip, but was forced by glinda to disenchant her and amid general rejoicing ozma was proclaimed queen of oz and had been ruler ever since, while the old witch had been deprived of her magic powers and banished from the emerald city forever.
the wizard of oz had later returned and become one of ozma's most trusted counselors, regretting exceedingly his part in giving her to the witch. as snip listened, all of these facts went scurrying through his head, and while professor wogglebug in his history had neglected to put in the witch's name, looking at the dreadful old woman beside him, snip realized with a shudder that mombi was that witch.
it had been generally supposed that the king, ozma's father, had been utterly destroyed by mombi's magic, but if what pajuka said were true, the king in some shape or other was still alive and the rightful ruler of oz, while this faithful goose was his prime minister. snip longed to run to kinda jolly with the amazing news and to warn him against mombi herself, but the old hag had him fast by the wrist, so there was nothing to do but listen. even this was becoming harder and harder, for mombi and pajuka had lowered their voices to a whisper. just as snip had determined to jerk away and make a run for it, mombi sprang to her feet.
"we'll start at once!" she cried determinedly, and jerking off her cook's cap and without releasing her hold on snip, she snatched her peaked witch hat from a low cupboard and set it jauntily on the side of her head. then, dragging snip with her, she began hobbling about the kitchen, collecting pepper shakers, mustard boxes, spices, herbs and various other supplies from the shelves. these she tossed quickly into a basket with a loaf of bread, a cold chicken and some cheese.
"c'mon!" croaked the witch, motioning to pajuka. "c'mon before anyone misses us."
"what about the boy?" asked the goose doubtfully.
"let him carry the basket," snapped the witch.
thrusting the basket into snip's hands, mombi gave him such a glare that the poor lad's heart dropped into his boots. then, grabbing him by the sleeve, she rushed him through the door leading into the kitchen garden. a high hedge surrounded the garden, so no one saw them go. the garden ran down to the edge of a gloomy forest. into this forest plunged mombi, pajuka waddling and flying after her and poor snip, casting many longing glances over his shoulder at the dear old castle of kimbaloo where life had been so care-free and so merry.
it is one thing to set out on a journey of adventures yourself, but to be dragged away against your will by a wicked old witch is another pair of pickles entirely, and though snip was as brave as the next fellow he could not keep back his tears at parting from kinda jolly, rosa merry and his many gay comrades in the button wood.
while all this was happening in the king's kitchen, kinda jolly sat cheerfully on his throne, talking to his pretty little queen.
"rosa, my dear," smiled kinda, tugging at his silver whiskers, "guess what we're going to have for dinner."
rosa merry, who was sewing a button on the king's suspenders, paused with her needle in the air.
"what does it begin with?" asked rosa curiously. the queen simply doted on a riddle.
"with a g," answered kinda jolly, leaning down to pat trippsy, his pet foot stool. trippsy is the only live footstool, i think, i have ever heard of. he followed kinda wherever he went, which was fortunate, for the king's legs were so short that no matter how low the chair or bench, his feet never touched the floor. in some ways trippsy was a more useful pet than a dog. he never chased cats, nor got into fights, nor barked, except a few shins, so that kinda jolly was awfully fond of him.
"is it a goat?" giggled rosa merry, biting off her thread.
"goat!" sputtered kinda jolly. "i should say not! trippsy, old boy, she says we're going to have goat for dinner." trippsy, who had been to market with the king--kinda being one of those dear old fashioned fellows who do their own marketing--waved his tassel faintly to show that he appreciated the joke, while general whiffenpuff, the king's body guard, and hah hoh, the town laugher burst into loud roars of merriment.
"guess again," invited kinda jolly, putting his finger tips together, and beaming on his pretty wife.
"grapes, glue, gum drops?" ventured the queen, puckering up her forehead. "gravy, ginger, griddle cakes. i know, it's griddle cakes!"
"grapes and glue and griddle cakes will give us frightful stomach aches! ginger, grapes and glue and gravy oh, some kind doctor come and save ye!"
that was the best that hah hoh could think of, but they all laughed so loud that seven little button boys stuck their heads in the window to see what all the fun was about.
"well, do you give it up?" asked kinda, after rosa had made seven more merry guesses.
"yes," said the queen, shaking her head till the curls flew out in every direction. "what is it?"
"a goose!" puffed kinda jolly, settling back comfortably on his throne. "the finest, fattest goose you ever saw in your life. cost me a thousand gold buttons," he finished, smacking his lips and winking at general whiffenpuff. the general, who was fonder of eating than of anything else, began to pat his stomach absently and trippsy, though far too well stuffed to require food, gave a skip of satisfaction that nearly upset the king.
"roast goose and apple sauce," mused kinda, regaining his balance. "yum-yum, whiffen, old rascal, just step out to the pantry, and see how the dinner's progressing. it's high time our goose was cooked, and i for one am hungry as a hippogriff." they were still laughing at hah hoh's jokes, when whiffenpuff returned, but one look at the general sobered them at once.
"guess what we're going to have for dinner?" panted whiffenpuff, very red in the face from his hurry.
"what?" asked rosa in surprise.
"nuthin'," gulped the general dolefully. "the dinner's not going, it's gone! our goose is hooked, tooked, crooked," finished whiffenpuff, forgetting his grammar entirely. (of course, we have known this all along, but it was a great shock to the king.)
"gone!" gasped kinda jolly. "but where is mombi?"
"gone too!"
"to where?"
whiffenpuff shook his head glumly and immediately rosa merry, kinda jolly and all the rest rushed into the kitchen to see for themselves how gone everything was. naturally enough they found neither mombi nor pajuka and, on the whole, this was most fortunate, for otherwise they might have eaten the prime minister of oz and swallowed with him the whole of this story.
"our dinner began with a g and now its gone! gone begins with a g. our dinner is gone with a g! shall i laugh?" asked hah hoh, beginning to tickle himself in the ribs.
"i should say not. why, this is no laughing matter. no cook! no goose! no dinner! oh! i'm so disappointed i could cry!" choked kinda jolly, puffing out his cheeks.
"don't do that! don't do that!" begged rosa merry, and tumbling off her high stool she sent a page flying for the town crier. i never told you there was one, but kimbaloo has a town crier as well as a town laugher, for no one in that merry kingdom ever thinks of shedding tears.
so before one could wink the town crier came running in with a page, and when whiffenpuff told him about the lost dinner, the lost goose and the lost cook, he simply burst into tears.
"how long shall i cry?" he sobbed, looking around his handkerchief at kinda jolly.
"seven minutes for the goose and th-three for mombi," sniffed the king, biting his lip to keep from crying himself. so the town crier jerked out another hanky, and while all the rest stood around and looked solemn and kinda held his watch, he wept eye after eye full of tears.
"do you feel better?" asked rosa merry presently, patting kinda's plump hand.
"a little, a little," acknowledged the king, "but do you s'pose mombi's gone for good?"
"well, i trust so," sniffed the town laugher, shrugging his shoulders, "but i'm afraid she has gone for bad, your majesty. a more evil appearing old wretch i've never seen in oz, and perhaps we are well rid of her. only a week ago i had a letter from a sixteenth cousin of mine in the emerald city telling of a famous invisible cook who lived near her. why not send for this invisible cook, your highness?"
"that's what we've got now, isn't it?" put in general whiffenpuff, gloomily, but kinda's eyes began to snap at the town laugher's suggestion.
"why an invisible cook would be simply out of sight!" cried the king, motioning for the town crier to cease his lamentations. "let us send for her at once!"
"and meanwhile i'll be cook," smiled rosa merry, happy that everything was turning out so well. "guess what we're going to have for dinner?"
"omelet!" gulped the town crier, wringing out his handkerchiefs in a business-like fashion and immediately the rest began to guess this and then that till they were all as jolly as possible. but right in the midst of the merriment, in came ten little button boys to report the disappearance of snip.
"snip gone," groaned kinda jolly, clapping his hand to his head and falling back against the flour barrel. "oh! this is the worst of all. why he's the brightest boy in kimbaloo and the best button picker i've got. cry! cry some more, cry a lot!" wailed the poor king, shaking the town crier by the arm. so he did, and the town laugher had to blow his nose hard, to keep from crying himself, for snip was a great favorite in the palace.
as soon as the news got about, all the rest of the kimbles came tumbling into the kitchen, and the two hundred and forty-nine little button boys began to hug kinda jolly, and the two hundred and fifty little flower girls began to hug rosa merry. trippsy, the pet foot stool, who loved snip almost as much as kinda jolly, was so upset he dashed here and there till everyone else was that way, too, especially general whiffenpuff. altogether the confusion was terrific.
"wait!" grunted the general, picking himself up for the fifth time. "wait! i will find them all!" seizing his gun, and with never a thought of dinner, he plunged boldly out into the night to find mombi, the goose, snip and an invisible cook. after that things grew calmer, for the king had great confidence in whiffenpuff. the boys and girls trooped back to their cottages and the rest sat down to a picnic supper out of the ice box.
"whiffenpuff will find 'em, no fear," whispered hah hoh, squeezing kinda jolly's hand comfortingly, "and if he doesn't just remember that i also have something up my sleeve!"
"what is it?" asked the king mournfully, and as clearly as he could, for he had half a chicken sandwich in the other cheek.
"a funny bone," confided the town laugher, with so comical and important an expression that kinda had to be thumped on the back to keep from choking.
"a funny bone!" gasped the king, as he recovered his breath. "let me see it, you rascal."
so the town laugher showed kinda jolly his left elbow and they both roared at the joke.
snip thought of a great many things to tell mombi as he was being dragged along through the forest, but she ran so far and so fast that by the time she stopped he was too bumped about and breathless to say any of them.
"now what?" puffed pajuka, settling on the lowest branch of a purple pine.
"well, do you expect to find the king under the first tree we come to?" panted the old witch, dropping down on a stump and mopping her forehead with her apron. "hand over that basket, you!" before he could comply, mombi had snatched the basket from snip and, loosening her hold upon his arm, began rummaging among its contents till she found a small purple scroll. "keep your eye on the boy," ordered mombi, snapping the scroll open, "and if he tries to escape nip off his nose, d'ye hear?"
"oh, i'm sure he wouldn't do that," said pajuka, fluttering his wings. "he'd much rather come with us to find the king and share in the reward, wouldn't you lad?"
snip glanced fearfully around him. the shadows were growing longer and longer, and in the dim purple twilight the forest looked so grim and forbidding that he decided even bad company was better than none. so he shook his head and swallowing the lump in his throat resolved to make the best of things, and at the same time find out all he could about this mysterious affair.
"what did i tell you," clucked pajuka, preening his feathers. "i shouldn't be surprised if he'd be a great help to us, mombi!"
"then let him begin by gathering some wood," grunted mombi, "and none of your tricks snip my boy, or i'll turn you to a muffin and eat you for breakfast."
"is snip your name?" asked pajuka, waddling after the little button boy. snip nodded and began slowly picking up twigs and putting them in a heap.
"a heartless old wretch," wheezed the goose, when they were out of ear shot. "don't mind her. she can no more turn you to a muffin than i can, but she is the only one who can help me find the king so we must humor her. stick by me, snip, and i'll stick by you. is it a bargain?" in the strange, silent forest, the white goose looked so big and friendly that snip dropped his twigs and flung both arms around his neck.
"i like you pajuka," said the little button boy, giving him a quick hug.
"and i like you, snip," replied the goose, snuggling close to him. then, as mombi glanced up suspiciously, they both fell to gathering twigs and in a few moments had enough for a fine fire. mombi was still poring over the scroll. looking over her shoulder, snip saw that it was a map of oz--such a map as he had often seen in his geoziphy books at home. mombi held the map close to her nose, for in the failing light it was hard to see anything.
"if i could only remember! if i could only remember!" muttered mombi, rocking backward and forward on the stump. "what did i do with the king? where did i put him? what did i use--green magic or blue, word magic or number magic, fire magic or smoke magic? can't you remember anything?" she whirled in great exasperation upon pajuka.
"well, not much," sighed the goose, rubbing his head with his wing. "you see it was so long ago. i do remember we were in a small greenwood near where the emerald city stands to-day when you changed me to a goose. but as you drove me away immediately, i never knew what became of the king."
"then it was green magic!" cried mombi, springing up exultantly. "we must go to the emerald city and find that wood, for if the king was transformed by green magic he must be restored by green magic, and the only place where green magic takes effect is in and around the emerald city. once there i will doubtless remember everything," chuckled mombi. "if i don't, i'll just steal some of ozma's magic. i'll steal the magic belt, restore the king to the throne and have my revenge for all these weary years. i'll turn ozma to a piano and thump her every day," continued mombi, rubbing her hands gleefully together. "i'll turn everyone else in the palace to one object and then destroy that object--"
"i object!" spluttered pajuka, treading on the old witch's toes in his excitement.
"so will they," grinned mombi, showing her yellow tusks, "but it will do them no good. don't stand staring at me, simpleton. light the fire." whirling upon snip, mombi raised her stick threateningly, and snip, who had been staring with open mouth (for he had never heard so much badness in his whole life) made haste to do as he was told.
mombi, still muttering and chuckling, began to lay out the chicken and cheese upon the tree stump. though the fire snapped merrily enough, supper was not very cheerful for snip, but he ate the chicken wing and small bit of cheese that mombi grudgingly gave him and broke up some bread for pajuka.
"where've you been all these years?" asked the old witch, looking curiously at the goose over her mug of coffee.
"everywhere, everywhere in oz, searching for you and the king," puffed pajuka. "i've lived with miserable barnyard fowls, eating farmers' scraps, and in constant danger of the ax. you might have made me a wild goose, then at least i should have had some fun. i shudder when i think how near i've been to roasting."
"well, didn't they roast you in the old days?" replied mombi unfeelingly. "prime ministers are as often roasted as geese!"
"yes, but not in the same way." pajuka rolled his eyes sadly at snip.
"why didn't you tell ozma or glinda on her," asked the little button boy boldly.
"aha! because he knew if he did he'd disappear entirely. that was part of the trick," shrilled mombi. "wasn't it, old feather head?"
"yes, it's better to be a goose than nothing at all," admitted pajuka mournfully. "but never mind, when we find the king, he will restore mombi's powers and she will restore my elegant figure and--"
"oh, hold your bill," snapped mombi crossly.
looking very ruffled, pajuka retired to the other side of the fire, where he and snip conversed in low tones, while mombi cleared away the supper and began her endless experiments in the old black frying pan.
"i should think in some ways, being a goose would be rather nice," observed snip, looking inquisitively at pajuka. "having wings for instance, and never needing to get undressed or have your hair cut."
"well," agreed pajuka slowly, "feathers are more convenient than clothes and while the life of a goose is very simple, it is not all unpleasant. i've enjoyed flying a lot, and i never need to worry about rubbers or carrying an umbrella. but after all," pajuka sighed and gazed sadly into the fire, "after all, my boy, there is nothing like being yourself."
snip considered this for a little while in silence, trying to fancy himself in pajuka's place. "well, what do you miss the most?" he inquired suddenly. pajuka had one eye shut and was preparing to close the other, but at snip's words both flew wide open.
"my pockets," gasped pajuka, with a great groan. "what is a man without his pockets? no place to put his hands or his bills!" clapping his wing to his side, pajuka looked tragically at snip, and snip patting his own bulging pockets--pockets full of cake crumbs, marbles, pencil stubs and string--nodded sympathetically. "and not only that," continued the goose in a grieved voice, "i waken at such ridiculous hours. hah, hoh! i find myself falling asleep." pajuka paused here for a simply tremendous yawn. "right after supper, hoh hum!" finished the goose apologetically. then, tucking his head under his wing and drawing up one leg, he fell fast asleep before snip could ask him another question.
pajuka was so close to the fire that the little button boy was afraid he would singe his feathers. so, picking him up carefully, he set him back against a gnarled old tree and, curling up on a pile of leaves beside him, lay watching old mombi. the wind fortunately was blowing away from him, or he certainly would have been choked by the awful mixtures in the black frying pan. if he had not known positively that her magic powers were gone, he would have taken to his heels at once, for the monsters that mombi was trying to conjure up out of the frying pan, would have devoured him in a minute.
"magicum squadgicum squidgicum squdge i order a snooch to come out of this smudge!"
mombi frowned darkly as she hissed this, but only a dense smoke rose from the frying pan, and after listening nervously to ten separate incantations and finding that nothing at all happened, snip curled down among the leaves and was soon as fast asleep as pajuka--asleep and dreaming he, himself, was a goose being chased up a pink mountain by a giant with a blue ax.
mombi continued her experiments with the frying pan long after snip and pajuka were asleep, but finally she gave up in disgust and then she, too, lay down for a nap, which lasted until dawn.
snip was awakened by a tickling feeling of his nose and, opening his eyes, saw pajuka standing over him with a big bunch of grapes in his bill. "hello!" yawned snip, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. "is it morning?"
pajuka dropped the grapes into his lap.
"half past it. been up since five, had a fly and a swim and brought you these for breakfast," clucked the goose, who seemed to be in a fine humor. "mombi's eaten all the rest of the chicken herself, the old scundermutch!"
the sun filtered down cheerily through the tree-tops and a fresh little breeze had set all the forest leaves to dancing. snip, himself, felt curiously light hearted and gay. perhaps it was the long sleep he had had in the open, or the friendly presence of pajuka, or the thought of the strange adventures that lay ahead. anyway, he jumped up with a will and even the scowl old mombi gave him failed to dampen his spirits. she had already prepared and eaten her breakfast and was beating out the fire with her shoe. following pajuka to a small sparkling brook, snip splashed his face and hands vigorously, ate his grapes and a large sugar bun that the thoughtful pajuka had plucked from a nearby bun bush. by this time mombi had her basket packed and, shaking her stick crossly, announced it was time to start.
"which way are we going?" asked snip, taking the basket and falling into step beside her.
"my way!" snapped mombi fiercely.
"well, that's a witch way, isn't it," observed pajuka, flopping along a few feet overhead and winking down slyly at snip, as he plodded down the road.
"hold your bill," snapped mombi, hobbling along so fast that the little button boy had to skip to keep pace with her. "i told you last night we were going to the emerald city."
"but i thought you were banished from there forever," put in snip, who knew his oz history by heart.
"i shall disguise myself," shrilled mombi triumphantly. "i'll pretend i'm a market woman selling a fat goose and while i'm arguing with the cook, pajuka shall fly into the palace and steal some of ozma's magic."
"how do you know i shall?" honked pajuka sulkily. "ozma has never done me any harm. the thing for us to do is to find the king. once we've come to the little wood where you transformed him you'll remember where he is. why, maybe we'll find him before then."
"yes, but what good will it do if i don't remember my magic," sniffed mombi. "unless you want to be a goose for the rest of your life, you'd better make up your mind to do what i say. as for you," the old witch whirled angrily upon snip, "any more of this supposing and i'll turn you to a six pence and spend you at the first village."
snip merely whistled and turned up his nose at this, for he knew perfectly well mombi could not carry out her threat. besides, snip had a plan of his own. the little button boy had decided that as soon as they reached the famous capital of oz he would slip away from mombi and tell princess ozma the whole story. then she herself could use her magic to help pajuka find the king. so he stepped jauntily along, paying no attention to mombi's mutterings, looking curiously to the right and left and thinking how much he should have to tell kinda jolly when he returned to kimbaloo.
the forest, like all the northern lands of oz, was slightly tinged with purple, the national color of the gillikens. pansies and tall purple flags grew around the bases of the giant trees and here and there clusters of violets nodded their pretty little heads in the breeze. purple birds darted through the leaves overhead and the air was sweet from hidden beds of lavender, so that nothing could have been pleasanter than the first part of the day's journey. but toward noon they reached a portion of the forest so dark and impenetrable that they had to go single file, and even then had great difficulty in forcing their way through the trees and dense underbrush.
growls and roars added still further to their discomforts, until snip, feeling in his pocket for his trusty pen knife, began to wish himself safely back in the button wood. pajuka half ran and waddled after him, giving every now and then a great flop of terror as a particularly fierce roar came echoing through the forest. mombi, alone, seemed perfectly unconcerned and hobbled ahead whacking branches and bushes out of the way with her crooked stick.
"must be lunch time," she called back hoarsely over her shoulder.
"howja guess?" panted pajuka, keeping as close to snip as he could, for he was terribly frightened.
"don't you hear the lions?" asked the old witch maliciously.
"merciful feathers!" gasped the goose. "have i come all this way to be a lion's lunch?"
"here comes one now," shuddered snip, flattening himself against a tree. but it was not a lion that came hurtling out of the brush. it was a weenix, a wild, bear-like beast with a walrus head. one look at its tusks set snip's heart beating like a drum. pajuka flung into the air, flapping his wings and hissing furiously, but the weenix came straight on and snip, though determined to die with his pen knife in hand, trembled so violently he could scarcely stand up. even mombi looked frightened. grabbing the basket from snip, she fumbled among its packages and pans and just as the weenix, with outspread paws, leaped upon her, the old witch snatched out the pepper box and shook the entire contents upon its nose. it was purple pepper, fortunately, which is even stronger than red.
"kawoosh!" spluttered the weenix falling backwards. "kawoosh--kawush! kawoo!" with tears streaming down its tusks and trembling whiskers, it dashed into the shadows, where it could still be heard sneezing broken-heartedly. it evidently told its family and friends all about the dangerous travellers, for not another weenix so much as showed a whisker after that.
"humph!" snorted mombi, settling her hat, which had gone terribly askew. "i may have forgotten my magic, but i still know a few tricks, eh pajuka?"
"oh, my feathers," panted the goose, leaning up against a tree, "that was worse than roasting."
"how did you ever think of pepper?" asked snip, who could not help admiring mombi's quickness. but mombi merely gave a grunt, thrust the basket back into his hands and began limping along faster than ever. snip was tired and hungry, but the thought of being left alone in the forest was so much worse than being in the company of a witch that he stumbled and ran after her, comforting himself with the thought of the fine sights he should see in the emerald city.
pajuka was tired too, but he hopped and flopped after snip and another hour brought them to the edge of the forest. the countryside, stretching pleasantly ahead, was shaded with purple, so they knew they were still in the land of the gillikens. the old witch ordered a halt, while she considered the road.
mombi pegged her map down on the grass and began studying it carefully. snip sat down under a tree and began fanning himself with his hat, while pajuka flew off to find a stream, for the poor goose was parched by his flight through the forest and never felt quite happy out of water.
"how far is the emerald city?" asked snip, after watching mombi for a time in silence.
"ought to be there by night time," muttered the witch, forgetting for once to scowl. "all we have to do is to keep going south-west." rolling up the map, mombi took the rest of the bread and cheese from the basket. seeing she meant to give him none, snip went off in search of a bite for himself. in oz this is not difficult, for the most marvelous plants and trees grow in all of its kingdoms. scarcely a stone's throw away snip found a huckleberry-pie plant. he ate several of the small tarts, and then picked a pocket full of plums from a pretty little plum tree that grew by the roadside. the purple gilliken country is as famous for its plums as the yellow winkie land is for its peaches and pears.
feeling quite refreshed, snip went to search for pajuka. just beyond a thin fringe of trees ran a shallow stream, and pajuka, in the strange manner of geese, was standing on his head, eating his lunch off the bottom. he looked so comical that snip nearly burst out laughing, but remembering just in time that pajuka was the king's prime minister he cleared his throat instead. with a great bounce, pajuka came right side up and after a few dives and splashes waded ashore.
"what did you find to eat?" asked snip curiously.
"oh some water roots and--er other things," answered pajuka. seeing he was embarrassed snip politely changed the subject.
"tell me about the king," said the little button boy, "and about oz before ozma was queen."
"well, there was never a kindlier king anywhere," began pajuka, shaking the water from his feathers.
"what kind?" asked snip, biting into a plum. "how did he look?"
"pleasant," explained pajuka, putting one foot before the other and waddling from side to side in his queer goosey fashion. "he was tall and gentle and very absent-minded, and so kind that he never punished anyone at all."
"then that's why there were so many witches," cried snip triumphantly.
"yes, and that's why it was so easy for mombi to get him into her power," sighed pajuka mournfully. "he would believe evil of no one--not even of a witch."
"seems to me ozma makes a better ruler," observed snip, throwing his plum over a tree and standing on his tip toes to see how far it had gone. "she doesn't allow anyone to practice magic, excepting herself, glinda and the wizard." this is perfectly true and oz has enjoyed under the littlest princess in history an era of great peace and prosperity.
"ozma is a pretender," insisted pajuka stiffly.
"but she doesn't even know her father's alive," protested snip. though he had never seen ozma, he had a great affection for the little queen. "what will become of ozma when we find the king?" he asked doubtfully.
"oh, she can go back and play with her dolls. she's only a little girl anyway," answered the goose carelessly. snip did not quite approve of this either, so he changed the subject again.
"there wasn't any emerald city then, was there pajuka?"
"no, but we had a splendid castle where the emerald city now stands and hunting parks in every country of oz. ah, those were the good old days," sighed pajuka sorrowfully. "if i could but see my dear master again i'd be content to remain a goose for the rest of my life."
"i s'pose you do miss him," said snip sympathetically.
"miss him!" pajuka gave a great gulp and turned his head to wipe his tears on his feathers. "why, i miss him even more than my pockets," groaned the poor goose in a smothered voice.
snip would have liked to hear more about the king, but a loud screech from mombi interrupted the story. "where've you been?" croaked the witch, emerging from a little patch of trees and blinking at them crossly. "i've been ready for hours. c'mon! do you think this is a picnic?"
"don't sass me, woman," wheezed pajuka with great dignity, "or i'll not help you a mite. who got us into this ridiculous mess, may i ask?"
mombi paid no attention to pajuka's remarks, but began hobbling down the road and snip, who could hardly wait to reach the emerald city, hurried after her, still mumbling crossly to herself. the goose sulkily brought up the rear. the road was fairly good, and zig-zagged pleasantly enough through meadows and fields.
"but aren't there any houses?" asked snip, as they passed through a deserted stretch of woodland. "aren't there any people or villages or towns?"
"there ought to be," honked pajuka, who was resting his feet in the air. (that's one advantage of having wings, when your feet are tired you can fly.)
"there are!" snapped mombi gruffly, and mombi was right, for just then the wood came to an end and they found themselves facing a large, pleasant park, with dazzling white paths running in every direction. snip was looking around with deep interest, when six of the strangest beings he had ever seen rose up from a bench a little distance off and stood examining them critically. they were certainly ten feet high and so thin and flat that snip could scarcely believe they were people at all. but as they had heads, arms, legs and the usual number of eyes, ears and noses, he concluded they must be people. as the little button boy stared at them, the first of the creatures leaned down, caught hold of its toes and came hurtling at the travelers like a hurricane.
"whoop!" shrieked the second one, bending over as the first had done and turning itself into a sure enough hoop. "whoop, whoop!"
"honk!" screamed pajuka defiantly, but before snip and mombi had time to recover from their surprise the six hoopers had rolled upon them full-speed, knocking them flat upon their backs. pajuka just saved himself by a quick flop into the air. then, without unrolling, the six whizzed off backwards and by the time snip and mombi had scrambled up were ready for another dash.
"get the pepper! get the pepper!" squawked the goose wildly, but mombi, furious at her fall, did nothing but hop and howl with rage and snip, seeing that something must be done, snatched up her crooked stick. as the first hooper came pelting upon them, he gave it a sharp crack that sent it whirling down the walk. the second and third he served in the same fashion. the fourth he missed, so that mombi again was rolled in the dust, but the fifth and sixth he caught fairly and, beginning to enjoy the fun, started rolling them like hoops as fast as he could, whacking first one and then another and screaming with laughter at the comical expressions on their faces, when their faces came uppermost.
"go it, snip! go it!" exulted pajuka, flapping his wings delightedly. but snip needed no encouragement and only stopped at last for lack of breath. immediately the hoopers unrolled and, groaning and whooping and holding their sides, limped off into the bushes. hundreds of the creatures had gathered by this time and, as snip sank down on a bench to rest, the very tallest hooper came rolling toward them.
"what do you mean by beating my subjects in this heartless fashion?" demanded the great fellow, unrolling to his full height and glaring sternly down at the little button boy.
"well, they started it," replied snip, keeping a firm hold on mombi's stick. "didn't they, pajuka?"
"they certainly did," asserted the goose, settling down on the bench beside snip. "is it usual to knock down innocent travelers without reason or ceremony?"
"is it usual to sit in the presence of a king?" retorted the hooper stiffly. at this all his subjects began whooping faintly, "bow down to rollo the royal, bow down to king rollo the worst!"
"oh, roll up!" said snip scornfully. "you're only a lot of live hoops anyway. why should we bow?"
"leave the park instantly!" roared rollo, bouncing up and down with rage.
"let's," said snip, grinning over at pajuka.
"i'm ready," agreed the goose, "but where's mombi?"
"here!" spluttered the witch, rolling out of a bonnet bush. "any more nonsense from these creatures and i'll turn them to breakfast rolls and eat them for supper."
"a witch!" whooped the king.
"a witch!" coughed all the others and, seizing their toes, the whole company of them whirled off together and disappeared in a cloud of dust. so without further excitement, the three adventurers reached the other side of the hoopers' park and, opening a small gate in the fence that surrounded it, found themselves again on the zig-zag pathway. a large sign posted on one of the trees immediately attracted snip's attention.
"fifty leaps to the corners," announced the sign curiously enough.
"leaps!" gasped snip, while mombi pushed back her hat and stood on tip-toe to examine the crooked letters. "must we leap all the way?"
"better look before we do," chuckled pajuka, scratching his head with the third toe of his left foot. "i've been in some pretty tight corners in my time, and prefer to go around the rest of them."
"we'll go straight on. who's afraid?" sneered mombi. snip, thinking of the way she had hidden in the bonnet bush while he beat off the hoopers, winked at pajuka and pajuka, with a little flutter of his wings, winked back. then all three started along the narrow path together.
"suppose the king were a goat, do you think you would still remember him?" asked snip, as they zig-zagged along the strange pathway.
"certainly!" honked pajuka, fluttering down. "i'd know him in any shape. but why do you ask? what makes you think the king is a goat? are there any goats around here?" shooting out his neck, pajuka began peering this way and that.
"i don't know," admitted snip frankly. "i was just wondering."
"you talk too much," snapped mombi, stopping to pull up her stocking. "if i could remember my magic i'd turn you to a parrot!"
at this several of the trees that edged the pathway burst into loud roars of laughter, shaking all over and clasping themselves about the trunk with their branches. snip was so astonished that he jumped backward and pajuka, stepping on his own toes, fell forward on his head.
"oh, my dear will, these are funny ones," chortled the first tree. "look at that ridiculous bird and that squidgety old skumpus, and would you count the buttons on the boy's suit. oh! oh! i shall die laughing!"
now snip's suit, like all the suits of the button wood boys, was generously trimmed with buttons. he had always considered it quite handsome, but now, as the trees continued to rock and roar with merriment, he began to feel uncomfortable and a little provoked.
"quit your laughing!" puffed pajuka indignantly. "what right have trees to laugh at people?"
"every right in oz," chuckled the second tree, leaning down to tickle mombi under the chin with one of its twigs. "we're laughing willows, we are, always looking for a good joke, hah! hah! and the laugh is on us, ho! ho! isn't that funny, tree he?"
"well, we're not jokes," said snip stiffly. "come on, pajuka!" this set the willows to laughing so heartily that their leaves fell in perfect showers. mombi, in a rage, clapped her hands to her ears and hobbled off and snip, after a few more remarks which only made the trees laugh harder, ran after her.
"i must say i prefer weeping willows," wheezed pajuka, catching up with snip and smoothing out his feathers with his bill. one of the willows had actually had the temerity to tweak him by the tail.
"when i find the king, i'll have you chopped down and up!" screamed mombi, turning to shake her stick at the offending trees, but neither snip nor pajuka bothered to listen to her. they were staring ahead in great astonishment, for the last zig in the road had brought them quite suddenly to the edges of a sparkling inland sea.
"water!" exulted the goose, instantly restored to good humor. "oh, let's go swimming!"
"swimming!" shuddered mombi, whirling around in a hurry. "don't you know water is death and destruction to witches?"
"is it?" asked snip in pleased surprise, and secretly wondered whether he hadn't better push mombi in at once. but pajuka, half guessing what was in his mind, shook his head reprovingly.
"but how are we to get across?" demanded the goose. "i don't see any boats or ferries and--"
"it's pretty wide to swim," ventured snip, shading his eyes with his hands and looking anxiously over the tumbling waves. snip's only experience with swimming had been in a small pool in the button wood and he was not at all sure he would ever reach the other side.
"i could tug you across," said pajuka, "but what about mombi?"
"hold your bill!" snapped the witch in her usual pleasant fashion, and sitting on a stone she scowled down at the sandy beach. then all at once she hopped up and, hobbling over to snip, took the basket again.
"now what?" whispered the little button boy. pajuka shrugged his wings and rolled up his eyes, but they had not long to wait or wonder, for mombi, having found what she wanted, sprang on a big rock and hurled a small purple can as far as she could into the rippling blue waters. then with a grunt of satisfaction, she resumed her seat upon the stone.
"well?" wheezed pajuka inquiringly.
"what are we waiting for?" demanded snip.
"for the sea to jell, idiot!" sniffed mombi. "in that can is the strongest gelatin in oz. it took me six years to refine and collect it. watch the sea and we shall see."
"it is jelling," marvelled snip, hopping up and down. "look, pajuka, the waves have stopped rolling!" this was quite true. the dancing blue waters, caught in their liveliest tumbling, had stiffened with their white frills still upon them and the whole sea was becoming smooth and glassy as a bowl of gelatin, only no gelatin snip ever had seen was half so beautiful, for the blue sea, tinged in spots with purple and green, sparkled in the sunshine like some large and lovely amethyst.
"well, do i know any tricks or not?" shrilled mombi, snapping her fingers under pajuka's bill. "come on! let's cross!" she rose stiffly and snip, taking up the basket, set one foot experimentally upon the jelly. it shook a little under his weight, but seemed firm and solid, so the three stepped out and were soon half way over.
"how about the fish?" asked pajuka, looking down through the clear, jellied water.
"they'll be jelly fish for a while," snickered mombi, who was in a fine humor at the trick she had turned. "i wish the wizard of oz could see this. i'll wager i can get as much magic out of a cook book as he can out of a whole library of sorcery."
"it certainly looks good enough to eat," admitted snip. "wonder if it is?" he scooped up a bit to taste, but it was so salty it choked him. if it was not good to eat it was surely fine to walk on and snip, bouncing along beside pajuka, was quite sorry when they reached the other side. "i think traveling's pretty interesting," observed the little button boy, looking back over his shoulder. "don't you pajuka?"
the goose sighed. "i used to think so, snip, but i've traveled so far searching for the king, i'm homesick for my slippers, a quiet old castle and my pipe. haven't had a smoke since i was a goose," mourned the poor prime minister, rolling his eyes sadly. snip couldn't help thinking how funny pajuka would look with a pipe and a pair of slippers, but he stifled this thought quickly.
"don't you care!" he whispered comfortingly. "you'll find the king and when we reach the emerald city, i'll tell ozma all about you," he promised, lowering his voice so mombi could not hear. "i am sure she'll help us."
"what are you whispering about?" snarled the witch, glaring back suspiciously.
"about a second," whistled pajuka, soaring into the air. "hello, what's this?"
"why, it's the corners," cried snip, running ahead to read a large sign suspended from a pussy willow under the great gray walls.
"catty corners," announced the sign, in black scratchy letters.
"catty corners," hissed the goose. "well, this is no place for me. let us fly at once!"
"but i adore cats," declared mombi and, before anyone could stop her, she thumped hard upon the gates. the walls surrounding catty corners formed a huge triangle and were so high that even by bending backward snip could not see the top. as he straightened up, a door in the gray wall flew open and a simply enormous tabby cat, dressed as a guard, seized pajuka by the wing and mombi by the arm.
"no boys allowed!" bawled the guard, bristling his whiskers at snip. before the little button boy could even wink, the cat had dragged his two companions in and slammed the door. snip could hear pajuka hissing and mombi protesting in a shrill voice and next instant the door flew open and he, himself, was seized by a cat guard and jerked through.
"he's my prisoner," cried mombi defiantly, as snip was lined up beside her. she had no intention of letting snip out of her clutches. he knew entirely too much for that.
"well, he's my prisoner now," snarled the guard, giving snip a shake. then, looking more closely at mombi, his eyes began to sparkle with pleasure. "who are you, beauteous being?" purred the cat, doffing his cap. pajuka, though badly scared by his predicament, could not restrain a loud chuckle.
"i'm a witch!" answered mombi, drawing herself up proudly.
"a witch!" cried the second cat guard, releasing his hold on mombi's arm. "oh cousin, how splendid! the queen must know of this."
throwing back his head he began to yowl in a hundred piercing and alarming cat cries.
"what's he saying?" gasped snip.
"sounds like cat fish to me," gurgled pajuka, ducking his head under his wing.
at the cat guard's call, hundreds of cats began to race toward the prisoners. they were as large as snip himself, and of every kind and color imaginable. as soon as they saw mombi, they began to purr with pleasure and delight, rubbing against her knees, knocking her hat sideways and pressing so close that snip and pajuka were almost suffocated. then, forming a triumphant procession, they started for the center of catty corners. mombi, like all witches, was fonder of cats than of anything else and walked along fondling first one and then another, while snip and pajuka, still in the clutches of the guards, followed in huge disgust. several of the cats cast hungry looks at the goose, but most of them were too taken up with mombi to even notice him.
"did you ever see such a place?" sniffed the little button boy scornfully. "why, it's all fences."
even as he spoke, his cat guard sprang up on a white fence, dragging him along. it was so perfectly unexpected that snip nearly fell on his nose but, glancing ahead, he saw mombi nimbly walking the fence between two black cats. pajuka had no trouble walking the fence either, though he was greatly inconvenienced by the guard who had hold of his wing.
"if i just had a pair of clothes props," sighed snip, balancing himself precariously.
"take hold of my tail," advised the guard gruffly, "and if you fall i'll scratch you."
another cat sprang up behind him and put one paw under his arm, so between the two snip managed fairly well. he had to keep his eyes so closely on the fence that he did not see as much of catty corners as he otherwise might have. but he saw enough to interest him tremendously. a perfect network of fences divided this curious city into a great many little enclosures. snip would have called them back yards. in each yard was a catnip bed, a pussy willow tree, and a lovely fountain of cream. they passed many ponds well stocked with fish, and snip shivered uncomfortably as one of the tabby cats jumped down from the fence, snatched a gold fish from a pond, and began eating it as if it were a cracker, salting it generously from a shaker he carried around his neck.
"hateful things," thought the little button boy, looking anxiously ahead to see how pajuka was faring. "i hope we don't have to stay here long." a sudden yowling and waving of tails told him something was happening. stretching his neck, he saw that mombi had reached the queen's garden.
"are you prepared to meet the imperial and puissant pussy?" asked the guard, looking severely over his shoulder.
"another cat?" groaned snip.
"scratch him," hissed a big grey tom, but the tabby cat merely reached down, and clutching snip by the front of his jacket, jumped down from the fence.
her majesty lay luxuriously under a catsup tree. ten small kittens fanned her with large leaves and there was a tabby cat guard in every corner of the garden. there was not room for all the other cats, so they ranged themselves expectantly on the surrounding fences, while mombi, pajuka and snip were brought forward. the queen, a sleek maltese, opened her eyes languidly as they approached, but at sight of mombi she sprang up so impulsively, she bumped her head on a catsup bottle.
"why, you dear, beautiful, dreadful old thing!" purred the queen, clasping her paws delightedly.
"dear, beautiful, dreadful old thing!" purred all the other cats, waving their tails approvingly.
"you shall stay and bewitch us forever," murmured her highness, stroking mombi's wrinkled cheek affectionately. "but who let this boy in?" she screamed furiously, catching a glimpse of snip.
"mean, horrid, naughty little wretch, puller of tails and thrower of stones!" her eyes flashed so threateningly snip was really alarmed and began to look around for some way to escape.
"he never pulled a cat-tail in his life," blustered pajuka indignantly, "except in a swamp!"
"in a swamp?" shrieked the queen. "what right has he to pull cat-tails in a swamp? who are you?"
"a prime minister when i am myself," answered pajuka promptly, "but unfortunately just now i am not myself."
"a goose!" purred the cat queen, licking her lips hungrily. "ah, it's years since i've tasted a goose. how old are you? how much do you weigh? are you tender?"
at each dreadful question, her maltese majesty drew nearer to pajuka. snip looked appealingly at mombi, but the old witch had forgotten them both and was seated blissfully under the catsup tree, her lap full of kittens.
"as a man i was in my prime, but i'm a very old goose," panted pajuka, edging nervously away from the greedy queen.
"i don't believe it," said her majesty, giving pajuka a playful poke. "what fun! a guest! a prisoner and a dinner! the witch shall stay, the boy shall be publicly chased and scratched and the goose, ah the goose shall be eaten! you may kiss my paw!" purred her highness, advancing graciously toward snip.
"mombi! mombi! do you hear that?" screamed pajuka wildly. "i'm to be served up for dinner!"
"serve you right," yawned the witch drowsily.
"i'll not let them eat you!" shouted snip, brushing aside the queen's paw and struggling to free himself from the cat guard.
"take them away!" commanded the queen, with a wave of her tail. "and keep tabs on them until wanted."
"you'll be sorry for this!" honked pajuka. "i'm very bad for cats. if you eat me i'll give you fits."
"hush!" hissed her highness haughtily. "you are now the dinner and the dinner is not supposed to converse."
"come along, dinner!" said the guard gruffly, and dragging pajuka by the wing and snip by the arm, he marched them sternly away, while all the inhabitants of catty corners howled with derision and delight.
"snip," wheezed pajuka mournfully, "when i am cooked and eaten, will you save a few of my feathers for ozma? and if you find the king will you tell him that old pajuka was faithful to--to--the last?"
in spite of himself the poor goose's voice broke and ended in a great gulp.
"when they get through with me there'll be just enough feathers left to stuff a pillow," choked pajuka.
"don't!" begged the little button boy, flinging his arms around his friend's neck. "besides, if i'm to be chased and scratched by all those cats, there won't be anything left of me at all."
"i'll nip off their tails, i'll snatch out their whiskers!" raged pajuka, thrusting his bill through the bars of their prison. the two had been thrown unceremoniously into a small summer house at the end of the queen's garden. it was surrounded by cat guards, so their chances for escape were cut off on every side.
"maybe something'll happen," sighed snip, pressing his nose against the slats. it had been late afternoon when they reached catty corners and in the gathering gloom the giant cats, parading up and down, looked like some dreadful sort of goblins. turning back to pajuka for comfort, snip was horrified to see that the goose had drawn up one foot and closed his eyes.
"don't fall asleep, pajuka," begged the little boy, shaking him frantically. "don't fall asleep and leave me all alone."
"can't help it snip--hah hoh! this is what comes of being a goose--hum!" yawned the poor prime minister. he blinked rapidly, stamped both feet and fluttered his feathers, but it was no use. his eyes simply would not stay open.
"well, if i'm to be eaten," gulped pajuka sadly, with a last monstrous yawn, "i might as well be asleep anyway." folding his head away dejectedly under his wing, he stood perfectly still. at this snip felt so down-hearted that he sat on the floor and took the goose in his lap.
"wonder what mombi's doing," he shuddered, trying to catch a glimpse of the old witch through the chinks in the lattice. to tell the truth, mombi was in as tight a catty corner as snip. having indulged her fondness for cats to the fullest extent and, noting with alarm the approach of night, she had finally risen and bidding the catty queen an affectionate farewell, declared herself ready to depart. "and the goose and boy must come with me," croaked mombi, grinning secretly at the joke she had played on them.
"with you," cried the cat queen, springing up in alarm. "why, you dear, ugly old darling, do you suppose i am ever going to let you go? never! as for the boy--who cares for boys? he shall entertain us all day to-morrow. i'll call out my grand army of maltesers, and they shall maul and tease him to death. what fun. and the goose! i could hug you for bringing that goose."
"but see here," panted mombi in alarm, "i need that goose. i'm taking him as a present to ozma, the queen."
"well, i'm a queen," sniffed the cat crossly, "and i don't give a yowl for ozma. come on, let's pluck out his feathers." and away across the garden scampered her majesty. mombi picked up her basket and followed in great haste. she knew that without pajuka she would never recognize the king, nor regain her magic powers. therefore, though she had no great love for the goose, she must find some way to save him.
"wait!" puffed the old witch, catching up with the queen. "wait! i, myself, will prepare a feast to go with the goose. i am a famous cook and know more about roasts and sauces than anyone in oz." mombi rolled her eyes boastfully.
"do you?" murmured the imperial pussy, stopping short and looking admiringly at the old witch.
"did your highness ever taste rice cream pudding?" inquired mombi mysteriously. "no goose should be eaten without a dish of pudding before-hand. keeps off the mullygrubs. just let me make you a delicious little rice cream pudding!"
"rice cream pudding? why that sounds delicious!" purred the queen, waving her tail rapturously. "make enough for us all, dear old ugliness, and i'll take a cat nap while you do."
"where's the kitchen?" demanded mombi with a wicked grin. already she had thought of a way out of her difficulties. once in the catty kitchen, really only an enclosed corner of the garden with a stone fireplace and iron crane, mombi set quickly to work. filling the largest cauldron with rich cream from the fountain, she poured in all the boxes of rice she had in her basket and all the raisins. then, setting it over the fire, which two tortoise shell cats kept at blazing point, she stirred and muttered and muttered and stirred, and just before it was done dropped in the contents of another of her purple cans.
meanwhile, news of the coming treat had spread, and by the time the pudding was finished, the fences were simply crowded with cats, their eyes showing like green balls of fire in the darkness. there were only a few dim lanterns in catty corners, for cats can see quite as well by night as by day. each cat had brought a saucer, and forming in an orderly procession, they lined up before the old witch, while mombi ladled out helping after helping of the pudding, pausing every now and then to wipe her forehead on her sleeve and grin wickedly to herself.
none of the cats dared eat until the queen arrived, and when her highness finally did appear, a long sigh of anticipation went up from the fences. mombi had saved a particularly large helping for the queen, and when her maltese majesty lowered her chin over her saucer and all the other cats started lapping up the pudding, mombi could hardly restrain her chuckles. the pudding really was delicious and the queen lapped faster and faster, as did the rest, so that in scarcely a moment the saucers were quite empty and the company quite the reverse.
with half-closed eyes the queen lifted her head to thank mombi but before she could purr a purr, she, and that whole collection of cats, simply catapulted into the air and, while mombi held her sides and rocked to and fro with malicious merriment, they rolled and tumbled toward the clouds like balloons released from their strings. no wonder! in that purple can was a baking powder powerful enough to raise an army--baking powder that the old witch had been collecting and refining for twenty years.
"hah," snorted mombi, rubbing her hands with satisfaction. leaning over the fountain, she took a long drink of cream, for stirring the pudding had made her mighty thirsty. then, without thought of her luckless victims, she picked up her basket and hobbled off to the summer house. snip, after waiting in terror for the cats to come for pajuka, had finally dropped into an uneasy slumber, and when mombi flashed a small lantern in his eyes he almost jumped out of his jacket.
"come along, you little lazy bones," grumbled the witch, jerking him roughly by the sleeve. "is that silly old goose asleep too?"
"i'll carry him," said snip stiffly and, bending over, he picked pajuka carefully up in his arms. he was quite an armful, but never stirred nor wakened at all. snip longed to tell mombi what he thought of her, but she looked so fierce he decided not to try it.
"where are the cats?" he shivered, tiptoeing nervously after the old witch. mombi waved her stick aloft, and you can imagine the astonishment of the little boy to see a perfect cloud of cats sailing across the moon.
"gave 'em rice pudding and they riz," wheezed the old witch gleefully. having no one else to boast to, mombi condescended to explain her trick to snip. snip, on his part, was glad to escape from the catty creatures, but he could not help feeling a bit sorry for them.
"how long will they have to stay up there?" he inquired curiously.
"till it rains," grunted mombi, swinging the lantern carelessly. "but come on, i can't stand here talking all night. we'll never reach the emerald city at this rate."
"anyway," thought snip, stepping along carefully so as not to wake pajuka, "anyway they can eat their supper in the milky way and won't it be raining cats when they do come down though!"
while mombi stopped to straighten her hat, snip took a long drink from one of the cream fountains. "nobody knows when we'll get anything to eat," said the little button boy to himself.
"are we going to travel all night?" he puffed, running to catch up with mombi.
"mind your own buttons," hissed the old witch, lapsing into her usual ill-temper, and as she refused to say another word, there was nothing to do but follow the uncertain flicker of her lantern. after an hour of zig-zagging along the fences, they reached the other side, unbolted the great iron doors in the wall and found themselves in another forest.
snip thought surely mombi would stop, but the old witch went muttering and mumbling along, her eyes gleaming like hot coals in the darkness. every once in a while, she would glance sideways at snip in a way that caused him great uneasiness. to tell the truth, mombi had about decided to rid herself of the little button boy. he knew too much and might run off and tell ozma her plans before she could reach the emerald city, herself. with pajuka's help, mombi meant to find the old king, if she could, but when he had restored her magic powers mombi intended to be the real ruler of oz. so, hurrying along through the inky forest, she began casting about in her mind for a way to destroy snip.
"i'll wait till i reach the center of the forest," hissed mombi, stumping along under the silent trees, "and then--"
"what did you say?" asked snip anxiously.
"nothing," grunted mombi, smiling sourly to herself, "at least nothing that concerns you."
scraps, the patch work girl, danced crazily down the flower-bordered path in ozma's lovely garden in the emerald city, shouting this verse:
"hank hankers for a hanky to blow his funny nose, hank hankers for a hanky, i hanker for a rose!"
"i do not," brayed hank, betsy bobbins' little mule, flapping his ears sulkily. "you don't know what you are singing about, scraps. go away and stop jeering me. how could i use a hanky, you silly girl?"
"hank, you're a crank!" shouted scraps, and capered on down the path, stopping to chin herself on a tulip tree and dropping in a wobbly heap beside the little table where ozma, betsy bobbin and trot were having breakfast.
"you shouldn't tease hank like that," said ozma, looking reproachfully at scraps over her gold breakfast cup.
"i'll tease, i'll tease, whom i please, i'll cross my eyes and cross my knees!"
chortled scraps, and she looked so comical doing both of these crossings at once that the little girls simply burst into laughter, while hank, with a snort of disgust, galloped off at full speed.
"you're awful," sighed betsy bobbin, nearly choking on her biscuit, and betsy was pretty nearly right, for this ridiculous maiden who lived luxuriously in ozma's palace was made entirely of patchwork. she had been cut from an old quilt, stuffed and sewn together by a wizard's wife who intended her for a servant. but when the wizard mixed up her brains, a lot of fun and cleverness had got in, so that scraps had refused to be a servant and had run off to the emerald city. she was so comical and entertaining that ozma had allowed her to remain at the capital, and scraps is now one of the most celebrated characters in the castle.
betsy bobbin was a little girl from the united states. she and hank had been ship-wrecked on the shores of a strange land near oz and, after some terrible adventures with the old gnome king, had reached oz itself and been taken in by the kind-hearted little queen. trot also had come from america and liked oz so well she had never returned home. these two, with princess dorothy, are the closest friends of the fairy ruler, for ozma herself is only a little girl fairy, and these four together have the merriest times imaginable.
living in a green stone castle studded with emeralds is fun enough, dear knows, but living in a green stone castle with forty-nine courtiers, thirty-nine footmen, thirty-seven handmen, twenty-six serving maids, ten cooks and a flock of pages is luxury indeed, especially in a magical land where adventures are liable to happen every few minutes. why, it's the most fun yet!
perhaps dorothy is ozma's prime favorite, for dorothy was the first little girl to discover oz and has been so mixed up in its magical history that ozma would scarcely know how to rule her interesting subjects without her help. it was of dorothy that ozma was thinking, as she watched scraps turning reckless handsprings under the tulip trees.
"i wonder when dorothy will return?" sighed the little queen, pushing back her chair and signalling for the thirty-ninth footman to remove the gold breakfast plates. dorothy had gone on a short visit to perhaps city and already the others were longing for her return.
"let's ask the scarecrow," proposed betsy, waving to the jolly straw man who, arm-in-arm with sir hokus of pokes, was coming down the path. both these delightful fellows are great friends of dorothy's. in fact she discovered them. the scarecrow she had lifted down from a pole on her very first trip to oz. he had accompanied her to the emerald city and been given a splendid set of brains by the wizard of oz, so that he is one of the wittiest and most able of ozma's courtiers. he has a cozy corn-ear castle in the winkie country, but prefers to spend most of his time in the capital with the girls. sir hokus had been rescued from pokes by dorothy on another of her wonderful adventures, and since the knight had taken up his residence in the palace ozma felt more secure than ever before, for sir hokus was a splendid swordsman and feared neither man nor monster. it is people like scraps, sir hokus and the scarecrow who make life in the emerald city so jolly and so different.
"yoo hoo! don't you think it's time dorothy was back?" called betsy, as the two came nearer.
"high time! high time!" answered the scarecrow, waving his old blue hat up at the clock in the tallest tower of the castle. "and we'll have a high time when she does come," he smiled gaily. "i've thought up a dozen new games and--. what's that?" cried the scarecrow, interrupting himself suddenly and blinking his painted eyes so fast that betsy bounded out of her chair.
"what's that?" echoed the little queen of oz, springing up in alarm. something gold and brilliant had flashed through the air and fallen upon the walk.
"a feather!" puffed sir hokus. "odds goblins and hoblins, a feather!" he stooped creakily to pick it up, but as he did the golden quill righted itself and began to move rapidly across the marble walk.
"it's writing!" gasped trot, clutching the scarecrow by the arm, and in dazed fascination they watched the feather tracing a sentence. when it had set down five words, it made a little gold dot and fell lifelessly at ozma's feet.
"danger! go to morrow to-day!" stuttered the scarecrow, reading the golden message aloud.
"how now," thundered sir hokus, letting his visor fall with a crash, "what means this message?"
"go to-morrow!" gulped the scarecrow, clapping on his hat and squinting down at the golden legend on the walk.
"not to-morrow, to-day," corrected betsy bobbin breathlessly.
"but if we go to-day, how can we go to-morrow?" asked ozma, growing more bewildered every minute.
"danger!" shuddered trot, pointing a trembling finger at the first word.
"what's all the excitement?" demanded scraps, dancing up on one toe. then, seeing they were all staring down at the marble, she bent over and read the message aloud herself.
"go to-morrow to-day. it can never be done! just to think of it gives me a pain in the bun."
screamed the patch work girl, clapping her hand to her cotton forehead.
"hush, scraps!" begged ozma. "this is serious!"
"someone is delirious, or they'd never write such nonsense," declared scraps defiantly. "what are you going to do about it?"
"think!" mumbled the scarecrow, dropping down on a gold garden bench.
"send for the wizard!" advised betsy bobbin, jumping up and down in her excitement. "wait! i'll get him!"
"it's a goose quill," announced sir hokus, as betsy ran off toward the palace. he had picked up the golden feather and was examining it carefully.
"a goose quill?" gasped ozma. "why what can that mean? oh dear, i do wish dorothy were back."
"my gooseness!" giggled scraps. "no wonder it's a silly message. do you know any geese?"
"none but you!" sniffed trot, putting her arms about ozma.
"silence, wench!" commanded sir hokus, pushing scraps aside and seating himself beside the scarecrow. "methinks dark deeds are brewing here. hast thought of anything friend?"
"not yet," sighed the scarecrow, rubbing his forehead sadly with his wobbly finger. "let me think some more."
all were silent until betsy bobbin came hurrying back, bringing with her the wizard of oz and tik tok. as everyone in oz knows, tik tok is another great celebrity, a machine man of burnished copper who can talk, walk and even think when properly wound. betsy was winding up his think key, as she ran along, for tik tok's brains, in spite of their wheels, worked quite as well as the scarecrow's, and there certainly was a lot of thinking to be done.
"you say it was a golden goose feather?" panted the little wizard of oz, quickening his steps. "a goose feather! humph!" next instant he was bending over the strange inscription on the walk, while ozma and trot breathlessly explained just how and when it had all happened.
"to-morrow to-day!" murmured the wizard, mopping his bald head with his green hanky. "why that's impossible, there's some trick to it."
the wizard drew a small green book from his pocket. it was the book of magic messages and the little company waited anxiously while he flipped over the pages. but although every other kind of message was touched upon, there was nothing at all about goose feathers. with a sigh, the wizard returned the book to his pocket, and dropping upon his knees began to examine the letters through his smallifying glass.
tik tok, except for the chug and whirr of his machinery, had been perfectly quiet. now, leaning over so far he nearly tumbled on his copper nose, he began to read the message aloud.
"go--to-morrow--to-day! go--to-morrow--to-day!" rasped tik tok, in his harsh rasping voice, over and over and over, until ozma and betsy clapped hands to their ears and trot begged him to stop. "that's fun-ny--," ticked the copper man at last. "it tells us when to go--but not--where. too many times and--no--place. go--to-mor--"
whirr--click! tik tok's voice ran down and the sentence stopped in mid air.
"thank goodness!" cried betsy bobbin fervently.
"well, you'd better thank tik tok," spluttered the scarecrow, leaping off the golden bench. "hurrah! i have it now. one's a time and one's a place. is there a kingdom called morrow anywhere in oz, my dear?"
"morrow!" exclaimed ozma, "why, that does sound familiar, somehow. morrow? yes, i feel sure there is."
"get a map," ordered the scarecrow in great excitement, and all but the wizard sat down and smiled at the cleverness of the wise straw man.
the wizard of oz knew the geography of ozma's wonderful land by heart and he remembered the kingdom of morrow perfectly. he felt a bit jealous that the scarecrow was about to solve the mystery without his help and so he popped a small wishing pill into his mouth and began speaking rapidly in magic.
now magic is a language which i do not profess to understand, but the results of the wizard's speech were instantaneous and astonishing. so swiftly that the hair of the three little girls was nearly jerked from their heads, so swiftly that sir hokus lost his sword and ozma her crown, they were all hurled through the air and dashed down in a very short time on the steps of an ancient and gloomy castle.
its once splendid garden was choked up with weeds. vines had run up and over the entire structure, covering even the windows and chimneys with a waving curtain of green. owls hooted dismally from the towers and the scurry and scamper of frightened feet told that many little forest animals had made themselves at home within.
"mercy," gasped betsy bobbin, examining anxiously a long scratch on her knee, "how did we get here?"
"where are we?" inquired sir hokus, blinking very fast from his seat upon a stone lion, where he had landed a little too suddenly and emphatically for complete comfort.
"we are in morrow," replied the wizard, rising from the last step of the castle and dusting off his green trousers. "in morrow, by my express wish and dr. nikidik's wishing pills."
"well, you might have told us we were coming," said trot a bit crossly, beginning to look around for her side comb.
"morrow!" murmured ozma, walking dreamily up the castle steps. "why i've been here before, dozens and dozens of times."
"got another pill, wizard?" asked scraps grimly.
"ahem! no, i don't believe i have," coughed the little man nervously. "why?"
"i wanna go home," shuddered the patch work girl, looking fearfully at the dismal forest surrounding the castle and a flock of black birds circling ominously overhead. "i wanna go home!"
"you should think before you wish, old fellow," gulped the scarecrow weakly. "betsy, my dear, will you give me a shake. all of my straw has fallen into my left boot. and where's tik tok, pray?"
"i thought he'd better stay home," replied the wizard, looking around uneasily. now that they were really in morrow, he began to doubt the wisdom of his quick wish. why had he not thought to bring his magic bag or another wishing pill in case of danger?
"a rare and imposing old edifice!" observed sir hokus, dismounting stiffly from the stone lion, and looking up curiously at the castle.
"well, now that we are here, we might as well look around," puffed the scarecrow, more cheerful since betsy had shaken him up and smoothed out his stuffing. "come along!"
ozma was already standing before the dull golden doors, the only portion of the castle not overgrown with vines. stepping up behind her, sir hokus lifted the huge knocker and let it fall with a great clank against the tarnished metal.
"what ho, within!" roared the good knight lustily. but only a hollow echo and the derisive hoot of an owl came shivering out to them.
"what makes you think it is a ho?" chattered scraps nervously.
"i wish you'd never wished us here. this castle's full of spooks, i fear!"
finished the patch work girl, shaking her finger reproachfully at the wizard.
"fear nothing," boomed sir hokus grandly, "i will protect you." putting his mailed shoulder to the doors, he pressed with all his might. the bolts had evidently not been drawn and when the three little girls and the wizard added their strength to his, the doors flew open so suddenly they all tumbled through together. three jack rabbits and a tiny fawn leaped through a broken window pane as the doors crashed open and several bats, shaken from their hold on the beamed ceiling by the jar, began to circle round and round, screeching dismally. the hall had once been furnished with great splendor and magnificence, but now everything was covered with cobwebs, dust and decay. the dim green light filtering in through the vine covered windows made everything seem more ghastly still.
"i wanna go home!" whispered scraps plaintively.
"oh!" wailed betsy bobbin, hiding her face in the scarecrow's coat, "i don't like this."
"shoo!" coughed the scarecrow, stamping his foot at a flock of mice that came scurrying across the floor and whirling his hat about his head to keep off the bats. "shoo, i tell you!"
"what do you s'pose anyone wanted us to come here for?" groaned trot, clinging nervously to scraps.
"well, there must be some reason," answered ozma thoughtfully. "i seem to remember this castle." disregarding the grime and dust, the lovely little queen walked slowly across the hall and sat down on a golden chest beside the long table. sir hokus, finding nothing better to fight than mice and bats, began briskly to clear the room of the pests, while trot, betsy and the patch work girl tiptoed here and there talking in tense whispers, for in the silence of the deserted castle their words echoed and re-echoed unpleasantly. having assured themselves that there was nothing of interest in the great hall, sir hokus, the wizard and the scarecrow went bravely off to examine the rest of the castle.
"i wish they'd come back," whispered trot, after they'd been gone about five minutes. "oooh, what's that?"
"the wind," quavered betsy doubtfully.
"i don't believe it," shuddered scraps, tripping over the fire irons and sprawling upon the hearth. "it's a spook. i wanna go home! just look at me!" betsy and trot giggled nervously, for scraps, covered with grime and soot from her fall, was enough to make anyone laugh.
"never mind," comforted ozma, "i'll have you dry cleaned when we get back home, but now i'm trying to think, so please do be quiet."
quiet! scarcely was the word out of her mouth, before there was such a shivering slam overhead that all three girls jumped with terror and scraps, for greater security leaped clear onto the table, touching as she did so a hidden spring in the top. at this there was a blinding flash and while ozma, betsy and trot clung desperately together and scraps gave another jump that carried her clear to the chandelier, the center of the table rose up before their eyes, disclosing a long silver casket.
"don't touch it!" warned the patch work girl, swinging dizzily 'round and 'round.
"a goblin, a goblin will jump out and bite us, there's a giant upstairs and he's coming to smite us!"
someone certainly was coming down the stairs. scarcely daring to look, they waited anxiously for the next happening.
"what befell?" it was sir hokus of pokes and not a giant who stuck his head through the doorway. "did'st call maidens?" asked the knight, looking up at scraps in vague disapproval.
without stopping to explain what had frightened them, ozma pointed a trembling finger at the silver casket and before any of them could beg him not to, sir hokus strode forward and opened the mysterious chest. scraps hid her head in her arm. then, hearing no screams nor explosions, she finally screwed up enough courage to look down. the wizard of oz and the scarecrow had returned and they were all staring in amazement at a green velvet robe which sir hokus had taken from the chest.
"royal robe of his majesty, the king of oz!" boomed the knight, reading from a small tag on the ermine collar.
"the king of oz?" choked ozma, clasping her hands in excitement. "why that's my father, and i remember now. this is the hunting lodge where we used to hide from mombi when i was a little girl!"
"but i thought mombi destroyed your father when she turned you to a boy," puffed betsy bobbin, her eyes sticking out with astonishment and surprise.
"so did i," muttered the little wizard. he always felt uneasy and unhappy when the old witch was mentioned, for he, himself, had given ozma into mombi's keeping when he took possession of the kingdom. the old witch had already spirited away the little girl's father and ozma herself was too young to rule. but the wizard, changed very much since those old days, realized now how wrong it had been and did not like to recall the part he had played in the affair at all.
"well, no wonder you remembered the castle," put in trot.
"but wait!" cried sir hokus hoarsely. "there is more." and turning over the tag he read: "this robe has been preserved by the fairy lurline, and if placed upon the king's shoulders with incantation no. 986 from the green book of magic, will restore him to his proper shape. if the incantation is used without the robe a great disaster will befall."
"who's lurline?" asked trot, her eyes winking very fast indeed.
"why lurline is my fairy godmother and the queen of the fairy band we are all descended from," explained ozma breathlessly. "oh girls! to think my father is really alive!" the delighted little ruler hugged betsy and trot so hard that they had to squeal for mercy.
"i should think you'd rather be queen yourself," sniffed scraps, dropping sulkily from the chandelier and coming over to stare at the king's robe. "he'll want to boss you 'round and make you go to bed at eight, wear rubbers and all that other fatherish stuff. let's go home and not bother with him. who wants a king anyway, i like you!"
betsy looked shocked at the patch work girl's heartless speech, but ozma, paying no heed to scraps, began to confer excitedly with the wizard.
"who sent the quill? where shall we look first? what does it mean by the green book of magic?" she asked, one question following another so fast the wizard blinked with discomfort.
"if you take my advice," observed the scarecrow, rubbing his nose wisely, "you'll return immediately to the emerald city. once there we have but to look in the magic picture to discover the whereabouts of your royal parent."
among the many treasures in ozma's palace is the magic picture, in which you may see anyone you wish by merely expressing the desire to see them. it also shows the country and exact situation they are in, so you can see how sensible the scarecrow's suggestion really was.
"but what made that terrible racket upstairs?" demanded scraps, suddenly remembering her scare.
"oh that!" sir hokus shuffled his feet in embarrassment. "i fell through a trap door into a closet full of tins," explained the knight sheepishly.
"it's a good thing you did," laughed betsy bobbin, "for if you hadn't frightened scraps we might never have found the silver chest at all."
"now that we have found it," shivered trot, "let's go. it's cold in here."
"and let's hurry!" cried ozma, seizing the scarecrow affectionately by the arm. "oh, i can scarcely wait to see my father."
"why didn't you bring along another wishing pill, wizard?" sighed betsy. "we're in morrow, sure enough, but where is morrow? and how do we get back to the emerald city, anyway?" no one could answer betsy's question, for it had been so long since ozma had been in the old castle she remembered nothing of its location.
"we'll have to walk, i s'pose," said the scarecrow, detaching a cobweb from his ear, "and the sooner we start, the sooner we'll arrive."
"right, as usual!" approved the knight, taking the scarecrow by the arm. "forward for the king and for oz!"
so, after another short look about, the seven adventurers closed the castle doors and began to make their way cautiously through the deserted park.
"if i only knew who sent the feather," murmured ozma, holding up her lace skirts to keep them from catching on the bushes and thorns.
"i'll bet it was your fairy godmother," said trot, skipping along excitedly.
"well, i wish the goose had come with the feather," sighed betsy bobbin. "i'm hungry as the hungry tiger!"
"if you were stuffed with cotton, you'd never have to eat. i'm glad i'm made of patch work and not of bone and meat."
sang scraps, dancing ahead in her ridiculous fashion.
"there's a house!" called betsy, tugging the knight suddenly by the arm and pointing to a small red building.
"oh!" cried ozma, clasping her hands, "perhaps someone lives there who can tell us about my father!"
"he may be near and he may be farther," giggled scraps starting to run toward the little red house. "come on everybody!"
led by the patch work girl, the little company hurried toward the little red house. no one was to be seen at the windows, and when sir hokus pounded on the door there was no answer.
"we are wasting time here," said the scarecrow at last. "let us be on our way." and so the homeward march was resumed.
on the same bright morning that the golden goose feather had come flashing down into ozma's garden in the emerald city, dorothy had said good-bye to her old friends in perhaps city and started gaily homeward.
her visit on maybe mountain, where old peer haps holds court and the forgetful poet makes verses from morning until night, had been so interesting and jolly that dorothy still felt happy and she went skipping down the steep mountain path almost as fast as the little brook that rushed along at her side. as she skipped along she sang this merry ditty:
"i saw one day, the last of may, a foolish and absurd old yellow fellow calling 'hello, i'm a banana bird!'
"a banana bird! my eyes grew blurred; i took to my toes and heels, then away he flew with a flap or two, of his yellow banana peels."
"i must try to remember that for scraps," dorothy giggled softly to herself. her head was full of the forgetful poet's ridiculous rhymes, and she was so busy remembering them and the many bits of news she had for ozma that she reached the bottom of the mountain in almost no time and, without noticing where she was going, turned into an inviting small lane. there was a sign swinging from a yellow post at the head of the lane, but dorothy never saw it. she knew she was in the familiar winkie country, for the wind mills, flapping lazily in the morning breeze, were yellow, the houses were yellow and if that were not proof enough, the lane was full of daisies and buttercups and edged with golden peach and pear trees.
"i don't believe," sighed dorothy, hurrying happily along under the lovely branches, "i don't believe there is any place so interesting as oz. how pretty this road is!"
stooping down, she scooped up a bit of the sand that made the bed of the lane sparkle like silver in the sunlight. it was silver, to be perfectly truthful, and with a little smile dorothy slipped some into her pocket.
"how surprised anyone in kansas would be to find silver dust in the road," thought the little girl, recalling her old home with a little chuckle of amusement. "no, nothing like this ever happens in america at all, and yet--" dorothy paused to pick an unusually large buttercup and twirl it absently under her chin, "and yet i sometimes wish i were in america again, just to see--"
wheee--ee! off flew her hat, up flew her heels and in a whirl of silver dust and peach blossoms, off flew dorothy herself. off, up, away and down again, so swiftly she had not even time to swallow.
"thirty miles to hollywood," said the sign near the huge rock where she sat blinking with shock and astonishment.
"hollywood!" panted dorothy. "why that's in california and california's in the united states. but how did i get here?" there was no one to answer her question, and as she couldn't answer it herself she jumped up, smoothed out her dress and looked anxiously about. a smooth white road ran evenly ahead, one side sloped down into a deep ravine, on the other side was a long, uninteresting stretch of meadow. through the trees at the bottom of the ravine, dorothy caught a glimpse of some houses.
feeling terribly puzzled and not entirely pleased, she left the road and started down through the trees. halfway down, she paused to make sure she was going toward the houses, when the furious clatter of hoofs on the road above made her glance up in dismay. a great company of horsemen, armed with pikes, staves, swords and pitch forks were galloping pell mell along the highway. giving a scream of fright, dorothy saw them turn and plunge down the ravine. with a smash and a crash they came riding upon her. gasping in terror, dorothy sprang behind a big tree and in a whirl of sticks, dust and color the horsemen pounded past. they were dressed in green doublets and hose. they wore wide feathered hats and were not at all the sort of folk dorothy expected to find in america.
with her hand pressed to her heart, dorothy peered around the tree. as she did so the wild riders reined up short and two of the most villainous looking snatched a green-cloaked figure from the saddle and hurled him violently over the cliff. then swinging their horses round, they galloped off as suddenly as they had come, leaving dorothy, as she afterwards explained to sir hokus of pokes, perfectly petrified. not until the last green doublet flashed out of sight did she dare stir. then breathlessly she tiptoed to the edge of the cliff and looked over.
"oooh--they've killed him!" gasped dorothy, in horrified tones. now many another small girl would have run off at once, but dorothy had been in too many strange adventures for that. instead she ran just as fast as she could down the steep, stony path to the bottom of the ravine. there on the stones, with his head in a shallow brook, lay the unfortunate rider. close beside him was a great jewel-studded crown.
"a king!" marvelled dorothy, who had met a great many monarchs in oz. "but what is he doing here? and why?"
holding her breath, she leaned over and touched the quiet figure. then, taking her courage in both hands, she seized him by the arms and dragged him out of the brook. he came so suddenly and unexpectedly that dorothy fell over backwards. more mystified than ever, she picked herself up.
"mercy!" stuttered the little girl, turning him over gingerly. "he's not alive at all; he's stuffed. why he's only a dummy."
half relieved and half disappointed, she gazed into the bland face of the fallen king. it was a handsomely painted face, which even the brook mud could not entirely spoil, and it was topped by a splendid silver wig. but what on earth did it all mean? if dorothy had been in oz she might have found it more understandable, for strange things are always happening in oz. but in america! dorothy could not puzzle it out. sitting down on a fallen tree she stared at the dummy in perfect astonishment. how had she come here herself? how was she to get back to the emerald city? who were the wild green riders, and why had they flung the dummy over the cliff?
"i wish," sighed dorothy at last, looking pensively at the long green figure stretched so solemnly at her feet, "i wish you were alive and then maybe--"
"maybe what?" wheezed the dummy, raising his head about an inch and blinking at her curiously. "say, who pulled me out of the brook?"
dorothy gave a little scream and then, recovering herself and swallowing hard, answered breathlessly, "i did!"
"well, i'm supposed to be dead," puffed the dummy reproachfully. "try to get that through your hair, can't you? i've just been thrown over the cliff by the revolutionists. you shouldn't have rescued me, little girl. it will spoil the picture. is there a camera man anywhere about?"
"camera?" gasped dorothy faintly, "oh, i don't know." it had been a long time since dorothy had been in america, and there had been very few moving pictures in those old days on the kansas farm. but trot, who had come to oz from san francisco, had told dorothy a lot about the screen stars and moving picture stunts. as she recalled trot's stories, dorothy clapped her hands. smiling at the dummy she said, "i know! you're a moving picture dummy, aren't you?"
"right the first time," said the dummy, as he raised his head another inch and smiled approvingly at dorothy. "i take all the risks," he explained complacently. "i fall for the stars. now this star was a foolish old king, but the last star i fell for was a shooting star--a cow-boy, you know. i was thrown from a horse under a stampeding herd of steers," he mused dreamily, "and had to be entirely remade.
"but you had better run along now, little girl. i'm supposed to be dead. it doesn't hurt," he observed graciously, as dorothy continued to stare at him in amazement. "i've died a hundred times and know all about it. run along now, like a good child." lowering his head, he settled down resignedly in the mud and stared stolidly up at the sky.
"well, of course if you prefer to be dead," began dorothy a bit stiffly, "i'll go. but why you should want to lie there in the mud, when the sun is shining and everything so nice and interesting, i don't see. you're not dead at all. you're as alive as i am!"
the dummy sat bolt upright at dorothy's words and started to pinch himself curiously. "why so i am," he puffed, rubbing his nose thoughtfully with his stuffed and pudgy finger. "sit down again my dear, until i get used to the idea of it, will you? it feels very odd and dangerous!" he shook one leg, then the other and rose unsteadily to his feet.
"hurrah!" cried dorothy "why i believe you can walk. here, lean on this." she thrust a stick into the dummy's hand and after a few uncertain wobblings, he began to pace briskly up and down, his green velvet cloak slapping merrily at his heels. dorothy was so interested in his progress that she almost forgot how ridiculous it was for a dummy to be alive, but as he lowered himself carefully to the log beside her, she began to wonder again how it had all happened.
"were you ever alive before?" asked dorothy curiously.
the dummy shook his head. "if talking and walking around like this is being alive, then i never have," said the dummy positively. "what shall i do now?"
"why anything you like," laughed dorothy, beginning to enjoy herself.
"but a dummy can only do as he's told," sighed the stuffed king doubtfully. "and who are you my dear? have you run off to go into the movies?" he looked at dorothy critically from all sides. "not bad at all," he murmured approvingly. "they'll be glad to get you, i'm sure. just stay here with me and presently they will come in a truck and collect us. yes, that's the ticket, we'll wait until we are collected."
"well, i'm not a ticket," giggled dorothy, "and i don't want to be collected or go into the movies either. i'm going straight back to oz, as soon as i can."
"oz?" queried the dummy, pressing his finger to his forehead. "is that a place or a tonic?"
"it's a place," sputtered dorothy. "oh dear, wouldn't ozma be surprised to see you! you know, you're awfully like scraps and the scarecrow."
"they sound rather awful," smiled the dummy, folding his cloak around him dubiously. "are they dummies too?"
"no, but they're stuffed," explained dorothy, leaning over to poke him experimentally in the chest. "you talk very queerly. i do wonder what you are stuffed with!"
"hair, i think," yawned the dummy indifferently, and leaning over he picked up his crown and set it jauntily upon the side of his head. "i wouldn't go back to that oz place if i were you," he advised earnestly. "stay here and you can see a moving picture every day--exciting and adventurous stuff too."
"but what's the fun of looking at other folks having adventures," sniffed dorothy. "in oz we have adventures ourselves, and in oz i'm a princess and live in a castle."
the dummy turned and looked at her respectfully. "a princess," he murmured in a faint voice. "oh!"
"have you any name?" asked dorothy, rather ashamed of her boast about being a princess.
"well, there's a number on the back of my neck, but i don't think i have any name," answered the stuffed man uneasily. "i'm just a dummy, you know."
"but i wouldn't like to call you a dummy," said dorothy gently.
"well that's what i am," insisted the stuffed king cheerfully, "a regular dummy."
tiptoeing round back of him, dorothy pulled out a little tag on the back of his collar. "202-b-e-10-b-47" read the little girl. "my, what a long number."
"yes, isn't it," replied the dummy proudly. "couldn't you call me by that?"
"i could never remember it," objected dorothy. "let--me--see, i might call you clifford 'cause you fell off a cliff, or cal, 'cause i found you in california? do you know, you are dreadfully humpy in spots. humpy! why i believe i'll call you humpy!" cried dorothy, clapping her hands softly.
"oooh! ouch! what's that?" in sudden terror dorothy clutched at her left shoe.
"i don't care what you call me, but i'd call you very odd!" said the dummy in alarm. "you've grown at least a foot while i've been looking at you. people in this country are supposed to stay the same size," he muttered, edging away uneasily. but dorothy scarcely heard him. there was a frightful pain in her heart and both shoes pinched so terribly that she screamed aloud. at the same instant all the buttons flew off the back her dress.
"are you going to burst?" asked the dummy anxiously.
"oh! oh! i'm afraid so," gasped the little girl, clutching herself about the waist. at each word she shot up another inch, for dorothy, who had lived in the fairy land of oz for many years, was suddenly growing up.
in oz, no one ever grows up, but in america dorothy would be quite a young lady by this time and, removed from the magical influences of that magical land, she was growing all at once and finding it, as most of the rest of us do, an exceedingly uncomfortable business. her screams as she grew taller and taller were so piteous that humpy fell off the log.
"help! help! help!" wailed the dummy, beating his flimsy arms up and down among the leaves.
"oh! oh! oh!" panted dorothy desperately. "i can't stand this another minute. i wish i were back. i wish i were back!"
next moment there was not a sound in the ravine, nor a person, nor even a dummy. only a startled squirrel ran up and down the log, chattering with fright and annoyance. certainly he had seen two people on that log. well, where were they now? he frisked his tail, he wiggled his nose and scratched his head anxiously. then, with a little bounce, he gave it up and went off to crack some nuts for supper.
"the last thing i remember," muttered the dummy thickly, "was a little girl shooting up like a fountain. now what happened after that?" dorothy raised her head and looked cautiously in the direction from which the voice was coming. the dummy lay, face down, in a great heap of leaves and, without making any attempt to rise, went stuffily on with the conversation. "i don't mind falling for stars, but being flung around like a bean bag for a person who is one size this minute and another size the next is all wrong. i wonder where she is now!"
"here i am," called dorothy breathlessly, rolling out of a pile of leaves on the other side of him. "how do you s'pose we got here?"
"little again!" groaned the dummy, just lifting his head long enough to look at her, and then letting it drop back among the leaves. "little again!"
"oh, am i?" dorothy jumped up in great excitement and began measuring herself as best she could. her stockings were stretched and torn, her dress was ripped in several seams and minus all of its buttons. but outside of this she was her old, or rather her young, sweet self again.
"why we must be back in oz," sighed dorothy, looking with deep relief at a stretch of purple hills in the background. "this is the gilliken country."
"are you still the same size, or are you going to shoot up into a young lady again? don't shoot," begged the dummy quickly. "it makes me nervous!"
"well, i don't know," said dorothy doubtfully. to tell the truth the little girl had not had time to think at all, nor did she quite realize that she was one age in oz and another age in america. "i'll have to ask the wizard about it when we get back to the emerald city," she sighed, with a very puzzled expression. "it's all very funny, don't you think so, humpy?"
"can't get it through my hair at all," puffed the dummy. sitting up stiffly he reached for his crown. "where are we now and when does the next reel begin?"
instead of answering dorothy plumped down among the leaves and, with her elbows on her knees, stared thoughtfully at the dummy.
"i wish i knew how you came to be alive, and how we got back to oz," mused dorothy slowly. there was a flash and flutter in the air and down at her feet dropped a crisp white card. humpy promptly toppled over backward and dorothy, herself, gave a little gasp of surprise.
"by wishing," said the card in pink letters, just as if it had heard her questions. below there was some smaller printing and picking up the card dorothy quickly read on: "wish way is at the foot of maybe mountain. this morning you were on wish way. you put some of the silver wishing sand in your pocket. you wished yourself in america."
"mercy!" cried dorothy, dropping the card in her astonishment. "why so i did, and i wished you were alive, and i wished we were back and now i'm going to wish us both straight to the emerald city. i was on wish way once before and know all about wishing."
"wait! wait a minute," panted the dummy, clutching his crown. "i'm used to being flung about, to dying and all that sort of thing, but this wishing business makes me breathless. wait!"
dorothy had already made her wish and, closing her eyes, sat perfectly still. after a moment she opened them but nothing at all had happened. she and humpy were still sitting on the pile of leaves and the white card had vanished. blinking rapidly, dorothy felt in her pocket. "no wonder it didn't work," muttered dorothy. "the wishing sand's all gone. i must have used the last grain when i wished we were back. oh dear, we'll have to walk!"
"where?" holding his crown with both hands, the dummy sat up and looked anxiously at the little girl.
"to the emerald city, where i live, in a splendid palace with ozma, the queen," explained dorothy patiently.
"well, i wouldn't mind living in a palace at all. i'm dressed for the part. let's go on," said the dummy cheerfully. after a few bends backwards and a few bends forwards, he rose and started unsteadily down the road. "you can be the star in this picture," he added generously, "and i'll be your double and fall for you any time you say."
"all right!" agreed dorothy, taking him cozily by the arm. having had great experience with stuffed persons, and having brought humpy to life, she felt more or less responsible for him. as they walked along together, she told him a little about herself and as much about the wonderful land of oz as she thought a man with hair brains could understand. so many marvelous things had happened to humpy in the movies that he evinced no surprise at dorothy's stories.
as the dummy and dorothy hurried on, a great screaming and scolding made them stop short. a scraggy-looking woods cut off the road ahead and, advancing backward upon them, there came two crooked and curious woodsmen bearing a flag. as the flag fluttered and rippled in the wind, dorothy tried to make out the strange words embroidered in white upon its purple background.
"eht kcab sdoow!" said the flag mysteriously.
"og yawa! og yawa!" shouted the woodsmen rudely. "teg tou! teg tou! teg tou!"
"is this oz talk," gasped humpy, falling back in dismay, "or arabic? i was in an arabian picture once and it sounded something like this. tou teg, yourselves," he shouted defiantly, as the woodsmen drew nearer, "and none of your back talk either!"
"back talk!" cried dorothy, clutching him suddenly by the sleeve. "oh, that's just what they are talking, humpy. they're talking 'back talk.' wait a minute!" closing her eyes, dorothy began writing imaginary letters in the air and, as the two woodsmen reached them, she burst out triumphantly, "it says 'the back woods' on that flag. oh dear, i wished we were back and now we are!"
"you think awful fast," blinked the dummy admiringly. "the mere look of that language makes me dizzy. so they're talking back talk are they? well, what do they say? are they going to hit us?"
"they're telling us to go away," muttered dorothy, putting her fingers in her ears, for the two leaders had been joined by a hundred more and all were screaming at the top or rather, i should say, the bottom of their voices. they kept their backs to the travellers and shouted the dreadful back talk over their shoulders. they all carried gleaming axes and, when dorothy made an attempt to advance, they brandished them threateningly.
"if i could only talk back," wailed the little girl, "i'd tell them i am a princess. then maybe they'd let me through."
"couldn't you write it?" suggested humpy, looking at the angry horde with growing alarm.
"why, how did you think of that?" dorothy stared at him in honest amazement. then, feeling in her pocket, she brought out a stub of pencil and a crumpled piece of paper. the woodsmen watched her curiously over their shoulders as she slowly wrote her message.
"i ma ssecnirp yhtorod, dneirf fo amzo fo zo. yam ew ssap hguorht ruoy sdoow?" printed dorothy after a great many pauses and erasures. rather timidly she handed it to one of the flag bearers and after a great scowling and head-shaking, the woodsmen raised their axes and shouted in chorus, "sey! sey!"
"that means 'yes'," breathed dorothy, taking humpy's arm. "c'mon, let's hurry, before they change their minds." the woodsmen parted solemnly to make a path, but when they reached the backwoods itself, dorothy took one step and was immediately flung upon her nose.
"ah, i see you do your own falling," mumbled the dummy. "why didn't you wait for me?" humpy was several paces behind dorothy and as he spoke, he also attempted to enter the woods. but the same hidden force pushed him over backwards. immediately the inhabitants of back began to roar with delight, and if you have never heard anyone roaring backwards, you have no idea how horrid it sounds. it was something between a cough and a choke. even the dummy knew that he was being insulted, and waved his arms about indignantly.
"there's some trick to it," panted dorothy, sitting up quickly. "watch!"
several of the woodsmen began to move slowly toward her and, observing them closely, the little girl saw that they were turned backward but really walking forward. "we have to go backward forward!" cried dorothy. "hurry up, before they catch us."
"this is worse than dying," groaned humpy. "how do you go backwards and forwards at the same time?"
"watch me," said dorothy, springing up determinedly. turning her back to the woods, she started to run away from it, and humpy, goaded into action by the threatening appearance of the terrible woodsmen, did the same. for every step they ran backward forward, they went forward backward two steps, bumping into trees, which had their roots waving muddily in the air and their leaves underground and crashing into bushes of the same curious character. without stopping to examine the back scenery at all, they ran for their lives, reaching the edge of the woods just as the woodsmen caught up with them. the wicked fellows had really no intention of letting them go, and howled most awfully as humpy and dorothy made their escape. several of the leaders started in pursuit, but each time they set foot out of their forest they were flung down by the invisible back wind and finally gave it up. seeing that they were safe at last, dorothy sank down under a tomato tree and fanned herself vigorously with her hat.
"do we do this often?" puffed the dummy, giving himself a shake. "i see this is going to be a funny picture."
"it's not a picture at all," answered the little girl a bit crossly. "it's real. i told you we have lots of adventures in oz. well, this is a real adventure."
"really!" smiled the dummy, straightening his crown. "well, if we're not in a picture we ought to be. i'll bet we looked ridiculous running forward backward. i say, if it isn't a funny reel it's real funny and i hope you'll admit that, miss dorothy."
"are you sure there's nothing in your head but hair?" asked the little girl suspiciously. humpy took off his crown and smoothed his silver wig solemnly. "i don't think so," he said. "why do you ask?"
"well," dorothy gave a little chuckle in spite of herself, "you just made a joke and you thought about writing back. you sound kinda smart to me."
"you're wrong," sighed humpy, gravely replacing his crown. "i'm only a hair-brained dummy, but i like being alive and i like having you for my star and after this--" humpy shook his fist angrily at the still muttering woodsmen--"after this i'll take all the knocks and hard falls for you. then maybe, if you tried hard, you might grow to like me a little?"
"why, i like you already, you dear, generous old thing." jumping up, dorothy gave humpy an impulsive hug. then, picking a large tomato, she ate it hungrily. it seemed a long time since she had breakfasted with the forgetful poet in perhaps city.
"we'd better start on now," said the little girl, finishing off the tomato with a long sigh of satisfaction. "we're in the gilliken country and if we walk fast we may reach the emerald city before night comes."
"all right, miss star." picking up a crooked branch to balance himself, humpy stepped out cheerfully and, talking of one thing and another, they journeyed for more than an hour through the pleasant fields and lanes, causing no small wonder to the gilliken farmers whom they passed on the way, for dorothy in her torn stockings and frock and the dummy in his regal robes and crown made a strange pair, even for oz. without explaining themselves at all, the two hurried on, never stopping until they came to a broad purple river. humpy looked inquiringly at dorothy and dorothy with a puzzled little sigh sat down upon the river bank.
"i'm sure we ought to cross this river," said dorothy thoughtfully, "but how?"
humpy put one finger in the water. "do you want me to fall in for you?" asked the dummy obligingly.
"well, i don't see what good that would do," frowned dorothy. "let me see!" dorothy looked reflectively at her toes, so of course she saw nothing but her boots, but humpy looked off across the river, and so it was humpy who saw them first.
"oh, look!" stuttered the dummy, grasping dorothy by the sleeve. "here comes another adventure, miss star!"
jumping up in alarm, dorothy saw a curious company scooting about upon the surface of the water. at the very same moment they saw dorothy, and came skating and sliding across the river like a swarm of giant water bugs.
"now don't tell me this is real," grunted the dummy, sitting down with a thud. "i wouldn't believe them, even in a picture."
"but they're not in a picture," wailed dorothy. "they're here, whether you believe them or not. why they have sails! oh humpy, get up quick. aren't you going to help me?" with a mighty effort humpy pulled himself together and arose.
"teg tuo! teg tuo!" shrilled the dummy, lapsing in his fright and excitement into the terrible language of back. "og yawa! og yawa! kcab sdoow!" and snatching off his crown, he hurled it violently at the heads of the approaching rivermen.
the first of the rivermen caught the dummy's crown neatly and tossed it back. "is it a game?" he called hoarsely. dorothy had no time to dodge, so she quickly caught the crown, which came with such force that she sat down with a jolt.
the dummy danced up and down and waved his arms threateningly.
"come on, flub blub. it's a game," called the first riverman to the man just behind him. "two scoots playing a game! here," he croaked in his deep, frog-like voice, "throw it to me!" he raised his sails coaxingly at dorothy and, partly because she was afraid to have him come nearer and partly because she didn't know what else to do, the little girl pitched back the crown with all her might. the one called flub blub caught it immediately. the next throw was to humpy and backward and forward between the puzzled travellers on the bank and curious creatures on the water flew the dummy's crown, and breathlessly between catches dorothy examined these strange playfellows.
they were tall and angular and so sunburned that they almost appeared to be indians. they were clad in shiny water proof hats and slickers. on their long, thin feet, shaped somewhat like skis and somewhat like narrow boats, they slid over the water as surely and carelessly as we skate about on ice. extending from the ankle to the finger tips, and as much a part of the wearer as wings are part of a bird, were bright yellow sails. when their arms were down at their sides, the sails were folded in and almost unnoticeable, but with arms outstretched the rivermen had two wide-spread sails to help them scoot over the water. by lowering the right arm or the left, they could turn, tack and get about faster than any sailing boat you have ever seen. their faces, under the broad sou-westers, were child-like and pleasant and, finding them more interesting than dangerous, dorothy motioned for humpy to hold the crown, which had landed for about the tenth time with a resounding thwack against his chest.
"but i was just getting good," objected the dummy, placing the crown regretfully on his head. "what now?" humpy had become so engrossed in catching the crown that he had quite forgotten his fright and, as the leader came in close to the shore, he looked at him with frank curiosity.
"well, scoots," bubbled the one called flub blub, rocking gently backward and forward on the water, "who won?"
"i think it was a tie," answered dorothy politely, "but why do you call us scoots?"
"because your sails haven't grown," gurgled the riverman, taking a white bubble pipe from his mouth and smiling broadly at the little girl. "but don't mind, my dear. we must all be scoots before we're scooters. just stick in the mud a little longer and your sails will grow as large as mine."
"dorothy's not a scoot, she's a star," protested humpy, "and i'm her double and do all the hard falling. don't you know a star when you see one?"
the scooter turned his pale blue eyes curiously on humpy. "you look about as much like her as a pumpkin looks like a peach," he observed mildly. "why do you call yourself her double? and if she's a star what's she doing out now? it's only ten o'clock." at this all the other scooters removed their pipes and nodded gravely.
"is she an out-and-out star, or a down-and-out star?" inquired flub blub, blowing a whole flock of soap bubbles from his pipe and watching them float lazily up the river.
"i'm a princess," put in dorothy, seeing that everything was becoming hopelessly confused, "and we're on our way to the emerald city."
"a princess!" exclaimed the scooter in amazement. he took off his sou-wester and scratched his head in a puzzled way. dorothy was so astonished to find that his hair was moss that she said nothing at all for a whole minute.
"if you're a princess, why are you so shabby?" choked a scooter named mouldy.
"don't mind him, he has a bad cold," apologized flub, putting his hat on again. "he would go a picking daisies on the shore yesterday and got his feet dry. now look at him!"
the scooter coughed miserably. "that's right," he wheezed, dabbing at his eyes with his right sail. "never get your feet dry little scoot, it's turrible!"
at this dorothy giggled in spite of herself. then seeing the poor fellow was offended she asked quickly, "is there any way we could cross this river, mr. mouldy?"
"there's a bridge a bit further on," sniffed the scooter, waving his sail sulkily. following the direction, dorothy saw what at first looked like a silver bridge. but on closer inspection it proved to be a great torrent of water spouting across the river like the stream from a giant hose.
"but it's water!" gasped the little girl in dismay.
"of course it's water. what should a bridge be but water?" demanded the leader of the scooters impatiently. "just stand on one side and it will shoot you across."
"how dreadfully wet," sighed the dummy dolefully, "but i'll cross if you will dorothy."
"that's right," said flub blub approvingly, "and here's the way to do it." followed by the others, the scooter sailed up the river and leaped lightly on the gleaming arch of water. dorothy, watching them shoot across with sails outspread, thought she had never seen a more interesting sight. just before they reached the opposite bank, they jumped into the water and in less than a minute they all were back.
"see," smiled the leader cheerfully, "it's as easy as sailing, miss star or princess or whatever else you call yourself."
"just a little girl, thank you," smiled dorothy, looking very doubtfully at the water bridge.
"is he a little girl too?" asked the riverman, eyeing humpy attentively. at this the poor dummy looked so indignant that dorothy quickly told about her fall into america, her meeting with humpy and the strange manner in which he had been wished to life. but as the scooters had never heard of america, nor of a moving picture dummy, her story was not at all clear to them. and when she went on to explain that crossing the river on the water bridge and getting her feet wet would give her a cold, they were more astonished than ever.
"couldn't you carry her across?" asked humpy, as they stood arguing excitedly together. "i don't mind the water myself and am quite used to floating and falling, but dorothy--"
"ever try a water fall?" interrupted mouldy inquisitively.
"let's take her across, boys!" called flub blub before humpy had a chance to answer. "come along princess little girl and mr. dummy!" with hoarse shouts the scooters stretched their long arms. a dozen seized upon humpy and, holding him awkwardly between them, started scooting across the river. dorothy, standing precariously on flub blub's right foot and balanced by mouldy's left arm, fairly raced over the waters between the two rivermen. their sails flapped merrily in the wind and the spray from their long ski-like feet spread out like white wings behind.
"won't ozma and betsy be surprised when i tell them about this!" thought dorothy as they neared the opposite bank. little did dorothy guess of the strange happenings ozma and the others would soon have to relate to her!
"better stay with us and learn to scoot," advised flub blub, seeing the smile on dorothy's face.
"ah what is more brave than a life on the wave! no care and no trouble, life goes like a bubble!"
the scooter waved his arm jovially, as he recited the couplet.
"but what do you eat?" inquired dorothy. she had been puzzling over this for some time.
"water cress, water melons and fish," answered flub blub, without slackening his speed.
"raw fish?" asked dorothy, with a little gasp.
"well, rawther," giggled another scooter just behind them. "raw fish make the sails grow. stay in the water little girl and you'll soon have a fine pair of sails."
"that's right," added flub blub approvingly. removing his bubble pipe he continued earnestly, "fish will make your feet grow too. eat fish, my dear, and grow a beautiful pair like mine!"
dorothy looked down at the scooter's long feet and shuddered. "that settles it," she whispered, with a little shiver. "i'll never eat fish!"
they had now reached the opposite side of the river. thanking the scooters for their kindness and bidding them an affectionate farewell, the little girl scampered quickly up the bank. humpy had already been tossed ashore.
"good-bye!" shouted the scooters, cheerfully waving their sails. they were in mid-stream by this time.
"good-bye!" called dorothy and humpy, picking himself up clumsily, waved his crown.
"ah, still the same size i see," smiled humpy, looking amiably at dorothy. "any more adventures coming?"
"well, i liked that one," chuckled dorothy, pulling up her stockings and straightening her hat. "didn't you?"
humpy nodded, his eyes wandering over the fields and hills, spreading out invitingly before them. "is this the way to your palace?" he demanded, throwing his cloak back over one shoulder and waving his stick ahead.
"it's not my palace," explained dorothy, taking his arm, "it's ozma's. she is the queen of oz, you know, but i have the dearest little apartment there, with a hundred fairy tale books, a hundred games, a hundred dresses, a dog named toto and a little white kitten."
"well, i hope your dog won't chew me," said humpy uneasily. "i was in a picture with a dog once. he was supposed to knock me down. well, he did and, before they could pull him away he had chewed off my ear and eaten up my wig. i hate dogs."
"but toto's only a little dog, you'll just love toto," dorothy assured him quickly.
humpy still looked doubtful and, seeing that dogs made him unhappy, dorothy began telling him all about the scarecrow and scraps. chatting pleasantly, they walked along for more than an hour, when humpy, ever on the lookout for adventures, gave dorothy's arm a quick jerk. moving slowly behind a thin fringe of trees to the right was a great gray shadow. as they stopped, the shadow stopped too and out through the trees something that looked like a long grey snake came curiously curling.
"run!" puffed the valiant dummy. "run, dorothy! this is my part of the show for it can't bite me!"
raising his stick, humpy brought it down sharply on the thick gray body. there was an enraged snort and snuffle in the bushes. then, before dorothy could run or humpy could use his stick again, a perfectly enormous elephant came charging out between the trees. his sides were heaving with rage and his tusks were trembling with temper.
"who hit me?" screamed the elephant, lashing about furiously with his trunk. "i'll mash him, i'll crash him! ah hah!" his little eyes snapped wickedly as they fell upon humpy's stick. the next instant the great beast had seized the dummy in his trunk and flung him fifty feet into the air. then, pausing to straighten his pearl head-piece, he glared indignantly at dorothy. there is only one elephant in oz who is elegant enough to own a headband of pearls and, with a little shriek of surprise and recognition, dorothy ran forward just in time to save humpy from another toss in the air.
"why kabumpo!" cried the little girl in delight. "wait! wait a minute!" the elegant elephant, after a quick look at the little girl, snatched a huge silk hanky from a pocket in his robe and blew his trunk violently.
"well, i'll be blowed if it isn't dorothy," wheezed kabumpo, half-choked between embarrassment and surprise. "what brings you here?"
just as he spoke he caught another glimpse of humpy, who had risen and was advancing unsteadily. "excuse me until i mash that idiot," he roared.
"oh please don't mash him," begged dorothy in alarm. "you see he's only a dummy and he didn't mean to hit you. besides he's a friend of mine."
kabumpo swayed uncertainly for a moment and then stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. "well, nobody but a dummy would hit an elephant on the trunk. why have such dumb friends?" he asked sulkily.
as quickly as she could, dorothy explained her strange meeting with the dummy, his coming to life and her curious adventures since. it was such an amazing story that kabumpo now regarded humpy with more interest than anger. dorothy, seeing that the dummy still thought her in danger, hastily took away his stick and introduced him to the elegant elephant.
kabumpo, you know, belongs to the royal family of pumperdink, a cozy old-fashioned country in the gilliken country, and he is one of the chief ornaments of its court and a prime favorite of pompadore, the young prince. he has a suite of rooms in the palace, and more jewels and embroidered robes than any other elephant in all of oz.
once upon a time kabumpo had helped pompa save peg amy, an enchanted princess, from a dreadful old wizard named glegg. this little princess had afterwards married the prince of pumperdink and it was on this adventure that dorothy had first met the elegant elephant.
"but why did he throw me away?" asked humpy suspiciously, when dorothy had told him all that i have just told you.
"i'll throw you away every time you hit me, so you'd better get that through your head at once," trumpeted kabumpo indignantly.
"well, just so you don't throw dorothy, it will be all right," sighed the dummy resignedly. "i'm quite used to being flung about, but i've never been in a picture with an elephant before."
"this isn't a picture. it's oz," snapped kabumpo loftily. "don't you know anything at all?"
"ah, don't quarrel," begged dorothy anxiously. "tell me about pompa and peg amy, kabumpo, and how's everything in pumperdink?"
"well," mused the elegant elephant, taking out his handkerchief again and mopping his forehead thoughtfully, "things are kinda slow. since pompa married peg there's been no excitement at all. fact is," admitted kabumpo confidentially, "i was just on my way to the emerald city to see whether i could stir up a little fun."
"why so are we!" cried dorothy in delight. "let's all go together. oh kabumpo, won't that be fun?"
the elegant elephant looked dubiously at the dummy. "well, so long as you're going in the same direction you might as well ride on my back," he remarked carelessly. then, winding his trunk about dorothy [kabumpo, under his pompous manner, was really a kind-hearted old fellow] he set the little girl aloft and, snatching up the dummy, he tossed him recklessly over his shoulder.
with a blast from his trunk like a steamboat whistle, kabumpo got under way, plunging ahead so swiftly that dorothy and humpy had all they could do to keep their seats.
"isn't this fun?" called dorothy, holding fast to the elegant elephant's great ear.
"is it?" inquired the dummy, clinging desperately to kabumpo's jewelled harness and fluttering up and down like a banner at each step. "so this is fun? ah, how fast i am learning."
on the night before ozma received the mysterious warning, snip and mombi--as we well know--were making their way through the deep forest on the other side of catty corners. each step was growing harder and harder for the weary little button boy. holding the great goose in his arms, he staggered along, guided by the flicker of mombi's lantern, stumbling over roots, brushing against trees and shivering with the clammy chill of midnight. the old witch seemed positively tireless and snip had about decided he could go no further, when she stopped suddenly beside a rough stone well.
"snip," wheezed mombi craftily, "i'm thirsty. now you're younger than i am. just get me a drink, will you?" her voice was so pleasant that snip unsuspectingly set pajuka on the ground and peered down into the dark depths of the well, while mombi held the lantern. there was a chain at the side and, grasping it in both hands, snip leaned over and began to haul up the bucket.
this was the chance mombi had been waiting for all evening and, seizing snip by the heels, she heartlessly tumbled him into the well. her wicked shout of triumph and snip's shrill outcry awakened pajuka. fluttering into the air, he made a great snatch at the disappearing little button boy.
snip, on his part, clutching desperately at the rough stones to save himself, caught instead a handful of goose feathers and went plunging down into the dreadful darkness. down, down, down he fell, like a lump of lead, to the very bottom. with eyes shut tight and clenched fists, snip waited for the terrible bump that should end his fall. but instead of a bump, there was a soft thud and bounce and he found himself wedged fast in a padded bucket. the jar set the bucket in motion and for a moment snip thought it was going to shoot up to the top again. instead it began to move sideways, for opening out from the bottom of the well was a long, damp passageway, and the bucket swinging on a heavy cable shot rapidly along through this underground tunnel.
it was too dark for snip to see but, stretching his arms carefully, he felt the walls above and at the side. clearly the old witch had meant to destroy him, so she could work out her wicked plans undisturbed. "but maybe," whispered poor snip, crouching low to keep from bumping his head, "maybe i can get out after all and manage to reach the emerald city first and warn ozma of mombi's treachery. then surely ozma will help me find pajuka and she, herself, can hunt for the lost king."
it was a long and terrible ride, and many times snip's heart thumped so loudly that it drowned out the creak of the straining cable. where under the earth was he going? would the flying bucket never stop? just as he was losing his courage entirely, snip saw a star. the bucket had come to the end of the tunnel and was shooting up another well as swiftly as snip had fallen down the first one. almost as soon as he made this joyful discovery, the bucket reached the top, spilled him carelessly over the edge and dropped back with a hollow ring to the bottom.
for several minutes snip lay where he had fallen, too shaken and breathless to care where he was. then, rolling over, he looked anxiously around. in the faint starlight, not much was visible. he seemed to be in a small orchard and just beyond the trees he could see the dim outlines of a strange city. satisfying himself that no immediate danger threatened and too weary to go another step, the worn-out little adventurer flung himself down beside the well and was soon fast asleep.
it was morning and nearly nine o'clock when he was awakened by the sound of hurrying foot-steps and shrill cries.
"he has freckles," screamed the first voice.
"his nose turns up," shouted the second.
"who threw him in our well?" demanded a third fretfully. "is he welcome or is he not?"
"not!" boomed the voices altogether.
"take his hat, get his buttons!" growled a deep bass voice. at this the steps pattered so close that snip rolled over and sat up, confronting as he did so the very oddest company he had ever seen. for one unbelievable second he stared, thinking he must still be asleep and dreaming. the company on their part regarded him with blank looks. and no wonder. they had not a face among them!
"if it were people without clothes i should say they were savages," gasped snip, "but clothes, without people! whew!" leaping to his feet, he turned toward the town and ran as if for his life.
screaming furiously, the blanks started in pursuit. now to look over your shoulder and see a collection of suits, hats, shoes and gloves, all in their proper places upon perfectly invisible wearers, chasing after you is a fearsome business, and as they came nearer and nearer snip fairly stepped upon his own toes in his hurry to escape.
"how dare you show your face around here?" raged the leader, brandishing with an invisible hand a dreadfully visible and dangerous looking umbrella. "don't you know it's against the law to show your face in blankenburg?"
"i--can't--help--it!" panted snip and then as the terrible crowd began to gain on him, he reached in his pockets, seized a handful of buttons and flung them wildly over his shoulder. when he dared to look back again, the blanks were quarreling bitterly over the buttons.
taking advantage of their greediness, snip plunged into the town, entered the first house he came to and slammed the door. at first he thought the great dim room was empty but he finally made out an old man with silver hair and beard sitting cross-legged on a long table at the back window. he was stitching solemnly upon a red velvet cloak and looked so kind and gentle that snip promptly burst into an account of his troubles. but to his dismay, the tailor went calmly on with his work, never glancing up at all. snip could hear the blanks clattering over the paving stones so, rushing forward, he shook the old man desperately by the sleeve.
with a start that sent his spectacles flying across the shop, the tailor leaped to his feet. "a boy!" he stuttered, seizing snip by the shoulders. "why, how did you get here? no, don't tell me now for i couldn't hear you if you did. you see my ears have flown off and we'll have to wait till they return. a boy! bless my heart, yours is the first face i've seen in years and years."
in growing amazement and alarm, snip waved toward the window. with a quick nod, the tailor swept him into a big cupboard. "they shan't have you," declared the old man determinedly and, when a moment later the blanks rushed into the shop, he shook his head crossly at all of their threats and inquiries.
"can't you see my ears are off?" he mumbled fretfully. "whom do you want? what are you screeching about?"
the blanks cried loudly that they were searching for a boy, but the tailor pretended not to understand and, after poking about the shop a bit, they finally took themselves off. snip, who had one eye glued to the cupboard door, saw them streaming into the street, their plumed hats trembling with indignation, their buckled shoes twinkling with the speed of their invisible feet.
as the last blank turned the corner, there was a whirr in the air and in through the window flashed two butterflies. but were they butterflies? next instant they had fluttered over and attached themselves to the old tailor's head.
"not butterflies, but butterfly ears!" gasped snip, falling headlong from the cupboard with the shock of the thing.
"it's all right," smiled the tailor, adjusting the ears quickly and looking kindly over at snip. "and dear, dear, what a strange story my left ear is telling me!"
"do your ears tell you stories?" asked snip, forgetting his own troubles for a moment.
"yes. the left one tells me that an elephant has run off with a little girl," mused the tailor, wiping his specs. "fancy that, now!"
snip could hear a faint buzzing and eyed the old gentleman's ears with growing interest and respect.
"there, there, that will do," muttered the tailor at last, giving his left ear a little pinch. "i wish to hear this young gentleman's story, so please be quiet and attend."
immediately both ears tilted toward snip and, fearful lest they fly off before he could finish, the little button boy poured out the whole history of his adventures from the time he left kimbaloo to his fall down the strange well.
"ozma!" sighed the tailor, brushing his hand absently across his brow. "is ozma queen of oz now? i've been prisoner here so long i've forgotten everything. you say that this witch, mombi, transformed and hid her father and now proposes to find and restore him to the throne? and the goose? whom did you say he was?"
"pajuka is the prime minister," puffed snip hastily. "he's been trying for years and years to find the king himself. if someone doesn't help him soon, and get him away from mombi, he'll be roasted or eaten or lost!"
snip opened his hand, where still clutched in his moist grasp were the feathers he had pulled from pajuka's wing as he fell down the well. the tailor leaned forward to examine them. as he did so, a gold feather separated itself from the white, fluttered for a moment in the air and then sailed straight through the window. it was the golden feather that, we know, took the magic message to the emerald city, but as neither snip nor the old tailor could follow its flight, they stood gaping after it in perfect astonishment.
"why i didn't know pajuka had any gold feathers. how did it fly off by itself? oh dear, i wish someone would help me find him," wailed the little button boy dismally. "couldn't you, mister--mister--?"
"just plain tora," put in the tailor, rubbing his forehead absently. "well, it's a mighty queer business, snip. i'd like to help you, but i've all this work to do." the old man waved wearily toward the racks and stacks of unfinished cloaks and waistcoats.
"do you mean to say you make clothes for them?" snip jerked his thumb indignantly over his shoulder.
the tailor nodded. "have to," he added miserably. "been at it for years and years."
"do they pay you?" asked the little button boy in surprise.
"well, they let me live in this house, and they give me plenty to eat. besides, i can't get away," finished the old man, sinking down on a three-legged stool and letting his head drop heavily in his hands.
"but you're not invisible like they are. how did you happen to come here anyway?"
the tailor pushed his specs up on his forehead. "seems as if i'd always been here," he mourned dolefully, "stitching, stitching, stitching and never getting done. if i try to pass through that gate," he pointed through the window into a small yard, "if i try to pass through that gate some invisible force holds me back. so what can i do? but i have my ears," he continued more cheerfully. "they can go off wherever they please and they tell me what's going on and keep me pretty happy."
"well, i wouldn't stand it," exclaimed snip, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and staring down sympathetically at the old man. in spite of his strange ears, there was something so gentle and lovable about the old tailor that snip could not bear to have him unhappy. "i'd get away somehow," declared the little boy earnestly.
tora shook his head hopelessly. "the thing to do, is to get you away before they come back," he sighed, taking an old silver watch from his vest pocket. "the blanks are great eaters and wouldn't miss their breakfasts for a fortune. so now's the best time for you to go. come on, i'll show you the way to the fare-well. you can see it from the gate."
"is that the only way out?" groaned snip. he felt that one experience with a well would be quite enough for him.
"only way i know," answered tora, taking down his coat from a peg. "you reach blankenburg by the well-come and leave by the fare-well."
sticking his needle in his lapel, he started rapidly for the door and, feeling very mixed up indeed, snip hurried after him. there was not a blank in sight as they stepped into tora's yard and snip, looking at the handsome dwellings on both sides of the street, thought he would like to see more of this strange city. a bright pink blanket flew from a castle which stood at the end of the square and tora explained that this was the national emblem of the blanks.
there were a hundred questions on the tip of snip's tongue. for instance, he wanted to know how the blanks had come to be invisible and how tora himself had come to have such wonderful ears, but the old gentleman was so anxious for him to get safely off that he had not time for a single question.
"if they capture you before you reach the well, be sure not to let them wash your face," warned tora earnestly, "for if they wash your face, it will disappear. remember don't wash your face, whatever happens."
this was an easy promise for a little boy to make and, following the direction of tora's long finger, snip saw a stone well in the small park at the corner of the street.
"good-bye!" sighed the old man, giving him a wistful pat on the shoulder. "if you ever find this king or reach the emerald city, tell someone about old tora, will you?"
"i'll tell ozma; i'll tell everybody!" promised the little button boy, settling his cap determinedly. then, because he hated to leave tora looking so sad, he seized him suddenly by the hand. "why don't you try to get through the gate now?" urged snip. "come on, i'll help you!" as he spoke, he kicked open the gate with his heel, stepped out and began to tug at the tailor's coat.
"no use," began the old man. "no use for me to try to get away--"
before he could finish the sentence snip had dragged him entirely through. for an instant he stood staring back uncertainly at his little shop with its shabby sign, "the tired tailor of oz." he had printed it to amuse himself one stormy evening. snatching a piece of chalk from his pocket, while snip danced up and down with anxiety and impatience, tora dashed back and scribbled two letters before the second word.
"the re-tired tailor of oz," said the sign now, and with a long, gusty chuckle, the old man grasped snip by the hand and ran with all his might toward the fare-well.
the blanks were evidently still at breakfast, and tora and snip made their way through the deserted streets of blankenburg without meeting a soul. in a jiffy they came to the fare-well, both out of breath but happy to be near to freedom.
snip was just gathering his courage for a jump down the well when tora lifted him up and dropped him gently over the edge. again that terrifying swoop into the darkness. "after this," gulped snip dizzily, as he turned over and over, "i shall think nothing of falling out of a button tree, or down a flight of steps. perhaps i'll try a fall every day just to keep in practice."
with a breathless bump, snip landed in the padded bucket, putting an end to these curious thoughts. before he had time for any others, he had shot through another underground passage and up and out of the well with such force that he rolled like a ball on the soft green moss. when he stopped rolling he saw tora sitting beside him, smoothing down his long silver locks and untangling his whiskers.
"are your ears on tight?" asked snip anxiously, for it would certainly be a dreadful thing if the tailor's ears had been left behind. tora put up his hand quickly to touch them and then, with a pleased nod, arose to his feet.
"you've brought me good luck, snip," smiled the old gentleman. "i've tried a hundred times to escape from the blanks, but never could get through that gate."
"well, i am glad i could help you, for you helped me," said snip. "now that you have escaped, where will you go? do you remember where you lived before?"
"i remember nothing," acknowledged the tailor sorrowfully, "so i'm going with you and after we find this good goose you speak of and the king, i'll just look around for another shop. a tailor has no cause to worry, and i've all my tools right with me." he chuckled, jingling his pockets cheerfully.
snip had to smile himself, for tora certainly did look like a walking work-shop. around his neck were three long tape measures. through tapes in his vest there hung a dozen pairs of scissors and shears of all sizes. fastened to his coat was a huge pin cushion and both lapels were stuck full of needles. as for his pockets, they simply bulged with spools of silk, beeswax and thread.
snip thought he had never seen a more interesting traveller and, feeling happier than he had since he left kimbaloo, and quite hopeful of finding pajuka, he began to examine the surrounding country. the fare-well had spilled them into a large field of wheat and, from several purple barns in the distance, snip knew they were still in the land of the gillikens.
"you'll have to be guide, snip," sighed the tailor, gazing around with a bewildered expression. "i've lived so long with the blanks that i know nothing of these parts at all. as for the emerald city, i can't remember even hearing of it."
"well, i've never been there," admitted snip, "but i know it is in the very center of oz and we were going south when mombi threw me down the well. so if we can find out which direction is south we ought to reach the emerald city by night time. which way do you think it is?"
the tailor squinted doubtfully up at the sun and, after a few more useless guesses, they determined to take a chance and started diagonally across the field.
"i wonder what shape mombi did turn the king into," muttered snip, as they hurried along through the wheat. "and i wonder whether ozma can change pajuka back to his own self again. he's so tired of being a goose!"
"it must be pretty tiresome," observed tora, pushing his specs up on his forehead, "though no worse than tailoring from morning till night for a city full of invisible and ungrateful rascals. not that i mind the tailoring," he explained hastily, looking down sideways at snip. "i love that, and say, i'd like to make you a little suit sometime when i've set up my shop. no, it wasn't the tailoring, but the imprisonment that i minded."
"do you 'spose they've missed you yet? what will they do when they find you're gone?" chuckled the little button boy. he looked up expectantly, but the old man was staring thoughtfully over an olive tree and did not seem to hear snip's question.
"bother!" exclaimed snip. "his ears have gone off again. how awfully inconvenient!"
"i always let them off after breakfast," explained the tailor apologetically and just as if he had read snip's thoughts. "it rests them, you know."
"but we've had no breakfast," began snip impatiently. then, realizing that tora could not hear one word, he walked along in a resigned silence, thinking how annoying it must be to have butterfly ears. "and yet," mused snip slowly, "it might be rather fun, too. one could send one's ears to places one didn't care to go--to school and to lectures and all that sort of thing, and take them off when folks scolded or the conversation grew dull." he had thought up quite a number of uses for butterfly ears, when the tailor, himself, broke the silence.
"perhaps it would amuse you to hear a little about the blanks," began tora in his pleasant voice. "they were not always invisible as now, but they were always vain and haughty and trying to outshine one another in appearance. in fact," sighed the old man, with a grave nod, "they thought of nothing but dress and all of their time and money was spent for new and splendid apparel. as some of the inhabitants were handsomer than others there was always an argument as to who really looked the best.
"shortly after i, myself, came to blankenburg, vanette, the queen, walking in a small woods behind the palace, discovered a hidden pool. looking into the water to admire her reflection, she accidentally dropped her handkerchief. before she could snatch it out the handkerchief had disappeared and, when she reached into the pond to search for it, her hand and arm suddenly became invisible."
tora looked down to see how snip was taking the story and, finding him interested, continued dreamily: "for a time the queen was exceedingly frightened, but all at once a wicked plan popped into her head. hurrying back to the palace, she ordered her servants to carry a bucket of the magic water to everyone in the city. she then commanded them to bathe in the enchanted water and since then they have been perfectly invisible. vanette, herself, who is old and fat and exceedingly jealous of the young girls, bathed in the water too and is now as invisible as the rest of her subjects. so now, when they dress up in their fine clothes, faces don't count at all, and the queen always wins all the beauty prizes. that's why it's against the law to have a face in blankenburg," continued tora solemnly. "i'm glad we escaped before they got yours."
snip was glad, too, but wanted to ask how tora had managed to save his own face, and the tailor, guessing what was in the little boy's mind, finished up quickly: "for some reason or other the magic water had no effect upon me and as i was old and ugly and quite useful in my own way, they finally stopped bothering me."
picking up a long, crooked stick and evidently thinking he had talked enough, tora began to whistle an old oz tune. walking along solemnly beside him snip could not help wondering how the old tailor had ever come to be a prisoner in blankenburg and whether he had always had butterfly ears.
"i'll ask him as soon as they come back," decided snip, but meantime he was growing hungrier and hungrier, for since the drink of cream in catty corners he had had nothing at all to eat. he kept a sharp lookout for fruit and nut trees and presently, in a small grove to the right, he caught a glimpse of a perfectly enormous breakfast bush.
motioning for tora to wait for him, snip darted off. the tailor looked slightly puzzled but, making no objection, sat down on a rock and went on with his whistling. hastening back with two steaming breakfast dishes in his hands, snip was surprised to hear a loud, plaintive voice mingling with tora's tune. quickening his steps the little boy saw a tall, kingly figure waving indignant arms at the tailor.
"are you crazy?" he shouted angrily. "i ask you once again, may i borrow a breakfast or a bite of lunch? it's for a princess. can't you answer me?" but tora, fixing his eye on a fluffy cloud skimming across the sky, went calmly on with his tune. "he is deaf to my pleas," puffed the stranger, whirling round unsteadily and almost bumping into snip. "deaf and dumb!"
"he isn't deaf," explained the little boy breathlessly. "he has just mislaid his ears. i mean he's let them off for awhile."
"let them off? dorothy! dorothy! come at once! here is a man with mislaid ears!" shrilled the stranger, hobbling off. snip stared after him, open mouthed, as he wobbled wildly down the road.
you have guessed that it was our old friend humpy who had begged a breakfast of tora, the tailor. you see the elegant elephant, travelling like the wind itself, had carried dorothy and the dummy almost to the exact spot where snip and tora had fallen out of the fare-well. then, exceedingly fatigued by his unaccustomed exertion, kabumpo had gone off in search of some lunch.
snip had scarcely recovered from the shock of humpy's sudden disappearance when back he came, holding dorothy tightly by the hand. now the little button boy had often seen pictures of dorothy in the history books of kimbaloo, but she had always been dressed as a princess, so we cannot blame him for failing to recognize the shabby little girl who stood staring so earnestly at the tired tailor of oz.
"why he has no ears at all," cried dorothy. then, catching sight of snip, she stopped short. "we were wondering whether you could lend us some lunch," faltered dorothy, talking very fast to cover her embarrassment. "kabumpo can eat tree-tops and humpy does not eat at all, but i've had nothing but a tomato since breakfast and i'm very hungry."
"there's a breakfast bush over yonder," answered snip, waving sulkily toward the grove. tora had saved his face and he was not going to have him laughed at. dorothy turned to see for herself and, as she did, tora arose and moved quickly over to the dummy.
"you remind me of someone i used to know," sighed the tailor, fingering humpy's green velvet robe dreamily. "who are you? are you real?"
"well, not quite. you see," began dorothy, "he's a moving picture dummy." suddenly remembering that the tailor could not hear her, she turned back to snip. "where are his ears?" asked the little girl nervously.
"here they come now!" cried snip, forgetting his vexation and, setting down the two breakfast dishes, he waved his cap excitedly in the air. as snip waved and pointed, dorothy saw the tailor's ears whizz giddily over a lilac bush and then settle softly, one on each side of his head.
"who did you say you were?" asked tora calmly, continuing his conversation with humpy and paying no more attention to his ears than we would pay to a couple of flies.
"a dummy!" whispered humpy, blinking his painted eyes, while his voice grew fainter and fainter with astonishment. "i am a dummy, but what in oz are you?"
"a tailor," answered tora with a wink at snip. "well, that's a splendid cloak you're wearing, and a crown too. are you a king, dummy?"
"no, he's a dummy king," explained dorothy, looking longingly at the hot breakfasts. "if we could just sit down and have something to eat i could tell you all about him. then, maybe, you would tell me a little about your--" dorothy was going to say ears but, fearing this might not be quite polite, she changed it quickly to selves. the little girl cast a curious sidelong glance at snip, but the button boy was gazing intently at the dummy.
"why we're looking for a king," exploded snip excitedly. "oh tora, do you suppose this could be he?"
"why not do as this little lady suggests?" interrupted tora, for he could see that dorothy was weary as well as hungry. "let's have breakfast together and then talk things over."
"well, don't start until i come back," called the little boy, as dorothy settled comfortably down beside the tailor. in a moment snip had returned with another breakfast and, while humpy looked on curiously, they opened the silver dishes snip had picked from the breakfast bush. what could be cozier? bacon, eggs, toast and a small sealed cup of coffee grew neatly in each one, but it never occurred to dorothy, snip or the tailor to be surprised at this, for breakfast bushes are quite common in oz. humpy, however, had seen nothing like this in the movies and kept up a low muttering to himself, as he watched them eat one and then another dainty from the dishes.
"now then," smiled the tailor, after he had taken a long sip of coffee, "suppose you begin." he looked expectantly at dorothy. "i think you must be the little girl my ears were telling me of a while back, but where is the elephant?"
"mercy!" spluttered dorothy, nearly choking on her coffee. "do your ears tell you everything?"
"oh no, just odds and ends of things," answered tora, reaching up to touch them affectionately.
"well, did they tell you about me?" inquired humpy, straightening his crown importantly.
"no," smiled the old man. "that's just what we're waiting to hear, though i declare i have seen you somewhere before. have you ever seen me?"
humpy shook his head very positively and dorothy, settling back against a tree, proceeded with her story. introducing herself modestly and beginning with wish way, she related every single thing that had happened since her fall into california.
snip was especially interested in dorothy's sudden change in size. "is that what tore your dress?" he asked curiously.
the little girl nodded and tora, ruffling up his silver locks and looking first at dorothy and then at humpy, murmured over and over: "well, i can hardly believe my ears, i can hardly believe my ears!"
dorothy could not help thinking that the tailor's ears were hard for anyone to believe, but feeling it would be rude to say so, went hurriedly on with her adventures, telling of her meeting with the scooters and with the elegant elephant, whom she described at some length.
"and now," concluded the little girl, finishing off the last of the toast, "we're going straight to the emerald city. where are you going?"
"why we're going to the emerald city too!" burst out snip, "and maybe dorothy can help us find pajuka and warn ozma!"
"warn ozma?" cried dorothy, jumping up in a hurry. "why, what is the matter?"
"better tell her," advised the tailor gravely, while humpy edged close to the little button boy and looked earnestly up into his face.
"well," began snip, feeling a bit shy in the presence of a person as important as princess dorothy of oz, "mombi is trying to find the lost king of oz and turn ozma to a piano. pajuka, he's a goose, i mean a prime minister, and he's trying to find the king too, and if we don't get to the emerald city first that old witch will steal all the magic and capture everybody."
"why this is a regular thriller," puffed the dummy, pushing back his crown. "witches, geese, lost kings and everything. oh, i'm enjoying this picture immensely. couldn't i fall for this lost king, dorothy?"
"i thought you were the king, yourself, at first," explained snip, "but of course, if dorothy found you in america, you couldn't possibly be the king of oz. besides, i don't believe mombi would turn the king to a dummy, do you?"
"oh, anything can happen in the pictures," said humpy carelessly.
no one had time to tell humpy he was not in a picture, for dorothy, shuddering at the mere mention of old mombi, insisted on snip telling all over again just how he had discovered the witch's wicked plans. this snip did, from the strange conversation between pajuka and mombi in the castle kitchen of kimbaloo to his encounter with the blanks and his escape with the tired tailor of oz. when he came to the part in the story where mombi had flung him down the well, humpy fell over backwards and dorothy gasped with indignation.
"oh, we'll have to hurry, we'll have to hurry!" exclaimed the little girl, clasping her hands anxiously, "for if mombi reaches the emerald city first something dreadful will happen. i'm glad the king of oz is alive, but i'm not going to have ozma turned to a piano. oh dear! oh dear! why doesn't kabumpo hurry back?"
"hadn't we better start anyway?" asked snip, who was growing more and more worried about pajuka. he felt sure mombi meant to get rid of the goose as soon as she found the king. "let's go without the elephant," he proposed eagerly.
"no, we'd better wait," advised dorothy, "for kabumpo can travel a hundred times faster than we can, and a hundred times faster than mombi can."
"while we are waiting," suggested tora, who had been carefully threading his needle, "i'll mend your frock, my dear. have you any more buttons, snip?"
snip felt in his pockets and brought out a handful of gold and silver buttons and as dorothy stood shading her eyes and keeping an anxious lookout for kabumpo, tora sewed them neatly in place.
"it must have been mighty queer, growing up all at once," observed the old tailor, biting off his thread and giving the little girl an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
"it was," answered dorothy, groaning at the recollection. "i can't imagine what happened to me, but then everything's very queer lately."
with her frock neatly buttoned, dorothy began to feel more like herself. she thanked tora sweetly and smilingly invited him to tell them something about himself.
"yes, do," urged snip, coming to stand beside her.
"well," sighed the old man, sticking his needle back in his lapel and taking off his specs, "there's not much to tell. i'm a tailor, as you can readily see. how i got to blankenburg, i don't know, but there i've been for so long that it gives me rheumatism to think of it. but it's all over now. when we reach this marvelous city you two young people speak of, i shall set up a shop and live happily ever afterward."
"what? with those ears?" shouted humpy, falling up against a tree. "oh, i don't believe it!"
"hush," begged dorothy and, turning apologetically to the tailor, she whispered earnestly: "you really mustn't mind humpy. you see his head is stuffed with hair and it makes him kind of ridiculous." the tailor chuckled under his breath and snip giggled outright.
just at this moment kabumpo, magnificent in his pearls and velvet robes, swung ponderously into view.
"dorothy," trumpeted the elegant elephant, stopping a good twenty feet from the little group and elevating his trunk haughtily, "what are you doing with those shabby fellows? don't you realize you're a princess? a tailor! great grump! do you expect me to associate with a tailor?"
"but gaze upon his ears," cried humpy, waving his cloak triumphantly at tora. "they wag, wiggle and fly off by themselves. and we're hunting a king, a witch and a goose. hurry up, you elegant old thing, we need you in this picture."
"no we don't, we'll go on by ourselves." snip looked angrily at kabumpo and, taking tora's arm, began to walk off.
"oh wait!" gasped dorothy, more embarrassed by kabumpo's rudeness than by the dummy's ridiculousness. "kabumpo doesn't mean that. he's really awfully jolly when you get to know him better."
"don't bother, my dear," tora smiled, a little sadly. reaching up he took off both his ears and put them quietly into his pocket. "i never listen to unpleasant conversations," explained the old man simply.
"good-bye," said snip, bowing rather stiffly to dorothy. "if you reach the emerald city before we do, be sure to tell ozma about her father."
"now please don't go," begged dorothy. "wait! wait!" in great distress she dashed over to the elegant elephant and poured out the whole story of the lost king of oz and of mombi's wickedness.
when tora had so unexpectedly taken off his ears kabumpo's little eyes had fairly rolled in his head and now, as he listened to dorothy's strange recital, they began to snap and sparkle with interest. if there was one thing kabumpo enjoyed, it was being mixed up in a royal adventure. finding the lost king of oz would be a very creditable thing, even for an elephant so elegant as himself. it might even gain him an important position at court, thought kabumpo craftily. and what a choice bit of news to carry home to pumperdink--that ozma was not the queen at all, and that he, kabumpo the magnificent, had helped find the real monarch and had been present at the coronation. already his imagination leaped ahead to this important event.
concealing, in his pompous and provoking fashion, his real interest and excitement, kabumpo set dorothy upon his back and started in a dignified and stately manner toward tora and snip.
"i understand you are friends of the lost king of oz," wheezed kabumpo grandly, as he came up beside them. "are you going on to the emerald city? care to ride?" he asked graciously. this was as near an apology as kabumpo ever got.
"hear! hear!" spluttered the dummy, who was walking stiffly behind the tailor.
of course tora could not do this, as his ears were still in his pocket, but snip, looking inquiringly up at dorothy saw her motion earnestly for him to yield. he decided to overlook the elephant's rudeness and gave kabumpo a signal to lift him up.
"did she say you were a mutton boy?" asked kabumpo, as he placed snip beside the little girl.
"no, a button boy," corrected dorothy hastily, "from the kingdom of kimbaloo, you know."
"ah yes," grunted kabumpo condescendingly, "i remember hearing of kimbaloo--a buttony sort of place across the mountains from pumperdink."
snip was about to retort with something short and sassy, when kabumpo lifted up the tailor and as tora seemed terribly alarmed by the suddenness of his transit through the air, snip helped him to settle comfortably instead of talking. he just got tora firmly seated in time to catch humpy, whom the elegant elephant tossed aloft as carelessly as he would a bale of hay.
"all ready?" boomed kabumpo importantly. "well, then here we go." and before anyone could answer he was off, moving swiftly and surely as a battleship through the waving billows of wheat.
"what did you find for lunch?" called humpy curiously. snip and tora hadn't breath to say anything, and dorothy was too worried about ozma to want to talk. but kabumpo, instead of answering, threw up his trunk, sending forth such a volley of shrill bellows that snip's hair rose on end and the ears in tora's pocket gave a terrified bounce. humpy chuckled, as he listened to the shrill trumpeting of the elegant elephant. he had thought of a joke!
"ah, he has eaten a trumpet vine," mused the dummy dreamily, as the noise died away. but it ceased for only a moment, for trumpeting was kabumpo's way of clearing a path for himself and, determined to reach the capital before mombi, the witch, he travelled as never before and, clinging to each other and to kabumpo's harness and robe, the four riders made the best they could of the worst journey they had ever taken.
kabumpo would never have stopped until he reached the emerald city itself, had it not been for the mountain. rushing like an express train from a small dim wood, the elegant elephant came unexpectedly upon a steep wall of rock. with a snort of surprise he stopped so sharply that everyone in the party went sailing over his head. humpy, who was lightest, sailed farthest and, landing first, made a splendid cushion for snip and dorothy to fall on. tora, fortunately, plumped into a patch of gooseberry bushes, so that no one was really hurt.
"didn't i do that well?" asked the dummy, as dorothy and snip jumped up. "falling's my specialty and falling for you, princess," he rose and made dorothy an exceedingly shaky bow, "falling for you, is a real pleasure."
"well i'm kinda glad you did fall first," gasped the little girl, running to help snip pull tora out of the bushes.
"did i understand dorothy to say your name was kabumpo?" inquired the dummy, addressing himself blandly to the elegant elephant. kabumpo nodded without taking his eyes from the mass of jagged stone ahead.
"well, that accounts for the bumpo. i understand perfectly now," continued humpy conversationally, as he picked up his crown and set it solemnly on his head. "but next time, next time, old rascal!" he wagged his finger playfully at the elegant elephant.
"old rascal! old rascal!" sputtered kabumpo, swinging round in a fury. "how dare you talk to me like that, you good for nothing son of a sofa, you hair-brained piece of a night shirt!"
"well, i may be stuffed with hair, but you're stuffed with hay and i don't see much difference except," humpy backed rapidly out of kabumpo's reach, "except that the person who stuffed you didn't finish the job. you're full of wrinkles," he announced judicially.
kabumpo made a swing at the dummy with his trunk and then, thinking better of it, turned angrily away and, mumbling and wheezing under his breath, began to move majestically toward the rocky barrier. seeing that no more fun was to be had out of him, humpy hurried over to the tailor, who was walking unsteadily between dorothy and snip. he had put on his ears and was listening attentively to the little girl's remarks about the elegant elephant. dorothy was telling how faithfully kabumpo had served his master, the prince of pumperdink.
"it may be so, it may be so," muttered tora, gazing after the great beast doubtfully, "but he seems to me a trifle abrupt--er, almost dangerous!"
"but he's very fast," said dorothy coaxingly, "and if he had not stopped when he did we'd have been thrown upon the rocks."
"that's so," put in snip, who had rather enjoyed his wild ride upon the elephant's back.
"well, well, i daresay i am old fashioned," sighed the tailor, settling his specs resignedly, "and if you and dorothy can stand this mad mode of travel, i'll try not to mind it either."
"fall on me next time," invited the dummy generously. humpy's expression as he made this suggestion was so comical that tora laughed in spite of himself.
"but how are we going to cross the mountain?" put in snip dismally. "it's too steep for kabumpo to climb and i don't see any way 'round, do you?"
dorothy shook her head. "i don't even remember a mountain being here," observed the little girl with a troubled frown. they had joined the elegant elephant by this time and, standing in a dejected row, they surveyed the great mass of tumbled rocks--rocks so steep and jagged that even snip shuddered at the thought of clambering over their perilous peaks.
"i hope you don't expect me to carry you over," sniffed kabumpo. "only a bird could cross this. a bird! great gollywockers! look!"
but dorothy and the others had already seen for themselves. an old woman and a goose were walking calmly through the mountain just as if it did not exist at all--an old woman and a goose! the former was dressed in the simple costume of a gilliken farmer's wife. in one hand she carried a large basket and with the other she held her stick and a long rope attached to the goose's neck.
"it's mombi!" cried dorothy, clutching snip in terror, for in spite of the disguise, there was no mistaking that wicked old face.
"and pajuka!" gasped snip, scarcely daring to breathe. tora's ears were fluttering like leaves in a gale, and even kabumpo trembled slightly.
"she must have got her magic powers back," whispered snip hoarsely, "or how could she walk through a mountain? oh dorothy, what shall we do now?"
as it happened, they had time to do nothing, for just then pajuka looked up and saw the little button boy.
"snip!" screamed the goose joyfully. spreading both wings, he flew forward so fast that mombi had to run to keep up with him. "i thought she had done for you," panted the goose, paying no attention to mombi's jerks upon the rope. he began to caress snip with both wing and bill.
snip forgot his fright for a moment, in his delight at seeing his old friend again and, dropping on his knees, hugged pajuka for dear life. dorothy involuntarily drew back from the witch, who was mumbling a long rigamarole about being on her way to the emerald city with a fine goose for ozma of oz.
humpy, stepping from behind the elegant elephant, folded his arms and gazed down benevolently upon the little scene. "reminds me of the happy endings in the picture game," observed the dummy indulgently to the tired tailor. "i'm for that bird, and i don't care who knows it," he said.
"hush!" warned the tailor, looking nervously at mombi. but at the first sound of humpy's voice, pajuka had given a great bounce and, extricating himself from snip's embrace, came hurtling through the air.
"master!" shrieked the goose and flapped his wings so violently that the flimsy dummy fell backward over kabumpo's trunk. with a surly flounce the elegant elephant shook him off.
"monster!" hissed pajuka, with a wild peck at the elephant's trunk. "how dare you insult his majesty?" bowing and weeping alternately he cried shrilly, "the king! at last i have found the king!"
by this time the tailor had got humpy to his feet, and it is hard to say who was the most astonished of that astonished little group. mombi dropped her basket with a crash and came over to stare at the green clad figure. kabumpo, thinking of his late speeches, began to back uncomfortably away.
"but it can't be the king," began dorothy, catching hold of snip. "i found humpy my own self in california and however could he have gotten there?"
"girl," said the goose sternly, "don't you suppose i know my own master?"
"and i've seen him before too," murmured the old tailor, half closing his eyes. "let me think! let me think!"
"did you ever see the king yourself?" asked snip, turning excitedly to dorothy. the little girl had to acknowledge that she had not, for mombi had hidden the old monarch away before dorothy had come to oz.
"you don't mind my being king, do you dorothy?" the dummy turned to her coaxingly. "i'd love to be the star in just one picture. let me be king and you shall be queen."
"star! picture! queen!" choked pajuka, gazing from one to the other in bewilderment. "what does this mean? woman, woman what have you done to the king?"
he turned accusingly to mombi, but mombi, brushing him roughly aside, had run up to humpy and was examining him carefully from all sides. catching sight of a white tape protruding from the collar of his robe, the old witch jerked him sideways and after one triumphant look at the number on the tape, began to jump up and down like a child on a pogo stick.
"the king!" shrilled mombi, throwing up her stick. "it is the king of oz himself! and i am the only one who can restore him to himself and to the throne." she looked sharply at dorothy, whom she had already recognized, as if daring her to contradict this statement.
"but i don't see how a dummy could be a king," objected dorothy, still trying to puzzle out the mystery.
"that's because you are only a little girl," explained pajuka gently. "i suppose you don't see how a goose could be a prime minister either, or how that wicked old woman would dare to turn her king to a stuffed man and his trusted councillor to a goose, or throw an innocent little boy down a well," hissed pajuka, with an angry glare at mombi.
"a meddlesome little vagabond," mumbled mombi, holding her ground stubbornly. she was not going to be frightened out of her reward by anyone now, and stared defiantly at the little company.
"but how did you get out of the well and who are all these people?" puffed pajuka, looking curiously from tora to kabumpo and then letting his eyes rest fondly on the king.
mombi scarcely listened as snip told of his fall into blankenburg, his escape with the tailor and their meeting with dorothy, kabumpo and the dummy. she was hurriedly turning over a plan to get humpy away from his friends. while pajuka, in his turn, told how he had tried to fly down the well, how he had been caught and tied up by the old witch and forced to accompany her until now, mombi dropped the rope that was tied to his neck and made a sly move toward the king.
"your majesty," whispered mombi craftily, "may i have a few words with you?"
"certainly. certainly!" puffed the dummy king, stepping along pompously at her side. tora, snip and dorothy were so interested in pajuka's story that they did not notice mombi's move, but kabumpo, who had been keeping an astonished eye and ear upon the whole proceeding, stepped noiselessly after the two. here, reasoned kabumpo anxiously, was an opportunity to make up for his rude speeches and restore himself to favor with this impossible person who was turning out to be the king.
no sooner had mombi put a few trees between herself and the others than she grasped humpy by his hand and began running like the wind.
"we'll hide," grunted the old witch, paying no attention to the dummy's expostulations, "and when they've stopped looking for us we'll go on to the emerald city and i will restore your majesty to the throne. but first," panted mombi, stopping a moment to catch her breath, "you must promise to give me back my magic powers and half of the kingdom of oz. do you promise? you'd better," she added threateningly, giving humpy a vicious shake.
"but i'm going to the emerald city with dorothy," objected the king in dismay. "let me go, you old ragbag."
"yes, how dare you shake his majesty!" thundered an imperious voice and, whirling 'round in a fright, mombi saw the elegant elephant looming up between two trees. he had followed them without a sound and now, snatching humpy from the clutches of the old witch, placed him carefully upon his back.
with a cry of rage, mombi tried to get away, but kabumpo was too quick for her. seizing the witch in his trunk and shaking her to and fro like a rattle, he ran trumpeting back to the others. they had just discovered humpy's absence and pajuka with a hoarse shriek came flying toward the elegant elephant.
"she was trying to steal the king!" panted kabumpo indignantly. "shall i throw her over the mountain or step on her?"
"step on her," commanded the dummy, extending two fingers of his right hand as he had seen kings in the movies do time and time again. mombi gave a terrible screech and dorothy and snip looked uneasily at one another.
"the king has spoken," honked pajuka, settling down gravely beside the dummy, "therefore let the sentence be carried out."
dorothy closed her eyes and clung to snip, but just then, the calm voice of the tailor intervened.
"your highness," began tora gravely, "as this woman is the only one in oz who can restore you to your proper self, do you think this step a wise one?"
the tailor's ears fluttered anxiously as he waited for the king's decision. for an instant humpy looked doubtfully at mombi, then with a sigh lowered his fingers. "perhaps it would be a rash step," he admitted regretfully.
"well, some steps must be taken," honked pajuka angrily. "are we to put up with this treachery forever?"
"no, just until she restores the king," answered tora mildly.
"then i shall step on her," promised kabumpo, giving mombi another shake.
"that's right," said dorothy, glad to have the dreadful business delayed. "mombi must first restore the king."
"i'll not do it without a reward," screamed the witch defiantly. "do i get a reward or not?"
the others were silent but humpy, again extending his fingers, announced grandly, "you shall be rewarded as you deserve!" he winked at pajuka as he said this, but mombi apparently was satisfied and stopped squirming.
"well, i can't do it here," she muttered sulkily. "the transformation was made near the emerald city and the enchantment cannot be broken until we reach the green country."
"then let's go on to the emerald city," proposed dorothy eagerly. once there, reflected the little girl, ozma herself could settle the whole troublesome business. somehow dorothy could not imagine oz without the little fairy as its queen, and while she was glad indeed to have found the lost king, she could not get used to the idea of humpy on the throne and administering affairs in oz.
humpy, himself, was enjoying it all tremendously. he remembered nothing of his past, it is true, but the present was sufficiently interesting and exciting to make up for everything.
"on to the emerald city!" he commanded, pompously waving his arms.
"i hear and i obey, your majesty," wheezed kabumpo, and hardly giving the two children and the old tailor time to climb aboard, he was off, still holding mombi fast in his trunk.
"but what about the mountain?" asked snip, as it loomed up suddenly ahead.
"watch," called pajuka and while kabumpo swayed uncertainly before it, he flew straight through the wall of rocks. like many another mountain when you come right to it, this was no mountain at all--only a shadow mountain.
"no wonder mombi could walk through," sighed snip, greatly relieved that the witch had not recovered her magic powers.
the thoughts of the little company, as they sped toward the emerald city, were many and varied. mombi, suspended precariously in kabumpo's trunk, smiled darkly to herself, for mombi, as usual, had a plan to outwit her enemies. she could not remember changing the king to a dummy at all, and had at first doubted that humpy really was the king, but when she had read upon his collar the forgotten green magic formula, even mombi was convinced. all that was now necessary to dispel the enchantment was to reach the emerald city.
"once there, i'll show them," the old witch chuckled wickedly to herself, as she thought of what would happen then.
pajuka, looking at the stuffed king beside him, was wondering sadly whether he and his royal master would ever be quite the same, whether the good old oz days they had enjoyed together would ever return again. fluttering his wings, and keeping his balance with difficulty, the poor goose dreamed longingly of the comfortable chairs in the old hunting lodge, of his pipe and his smoking jacket with sixteen pockets.
snip was trying to puzzle out how the king had ever fallen into california, how tora had got his strange ears, how pajuka would look as a man and how ozma would like giving up the throne to her father.
tora, holding fast to his precious ears, had closed his eyes and begun to plan a blue suit for snip and a velvet cloak for dorothy. he had taken a great fancy to the little girl. "let the other fellows worry about this king," thought the tailor with a tired sigh.
dorothy, for her part, was trying to imagine what would happen when they reached the capital. she felt sure mombi meant some mischief but, comforting herself with the thought of sir hokus of pokes and the other brave inhabitants of the castle, she finally stopped worrying and began to wonder how humpy would look when he was changed to himself and what would become of her apartment in the palace. it was all so strange and confusing that dorothy could hardly wait to see how it would turn out, and watched anxiously for the first sight of the green towers and spires of ozma's palace.
humpy was too busy holding on to his crown and to kabumpo to think of anything, but the elegant elephant was busily considering the appearance he would make at the king's coronation. "i'll just have that old tailor cut me a white velvet robe," decided kabumpo importantly. "i'll wear my pearls and a satin bow on my tail and--"
just then, snip gave a little scream of delight, for, spreading out suddenly before them like a picture from fairyland itself, was the enchanting emerald city of oz. its lacy turrets and spires sparkled with emeralds, its marble streets glowed with the same precious stones. the air was sweet with roses and honeysuckle and everywhere were flowering parks and tree lined avenues.
humpy, pajuka, snip and the tailor were simply stunned by the magnificence of the capital, but to dorothy, mombi and kabumpo, the emerald city was an old story. accustomed to its beauty and familiar with its grandeur, they scarcely gave it a second glance. many of the town's people, recognizing dorothy, waved cheerfully as they passed and all too soon for snip, who could have ridden up and down its enchanted streets all day, the elegant elephant charged into the royal park and approached the palace of emeralds itself.
"master," choked the goose, touching humpy tremulously with his wing, "our castle was never so fine as this. to think that all of this belongs to you!" pajuka stretched his neck exultantly. "i wonder if there's a pipe anywhere in the castle?" he puffed suddenly.
"you shall have twenty pipes, my good goose!" promised the dummy. "everybody shall have a pipe!"
dorothy and snip giggled a little at this. then, as kabumpo stepped upon the broad portico, pajuka, remembering mombi's past threats, began to scream hoarsely, "the witch--don't let her go, don't let her go, whatever you do! she'll steal ozma's magic and destroy us all. hold on to mombi!"
kabumpo had been on the point of dropping the old woman so he could pull the jewelled bell rope, but at pajuka's warning he tightened his grip.
"pray alight, dorothy, and announce his majesty!" puffed the elegant elephant, forgetting that not more than an hour ago he had called the king a piece of a night shirt. dorothy and snip slid down together and, both seizing the rope, set it to jingling merrily.
"won't they be surprised," murmured dorothy, looking over her shoulder at kabumpo and his strange passengers. "won't they be surprised when they see who is here? but why don't they come to the door?"
why indeed? for the very simple reason, that there was no one to come--not even the cook's boy. for that morning, jellia jamb, ozma's small serving maid, looking from the castle window, had seen her mistress and the little group who were with her in the garden vanish before her eyes. rushing frantically through the palace, she spread the dire news, and immediately the entire household had set out to find the lost ones--the entire household from the tallest courtier to the tiniest page. tik tok might have enlightened them, but the machine man had run down. no one thought to wind him up and even tik tok did not know that ozma and her friends had gone to morrow.
in puzzled dismay, dorothy pressed her nose to the diamond panes in the door. then, seeing that the great hall was empty, she tried the knob. in their excitement the searchers had left the door unlocked and, with a little exclamation of surprise, dorothy opened it and motioned for kabumpo to follow with his passengers.
kabumpo was bitterly disappointed that there was no one to witness his grand entry with the king and, when they reached the throne room itself without encountering anyone, he looked positively crestfallen. "a fine welcome for his highness!" he grunted irritably. "where is the court? where are the attendants? a thing like this would never have happened in pumperdink!"
"ha, ha!" croaked mombi maliciously, but subsided at once when the elegant elephant gave her a shake. pajuka and tora had alighted with snip and all were staring about the beautiful room in admiration.
but kabumpo was still angry. "is this tailor to be admitted to the presence?" he demanded loftily, fixing his eyes upon tora's shabby suit. "in pumperdink such things are not done."
dorothy was too worried over the strange silence in the castle to bother with kabumpo's saucy speeches, but the dummy, falling headlong from the elegant elephant's back, put his arm affectionately through tora's.
humpy waved kabumpo aside and pulled the old tailor to a seat beside him. tora shoved his spectacles up on his forehead and looked gravely at the pompous dummy.
"let him stay by all means," said humpy condescendingly. "every king must have his tailor and he's mine. besides, has anyone else in this room flying ears, i want to know?"
"well, i prefer my ears on," grunted the elegant elephant disdainfully.
"i'm glad they're on you," sniffed pajuka. he felt unaccountably drawn to the gentle old tailor, but tora himself was too taken up with his splendid surroundings to mind kabumpo's remarks. just then humpy, catching sight of the glittering emerald throne, let go of the tailor's arm and started running across the room. the others gave little heed, for certainly it was right and fitting for the king to occupy his proper place in the palace.
mombi, seeing the dummy's move, fairly trembled with excitement. without being at all aware of it, humpy was playing directly into her hands and as he sank down upon the throne the witch gave a shriek of triumph. held fast though she was in kabumpo's trunk, her arms were still free. beginning with snip and going on to dorothy, mombi began to count, "one--two--three--four--five--six--seven!"
at seven her finger pointed to pajuka, whose every feather stood erect with terror. snatching two buttons from kabumpo's robe, mombi popped them into her mouth and shouted the magic formula on the dummy's collar. "202 b e-10 b-4 7," ran the number, but as mombi said it, it sounded like this, "two ought to be eaten before seven."
that done, mombi glared at the king. "i command you to assume your proper form," she screamed.
well, surely nothing could have been worse than the next happening. with a grinding, crashing suddenness, the palace began to sink, gaining speed as it went. down, down, down, till the windows and doorways were blotted out with earth and mud and the whole company lost in the choke of utter and awful darkness. of all the screams in the room, mombi's was loudest. never in her darkest imaginings had mombi anticipated anything like this! what unknown and dreadful magic had she set in motion?
while the dummy king and his friends were making their way to the emerald city from the north, ozma and her faithful followers were plodding wearily up from the south through a lonely section of the quadling country. the red house in the hunting park had been totally deserted but the scarecrow, climbing an old wind-mill nearby, had seen dimly through the tree-tops the glittering spires of the capital. considerably cheered therefore, the little party had continued its journey home.
at about the time kabumpo was making his grand entry into the city, scraps, turning to ask sir hokus a question, noticed that the knight was fidgeting about in an extremely odd and alarming manner. they were a bit ahead of the others and for a time scraps regarded her companion with her head on one side. but silence is not one of the patch work girl's strong points and as the knight continued to squirm and bounce, she stopped short in the road.
"why do you jump from side to side and rattle about like a salt shaker? have you fleas?" inquired scraps, looking sharply at sir hokus. "is there an ant in your armor, or what?"
"something--something's tickling me," confessed the knight, wriggling his shoulders desperately. "something like--like a sparrow. ouch!" gasped sir hokus, giving himself a shake that unfastened the top buckle of his mailed shirt.
at sir hokus' cry, scraps, too, gave a startled shriek, for out of the knight's shirt sped the golden goose feather he had tucked there for safe-keeping. before either of them had recovered from their surprise it poised in the air and began to write furiously on the knight's burnished shield, while scraps and sir hokus watched breathlessly.
"the king of oz is in the palace," announced the feather with a flourish, then fluttered down lifelessly in the dust.
"odds blood! it thinks i'm a blackboard," grunted sir hokus indignantly, and nearly bending double to get a glimpse of the writing. "ozma, betsy, trot, wizard, come quickly!"
at the excited cries, the others, who were just around a bend in the road, broke into a run. sir hokus, puffing and still indignant, pointed to his shield. the second message of the magic quill was as amazing as the first, which had sent them to morrow.
"well, that saves us hunting for him," observed the scarecrow, cheerfully picking up the goose quill. "he must have found himself, you know. shall i keep this my dear?"
"please do," sighed ozma, staring hard at the message, which the knight was vainly trying to rub from his shield, "and let's hurry. just think, my father is in the castle! hurry! hurry! we're almost home!" and setting an example herself, the little fairy girl fairly flew down the road.
"i for one shall not recognize this king," shouted scraps, running awkwardly after ozma.
"i wonder whether he'll let us live in the castle?" puffed trot, who was running hand in hand with betsy bobbin. "i kinda wish he'd never turned up, don't you?"
betsy nodded emphatically, and it must be confessed that all of the others shared trot's wish. but as ozma herself seemed so happy at her father's restoration, such thoughts seemed almost treasonable and no one but scraps voiced his real opinion.
ozma, being a fairy, did not tire as easily as the rest, but even ozma had to slacken her pace before they came to the emerald city. indeed, it was a hard two-hour journey before they reached the outskirts of the capital. hot, tired and dusty, they hurried through the quiet streets. no one in the city had discovered ozma's absence, for the searchers in the palace had gone off without notifying anyone, so they stared in surprise at the breathless little company. without stopping to explain, the royal party hurried on to the palace itself, for was not the king already there and waiting for them?
sir hokus was the first to burst through the tall hedge enclosing the royal residence. he paused, brushed his mailed fist across his eyes and then fell with a crash to the jewelled walk. the scarecrow, close behind, promptly fell on top of him and scraps, the wizard and the little girls, bumping into the two, stopped short in their tracks. for where the castle had stood, there was nothing at all excepting a stretch of lawn, a little greener, perhaps, than in other parts of the garden, but so smooth, no one would have suspected that a castle ever had stood there!
"the king is in the castle, but where is the castle?" groaned the scarecrow, raising his head and peering over the knight's shoulder.
"gone!" wailed the little queen, rushing forward in dismay. "everything's gone!" and overcome by the fatigues and disappointments of the day, ozma threw herself down upon the grass and wept as if her heart would break. betsy and trot did their best to comfort her, but what could they say? what could anyone say in the face of so amazing a calamity?
"come out you villain king and thief! bring back our home, you robber chief!"
screamed scraps, making little dashes backward and forward. of course scraps did not expect the king to come out but, as if in answer to her call, there was a shudder and rumble below.
the rumbling continued, grew worse and worse and finally, with an explosion like forty-nine roman candles going off at once, the towers, turrets and gleaming roof of the castle burst through the earth and, impaling the frightened company upon its spires, carried them kicking and struggling into the air. up, up, and up shot the castle, till the entire structure was standing on its proper foundations. the flag pole had caught sir hokus between his mailed shirt and his armor and the knight was spinning around like a weather cock in a gale. ozma and the little girls had fortunately been carried aloft on one of the rounded domes and while their position was extremely precarious it was at least comfortable. scraps hung limply over a filigreed balcony, the wizard beside her, and the scarecrow dangled from a spire.
"wait! don't move any of you," coughed the straw man. "wait, i'll fall down and get a ladder!"
and down he plunged!
the people clinging to the roof of the palace were no more puzzled and alarmed than the ones rattling around beneath the roof. to understand all of these strange and confusing events, we must go back to mombi's incantation. mombi, you see, had used the magic formula without the king's robe. indeed, mombi had forgotten that part of the transformation entirely, and in consequence the great disaster predicted by the fairy queen lurline had occurred.
when the palace had sunk so suddenly into the earth, dorothy and her companions had been too startled to even move. but when it finally settled down and things grew quiet again, dorothy, feeling her way cautiously, pressed a small radio button in the wall. fortunately the lighting system had not been thrown out of order and, as the emerald lamps flooded the throne room with their reassuring glow, everyone gave a sigh of relief.
kabumpo had wound his trunk around one of the palace pillars and closed his eyes. now he let go and looked fearfully around him. mombi had rolled into a corner and pajuka lay flat on his back with his feet in the air. tora's ears had flown off from the shock, carrying his spectacles with them, and the poor tailor was uncertainly groping his way toward the door. snip, who suffered nothing worse than a bump over the eye, ran hastily to his assistance, leading him gently to a large arm chair. sinking into its comfortable depths, tora pulled out a red handkerchief and began mopping first his cheeks and then his brow and muttering unintelligibly to himself.
humpy was sprawled on the floor, his crown jammed down over his nose and his head resting on the last step of the dais. as dorothy ran to help him up, he made a feeble gesture of protest.
"the kingdom has fallen," puffed the dummy indignantly, "and that lets me out. if this is the way you treat your sovereigns, i'm through. i resign! i abdicate. let me be the bell boy, or the furnace man. why even in the movies i have never been treated like this. it's a crime. it's an outrage!" coughed humpy, struggling to a sitting position and trying to pry his crown upward.
"now humpy," began dorothy reprovingly, "you're talking like a dummy instead of a king. just wait--"
"i am a dummy," insisted the poor fellow, feeling of himself to make sure. "has that old wretch changed me one hair's breadth by her villainous magic? oh, to think i should have sunk so low!"
"she's a fraud," hissed pajuka, who had also picked himself up. "woman, how dare you sink the castle in this shocking and informal manner? where are we and what is to become of his majesty?"
"look out, she's trying to get away," warned snip. the little button boy was right, for at each question mombi was creeping nearer to the door.
"no you don't!" shrilled kabumpo, snatching her back with his trunk. "i'll teach you to sink elephants like a ship and play such tricks upon the king!" he began shaking her backward and forward till her very bones rattled.
"undo this mischief at once. give me back my own shape. restore the king!" screamed pajuka, flapping his wings in mombi's face.
"raise up this castle or i'll step on you!" promised kabumpo furiously.
mombi looked pleadingly at dorothy and snip, but the little boy and girl felt now that any punishment was too good for the old witch.
"give me time," muttered mombi, casting uneasy glances from one to the other. "the formula should have restored the king, but something went wrong. i must have more time."
"here, take it." stumbling across the room, humpy pressed a dollar watch into the old witch's hands. "here's all the time in the world," said the dummy dolefully, "but don't ask me to be king again. let kabumpo sit on the throne and see how he likes it."
turning his back upon the company, humpy began to run after tora's ears. fastened together by the tailor's spectacles, they were flapping wildly around the apartment. pajuka groaned and covered his eyes with his wing, for the honest goose could not bear to see his old master conducting himself so foolishly.
"well, what shall i do with her?" kabumpo shook mombi again and snapped his eyes angrily at dorothy.
"she got us into this trouble and now she must get us out," decided the little girl wisely. "do you think you can?"
the old witch nodded and, at a sign from dorothy, kabumpo let her go, at the same time keeping a close guard upon her. mombi, it must be confessed, was as surprised at the fall of the castle as anyone else, nor could she account for the failure of the magic formula. hemmed in a corner by the gigantic kabumpo, she began mumbling in magic and making queer passes in the air just to gain time.
dorothy watched anxiously, but snip, who had already had an idea of his own, tiptoed across the room and picked up mombi's basket. in a sudden flash snip recalled the skyward flight of the cats in catty corners. was there any more of the marvelous baking powder? tumbling everything out of the basket, snip fumbled hurriedly among its contents and with a little cry of triumph found what he was looking for--a small purple can of the magical powder. and, better still, printed in mombi's crooked writing, were the directions for its use. this is what snip read:
"to raise hair--one drop in water.
"to raise the roof--one pinch down the chimney.
"to raise the rent--five teaspoons full in vinegar.
"to raise a castle or city empty entire contents of can on spot desired. sprinkle with water and count ten."
seizing a flower vase from a nearby stand, snip dumped out the powder and moistened it from the vase. then, hardly daring to think what would happen, the little button boy began to count.
with a roar as sudden and frightful as when it had fallen, the castle shot upward, gaining speed as it went, up, up, up, till the dark earth was left far below and the massive structure stood on its rightful foundations again.
how ozma and her friends were caught upon its roof, we already know, for snip had set off the powder, just as the little queen flung herself upon the grass to weep.
while the scarecrow, with a long ladder from the garden, was helping those on the roof to get down, snip was hurrying around the throne room helping those inside to get up, for the final jar as the castle settled had knocked everyone over--even kabumpo.
"is this exciting enough for you?" asked dorothy, crawling out from beneath a sofa. the elegant elephant groaned, but made no attempt to arise, and dorothy, rushing over to mombi, dragged her hurriedly to her feet.
"now that you've raised the castle," puffed the little girl determinedly, "suppose you transform the king and pajuka!"
"mombi didn't raise the castle, i did it myself!" cried snip delightedly.
"you did!" gasped kabumpo, rolling over in astonishment. "how?"
snip held up the empty can and, while mombi glowered angrily, he explained his use of the marvelous baking powder. tora's ears were still off so the poor tailor was as bewildered as ever, but snip nodded to him encouragingly and had just finished his recital when the door in the hall burst open and ozma, in a perfect flutter of excitement, swept into the throne room--ozma and everyone who had accompanied her to morrow.
"the king!" gasped ozma faintly, for she was rather short of breath. "where is the king?" her glance travelled in alarm from mombi to pajuka. the goose was waddling after humpy. paying no attention to the rise of the castle, the dummy was mounted on a chair in a last effort to capture tora's ears.
"dorothy," wailed the sorely tried and tired little fairy, "where is my father?"
"here! here!" honked pajuka, doing his best to make humpy turn 'round. "this is the king of oz!"
dorothy, astonished though she was by ozma's sudden entry, hastened to break the shock of her disappointment. "you must remember," she explained hastily, "he is not quite himself!"
"he's bewitched--we're all bewitched!" groaned the goose, flapping his wings despairingly.
"well, who hit me with the castle?" demanded scraps, staring around indignantly. "i told you the king was a dunce!"
the little girls, sir hokus and the wizard were regarding the stuffed man's actions with horror and dismay.
"are you my father?" faltered ozma, approaching the dummy timidly. "why, where have you been all these years?"
"in the pictures," answered humpy in a matter-of-fact voice. with a final snatch he had captured the tailor's ears and was more interested in them than in his daughter. "i double for the stars, my dear. i fall and die and all that sort of thing. ask dorothy, she knows all about me."
"he's been leading a double life," murmured the scarecrow, looking solemnly at sir hokus of pokes. then, facing the king, he asked frankly, "are you a dub or a double?"
"he's bewitched, i tell you," puffed pajuka, trying to get some attention. "make her disenchant us!" he shot his neck angrily in mombi's direction and immediately everyone's attention was directed to the old witch, whom the elegant elephant still guarded in the corner.
"why, there's kabumpo!" cried ozma and then, catching her first glimpse of the tailor without ears, she sank limply into a chair and began to fan herself with a doily. "everything, everything's so queer," murmured the little queen, looking appealingly at betsy and trot.
"fetch the green book of magic from the library," ordered the wizard, giving sir hokus a push. "fetch the book and i will put an end to this nonsense!"
sir hokus made haste to obey and, before dorothy could explain all that had happened or introduce her friends, the knight came back with the green book.
"here, give me my ears," cried the tailor, who had missed most of the excitement. snatching them from humpy, he clapped them quickly in place and turned toward the wizard. the wizard looked slightly cross-eyed from astonishment, but swallowing quickly and, determined not to delay the king's restoration another minute, began to flip over the leaves of the book.
"this is it, incantation no. 980!" panted the little man joyfully. "two ought to be eaten before seven."
"that's not an incantation, that's humpy's number," cried dorothy, pulling out the white tag on the dummy's collar.
"why, that's what mombi tried," put in snip anxiously. "look out! something else awful will happen!"
but the wizard waved them impatiently aside and, throwing the royal robe he had carried all the way from morrow about humpy's shoulders, pushed him down upon the throne.
"all but seven leave the room," he ordered crisply and after a short delay the order was carried out. the seven who remained watched tensely as the wizard approached the stuffed king. popping two small crackers into his mouth, he gazed fixedly at the dummy. "i command you to assume your natural shape," choked the wizard, throwing up his arms impressively.
"the king's himself! long live the king!" shrieked pajuka, falling flat upon his bill.
everyone crowded forward to see what happened to humpy--but the dummy remained as he was.
"why he's not changed at all," cried scraps scornfully, and the patch work girl was perfectly right. except for a slight slump to the left, humpy had not even changed his position.
"two ought to be eaten before seven! two ought to be eaten before seven!" muttered the wizard, beginning to pace anxiously up and down.
"two what?" asked snip. "are you sure you've eaten the right thing? mombi swallowed buttons."
"well, i'm no ostrich and the foot note says two of anything," answered the little man, keeping his place in the book with his forefinger and gazing at the dummy in exasperation.
the wizard of oz was puzzled and mortified. his magic seemed to be no magic at all. the little man was silent. he could think of nothing but his failure.
"let's all sit down in a circle and think," proposed the scarecrow, taking ozma's hand, for he could see the little fairy was ready to cry with disappointment. "the goose feather said the king was in the castle, so he must be here," he insisted cheerfully. "let dorothy tell her story and we'll tell ours and then perhaps we can find out what's wrong with our magic."
"now you're talking sense," approved scraps, plumping down beside the straw man. "have dorothy explain this old goose, this button-button-who's-got-the-button boy and the fellow with the fluttering ears."
"i guess that would be best," sighed dorothy. so in less than a wink that whole strange company, with humpy in the center, dropped down in a circle upon the floor. kabumpo, holding mombi fast in his trunk, stood just behind dorothy, putting in a word now and then or giving mombi a shake when she objected to any part of the story.
ozma and her friends could scarcely repress their astonishment and surprise as dorothy recounted her wonderful adventures with the dummy and told of snip's exciting journey with the goose and the old witch. indeed, as the story proceeded, they began to regard snip and pajuka with growing admiration and respect, for certainly these two had played an unforgettable part in the history of oz.
when dorothy told how snip had raised the castle with mombi's baking powder, the company burst into such loud cheers and cries of approval that the little button boy tried to hide behind the tailor. tora, himself, came in for a goodly share of the interest too, and he smiled pleasantly as dorothy explained his singular ears and described his escape from the blanks.
when dorothy had finished, ozma quickly related all that had happened in the emerald city and in morrow. she told of the deserted castle and the mysterious messages, and the scarecrow gravely passed around the golden quill.
"i seem to remember this," puffed pajuka when it had come to him. "ah, i know! it is the magic quill the king gave me on my last birthday in the castle. it always warned one or the other when either was in danger and i had it in my pocket when mombi turned me to a goose."
"and i pulled it out when i fell down the well!" cried snip excitedly.
"and it returned to the spot where the old castle had stood," put in the wizard, leaning forward sagely.
"well, that explains the feather, but who will explain the king?" demanded the scarecrow, looking at the dummy with his head on one side.
"i'm about tired of being explained," mumbled humpy sulkily. "if you don't pretty soon decide something, i'll go back to america. i've fallen and i've risen and now i want to sit still."
"perhaps," suggested the tired tailor timidly, for he felt shy in the presence of so many celebrities, "perhaps humpy is not the lost king at all! the feather said the king was in the palace, but it did not say the dummy was king."
"bless me," cried the scarecrow tossing up his hat, "his brain works as fast as his ears. that is an idea!" it had not occurred to any of them that humpy might not be the king, but now they began to look at one another questioningly.
"but he's the image of pastoria!" insisted pajuka. "don't you suppose i know my own sovereign? ozma my dear, is this dummy not like your father?"
ozma nodded: "but it wouldn't do any harm to look around," she added thoughtfully.
"come on," cried the scarecrow waving his hat, "we'll hunt from cellar to garret!"
"keep a trunk on that witch!" called scraps to the elegant elephant, as they all jumped up and started to follow the scarecrow from the room.
"but wait!" exclaimed the tired tailor, catching hold of the straw man's arm. "how do you know you are not the king yourself?"
"me the king!" ejaculated the scarecrow falling back against a pillar.
"well, mombi could easily have changed you to a scarecrow," mused tora, but dorothy hastily shook her head, for the scarecrow's past was well known and though he had been proved an emperor of silver island, she felt he could not be the lost king of oz.
"well, somebody in this castle is king," insisted tora positively.
"but how shall we know?" gasped dorothy, while the others looked equally puzzled.
"find the man who fits the king's robe," cried tora, waving his tape measure. "try him," he finished, indicating sir hokus of pokes.
"how did you ever think of that?" asked the wizard admiringly. "find the man who fits the robe! why it's as simple as arithmetic. but how did you ever think of it?"
"well, being a tailor, it occurred to me at once," answered tora modestly. "the robe fits the dummy perfectly, so i thought at first he must be the king, but when the magic failed to work i concluded that he wasn't."
mombi sniffed scornfully as the knight stepped forward but dorothy and ozma, remembering sir hokus's strange history, felt that he might easily be the lost king of oz.
again all but seven left the throne room, and the tailor placed the king's robes carefully about the knight's shoulders. then the wizard, taking two more crackers, gravely repeated the magic formula.
ozma kept her eyes fixed intently on sir hokus. she rather hoped he would turn out to be her father, for she was very fond of the blustery knight. but nothing at all happened after the wizard's incantation and sir hokus stepped down from the throne with real relief.
"odds buckles and bonnets, my dear, i would like to be your father but not your king," sighed the knight. "i prefer fighting to governing any day."
the wizard cast his eye about for another candidate of proper size and shape to fit the robe, but no one in the room seemed to qualify.
"you're wasting time," grunted kabumpo irritably. "this person," he waved loftily at the old tailor, "this person had better have kept out of it. what does a tailor know of magic?"
dorothy looked reprovingly at the elegant elephant and just then, catching a glimpse of the soldier with the green whiskers in the doorway, rushed over and pulled him into the room. the soldier with the green whiskers is the entire army of oz and, while not noted for his bravery, is a great favorite in the emerald city. ever since the disappearance of ozma, he had been hiding in the castle cellar, terribly frightened by its fall and rise. finally he had screwed up enough courage to venture forth and investigate. too astonished to move, he had listened to the proceedings in the throne room and watched the wizard's magic experiments.
"try him!" puffed dorothy, hurrying him toward the throne. as the tailor carefully adjusted the robe, everyone gasped at the fit and becomingness of the green garment. it quite transformed the timid old soldier and, complacently stroking his beard, he waited for the wizard's formula to take effect. but again, nothing at all happened and, dashing the green book of magic into a corner, the wizard rushed out of the room. at last he had had an idea of his own. he would look in the magic picture and discover at once who was the missing king.
meanwhile tora, looking very apologetic, had taken the cloak from the grand army's shoulders. "i was wrong," sighed the tailor shaking his head sorrowfully, "and now there is no one else to try."
everyone joined in the tailor's sigh, for the afternoon had lengthened into evening and they were still as far as ever from solving the mystery. at each disappointment pajuka had grown more gloomy and now, waddling up to mombi, he cried angrily, "woman, what have you done with the king? speak! speak, or i'll peck off your nose!"
"yes, say something!" shrilled kabumpo, shaking her violently.
"i remember nothing! i remember nothing! let me go!" wailed the old witch, howling dismally.
mombi's screams, pajuka's threats and kabumpo's trumpeting almost drowned out another voice that had risen triumphantly above the confusion. it was snip. jumping to his feet and running across the room, the little button boy flung his arms 'round the old tailor.
"you never tried it on yourself! you never tried it on yourself!" panted snip, trembling with impatience. "here, give it to me!"
while kabumpo sniffed and the others watched half heartedly, the little boy wrapped the king's robe around the tired tailor, popped two sugar lumps into his mouth and shouted hoarsely, "two ought to be eaten before seven! i command you to resume your natural shape!"
for as long as you could count ten there was absolute silence. then a deep voice, very rough and husky, called wildly, "the king! long live the king!"
"pajuka!" cried the tired tailor. rushing joyously down the steps of the throne, he threw both arms 'round a fat, jolly old gentleman. the tired tailor, did i say? but no! he was the tired tailor no longer! the rounded shoulders had straightened up under the velvet robe, the tired eyes sparkled with pleasure and kindliness. tora, the tailor, no longer, but pastoria, the king, stood embracing his prime minister, for the same green formula that had restored his majesty had also released pajuka from his weary enchantment.
"i remember! i remember! i turned him to a tailor and flung him down a well!" squealed mombi, but in the excitement no one even heard her. the suddenness of the king's restoration had taken even snip by surprise, but recovering quickly they all pressed forward.
humpy was the first to reach the throne. "glad you got the job," grinned the dummy cheerfully. "but let me be your double, old fellow. i'll fall or die for you any time." making his word good at once, humpy tripped over the king's foot and fell flat upon his nose.
"why he is your double," gasped dorothy eagerly. "the very image of you."
"king, king, double king, never get him back again!" screamed the patch work girl, and from then on the uproar was tremendous. the courtiers and servants, back from the long day's search, came crowding into the throne room, and when they heard the whole story from the soldier with the green whiskers they added their voices to the general clamor.
"why the names should have told us," whispered dorothy to snip, whom she had dragged into a corner for the confidence. "tora the tailor and pastoria, the king. how did we ever miss it?"
snip shook his head and looked over contentedly at his two best friends. it seemed as if ozma and her father would never stop hugging one another but at last, with his little daughter on his right and faithful pajuka on his left, with humpy standing importantly behind him and snip in his lap, the king sat down upon his throne and insisted upon hearing all that had happened during his weary exile--for the years he had been in blankenburg had been blank indeed.
taking turns, dorothy, trot and ozma did their best to satisfy him. then pastoria, himself, told how lurline, queen of the fairy band, had come to his shop, tried to disenchant him and when she found mombi's magic too strong for her, had bestowed upon him his remarkable flying ears.
"i'm going to miss those ears," sighed the king, touching his tight-on ones regretfully, "but it's fine to be back just the same and to find my own dear little girl again!"
"there are still two things i don't understand," mused dorothy, as pastoria finished speaking. "why did i change size in california, and how was it you could not get away from blankenburg till snip helped you?"
"both very easy to account for," explained the wizard of oz, who was glad to have some part in clearing up the mysteries. "if you had lived in america as long as you have lived in oz, you would be quite a young lady by now, so of course, when you reached california, you resumed your proper age."
"then i'm never going back," decided dorothy, recalling her strange experience with a shudder, "for i'm never going to grow up at all."
"the king was released by snip," continued the wizard, paying no attention to dorothy's remarks, "because kindness and generosity always dull green magic, and, while snip could not entirely restore the king, he broke part of the enchantment."
there was still so much to wonder and exclaim about and they were all by this time so famished with hunger that ozma ordered up a splendid feast and in all the annals of oz there has never been a more delightful nor a merrier one.
the king and ozma sat at the head of the long table, snip and pajuka at the foot, while ranged between were all of the adventurers and all the dear celebrities of oz. mombi had been securely locked up in the cellar with a supper of bread and milk and kabumpo, free from his troublesome charge, had three bales of hay, nicely mixed with peanuts.
snip, looking sideways at pajuka, marvelled to think how he had once carried the huge prime minister through the forest. there was still something in pajuka's walk and expression that reminded snip of the white goose, for all during the evening he was at some pains to conceal his yawns.
well, with one dainty coming after the other, and one story following the next, the dinner proceeded gaily enough, till no one, not even the hungry tiger, could eat another bite. and then it was that pastoria rose and, turning to ozma, furnished the last surprise of that exceedingly surprising day.
"i am rejoiced," began the king in his deep, pleasant voice, "to find this beautiful castle and city, built during my absence by our clever wizard, and to see that the prosperity and greatness of oz have increased during my exile. feeling that this is largely due to the wise rule of my lovely little daughter, i now and hereby abdicate in her favor!"
removing the emerald crown the scarecrow had hastily brought from the treasury, the king placed it solemnly on ozma's dark curls.
"but you're not going away!" cried ozma, catching hold of his arm in great distress.
"has your majesty considered this enough?" protested pajuka, jumping up in a hurry. "what are you--what are we--going to do?"
"open a tailor shop," smiled the king, "right here in the emerald city--the finest tailoring shop in oz. you see," continued his majesty, looking a trifle embarrassed, "i've grown awfully fond of tailoring and i think on the whole i'm a better tailor than a king!"
there was a moment's silence after this singular announcement. then, realizing the generosity and wisdom of the decision, the whole company burst into thunderous applause.
"then everything will be the same. oh, goody goody!" exulted betsy bobbin, squeezing trot's hand under the table. "isn't he a perfect dear?"
"instead of a king's double, i'm a tailor's dummy," sighed humpy resignedly. "oh well, i don't care, but you'll have to make me another suit."
"i'll make you a tailored suit. i'll make you all suits," promised the king enthusiastically.
"put plenty of pockets in mine!" puffed pajuka, sinking into his seat with another yawn.
"i'll need a boy in my shop, too," smiled the king, looking down the long table. "how about it, snip? will you stay?"
"a good place for a button boy," giggled scraps, while snip himself blushed with pleasure and excitement.
"oh, i'd love to!" cried snip. "but may i go back to kimbaloo first and tell kinda jolly where i am?"
"of course, of course," promised the royal tailor, beaming upon everyone. "and now, as we are all tired and sleepy (the king winked at pajuka who was trying to hide another monstrous yawn) i move that we all retire."
"that will be the second time you've retired to-day," laughed snip, pushing back his chair and running to open the door for his majesty. for in spite of his abdication they all felt that pastoria was a real king.
"oh, isn't everything turning out splendidly?" sighed dorothy, pressing the scarecrow's arm. "the king will be a lot happier as a tailor and every tailor needs a dummy, so that takes care of humpy. and won't it be fun to have snip in the emerald city?"
"i should say!" grinned the scarecrow, and then, because nobody could stay awake another minute, they bade each other good night and hurried off to bed.
snip and the prime minister shared a sumptuous apartment in the east wing and, hearing a strange noise in the night, snip sat up in alarm. pajuka's bed was empty, but standing on one leg over by the window and snoring like a goodfellow (which indeed he was) stood the huge prime minister, his head resting peacefully on his shoulder.
"he thinks he's still a goose," smiled snip, snuggling down under the covers.
the next day there was a grand procession through the streets of the emerald city, in honor of the long lost king of oz. the elegant elephant led off, the king and humpy--dressed exactly alike--riding proudly on his back. next rode ozma upon the famous saw horse; then came the cowardly lion, carrying dorothy and snip; then the hungry tiger with betsy and trot.
pajuka, astride the comfortable camel, was a sight worth seeing, for the huge prime minister was splendidly costumed. besides this, he had a pipe in each hand, taking first a puff from one and then a puff from the other, so that he was almost hidden in clouds of smoke. sir hokus, upon the doubtful dromedary, bowed politely to his many friends and acquaintances. scraps and the scarecrow followed the knight and after them marched tik tok, the soldier with the green whiskers and all the other famous folk from the palace, down to the smallest page. slowly and majestically they circled the city, returning tired out, but well satisfied, to the cool and fragrant gardens of the palace.
"now," sighed ozma, sliding down from the saw horse, "there is nothing left to do but punish mombi. what shall we do with mombi?"
"turn her to a cooky, and then i can eat her up without my conscience troubling me," purred the hungry tiger, thumping his tail lazily up and down in the grass.
"she'd make an awfully stale cooky," sniffed scraps, swinging herself expertly up into a tree. "turn her into a rock and throw her away."
"why not put her out like i did the other witches?" asked dorothy, fanning herself with her best crown, which she had worn in honor of the occasion. "water will finish her once and forever!"
"i believe i will," mused ozma. "that is, if father thinks it is all right?" the king, with a huge pair of gold specs on his nose, was busily measuring snip for a suit, and nodded absently at his royal daughter. "anything you say, my dear," said the royal tailor, writing down the measurements in a little book.
so off ran sir hokus and the scarecrow to carry out the sentence, returning in a few minutes with mombi's buckled shoes, all that remained of the old gilliken witch and her temper. she had been washed out with water, and would never bother anyone in oz again.
just as the royal party was trooping into the palace for lunch, a page rushed out to announce a visitor. it was general whiffenpuff and a loud noise whom he introduced as the invisible cook. travelling night and day, and searching everywhere for mombi and snip, he had finally reached the emerald city and found the famous cook recommended by the town laugher of kimbaloo. his delight at seeing the little button boy safe and sound was only exceeded by his astonishment at snip's marvelous adventures, but as the cook, for all her invisibility, had a bad habit of treading on the general's toes, he was anxious to return to kimbaloo and turn her over to kinda jolly.
"i'll take you back," volunteered kabumpo carelessly. "it's on my way home anyhow." the elegant elephant was also anxious to be off and acquaint the court of pumperdink with the important events that had transpired. he wished to display the emerald head-piece ozma had given him, and dazzle the courtiers with the silver robe bestowed upon him by the kingly tailor of oz. so after a quick luncheon, a quick exchange of good-byes and good wishes, the pompous old elephant took his departure, carrying on his back brave general whiffenpuff, the invisible cook and the gallant little button boy of kimbaloo.
"hurry back!" called the king, waving his silver shears anxiously at snip. "i need you!"
"hurry back," called pajuka, blinking his eyes to keep from crying, "i'll miss you!"
"i will!" promised snip, nearly crying himself. "i will!" the last thing the little button boy saw was the prime minister diving fully dressed into the pond. pajuka had again forgotten he was no longer a goose.
if you could peek into the emerald city this very minute you would see that a splendid tailoring shop has been set up next to the palace--a splendid shop, where the retired king and snip work happily for part of the day and hold court for the rest. and wherever you find the royal tailor you'll be pretty sure to see his cheerful double.
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70152.txt
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The Hungry Tiger of Oz
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"burnt again!" roared the pasha of rash, flinging his bowl of pudding across the table. "vassals! varlets! villains! fetch forth the cook!" at the pasha's furious words the two rash footmen who stood behind his chair, took a running slide down the long dining hall and leaped through the door into the pantry. several cups crashed against the door as it closed, so it is just as well that they hurried.
as the pasha reached for a large sauce dish, ippty, the chief scribe of the realm, slipped quietly under the table, where he began jotting down in a little note book each shocking remark about the pudding, making a huge blot whenever a plate broke or a cup splintered to fragments. he had to write pretty fast to keep up with the peppery little pasha and covered three pages with notes and blots by the time the footmen returned with hasha, the cook, shivering between them.
"so!" wheezed the ruler of all the rashes, puffing out his cheeks and glaring at the frightened little man, "here you are!"
"am!" choked the poor cook, falling upon his knees. "and may your excellency live forever!"
"live forever!" sputtered the pasha, thumping the table with his fist, "on burnt puddings and raw roasts? it's a wonder i'm alive at all. do you take me for an ostrich that you serve me lumps of charcoal and call it pudding? are you a cook or a donkey?"
at this, ippty lifted a corner of the table cloth and peered out to see what hasha would say. then, as the cook made no remark he calmly wrote "donkey," closed the little book and crept cautiously out from his hiding place. there were only three spoons left on the table and he felt pretty sure that these would be flung at hasha and not at him. he was perfectly right about this and as the last one clattered down upon the head of the luckless cook, hasha rose, and extending both arms began tremulously:
"i did not burn the pudding, excellency, it was the fire."
"the fire?" raged the pasha, his eyes fairly popping with indignation. "do you hear that ippty, he blames it on the fire. and who tends the fire, pray? put him out! fire him! fizzenpop! fizzenpop, you old rascal, where are you?"
"the fire shall be put out and the cook shall be fired," muttered ippty, flipping his book open and scribbling away industriously. this, he could readily do, for the first finger of the scribe's right hand was a fountain pen, his second finger a long yellow pencil, his third finger an eraser, his little finger a stick of sealing wax and his thumb a fat candle. ippty's left hand was quite usual, except for the pen knife that served him for a thumb. blotting the last entry in the book with his cuff, which was neatly cut from blotting paper, he turned expectantly toward the door, just as fizzenpop, the grand vizier, came hurtling through. being grand vizier of rash was no easy task and fizzenpop had grown thin and bald in the service of his country.
"what now?" he gasped, pulling on his slipper and looking anxiously from one to the other.
"punish this pudding burner!" commanded the pasha angrily. "put him--"
"in jail!" chuckled ippty. "in other words you are to incarcerate the cook." the chief scribe loved long words and knew almost as many as the crossword puzzle makers.
"but your highness," objected the grand vizier, pointing his long finger, "the prison is already overcrowded. could we not, could we not cut off his--" hasha looked imploringly at fizzenpop, and the grand vizier, clearing his throat, finished hastily, "cut off his allowance instead?"
"no!" thundered irasha furiously, "i'll be peppered if i will. prison is the place for him! out of my sight, scullion!" he waved contemptously at the cook.
"all right," sighed fizzenpop, "i'll put him in the cell with your grand uncle." (the pasha's grand uncle had been flung into prison for beating the rash sovereign at chess.) "but remember," warned the grand vizier, as hasha was led disconsolately away by the guards, "remember there is not room for another person. your highness will have to find some other way to dispose of prisoners."
"what can i do?" mumbled the pasha, leaning sulkily on his elbow.
"if you'd take my advice, you'd set them all free," said fizzenpop calmly. "with half the population in prison, how do you expect to get any work done?"
"well, why don't they behave themselves then?" demanded the pasha fretfully. fizzenpop sighed again, but made no further answer. what use to ask this wicked little ruler why he did not behave himself? half the arrests in rash were for no reason at all, and as you are probably puzzling about the location of this singular country, i must tell you that rash is a small pink kingdom, in the southwestern country of ev and directly across the deadly desert from the fairyland of oz. the rashes, it is true, are a hasty and hot-tempered race and always breaking out in spots, but they are warm-hearted and generous as well, and with just treatment and proper handling, as loyal subjects as a sovereign could ask for. but irasha, the present pasha, was neither just nor wise. he had seized the throne by treachery and was feared and hated by the entire rash nation, so that one revolution followed another and the realm was in a constant state of uproar. again and again poor old fizzenpop would make up his mind to retire, but feeling that he could serve his countrymen better by remaining, had stayed on, enduring the terrible tempers of the pasha and living for the day when the rightful ruler should be restored to the throne.
"well, why don't you say something?" growled irasha, growing irritable at the long silence. "what do other countries do with their prisoners?"
"why not destroy them?" proposed ippty cheerfully, before fizzenpop had a chance to answer. the chief scribe was as cruel and merciless as his master. irasha had discovered him in a rash book shop, where he was employed as clerk, and fascinated by his strange hands had raised him to his present important position. "in ancient countries," continued ippty, sharpening the second finger of his right hand with the thumb of his left, "in ancient countries prisoners were thrown to the wild beasts. now i call that very neat. no fuss or worry, and practically no expense." ippty closed his thumb with a pleased smile and looked brightly at the pasha.
"what!" shrieked fizzenpop, stamping his foot furiously at the scribe, "who ever would think of such a thing?"
"i would," answered the pasha calmly. "i think it's a very good plan ippty. but the trouble is," he paused and pushed back his spotted turban, "the trouble is, we have no wild animals. i wish i had a wild animal," sighed irasha gloomily. with the exception of a few speckled bears, there are no animals of any kind in rash, and fizzenpop had just drawn a long breath of relief when ippty began again.
"but there are plenty of wild animals in oz, your highness!" suggested ippty. "why not send across the deadly desert and get a wild animal from oz?"
"why not?" the pasha straightened up in his chair and looked almost pleasant. "i believe i will," he mused thoughtfully. "an excellent notion, ippty, for in that case we should not need a prison at all and the expense of feeding the monster would be practically nothing."
"and what's to prevent it from eating us?" demanded fizzenpop explosively. up to now he had been able to soften the lot of the rash prisoners very considerably. he shuddered to think what would happen if ippty's dreadful plan really were carried out. but fizzenpop was too wise to openly oppose this rash pair, so he merely shrugged his shoulders. "well," he sighed folding his arms resignedly, "i hope it works out. i, myself, am too thin to worry, but this beast will probably consider you and ippty choice morsels!" he rolled his eyes sideways at the fat little pasha and the still fatter scribe. "how will a wild animal know the difference between pashas and prisoners?" he inquired sarcastically. irasha looked rather uncomfortable.
"we'll have to get a civilized wild animal," he muttered uneasily, "an educated fellow who will eat whom we tell him to and obey the laws of the country."
"and who ever heard of a civilized wild animal?" sniffed the grand vizier, with a sour smile.
"i have," declared ippty, elevating his nose disagreeably. "there are any number of educated wild animals in the emerald city of oz. there's the cowardly lion, for instance, there's the comfortable camel and the doubtful dromedary, and there's the hungry tiger. how about the hungry tiger?" asked ippty triumphantly.
"hungry tiger!" fizzenpop gave a gasp of dismay, for he had never even heard of such a creature.
"let's get the hungry tiger," yawned the pasha, who was growing rather sleepy. "he'll be just the one for us. but are you sure he's tame and harmless, ippty, and safe to have about?"
"oh quite!" ippty assured him quickly. "why, he wouldn't hurt a baby, his conscience is so tender. that's why he's hungry you know."
"then what makes you think he will eat the prisoners?" asked the grand vizier nervously.
"well," observed ippty, scratching his ear with his fountain pen, "when this tiger realizes that it is perfectly legal and lawful to eat prisoners i daresay he will jump at the chance, for in that way he can satisfy his appetite and his conscience at the same time. there are no criminals in the emerald city, for ozma, the queen, is a silly, soft hearted little fairy and never arrests anyone, so the hungry tiger will be glad enough to come here and eat our prisoners."
"ippty is right," puffed the pasha, rising stiffly from his chair. "just take a hurry-cane from the stand there, and fetch back this hungry tiger, old fellow, and if he won't come fetch him anyway."
"certainly your highness," murmured the scribe, bowing low. "i will start for oz at once."
"you'll be sorry for this," panted fizzenpop as the pasha's pudgy figure disappeared down the pink passageway, and between anger and anxiety the grand vizier of rash began to hop up and down like a jumping-jack.
"what are you dancing," yawned ippty, "a pepper jig?" and brushing insolently past fizzenpop, he lifted a hurry-cane from the stand and prepared to depart. first, he lit his right thumb, for it was growing dark; then he tore a page from his note book and wrote, "carry me to the emerald city." unscrewing the top, he thrust this paper carefully down into the head of the cane and screwed the head on again. he had just time to straighten his turban before the hurry-cane, with a whistle and crash, carried him clear out of the castle. rushing to the window fizzenpop saw him straddling like some strange bird over too much mountain. the flight of ippty was not surprising to fizzenpop for hurry-canes are one of the chief products of rash and are nearly always used for long journeys. no, it was not ippty's departure that worried the old statesman. it was the thought of ippty's return with the hungry tiger of oz. how was he to save his poor prisoners from this dreadful beast?
pale with anxiety, he rushed into the rash library and after some searching found what he was looking for--professor wogglebug's encyclopedia of oz. all his life, fizzenpop had been so busy straightening out affairs in rash he had had no time to study adjacent kingdoms at all and knew little or nothing of the great fairyland that lay across the desert. flipping over the pages of the encyclopedia to the t's the grand vizier ran his finger down the list till he came to
"this great and beautiful beast," stated the book shortly, "came to the emerald city during the first year of ozma's reign. he has been in all important processions and adventures since then, and is a great favorite with the celebrities of oz. because of his sociable nature he prefers life in the capitol to life in the jungle and because of his tender conscience has never been known to devour a live man, fairy, or person."
"never been known to devour a live person?" shrilled fizzenpop, dropping the encyclopedia with a bang. "merciful mustard! what shall i do now?"
"well!" signed betsy bobbin, dropping into one of the royal hammocks and swinging her heels contentedly, "it was the best party i ever had."
"i'm so full of birthday cake, i feel like a sponge," groaned the cowardly lion, and sinking down on the grass he began to lick the frosting off his paws.
"no wonder! you had ten pieces," grumbled the hungry tiger, settling down sulkily beside him. "now i call that more than your share, old chap."
"why shouldn't i have the lion's share," chuckled the great beast, winking at betsy. "i notice you ate three roast ducks and all the plum pudding."
"and still i am hungry," complained the tiger, rolling his eyes sadly from side to side. he looked so comical betsy burst out laughing and the cowardly lion fairly roared. scraps, the patchwork girl came running over to see what was the matter. all the celebrities had been invited to betsy's party and now, in the pleasant dusk, were walking about under the trees in the palace garden.
of all gardens in and out of the world, there is none so lovely as ozma's, and of all fairy cities there is none to compare with the emerald city of oz. its sparkling buildings and shining streets, inlaid with emeralds, its quaint domed cottages and shimmering palace, make it a fitting capitol for this enchanting fairyland. where but in oz can animals talk as sensibly as men? where but in oz can one live forever, without growing old? where but in oz are there wish ways and truth ponds, book mines and fire falls and where but in oz can one find such delightful companions as the scarecrow and scraps?
is it any wonder, then, that dorothy gale, who blew to oz in a cyclone, that trot and betsy bobbin, who arrived in this strange country by way of a ship-wreck, have never returned to the real world? who would? indeed, these three little mortals live in the royal palace itself, with ozma, the young fairy who rules over the four countries of oz, and this small sovereign has gathered at her court all the most interesting and unusual people and animals in the realm. and every single one had been invited to betsy's birthday, so that it took two rooms to hold all the presents, twenty-seven tables to seat the guests and sixty-nine footmen to pass the plates.
"you sit there and tell me you're hungry!" gasped scraps, snapping her suspender button eyes at the hungry tiger. "why you ate more than anyone. i counted." scraps, being well stuffed with cotton, never ate at all and had amused herself by keeping strict watch over the others.
"why scraps," murmured ozma reprovingly. she had come up behind the patchwork girl and now gently tried to change the subject. no one ever knew what scraps would say next. made from a gay patchwork quilt and magically brought to life, this saucy maiden was one of the most surprising people in the castle. but the hungry tiger had lived in the emerald city too long to mind her teasing.
"of course i'm hungry," he yawned, rolling over on his side. "this party stuff fills me up, but does not satisfy me. what i need is something alive. but don't worry my dear," he added hastily, at ozma's rather anxious expression. "i will never devour anyone, for my conscience would not permit it, so i shall be hungry to the end of my days."
"why don't you have yourself stuffed?" asked the scarecrow, sitting down in the hammock beside betsy bobbin. "then you would lose this frightful appetite and never be hungry at all. mighty convenient, being stuffed, old boy. saves no end of bother and expense." the scarecrow spoke from experience, for he was himself a stuffed person, having been made by a munchkin farmer and stuck on a pole to scare away the crows. he had been lifted down and brought to the emerald city by dorothy, on her first adventure, and since then has been restuffed and laundered many times. of all ozma's advisers, he is the wittiest and most lovable. "have yourself stuffed," he advised cheerfully, "and use straw like i do."
"he stuffs himself from morning till night," snickered scraps turning a handspring.
"if he were not so ugly--so yellow and so big i'd say he warn't a tiger, but a greedy weedy--"
"scraps!" ozma raised her scepter warningly, and the patchwork girl dove into a button bush. but almost immediately her mischievous face reappeared.
"pig!" shouted scraps defiantly, and looked so funny, peering out of the button bush, that even the hungry tiger had to grin.
"i say, though, why don't you have yourself stuffed?" asked the little wizard of oz, who had just come up. "i've been experimenting with some new wishing powders and might easily wish you out of your jacket and stuff you with sawdust."
"sawdust!" coughed the hungry tiger, sitting up and lashing his tail at the very thought of such a thing, "i should say not. i prefer my own stuffing, thank you."
"so do i," said betsy, running over to give him a little hug. "you're so soft and comfortable to ride this way."
"but sawdust is very serviceable," urged the wizard, who was anxious to try his new powders, "and i could stuff you in an hour." the wizard, by the way, is a mortal like dorothy and betsy. long ago he had been engaged by a circus in omaha to make balloon flights. but one afternoon, his balloon becoming unmanageable, had flown off--up and away and never stopped till it dropped down in oz. it was the wizard who had built the emerald city and for many years he practiced the trick magic he had learned in the circus. but later, glinda the good sorceress of the south, had taught him real magic and he is now one of the most accomplished magicians in all fairy history.
"better let me stuff you," repeated the wizard coaxingly.
"no! no! no!" roared the hungry tiger, becoming really alarmed at the little man's persistence. "no, i tell you!"
"well," the wizard rose regretfully and began to move off, "if you ever change your mind, let me have first chance, will you?"
"i'm going to change my mind to-morrow." sitting down stiffly on a bench opposite the hammock, jack pumpkinhead beamed upon the company. "it's almost too soft to use," mused jack, touching the top of his pumpkin gently, "so, if you don't mind, i'll not talk any more."
"we don't mind at all," laughed betsy, while dorothy and trot, who had just joined the group, exchanged merry winks. jack was so amusing that no one could help chuckling when he was around. he had been made by ozma, when she was a little boy, and was almost as unusual as the scarecrow. to those not familiar with oz history, this may seem a bit strange, but ozma once was a little boy, having been transformed by old mombi, the witch. and while she was a little boy she had carved jack neatly from wood and set an old pumpkin on his peg neck for a head. later he had been brought to life by mistake and has been living merrily ever since. every month or so jack has to pick a pumpkin and hollow out a new head for himself, so that he is constantly changing his mind, but ozma has a deep affection for the queer fellow, and jack is so odd and jolly that he is a great favorite in the emerald city.
"let's finish off the party with a game of hide and seek," suggested the cowardly lion, as jack continued to stare solemnly straight in front of him. "you're it betsy!" giving the little girl a playful poke, he dashed down an arbored path, followed helter skelter by all the others. even jack, holding fast to his pumpkin head, ran and hid himself behind a balloon vine. but the hungry tiger ran fastest of all, never stopping till he reached the remotest corner of the garden. all this talk of stuffing had made him exceedingly nervous and, with a troubled sigh, he sank down beside a lovely fairy fountain. here, blinking up at the bright lanterns hung everywhere in honor of betsy's birthday, he began to think of the good old days when he had roamed the wild jungles of oz and eaten--well we had best not say what he had eaten!
it was the cowardly lion who had coaxed the hungry tiger to the capitol. the cowardly lion, himself, had come there with dorothy and the scarecrow and grown so fond of the place and its people that he had returned to the jungle for his old friend, the hungry tiger. and like the cowardly lion, the hungry tiger had never been able to tear himself away from this dear and delightful city. indeed life without the love of dorothy, betsy and trot, the trust and affection of little ozma, and the companionship of all the merry dwellers in the castle, would not be worth a soup bone. so the hungry tiger had never gone back, but at times the longing for real tiger food almost overcame him.
"i wonder if stuffing would help," sighed the poor beast, licking his chops hungrily. "i wonder--"
"what?" wheezed an oily voice, almost in his ear. the hungry tiger, supposing himself to be alone, had spoken aloud, and springing up found himself face to face with an ugly, red-faced and exceedingly disagreeable looking stranger. he was dressed in robes of pink, gold embroidered slippers and a simply enormous turban, that wagged from side to side as he talked. an oddly twisted cane swung from his left wrist and as he extended his hand in greeting, the hungry tiger jumped back in alarm, for the stranger's thumb was blazing away merrily. it was ippty, chief scribe of rash, for the hurry-cane had brought him straight to the royal gardens of the emerald city of oz.
"am i addressing the hungry tiger of oz?" inquired ippty. "and are you still hungry?" he asked eagerly.
"what if i am?" growled the hungry tiger, blinking suspiciously at irasha's singular messenger. "what if i am?"
"come with me," said ippty, mysteriously. "come with me, famous and famished member of the feline family, and you will never know hunger more!"
"who are you?" rumbled the hungry tiger, sitting up and beginning to pant a little from astonishment. "who are you and what are you doing here?"
"i am ippty, chief scribe of irasha the rough, and i am here to offer you an important position at the court of rash. come to rash," begged ippty, glancing uneasily over his shoulder, for he was not anxious to meet any of the oz celebrities. "come, before we are discovered!"
"rash!" coughed the hungry tiger impatiently. "why should i go to that measly little kingdom when i am perfectly happy and contented here?"
"because!" bending over and splattering the hungry tiger with hot candle grease from his thumb, ippty began whispering earnestly in his ear. at first, the hungry tiger's tail lashed and twirled with fury, but as ippty continued, he grew calmer, and a queer longing crept into his great yellow eyes.
"stand back fellow," he mumbled crossly, "you will singe off my whiskers, and kindly remove your pencil from my eye."
"but you will come?" straightening up, ippty put his bristly hand behind him and regarded the hungry tiger expectantly. "not less than one prisoner a day, sometimes as many as ten," he repeated persuasively.
"humph!" grunted the tiger, half closing his eyes. already ippty's wicked plan was beginning to tempt him. surely eating criminals would not be wrong, or at least, not so very wrong.
"and these prisoners are dangerous fellows, i suppose?" he asked casually, trying to appear careless and unconcerned about the whole queer business.
"villains, thieves and robbers, rascally fat rogues who are a menace to the country. by eating them you will be doing rash a real service," ippty assured him.
"and where is rash?" asked the hungry tiger, waving his tail inquiringly.
"in the southwestern corner of ev," answered the scribe, with a wave that nearly put out his thumb. "and if you are ready, dear beast, we will start at once."
"ev!" spluttered the tiger, "why that's miles away. i was there long ago, when ozma, dorothy and billina rescued prince evardo from the gnome king. too far!" yawned the hungry tiger, rolling over on the dewy grass. "i'm too tired for such a journey."
"no trip at all!" ippty touched the hurry-cane and in a few words explained its curious mechanism, following it up with such a tempting description of the rash prisoners that the hungry tiger's appetite got the better of his conscience.
"i'll go," he agreed gruffly, "but only for a few days, remember." ippty said nothing, but smiled wickedly to himself. then, stuffing the directions for their return into the hurry-cane, he sprang upon the hungry tiger's back. next instant, in a flash of fire and smoke, they had disappeared from the garden.
"what was that?" gasped dorothy, clutching ozma by the sleeve. both little girls, crouched behind a button bush, had seen the strange flash.
"lightning, i guess!" shuddered ozma. "let's run back to the castle, dorothy. a thunder storm's coming!"
it was night time when ippty and the hungry tiger arrived at the pink palace. travelling by hurry-cane is a hair-raising experience, let me tell you. showing the breathless beast to a luxurious apartment, the chief scribe hurried off to the pasha, and until long after midnight the two whispered and conferred together. of course it was about the hungry tiger that they talked.
"a saucy, but serviceable brute," finished ippty, blowing out his thumb, "and he will require watching, your highness, for would not a tiger fed on criminals grow dangerous?"
"we'll lock him up in the prison courtyard," declared irashi, rubbing his hands gleefully together, "then there'll be no chance of his running away or chewing off our heads. good work, old butter-tub, i'll raise your wages for this." and clapping his chief scribe on the back, irashi tumbled into bed and was soon snoring loudly.
the hungry tiger did not find falling asleep so easy. already he regretted his rash action in coming with ippty. padding up and down the big bedroom, he began anxiously to reflect upon the duties of his new office. was it right or wrong to eat the rash criminals? what would ozma think if she knew? the gentle face of the little fairy kept rising reproachfully between him and the thought of the fat and tempting prisoners. "i'll stay just a few days," groaned the poor tiger at last, trying to put ozma out of his mind, "and only eat the very worst and wickedest ones. i hope they'll not taste too bad," he yawned, sinking down wearily on the soft pink rug, "nor have too many knives and swords in their pockets. hah, hoh, hum!" with a great yawn, the tired tiger rolled over and fell into a troubled sleep.
a shrill blast of trumpets wakened him next morning and a few moments later ippty came to conduct him to the pasha. irashi had craftily arranged to receive the hungry tiger in the prison courtyard, and surrounded by the rash guardsmen, with fizzenpop standing anxiously at his side, he waited for the tiger to appear. the walk from the palace to the prison was not long, but it gave the hungry tiger quite a glimpse of the country and the people. the palace and all of the cottages and stores were of pink stone. pink trees lined the pink marble walks and even the sky had a rosy glow. the rashers, themselves, hurrying to and fro in their tremendous flapping turbans, oddly quilted robes and soft pink slippers, seemed pleasant enough fellows and again the hungry tiger's conscience began to trouble him. but it was too late to turn back now, so he stalked uncomfortably after ippty. the prison itself looked quite like a wing of the pink palace and unsuspectingly the hungry tiger passed through the great golden gates and into a high walled court.
"ah hah!" exclaimed irashi, as he advanced majestically to the center of the courtyard. "so here he is at last, the famous and famished tiger of oz. and in uniform, too. is it not splendid that the future jailer of rash should wear stripes," chuckled the pasha, poking fizzenpop playfully in the ribs. "even now our prisoners will go behind the bars--after they are eaten," he whispered hoarsely, fearing fizzenpop might not get the joke. ippty burst into a loud roar, but the grand vizier, after one look at the huge figure of the tiger, began to tremble from top to toe. the hungry tiger, himself, was not at all pleased with his reception.
"are you laughing at me?" he growled, lashing his tail and showing so many teeth the rash guardsmen took to their pink heels. "are you laughing at me?"
"no! no, certainly not," grunted irashi, moving hurriedly toward the gates. "i hope you will be most comfortable and happy here." at each word, irashi took a great leap, followed closely by ippty and fizzenpop. by the time he finished his sentence and before the hungry tiger realized what was happening, all three were on the other side of the gates and the tiger, himself, was locked fast in the courtyard.
"stay there, you saucy monster," puffed irashi, shaking his scepter playfully, and taking fizzenpop by one arm and ippty by the other, he waddled off, leaving the hungry tiger to reflect upon his folly. first he hurled himself again and again at the golden gates, then he ran round and round the prison yard examining every inch of the high walls. but it was useless. there was not so much as a chink in the marble blocks. raging with anger at irashi and disgusted with himself for being so easily caught, he crouched down in a gloomy corner of the yard to think. all choice in the matter of eating the rash prisoners was now removed, for, as he sadly reflected, there would probably be nothing else to eat. but eating prisoners, when you are free and happy, and eating prisoners because there is nothing else are entirely different matters and already half the pleasure was gone from the experiment. how was he to escape from this miserable little monarch? would dorothy and betsy miss him? why, oh why, had he not listened to the voice of his conscience or even had himself stuffed, as the wizard suggested?
blinking his eyes mournfully, the hungry tiger began to feel sorry not only for the rash prisoners, but dreadfully sorry for himself, for was he not a prisoner, too? he had plenty of time to feel sorry, for not a soul came near him all day--not even a rash mouse. there was a tub of water in the corner of the yard, but nothing to eat, and as the shadows grew longer and longer the poor tiger grew hungrier and hungrier. betsy's party seemed years ago and when, toward evening, shrill screams from the wall announced the approach of irashi and the guards, he looked up almost hopefully to see whether they were bringing a prisoner. they were. propped up between two guards, and advancing most unwillingly, was a tall turbaned figure.
"here!" shouted irashi, leaning far over the wall, "here is your supper. eat this rogue at once. he has wakened me from my sacred nap with his horrible howling."
"i suppose i'll have to," mumbled the hungry tiger uncomfortably to himself, and growling to keep his courage up and his conscience down, he advanced toward the wall just as the guardsmen dropped the luckless rasher over. he landed lightly on the balls of his feet and after one look at the hungry tiger pulled his turban over his eyes and began to screech with terror.
"eat him up! shut him up! what's the matter, have you no teeth?" bawled irashi covering his ears.
"i never dine till ten o'clock," answered the hungry tiger stiffly. he was not going to be bullied by the wretched little sovereign of rash. "and i never eat until i am alone," he growled raising his roar above the wails of the prisoner.
"suit yourself," grumbled irashi. but secretly he was disappointed. to watch the hungry tiger devour the prisoner would have been a real treat for the wicked little pasha. covering both ears to drown the poor fellow's doleful yells, he scrambled down the steps on the other side of the wall. "we'll return later to see if he is eaten," puffed the little pasha, turning back toward the castle, and the guardsmen, exchanging uneasy glances, clanked after him. as soon as they were alone, the hungry tiger approached the prisoner.
"would you mind stopping that noise?" he begged earnestly. "you're really spoiling my supper."
"your supper?" gulped the rasher, trembling violently, "do you expect me to submit to eating without a sound?"
"well, i wish that you would," sighed the tiger hopefully. "i never cared for music with my meals. now don't be frightened, i won't hurt you--much. if you were not so tall, i'd swallow you whole."
"oh!" groaned the prisoner falling upon his knees, "have you no heart? no conscience? are you really cruel enough to devour a poor fellow like me?" at each word, the hungry tiger recoiled a bit further.
"but what can i do? i've nothing else to eat and it is the rash law that you should perish. by the way, what was your crime?" he asked sadly. now that the time for eating a live man was at hand, he found himself curiously disturbed.
"i'm a singer," began the prisoner, in a choked and frightened voice. "this afternoon, hoping to earn a few rash pence, i stopped beneath the palace balcony and--" straightening up and throwing out his chest, the singer burst into tears and song, mingling them so thoroughly the hungry tiger was soon crying like a baby himself. without the tears, the song went something like this:
"oh why must lovely roses die? oh why, snif! snif! oh why, say why? oh why must hay be cut and mown in its first hey-day? groan, snif, groan!
and why must grass be trodden down and trees cut up to build a town? should little lambs grow into chops and hang around in butcher shops? no! no! i weep, it is too sad. snif, snuffle, snif, i feel so sad!"
"so do i!" roared the hungry tiger. "stop! stop! i am positively ill. what's that?" that was a large bunch of bananas. it came whistling over the wall, followed by three onions, a sausage, a squash pie and a head of cabbage.
"they always throw things when i sing," sobbed the singer, drying his eyes on his pink sleeve.
"pass me that sausage," gulped the hungry tiger in a faint voice.
"are--are'nt you going to eat me?" stuttered the sad singer, offering the sausage fearfully and jumping back as if he expected the tiger to snap off his arm. between bites, and the sausage took only two, the hungry tiger shook his head.
"not now," he answered wearily. "i might have swallowed you, but that song! never! a man full of music like that would ruin my digestion. how's the pie?"
"squashed," said the singer, in a depressed whisper. "try the onions." he held them out hopefully, but the hungry tiger only shuddered.
"eat them yourself," he advised gloomily, "you seem to enjoy crying." reaching for a banana, the hungry tiger ripped off the skin and swallowed it whole. three more, he treated in the same reckless fashion. then licking his whiskers, he regarded the sad singer reproachfully. "you may go now," he said gruffly. "your singing is outrageous, but you are neither wicked enough to satisfy my conscience nor fat enough to satisfy my appetite. go--go--before--"
"but how can i go," moaned the singer, waving despairingly at the high walls. i do not know whether his tears were from grief, gratitude or onions. (he had eaten all three by this time.)
"well, you can't stay here," rumbled the tiger anxiously "for you're supposed to be eaten."
"i'll hide," muttered the prisoner, glaring around wildly. but there was no place in the whole pink yard where he could conceal himself. round and round tore the worried rasher and round and round after him nosed the hungry tiger and, just as the moon rose up over the pink turrets of the palace, they discovered a loose block in the stone pavings. scratching frantically with his powerful claws the hungry tiger managed to dig up the whole block and dragging it aside found a small damp underground chamber.
the sad singer was overjoyed, when he peeped into the dark hole, for he had become very nervous, in his fear that the tiger would soon decide to eat him. to tell the truth, the hungry tiger was glad himself. the sad singer did not look very good to eat.
"there!" grunted the hungry tiger, thrusting the singer in and throwing some bananas and a head of cabbage after him. "be quiet and whatever you do, don't sing!" he had just pushed the block back, leaving a small crevice to give the prisoner air, when irashi and ippty appeared upon the wall.
"ah! he has eaten him!" cried irashi rapturously, and clapping his hands like a child, he began to address the hungry tiger in most affectionate terms, promising him a dozen prisoners upon the morrow. but the hungry tiger merely turned his back and gazed solemnly up at the moon, and seeing nothing was to be got out of him, irashi and his wicked scribe tip-toed off to bed, well pleased with the new jailer of rash. the hungry tiger himself, in spite of a horribly hollow feeling (what is a sausage and four bananas to a tiger?) soon fell asleep. and perhaps because he had done nothing to trouble his kind old conscience, he dreamed that he was safely back in the emerald city with dear little
we shall have to leave the poor hungry tiger in the jail yard of rash and take a peep at what is going on in the emerald city of oz. it will be something exciting, i am sure. one never can guess what will happen next in the fairyland of oz.
"red ripe tomatoes! red ripe tomatoes! fresh straw-burees! fresh straw-burees! ripe red tomatoes, fine new potatoes salad! cress and peas! fresh straw-burees!"
"strawberries!" exclaimed betsy bobbin in delight, and running to the palace window, looked up and down the garden to see where the voice was coming from. it was so like old times in the states it made betsy homesick. "why, i never heard a huckster calling around here before," thought betsy. "i believe i'll buy some for breakfast and surprise ozma." fastening the last button on her blue frock, she skipped out of the room, down the stairs and into the garden, following the sound of the husky voice. sometimes it seemed to be quite near, at other times to come drifting back to her from a great distance and before long betsy was perfectly breathless from darting to and fro. but at last a sharp turn in the path brought her right upon the owner of the voice. it was a vegetable man, sure enough, his small hand cart piled high with fresh greens and rosy strawberries.
"i'll take a box of berries, please," panted betsy, and standing on her tiptoes, she pointed to a very large and tempting one.
"certainly miss," said the vegetable man, and handing her the box stood smiling and bowing in the roadway. but instead of taking it betsy gasped and put both hands behind her.
"now don't be skeered," said the vegetable man softly. "i know i'm an odd one, but you'll get used to me. try to get used to me," he begged coaxingly. betsy thought it would take a long time, but he seemed so earnest that she took a long breath and looked at him again. his face was red and smooth as a beet. queer, rootlike whiskers sprouted raggedly from the bottom, curious celery leaf hair waved excitedly from the top, while a turnip nose and two tall corn ears gave him a most roguish and inquisitive expression. his body was more like an enormous potato than anything else and his arms and legs were long, wiry roots of some coarse vegetable fibre.
"well?" asked the vegetable man anxiously, as betsy finished her inspection. "can you stand me at all?"
"i--i think you're pretty interesting," confessed betsy, who was an exceedingly polite and kind-hearted little girl.
"am i?" beamed the stranger, rubbing his twig-like hands together, "well! well! i'm glad to hear you say that, for it's just what i've been thinking myself. but i was not always like this, my dear." the vegetable man's blue eyes were the only natural feature about him and they twinkled so merrily above his turnip nose that betsy began to feel quite drawn to him. "i was a winkie," he confided mysteriously, "and sold fresh vegetables to all the royal families in oz. but each night when i returned to my farm, there were vegetables left in my cart, so young, so fresh, so fair, i could not let them die, so i ate them," he continued dreamily. "and bit by bit i turned to the figure you see before you. but i'm quite used to myself now and can still carry on my business. in fact--oh, spinach!" the vegetable man interrupted himself crossly. "spinach and rhubarb!"
"why what's the matter?" asked betsy in surprise, for he had put down the strawberries and was tugging with all his might at his left foot, which presently came up so violently, he sat down hard in the road.
"would you mind walking on as we converse?" puffed the vegetable man, picking up the box of berries and springing nimbly to his feet. "i take root if i stand still," he said apologetically. "it would be awfully inconvenient to become rooted to this spot, and there's no telling what i'd grow into."
"why don't you wear shoes?" asked betsy, trotting along beside the cart and almost forgetting about the strawberries in her extreme interest.
"i never thought of that," mused the vegetable man, looking down ruefully at his huge twisted feet. "do you s'pose i could ever find any shoes to fit, miss--miss? what is your name, now? mine's green, carter green, but most folks call me carter."
"mine's betsy bobbin, but i think i'd better go back now or i'll be late for breakfast." stopping reluctantly, betsy reached for her box of berries, and as she had brought no money she slipped a small emerald ring into the vegetable man's hand. at first he refused to take it, but as the little girl insisted and assured him she had dozens more like it, carter slipped the ring into the leather pouch he wore round his neck.
"i've a stone something like this," he told her and, hopping up and down to keep from taking root, he fumbled in the pouch till he brought out a large square ruby. "found it in a potato," continued carter, as betsy turned it over and over in her hand. "not in any i raised myself, but in one of a lot i bought from a gypsy. like it?" betsy nodded emphatically, for not even in ozma's crown itself had she seen a more dazzling jewel. there was a small r cut in one of the flat sides of the gem and the ruby itself blazed and sparkled in the sunshine and fairly made betsy blink.
"but i wonder what the r stands for?" she murmured softly.
"raspberries, i guess," chuckled the vegetable man, putting the ruby back into his pouch. "raspberries, rhubarb or radishes. have a radish, my dear miss betsy?"
"oh, no thank you, and i really must go now." holding the strawberries carefully, betsy smiled up into the pleasant face of mr. carter green. he was so curious and exciting she hated to leave him, but dorothy and ozma would surely think her lost, so with a little skip she turned about. "don't forget the shoes," she reminded him gaily. "good-bye! good--gracious!"
"hold tight, betsy! hold tight! celery and cinnamon! what's the matter here?" seizing his cart with one hand and the little girl with the other, the vegetable man teetered backward and forward in the road. and no wonder! it had suddenly ripped itself loose and was rushing along at such a rate that trees and fences simply whizzed past. betsy's hat blew off at the first curve and strawberries, beets and bananas flew out in every direction.
"i--was--afraid--of--this!" panted the vegetable man. "i--should--have--taken--the--regular--road!"
"isn't this a reg-u-lar--road!" called betsy, hanging on to carter with both hands. "what's--it--doing?"
"winding!" shrieked the vegetable man, trying to keep the rest of his vegetables from bouncing out of the cart. "it's--a--winding--road--betsy! shut--your eyes, quick!"
betsy was glad enough to obey, for the road was going round like a top, round and round like a merry go-round, in and out of trees, past lakes and forests, till the whole world tilted topsy-turvey. then as suddenly as it had started to wind, it stopped, and when betsy opened her eyes she was sitting on a small sand dune entirely surrounded by cabbages. a short distance away lay the vegetable man, still clutching his cart. while betsy was still trying to catch her breath, carter jumped up and shading his eyes looked in all directions.
"well, it's gone," he exclaimed ruefully and he was perfectly right. there was no sign of a road anywhere. it had cruelly gone off and left them in a wilderness of sand and scorched desert grass.
"why, i never knew there was a winding road near the emerald city?" betsy jumped up indignantly. "where did it come from?"
"never can tell," sighed the vegetable man, beginning to collect his cabbages. "they just come and go, these winding roads of oz; pass themselves off as regular roads till they catch a few travellers and you never can tell where they will take you."
"well, i don't think much of this place," groaned betsy, rubbing her elbow, which had been severely skinned during the journey over the winding road.
"then let's go some other place," proposed the vegetable man cheerfully. all the strawberries and bananas had spilled out of the cart, but there were plenty of cabbages and apples left and he was busily rearranging these all the time he was talking to betsy. "have a cabbage?" he invited pleasantly. "nothing like cabbages for a ship-wreck."
"it was something like a ship-wreck," mused betsy thoughtfully. "but i'd rather have an apple, if you don't mind. do you think we'll ever find the way back to the emerald city, mr. green?"
carter nodded so vigorously his celery tops waved for moments afterward and, handing betsy an apple, he pointed off toward the south.
"it's somewhere in that direction, and if you are ready we'd better start." carter looked a little anxiously at his feet to see if he was taking root, but the ground was too dry and sandy. "i don't believe even i would grow in this kind of soil," he muttered uneasily. "it's hot enough to scorch a fellow. wish i had a pair of shoes right now. come, let's move on!"
lifting betsy on top of the cabbages, the vegetable man grasped the handles of his cart and started on a run across the sandy wasteland. it was not unpleasant, rattling along in the queer little cart and the morning was so brisk and fine betsy soon began to enjoy herself. "won't dorothy and ozma be surprised when i come rolling up to the castle in this," she chuckled merrily to herself "and won't they stare when i introduce the vegetable man! why, he's almost as int'resting as tik tok and more fun. i wonder if everybody who eats too many vegetables grows celery tops and corn ears? oh mr. green! mr. gr--een!" but the cart wheels were going round with such a squeak, grind and rattle that he did not hear her and betsy sensibly decided to save this important question for another time.
she had just finished her second apple when the vegetable man stopped with a jerk. a rude sign stuck up in the limb of a crooked tree had caught his attention. "quick sand," said the sign, "go slow!"
"oh spinach!" exclaimed the vegetable man, wiping his face on a stray salad leaf. "oh spinach!"
"do you 'spose it's very quick sand?" asked betsy, leaning far over the side of the cart.
"we'll soon find that out." taking an apple, carter flung it as far as he could. but horrors! no sooner had it touched the sand than it disappeared as suddenly as one drop of dew on a frying pan.
"it's a good thing you stopped," shuddered betsy, "or we'd have been swallowed up."
"down," corrected carter gloomily. "looks like pretty quick sand to me, betsy. guess we'll have to turn back." mournfully, carter began bringing the cart about. the way they had come was so rough and uneven that he hated the thought of travelling over it again.
"but that won't take us to the emerald city," objected betsy, beginning to grow a little anxious. "maybe we could find a path if we looked carefully enough."
jumping out of the cart, betsy climbed a small dune. but as far as the eye could reach there was nothing but sand. sand, sand, sand, shimmering dizzily in the sunlight, with not a tree, path or even a blade of grass to break the monotony. with a sigh, betsy started down the dune. she had gone about half-way, when a big, newspaper-wrapped package made her pause. it was covered with a queer writing that she could not understand, but looked so interesting she hastily shook it open. imagine her astonishment when a huge pair of sandals tumbled out. they were cut from white leather, had silver buckles and were almost large enough for a giant.
"why, i believe they'd fit carter," murmured betsy in pleased surprise. "how lucky i found them." gathering the sandals up in her arms, she ran down to the vegetable man. he was almost as pleased as she was, for the trip across the dry desert had already begun to curl up his toes and, while she climbed back into the cart, he sat down to try them on. they were a bit long, but just the right width and as he fastened the first one he noticed two words cut into the buckle.
"quick sandals," murmured carter under his breath. "now what may that mean?" but he was in such a hurry to be off, he did not stop to puzzle it out and drawing on the other sandal, jumped excitedly to his feet. "now i won't be taking root!" he cried joyfully. "now--" a strange look came into his mild blue eyes, and next instant he had sprung into the air like a jack rabbit. "help!" screamed the vegetable man. "spinach! tomatoes! turnips and cress!" and while betsy stared at him in dismay and growing alarm, he sprang twice as high as he had in the first place, seized the handles of the cart and started on a gallop for the quick sand.
"oh stop! oh stop!" wailed the little girl frantically. "stop, carter, stop!" but he paid not the smallest attention to her. now they were on the quick sand itself and betsy, with a scream, buried her face in the cabbages. but the rattle and bump of the cart continued and, concluding that she could not be swallowed up yet, she ventured to raise her head. what she saw this time was so much worse that she had not even courage to cry "stop!" they had crossed the quick sand and were right on the edge of the deadly desert. betsy well knew the look of this dread wilderness that surrounds the fairyland of oz and she knew also that contact with its burning sands meant instant destruction. she tried to signal to the vegetable man, but the cart was bumping and bouncing so terribly, it was all she could do to keep from falling out. carter himself was running as if his life depended upon it, his celery tops waving wildly and his corn ears rustling in the wind. with a choked sob, poor little betsy shut her eyes and dropped face down among the vegetables.
betsy never had been destroyed in her life, so she was not at all sure how it would feel. a hot dry wind whistled through her hair, and above the rumble of the wheels she could hear the sharp gasps of carter green. then everything stopped at once, the cart, the burning wind and the hoarse breathing of the vegetable man.
"he's destroyed," cried betsy despairingly, "and now it's my turn." closing her eyes and trying hard to be brave, betsy waited for destruction. but nothing at all happened, and after a few terrible moments, she sat up and peered timidly around her. on a pink mile stone, beside the cart, sat the vegetable man, staring across the deadly desert. following his startled gaze, betsy saw two white objects, skipping merrily toward the sky line. it was the sandals. just as she had made sure of it, they disappeared in a final spurt of speed and sand.
"why, how did they get off?" stammered betsy, blinking with astonishment.
"took themselves," groaned the vegetable man, rubbing his shins, "and glad i am that they did. but they've brought us safely across the quick sand and deadly desert and here we are!"
"yes," agreed betsy resignedly, "here we are, but where are we? i didn't know they were quick sandals. did they really run away with you?" carter nodded and rose stiffly to his feet.
"i must say betsy," grunted the vegetable man, "i prefer to run myself and not be carried off by a frisky pair of shoes. after this i'll do my own kicking, my own stopping and my own starting, thank you! and we'd better start right away or everything will be spoiled." he looked anxiously into the cart and, jumping out, betsy began to help him dust and rearrange the vegetables. they had been sadly jolted about by the trip.
as it was impossible to go back across the desert without the quick sandals, they sensibly decided to go forward. there were two roads, stretching invitingly ahead and after a short debate they took the left one.
"this reminds me a little of the rose kingdom," mused betsy, as they walked along under the flowering trees. "everything is pink, carter, have you noticed, even the clouds."
"why there's a pink castle!" cried carter, with an excited wave. "maybe we can sell the king of this country some cabbages and maybe he can tell us the way back to the emerald city."
"perhaps we'd better try some of the cottages first," suggested betsy uneasily. in her many adventures she had discovered that kings were not always safe nor agreeable persons to deal with.
"no! no!" insisted carter, "kings make the best customers, betsy. compliment and flatter 'em and sell 'em the whole cart load, that's my way. jump in and i'll run you right up to the castle."
lifting her gaily into the cart, he started briskly down the pink lane calling, "cabbages! fresh cabbages!" at the top of his vegetable voice. the lane led straight into a bright pink city and betsy soon grew so interested in its tall turbaned citizens and queer cottages and shops that she forgot to worry about the king. she remembered afterward the scared glances of some of the townsmen, as they went rattling by, but at the time neither she nor carter noticed anything amiss and the vegetable man never stopped till he reached the pink palace itself. as carter paused under a balcony and began lustily calling his wares, a window just below was flung up violently and a turbaned head wagged warningly over the sill.
"go away! go away!" quavered an old man, in a frightened voice. "the pasha is in a terrible temper. go away! go away, rash mortals, i beg of you!"
but the vegetable man only laughed. "wait till he's seen my cabbages," called carter, holding one up proudly. "wait--" and they did not have long to wait, let me tell you, for at that precise moment the pasha of rash rushed out upon the balcony--the pasha, himself, and ippty, chief scribe of the realm, for betsy and the vegetable man had, as you have probably guessed already, run straight into that peppery country.
"good morning!" cried carter, pleasantly, in no wise alarmed by the fearful frown of the rash ruler. "permit me to observe that your highness is beautiful as a banana and fragrant as an onion. and i am here to serve you. let me serve your majesty with a fresh young cauliflower, a bunch of beets or this handsome cabbage!" carter held up the cabbage coaxingly.
"a cabbage! a cabbage!" choked irashi, turning perfectly pink with passion. "how dare you offer me a cabbage?" so angry that further speech was impossible, he turned furiously to ippty, waving his arms and sputtering like a motor cycle.
"begone, pernicious peddlers," ordered the chief scribe, pointing his fountain pen finger sternly at the two travellers. "begone at once from rash."
three drops of ink fell upon betsy's upturned nose and, thoroughly alarmed, the little girl sprang out of the cart and tried to pull carter away.
"hurry up! hurry up!" she begged breathlessly, "let's run." but already the vegetable man had tarried too long and was firmly rooted to the spot. and while he tugged wildly at one foot and then the other and betsy jumped up and down with fright and impatience, ippty leaned over the balcony. a closer inspection of the vegetable man proved so astonishing to the chief scribe that he nearly fell over the railing.
"he has corn ears!" yelled ippty shrilly, "and a turnip nose. look! look at the monstrous creature!" thus urged, irashi, himself, peered over the railing. perceiving in a moment what had happened to carter, he began to stamp and shriek with anger.
"how dare you plant your feet in my best flower beds," howled irashi. "call out the guards! throw them to the tiger. salt! vinegar! mustard! pepper!" at each shriek a rash guardsman dashed out of the palace, and before carter could jerk himself loose he and betsy were overpowered.
"he can't help taking root," protested betsy indignantly. "he's a vegetable man."
"aha! now we are getting to the root of the matter," snickered ippty harshly. "and what right has a vegetable man in rash, young lady?"
"root him up! throw him to the tiger. vegetable man! vegetable man, indeed!" roared irashi, stamping one foot and then the other.
"tiger!" groaned carter. "how perfectly carnivorous. of course," he added turning quickly to betsy. "it wouldn't hurt me, for i have no feelings, but it will ruin my business. spare me!" he cried, waving his arms imploringly up at the balcony. "and if you cannot spare me, spare my potatoes, my cabbages and fresh young beets. and spare this lovely little lady from oz!"
"we'll spare you, all right," wheezed irashi grimly.
"he'd make excellent soup, your highness!" suggested ippty, glancing down sideways at the vegetable man, but irashi shook his head.
"no! no! the tiger shall have him," declared irashi stubbornly. "it'll be a nice change for him ippty, a little green with his dinner." irashi was so pleased with his joke that he winked down at betsy. but the little girl stamped her foot angrily.
"you'd better let us go, or ozma of oz will capture your whole kingdom. we're important people back in oz!" shouted betsy defiantly.
"perhaps the girl is right," ventured fizzenpop, who had stolen anxiously out upon the balcony. "what harm have they done? let them go, i beg!"
"no!" with a determined wag of his turban, irashi signaled to the guard and flounced back into the palace.
"don't cry, betsy," begged the vegetable man. the guards had at last jerked him loose and were marching the two across the gardens. "this tiger will probably eat me first and i'm so tough he'll choke to death and you can run away."
"well, i wish i had never found those quick sandals," wailed the little girl. "it was the quick sandals that brought us here, carter, and i don't believe ozma knows about this dreadful country at all. couldn't you please let us go mr. pepper?" she begged tearfully of the guard. the tall rasher looked down at her doubtfully, but salt, who had hold of carter, and was just behind, shook his turban violently.
"if we fail to obey the pasha, we, ourselves, will be thrown to this tiger," sputtered salt grimly.
"that's right," chimed in vinegar and mustard, who were bringing up the procession with the vegetable man's cart. "let's hurry through with it!" and turning a deaf ear to the pleas of the prisoners, the rash guardsmen rushed them across the lawn, up the steep steps and threw them over the prison wall. then, without one backward glance, they marched off to the palace.
too breathless to run, betsy picked herself up and looked fearfully around for the tiger. ugh! there he was and growling frightfully, for the vegetable cart and all the vegetables had hit him on the head. slashing right and left and shaking himself so violently, that potatoes, beets and apples flew in every direction, he rose and started toward her. this, after all the other frightful happenings of the morning, was too much and covering her face, betsy burst into tears. but if betsy was frightened, the hungry tiger was perfectly petrified.
"betsy! betsy!" panted the astonished beast. "how in oz did you get here?" and rubbing his soft nose against her cheek, he began to dry her tears with his tongue. at the first sound of that familiar voice, betsy's eyes flew open and next instant she had both arms round the hungry tiger's neck, hugging him for dear life.
"carter! carter!" called the little girl excitedly, "don't be scared. it's the hungry tiger, the hungry tiger of oz!" she fairly sang out the name, in her relief and happiness. the vegetable man had dropped head first into the tiger's tub of water. at betsy's cries, he made a valiant attempt to rise, but when he saw her actually embracing the tiger he was so startled and horrified that he fell back with a splash.
"hungry tiger!" gurgled carter, bobbing up and down like a cork, "hungry tiger! then so much the worse for us!"
"would you mind not using my drinking cup for a bath," observed the hungry tiger mildly, as carter continued to gurgle and splash about in the tub. laughing with relief, betsy seized the vegetable man's hands and pulled him out of the water.
"don't be scared," whispered betsy comfortably. "this tiger's a friend of mine and he wouldn't hurt anybody!"
"then what's he doing here?" asked carter accusingly. "is this parsnippy pasha his friend, too?" the hungry tiger winced guiltily at betsy's kind little speech, but resolved that she should never know he had willingly come to rash.
"i'm his prisoner," he explained in a hollow voice. (and, indeed, he was terribly hollow by this time.) "i'm a prisoner like yourselves." in a husky roar, he told of his trip by hurry-cane to irashi's kingdom and of his imprisonment in the rash courtyard.
"so this light fingered ippty brought you here," mused carter wonderingly. "but why?"
"to eat the rash prisoners," answered the hungry tiger faintly.
"and have you eaten any?" betsy regarded her old friend anxiously.
"well, not yet," admitted the hungry tiger, rolling his eyes mournfully at the little girl. "not yet!"
"have a cabbage," quavered carter, waving toward the overturned vegetable cart. "have a cauliflower or a nice bunch of beets." the hungry tiger was a perfect stranger to him, and carter could not feel the same confidence in the beast that betsy seemed to feel.
"more vegetables," groaned the tiger, sniffing the air sadly. "well, i suppose they are better than nothing. but tell me betsy, how in oz did you ever get here and who," he blinked rapidly at the strange figure of carter green, "who is this person?"
with a little chuckle, betsy introduced the vegetable man, then as quickly as she could told of their amazing adventures with the winding road and quick sandals and of carter's unfortunate experience in the pasha's garden.
"isn't there some way out of here?" asked the little girl, looking around nervously. "oh! what's that?" a dismal wail, issuing from the stones beneath her feet, made betsy leap into the air.
"it's that singer again," growled the hungry tiger and, lashing his tail a little, he put his nose close to the crevice in the blocks. "less noise down there," he roared warningly.
"i always sing when i'm hungry," answered the singer. "oh, i'm so hungry!"
"hand me a tomato or something," rumbled the hungry tiger. "quick!" the vegetable man made haste to obey, bringing several tomatoes and a dozen apples as well. looking up at the wall to see that he was not observed, the hungry tiger pushed them hurriedly through the crevice. as the last apple disappeared, a moist song, punctuated with sobs, came sighing upward.
"oh beautiful tiger, i love you so, to you, snif snuffle, my life i owe. and i'll devote it to songs of praise and sing, snif, snif, to you, all of my days!"
"mercy!" gasped betsy bobbin. the hungry tiger was so embarrassed by the sad singer's ditty that, for a few minutes, he couldn't roar a word. then, as carter and betsy continued to look at him inquiringly, he explained how he had hidden the rash singer instead of eating him.
"see!" cried betsy, turning proudly to the vegetable man. "i told you he wouldn't hurt anyone! i think you're just the dearest splendidest tiger i ever--."
"sh!" cautioned the hungry tiger. "here comes another prisoner. quick, now, pretend you're afraid of me!" betsy and the vegetable man had just time to crouch back against the wall, when the guards dropped another rasher into the courtyard.
"it's a barber," whispered betsy, in an interested voice, and she was right, for clutched in one hand the prisoner had a mug full of suds and in the other a gleaming razor.
"what frightful luck," moaned the hungry tiger. "if it had only been a bandit or a robber i could have eaten him without a qualm, but a barber, ugh, he smells of bay rum. stop that racket, fellow, and let me think!"
and certainly, the poor tiger had plenty to occupy his thoughts, for if things went on in this fashion the underground cavern would soon be full and then what would happen? and how ever was he to get little betsy bobbin safely back to oz? paying no attention to the terrified squeals of the barber, the hungry tiger began to pace restlessly up and down the courtyard, till betsy, feeling sorry for the frightened little man, ran out and assured him he was in no danger of being eaten.
it was a long time before the barber stopped shivering, but at last, thoroughly convinced, he hurried impetuously after the tiger. "let me trim your beautiful whiskers," he begged tremulously.
"trim mine," invited carter, as the hungry tiger impatiently shook his head. the vegetable man's rootlike beard had sprouted a foot since morning, so, trembling with relief and gratitude, the rash barber stood upon the edge of the tub and trimmed it most skillfully, trying at the same time to bring carter's celery top hair into some kind of order. when the vegetable man, in answer to the barber's questions, had told a bit about himself and betsy, the barber related how he had accidently cut the cheek of irashi, while shaving him.
"just a tiny scratch," explained the barber, "and for that i was condemned to die."
"but why do you have such a bad king?" exclaimed betsy, impatiently. "why don't you put him out and elect another?"
"we've tried," sighed the barber dolefully, "but irashi has the army in his power, and with ippty's help has outwitted us every time."
"is ippty the fellow with the fountain pen finger?" asked betsy curiously.
the barber nodded. "he has a handful of odd fingers," he continued despondently, "a pencil, a sealing wax finger, an eraser, a candle thumb and a pen-knife besides. oh, he's a handy rogue for a fellow like irashi, but the real ruler of rash is asha, the brother of the present pasha. weary of the cares of state, he retired to an unknown country to study radio, leaving his small son and fizzenpop to govern the kingdom. no sooner had he gone than irashi seized the throne and hid the little prince away. until we find the lost prince, nothing can be done," finished the rash barber sorrowfully.
"well, i'll tell ozma on him," declared betsy determinedly, "just as soon as i get back to the emerald city."
"do you think we ever will get back?" the hungry tiger paused in his restless walk and regarded the little group mournfully. "i've been here two days and there's not a chink anywhere in this wall."
"let's all look," proposed betsy, jumping up, and encouraged by her cheerfulness, the four prisoners made a careful tour of the pink courtyard. but after several hours had been spent in an unsuccessful search, even betsy grew down-hearted.
"shall we have something to eat?" asked the little girl, as they all dropped down wearily beside the hungry tiger's water tub. "it's a good thing they threw that cart over. at least, we won't starve!" insisting that this was his part of the performance, carter passed round tomatoes and apples, till everyone felt refreshed. even the hungry tiger, after swallowing several dozen of each, admitted that he felt a little less hollow.
"make the most of the day time," advised the hungry tiger gloomily, "for to-night you are supposed to be eaten and will have to hide down below till we find some way out of rash!" it was not a pleasant prospect, and though carter did what he could to keep things cheerful, betsy and the barber grew quieter and quieter as the afternoon advanced.
no more prisoners were flung over the wall, and as the first stars twinkled out, the three slipped silently into the underground cave. the hungry tiger had just pushed the pink paving stone back, when irashi and ippty, preceded by the pink guards bearing torches, stepped out upon the wall.
"good evening, furious feline!" called ippty shrilly. "how do you do and how do you do it? he's eaten the entire lot," he explained in a breathless whisper to irashi.
"we've brought you some dessert," announced the pasha, who seemed to be in a high good humor. "a tempting little waif. throw the little waif over," he called playfully to the guards. the hungry tiger had immediately turned his back upon these rash rascals, but as a crumpled little bundle came tumbling down beside him, he swung around. what he saw made him roar so ferociously that irashi, ippty and the pink guards covered their ears and fled from the wall.
"what's he saying?" gasped the pasha, sinking down on a pink settee and clapping his fat hands to his quivering middle.
"he's talking tiger, your highness," stuttered ippty, with a slight shudder, "and tiger is a language i never studied. but never mind, from now on, we are the sole rulers of rash!" thumping the pasha upon the back, ippty led him into the throne room. as soon as they had gone, the hungry tiger stopped roaring and gently approached the small prisoner.
"don't cry," begged the hungry tiger miserably. it was dreadful to have everyone afraid of him, especially a helpless little boy. "why, he's no older than betsy," thought the hungry tiger, bristling with anger at irashi's wickedness. "if you stop crying, i'll take you for a ride all round the courtyard," he promised breathlessly. this offer so astonished the little fellow that he took his arm from before his face and blinked through his tears at the huge beast. there was no mistaking the kindly expression in the hungry tiger's eyes, and with a gasp of relief he jumped up and was about to mount the great beast, when a thin figure leapt from the top of the wall and came hurtling down between them.
"spare him! spare him, cruel monster!" wheezed the newcomer hoarsely. "i am old and thin, but eat me instead." placing himself between the hungry tiger and the boy, the old rasher extended his arms pleadingly. it was fizzenpop, and as the hungry tiger drew back with embarrassment and surprise, the grand vizier of rash flung himself at his feet.
"it is the scarlet prince!" panted fizzenpop, beating his head up and down upon the stones, "prince evered of rash!"
"sh--!" warned the hungry tiger, looking about uneasily. then as fizzenpop continued his entreaties, he held up his paw for silence. "you're a nice old bone," sighed the hungry tiger. "but even so, i have no desire to eat you. it's my conscience," he continued heavily. "i've lived among people too long to hold a position like this." the grand vizier could scarcely believe his ears.
"but the other prisoners?" he demanded wildly. "you have eaten them?" the hungry tiger, with a tired shake of his head, waved toward the loosened paving stone. the two corn ears of the vegetable man were sticking up through the crevice and he was carefully repeating to those below everything as it happened.
"how can i ever thank you!" exclaimed fizzenpop, prostrating himself again at the hungry tiger's feet.
"don't thank me, help me," begged the hungry tiger uncomfortably. "and tell me more about this little chap. perhaps together we can plan a way to escape." fizzenpop's brave action in offering himself in place of the little prince made the hungry tiger feel terribly ashamed. more and more he was coming to realize that he would never be able to devour a live man. it was a long story, and sitting down beside the water tub with prince evered in his lap, the grand vizier told how irashi had stolen the throne of the kingdom and made himself pasha of rash.
"there are three magic rubies to protect the rightful rulers of rash," explained fizzenpop in a low voice. "one protects him from all danger by water, one protects him from all injury in the air and the other from all harm on the earth or under the earth. the rubies are embedded among other gems in the rash scepter. no sooner had evered's father retired than irashi began to scheme and plan to make himself king. knowing he could do nothing while the rash rubies were in our possession, he managed, with ippty's help, to steal the royal scepter. next he had the little prince seized and hidden away. after searching in vain for many months, i chanced yesterday into a rash cobbler's shop and found evered playing with the cobbler's children. hoping to get him safely out of the country i hurried him back to the palace, but irashi soon discovered him and the rest," fizzenpop groaned heavily, "the rest, you know!"
"but what became of the rubies?" asked the hungry tiger, as fizzenpop continued to stroke the head of the little prince. so much had happened in the last few hours that even fizzenpop's story could not keep the prince awake.
"one he hurled from the highest turret of the palace, another he flung into the rash river and the last he buried somewhere in the garden," answered the grand vizier sadly. "until we recover the three magic rubies the prince's very life is in danger and rash must remain under the wicked rule of irashi, the rough. every evening, when i am unobserved, i have searched most diligently for these precious gems, but without any success."
"well, irashi won't rule long if i can find a way out of here," growled the hungry tiger. "think, man! is there no way out?" fizzenpop shook his head dejectedly and then, as it was growing late, they thought it best to conceal the little prince with the rest of the prisoners.
"betsy," called the hungry tiger softly. there was no answer and, pulling aside the pink paving block, he peered down into the cavern. "they must be asleep," muttered the hungry tiger in surprise. "here, mr. fizzenpop, you keep watch while i lower the boy." it was too dark to see, and after the hungry tiger had eased the ragged little prince into the cave, he decided to step in himself and see how everything was going. so he slipped gently down into the darkness.
for nearly ten minutes fizzenpop kept an anxious eye upon the wall. then, feeling he had given the hungry tiger ample time to replace the block, he turned round. there was no one in the courtyard.
"merciful mustard!" gasped the grand vizier, dashing over to the opening. hanging down by his heels, he glared into the damp little chamber. but it was perfectly empty. no tiger! no prince! no barber! no anything! falling in, head first, fizzenpop began feeling all over the walls and floors. then, as his search yielded nothing, he raised his voice in a long dismal wail.
"what's wrong?" three rash guards appeared sleepily on the wall and presently irashi, himself, wrapped in a pink bath robe, rushed out to see what was the matter.
"the tiger!" gulped fizzenpop wildly, "the hungry tiger has escaped!" fizzenpop was already in great disfavor, owing to his discovery of the lost prince, and realizing instantly that it would never do to tell irashi the whole truth he resolved to save himself for his country and evered by a clever story. so, while irashi listened breathlessly from the wall, he told how he had come out to observe the great creature from oz, how he had seen him prying up a paving stone and had sprung into the courtyard to prevent him from escaping. "but i was too late!" lamented fizzenpop shaking his head mournfully. "the hungry tiger has disappeared by some miracle of magic!"
"and such a useful beast," sniffed irashi. "but you shall be rewarded fizzenpop, for this brave action," and ordering the guards to let down ropes to the grand vizier, the pasha of rash went regretfully back to bed. "oh, well," he yawned as he dropped into a doze, "he's eaten that pest of a prince and that is something."
after the hungry tiger had pushed back the pink block, betsy and her two companions settled themselves as comfortably as they could in the little cavern. it was too dark to see, but they could hear the sad singer crooning drearily to himself. carter immediately ran his fingers along the floor. fortunately it was stone.
"no danger of taking root here," he whispered in a relieved voice to betsy. "hello, what's that racket?" that racket, as we already know, was irashi and the pink guardsmen, and as the noise continued, the vegetable man, who was tallest, stuck his ears through the crevice between the blocks. what carter heard through his corn ears was simply amazing, and as he immediately repeated it to the little company below, they soon forgot their discomfort in their interest. when fizzenpop explained who the last prisoner was, the barber threw his shaving mug joyfully into the air and began to prance wildly up and down upon the shins of the sad singer.
"three cheers for the scarlet prince!" roared the barber, thumping on the wall with his razor. "three cheers for prince evered of rash!"
"be quiet," begged betsy anxiously, "they'll hear you. oh, hush!" but the barber refused to be restrained and continued to thump enthusiastically upon the wall. withdrawing his ears from the crevice, carter groped about in the dark in an effort to stop the reckless fellow, but at the third snatch, the whole side of the cavern fell away and pitched the entire company into a dark damp tunnel. carter managed to slip his arm round betsy bobbin, as he fell past her, and they could hear the sputter and groans of the rash barber and the singer far below. "anyway!" gasped betsy, as they skidded down the slippery passageway together, "anyway we're out of rash!"
"is this anyway," groaned the vegetable man, trying to keep himself and betsy right side up. "well, if this is anyway, i prefer some other way. whew!"
betsy was about to reply when the floor of the tunnel dropped out and they fell straight downward, then, striking a rubbery incline, shot straight upward. the rest of the trip was more like a rush through a scenic railway tunnel than anything betsy ever had experienced. up slides, down slides, round loops, bends and curves, swooped the rash prisoners till there was no breath left in any one of them. and when, after a half hour of it, they shot out into the open, they lay for nearly five minutes, perfectly motionless, where they had fallen. then the rash singer sat up and in a strangled voice quavered:
"we're down! we're down and out of rash, and everything has gone to smash! snif! snif! a trip like this upsets me, but how we got here is what gets me!"
probably he would have continued his song indefinitely, but at that minute all of carter's vegetables, which had slid more slowly down the tunnel, sprayed out of the opening and simply overwhelmed him. betsy had not breath enough to laugh, but carter, not being so easily winded, sprang up and ran to the singer's assistance.
"they always throw things when i sing," sobbed the poor fellow, as carter helped him to his feet, and a little defiantly he repeated his last stanza:
"snif! snif! a trip like this upsets me, but how we got here is what gets me!"
"it gets me, too," mumbled the barber, rolling over and looking around for his razor. "one minute there we are and next minute there we ain't! strikes me this ground is pretty soft. why, it's down," he puffed, blowing a ball of fuzz from the end of his nose.
betsy, pulling up a handful of what she supposed to be grass, found her fingers full of feathers, for they had landed in the very center of a field of down. "well, this probably saved us from breaking our heads, but how did it all happen?" repeated the barber, looking over at carter in perfect bewilderment.
"it was your fault," answered the vegetable man gravely. "you must have touched some secret spring when you pounded on the wall. i don't know whether to thank you or not," sighed carter rubbing his thin ankles doubtfully.
"i hope you didn't bark your shins on the tunnel," murmured the barber solicitously.
"no," answered carter frankly, "i didn't bark my shins for they are bark already, but you've ruined my business." he looked ruefully at his scattered vegetables. they had not stood the trip at all well and were lying about in squashed heaps.
"never mind, buddy!" the barber clapped carter comfortably on the back. "maybe you can pick up some more down here. but where is here, i wonder?"
"well, any place is better than rash," exclaimed betsy, looking about curiously. "the last time i fell through a tunnel i went clear to the other side of the world. do you s'pose this is the other side of the world? look, there's the moon!"
"it's square!" whispered the sad singer in a frightened voice. "and it's green!" he added dismally.
"the moon, the moon, the moon is there, but never trust a moon that's square! it's shining squarely on our heads; we'll all be slaughtered in our beds!"
"you don't know what you're singing about," declared the barber gruffly. "a square moon is better than no moon and there aren't any beds that i can see, but there's a town over yonder. look!" not far away, shadowy and mysterious in the green light of the square moon, rose the towers and spires of a strange city.
"well, i wish the hungry tiger were here," cried betsy bobbin. "and the little prince. i wonder if the cave wall closed up after it slid us down here?"
whiz! whirr! bang! as if in answer to betsy's question, the two came sailing out of the tunnel, circled through the air and landed close beside betsy. and while the hungry tiger was still puffing and panting with indignation and surprise, the little girl flung her arms about his neck and told him the whole story of their flight through the mysterious passageway. slowly the big beast got his breath back and as he blew the downy feathers from his nose, the rash barber, with great ceremony, introduced the little prince to betsy bobbin. in the green moonlight she saw a pleasant, freckle-faced little boy of about her own age. his nose turned up, his collar turned down, and in spite of his ragged clothes he had a most kingly bearing. betsy knew at once that they would be friends. prince evered, himself, liked the little girl immediately and after they had compared notes on their terrible fall, he begged her to tell him more about the vegetable man.
"is he really real?" asked the little prince, scarcely taking his eyes from carter's curious figure. betsy nodded and told him all about her meeting with the vegetable man, her trip across the deadly desert and of their arrival in rash. she was going on to tell him a little about ozma and the emerald city, but the sad singer had started such a sleepy song of welcome to honor the little prince that she could not keep her eyes open. evered, too, soon began to nod and as the hungry tiger had wisely determined not to investigate the strange city till morning, they all curled up in the fields of down and were soon fast asleep. all but carter green. since turning to a vegetable he did not require rest and all night long he paced up and down the white feathery field, thinking his own queer thoughts and keeping a loving watch over his new and interesting friends.
when betsy awakened next morning, she saw the hungry tiger and carter staring curiously at a huge sign in the corner of the field.
"down!" ordered the sign sternly, "no uppers allowed!"
"that means us, i suppose," said carter, scratching his corn ear reflectively. "i wonder what kind of people live down here?"
"geese!" spluttered the hungry tiger, looking cross-eyed at a fluff of feathers that had lighted on the end of his nose. "wish i could catch a couple, i'm so hungry!"
"so am i," agreed betsy, "and i don't see a thing to eat, do you?"
"nothing but sun-beams," mused carter, "and they'd make a pretty light breakfast, but we ought to be glad there's a sun so far underground."
"why, shouldn't there be?" snapped the hungry tiger. being hungry made him a bit irritable. "doesn't the sun go down every day?" betsy and carter exchanged startled glances, for neither of them had thought of this; and the little girl, gazing dreamily across the soft fields, began to wonder what exciting adventures and strange experiences lay ahead of them. but the hungry tiger was more interested in food. "maybe there'll be something to eat in the city," he wheezed in a weak voice. "let's waken the others." prince evered and the sad singer were already up and after a few shakes and thumps on the back, the rash barber lifted his head.
"what's up?" he inquired sleepily.
"nothing," giggled betsy. "don't you remember we all fell down?"
"don't remember a thing since i hit the feathers," yawned the barber, plucking a tuft of down from his beard.
"well, this is down," laughed betsy, pointing to the sign.
"and time to get up," added the hungry tiger gruffly. "we're going off to that city over there to see if we can find some breakfast. jump on my back betsy, and you, too." the hungry tiger nodded at the ragged little prince. "what do they call you?" he asked kindly.
"the scarlet prince, the son of asha, prince evered of rash, the pasha!"
droned the sad singer with a deep salaam toward the youthful ruler.
"all that?" gasped the hungry tiger, putting back his ears.
"oh, call me 'reddy'," exclaimed the little boy, hopping up behind betsy. "i haven't been prince for a year, you know, and that's what fizzenpop called me even when i was."
"well, i wish fizzenpop were here now," sighed the hungry tiger regretfully, "too bad the trap door closed before he found it." the tiger had a great admiration for the grand vizier of rash and determined to do all in his power to restore reddy to his throne.
"tell us more about the magic rubies," begged betsy, as the tiger started briskly across the fields of down.
"yes, do," urged the vegetable man, "we dropped out right in the middle of the story and most of it was knocked out of my head." carter was trudging along beside the hungry tiger, but the barber and the singer, thinking it presumptuous to walk so close to the prince, had dropped respectfully behind. so while the strange little procession moved toward the unknown city, prince evered told again how irashi had stolen the precious rubies and made himself pasha of rash.
"well, i don't see how you'll ever find them," murmured betsy, when he had finished the story and told a little of his life with the cobbler's children.
"nothing's impossible," carter reminded her gaily. "look at me!" betsy and the little prince both had to grin, for the vegetable man did look impossible, and yet, there he was.
"but how would you know the rubies if you did find them?" asked betsy, after a little pause.
"there is an 'r' cut in each one," explained reddy gravely, "and they are square."
"r!" shouted carter, snatching out a stalk of his celery. "r? parsnips and peonies! radishes and rhubarb!" seizing the leather pouch from about his neck, the vegetable man dumped its whole contents into betsy's lap. "stop!" begged carter grasping the hungry tiger by the tail. "stop, i think i've discovered something."
"to eat?" questioned the hungry tiger, looking round eagerly. without answering, carter picked up the ruby he had already showed to betsy bobbin.
"square!" puffed carter triumphantly, "and it has an r cut on the side!"
"why, it's one of the rash rubies," screamed the prince, nearly tumbling off the tiger. "where did you find that?" passing the beautiful gem from one to the other, carter explained how he had found it in a potato he had bought from a gypsy.
"but which ruby is it?" panted the barber, pressing forward. "it might be the one irashi flung from the castle window, or it might be the one he buried in the garden. let me give your highness a tiny cut with my razor," he suggested brightly. "then, if it does not hurt, we will know that it is the ruby that protects you from danger on the earth or under the earth."
evered looked a little doubtful, and the hungry tiger shook his head impatiently. "too risky," growled the tiger.
"let his highness climb yonder tree," proposed the singer, waving toward a feather fan tree that stood not far away. "then let him fall out. if he breaks no bones we will know it is the ruby that protects him from danger in the air."
"don't you do it!" cried betsy indignantly. "it might be the ruby that protects you from danger in the water. then where'd you be?"
"let reddy keep his ruby till danger threatens," advised the hungry tiger sternly. "i'm not going to have him sliced and broken if i can help it." and he flashed his yellow eyes so threateningly that the barber and singer fell back in confusion.
"but wasn't it lucky we met carter!" exclaimed betsy, as the vegetable man slipped the ruby into evered's pocket. "and if the king of down lives in this city, and can just show us the way up, maybe we can find the other rubies and--"
"something to eat," roared the hungry tiger, breaking into a quick step.
"when i'm the pasha, you shall have anything you wish," promised the little prince, smiling sideways at carter green. "you can be keeper of kites and marbles if you want, betsy shall be queen, and the hungry tiger all the rest of the nobility."
"thanks," muttered the hungry tiger, grinning behind his whiskers. he knew that if he ever reached oz in safety, nothing could tempt him away from the emerald city again, not even his terrible appetite.
"but what do the three r's stand for?" asked carter. he had been turning the matter over in his mind for some time.
"readin', ritin', and rithmetic," guessed betsy bobbin.
"rightful ruler of rash," corrected reddy, with a cheerful bounce. now that one of the magic rubies was in his possession anything seemed possible. "hurry up!" he called over his shoulder to the rash barber and singer. "we're almost there." and they almost were, for beyond a thin fringe of feather brush rose the high buildings and towers of the city they had seen in the moonlight. the trip across the fields of down had been rather tiresome. the feet of the travellers sank at each step into the soft feathers, so that even the hungry tiger was panting a little when they reached the city itself. over the gates, creaking backward and forward in the brisk morning breeze, was a large silver sign.
"down town," read betsy, squinting a little in the bright sunshine. "why, it looks just like down town at home, carter."
"home in oz?" queried the vegetable man, pressing his nose against the bars.
"no, in oklahoma!" laughed betsy hastily. "but let's go in. i see stores and hotels and everything!"
"hotels?" gulped the hungry tiger, pricking up his ears. "hotels! b-r-r-r!" and before betsy or anyone else could stop him, he had hurled himself headlong at the gates of down town. with a creak and bang, they burst open and the whole rash company fell through.
"food!" roared the hungry tiger, charging at full speed down the main street. "give us food!" at the tiger's roars, such citizens as were in the streets stopped in horror and astonishment. then, right and left like startled hares, they darted, huddling into doorways, scurrying into side alleys, tumbling over one another in their frenzy to get away. in fact they were as amazed and terrified to see a tiger in their down town, as we would be to see one in ours, and when they glimpsed carter green, they ran faster than ever.
"stop!" shouted betsy, flinging both arms around the tiger's neck to keep from falling off. "you're scaring everyone away. stop! here's a restaurant!"
but the hungry tiger had already seen the tempting display of pies and roast turkey in the window. turning so sharply that the prince of rash tumbled off backward, he rushed through the swinging doors and next minute they had the establishment to themselves. one look at the hungry tiger had been enough for the early morning customers. grabbing their hats, and without waiting for their change, they pelted out the rear door of the shop, followed by three waiters and the screaming proprietor.
"oh, well," sighed betsy, helping herself capably to a spring chicken that was turning slowly on a spit, "if they won't stay to wait on us, we must just help ourselves."
"what fun!" chuckled reddy, burying his nose in a cherry tart, while the barber and sad singer divided a huge sausage between them. the vegetable man, not requiring food, busied himself with counting the oranges and apples in the window and wondered wistfully whether he could not find a cart somewhere and stir up some trade.
but it was the hungry tiger who enjoyed himself most of all. at one side of the room a dozen roasts were waiting their turn at the ovens. these, the famished tiger snapped up in so many bites. after his long fast in rash, they tasted perfectly delicious and, while reddy looked at him in astonishment and admiration, he swallowed three roast turkeys, a bowl of potato salad and a tray full of biscuits. he was just starting on a huge ham, when a commotion in the doorway made them all spin round. it was the proprietor, and with him were twenty tall officers.
they had a great net, and as the hungry tiger gave a convulsive swallow, they flung it over him and dragged the huge beast, the singer, the barber, betsy, the vegetable man, and the little prince of rash out into the street.
"robbers!" screamed the proprietor savagely, as they were hustled away. "wait till dad hears of this."
"why don't you bite them?" wailed betsy, trying to wriggle out of the grasp of the officer who had her by the arm.
"too full," mumbled the hungry tiger in a stuffy voice. "couldn't eat another bite, not even a policeman. but it was worth it and who's afraid of dad? we've been arrested before and gotten away. we'll get off somehow, trust me."
"maybe the ruby will help," said the little prince, squirming about so he could see betsy. carter, on the other side, gave her such an encouraging wink that the little girl stopped worrying and began to look around with real interest. down town, as betsy had said in the first place, was quite like other down towns, except that there were no motors nor wagons and the men who crowded the streets were gaily costumed in green and yellow bills. four of the down officers had hold of the net entangling the hungry tiger, one officer had hold of each of the others and the rest tramped importantly ahead of the procession.
"who's dad?" asked betsy, as they were propelled through the swinging doors of a large white bank.
"the king," answered the officer haughtily.
"is he a kind king?" sniffed the sad singer nervously. "what kind of a king is dad. will he make us happy or make us sad?"
"you'll soon see," grunted the officer, pushing him roughly into an elevator. the others were thrust as unceremoniously after him, the car shot upward and the next minute they were all marched out upon the roof. in a swivel chair on top of the bank, sat dad. he was reading a paper and beside him on a high stool sat the most curious lady betsy had ever seen.
"their majesties the king and queen of down town!" boomed the officer, who had hold of betsy bobbin. "robbers, your highness!" he announced with a low bow.
at the officer's ringing words, king dad lowered his paper, and as he got a good look at the hungry tiger, his chair fell forward with a crash.
"a tiger, nance!" stuttered dad, rolling his eyes wildly at the queen.
"but it's tied," answered the queen of down town calmly. "what are the charges, officer?"
"ninety-nine dollars and sixty-eight cents," answered the officer hoarsely, and leaning over he handed dad a long slip of paper.
"but we only wanted a little breakfast," began betsy tremulously, "and----"
"a little breakfast!" wheezed dad, and putting on his specs started to read off the list:
"twelve roasts, four turkeys, one spring chicken, three dozen tarts, fourteen doughnuts one ham and twenty-four biscuits, three quarts of potato salad, one six-pound sausage."
"monstrous!" muttered the queen, tapping her foot indignantly on the floor. "they shall pay well for this."
"why, that's a mere bite for a fellow like me," rumbled the hunger tiger, impatiently, "and i ate most of it."
"who--who are you?" demanded dad, holding on to the arms of his chair and blinking nervously at the great beast.
"i am the hungry tiger of oz, and these are my friends. we are on our way to the emerald city. this little girl is betsy bobbin and allow me to present the vegetable man and the pasha of--"
"your tale drags," yawned her majesty, fanning herself with her handkerchief. "cut it short. time is money down here and the thing for you to do is to pay up and settle down."
"how clearly you put things," murmured dad, looking affectionately at his queen. betsy had been staring at her highness in perfect astonishment, for she was made entirely of money. her face and hair were of purest gold, her hands and feet of silver and her dress was made from hundreds of yellow bills that crinkled crisply when she moved. yet, with all her glitter and brilliance, she seemed to betsy the hardest and most disagreeable being she had ever met. dad, himself looked kind and care-worn, resembling vaguely many of the daddies betsy had known in the united states. if he had just decided things for himself and not depended so much upon the queen, betsy would have liked him better.
"well, are you ready to pay up?" asked dad, looking from one to the other of the travellers. "ninety-nine dollars and sixty-eight cents, please."
"but we haven't any money," explained betsy breathlessly. "we started off in such a hurry and--"
"you should not have come down town if you had no money," muttered dad reprovingly.
"how dare you be without money?" cried the queen, springing up in a perfect fury. "how dare you come down town without money?"
"now, don't get frenzied, fi nance," begged dad, patting her anxiously on the hand. "they can easily make some money, you know." his words seemed to soothe the queen.
"that's so," she mused thoughtfully. "anybody can make money down town, if they just try hard enough." almost pleasantly she turned to betsy. "you, my child," purred the queen, resuming her seat, "you, may start as a cash girl. i myself was a cash girl once," she went on dreamily, "and now look at me--fi nance, queen of down town. i'm simply made of money!"
betsy looked, and shuddered a little as she did so. she was about to tell the queen that she had no desire to be a cash girl, when fi nance haughtily held up her hand for silence. "the lad shall be an office boy," she decided imperiously. "who did you say he was?"
"a prince," growled the hungry tiger.
"a dry goods store will be the best place for him," murmured dad. "what can you two do?" he demanded, looking over his specs at the barber and sad singer of rash.
"anything! anything!" whined the frightened prisoners, bumping their heads together in their anxiety to please.
"pooh!" sniffed dad scornfully. "that means nothing whatsoever."
"shampoo?" suggested the barber hopefully. "let me give your highness a little shave and hair cut."
"are you a barber?" asked dad, looking at the rasher with more interest. "if you're a barber, you can stay and welcome. there's always room for another barber, down town."
"thank you! thank you! if your majesty will permit--" the barber bowed apologetically to the prince of rash, "i will remain here. i have always wanted to make money," he acknowledged frankly.
"me too!" gulped the sad singer eagerly.
"i've sung until i'm hoarse, in rash, and never earned a cent in cash!"
"he has a voice like a horse," whispered dad, in a loud aside to the queen.
"he sings like a jack-ass!" agreed her majesty readily. "but let him stay. any kind of a noise goes, down town. now as to these others?" she rolled her golden eyes in perplexity and disapproval at the vegetable man and the hungry tiger; then evidently giving them up, cried in a loud voice, "the audience is over and the prisoners are discharged. let them make some money, pay up and settle down."
"well, good-bye!" smiled dad, picking up his paper with a sigh of relief. "if you don't like the positions we have chosen for you, go down to the square and choose some others. take them to the public square!" he ordered, waving at the officers.
so, much to betsy's and the little prince's amusement, they were all hurried into the elevator, out of the bank and marched along the streets of the city. a curious sign on the first corner puzzled betsy very much.
"down town belongs to the daddies," said the sign severely, "no aunts, mothers or sisters allowed."
"why, anybody can go down town at home," exclaimed the little girl in surprise.
"i noticed there were no ladies about," observed carter in an amused voice. "the daddies have it all their own way here."
as they passed along, betsy looked curiously in the windows of the shops and offices and saw that everywhere the dads were making money. some were making money out of leather, some were making money out of oil and some were even making money out of old papers and rags. it looked quite simple.
"but there must be some trick to it," she whispered hurriedly to the prince of rash. "i hope we don't have to stay here long. i won't be a cash girl."
prince evered nodded emphatically, for he had no intention of becoming an office boy. just then they came to the public square and were marched solemnly through the gates.
"pick your tools and get started," ordered the first officer gruffly, and grumbling a little among themselves, because the prisoners had got off so easily, the twenty tall downsmen tramped noisily back to their station. as soon as they had gone, the barber, with his razor, released the hungry tiger from the net.
"i wonder what they meant about tools," murmured betsy, staring all around her. "why what an enormous tree!" it stood in the center of the square, spreading out in every direction, its branches weighted down with a most curious collection of objects. there was a small notice tacked on the trunk and evered and betsy bobbin hurried over to investigate.
"indus tree," read the sign. "pick your trade, business or profession here."
"well, i've often heard of the big industries," gasped carter green, squinting up through the branches, "but i never knew they looked like this. if we are to stay down town, i suppose we had better pick our business at once."
"stay if you want to," rumbled the hungry tiger impatiently. "my business is to see that betsy bobbin gets safely back to oz and to restore reddy to his throne. i, for my part, am going to leave as soon as i can find an exit."
"maybe they won't let us," faltered betsy, looking uneasily over her shoulder. but the daddies were not paying the slightest attention to the little group in the square and, greatly relieved, they turned back to the indus tree.
"some of these things might prove useful, even if we did not remain here," muttered carter.
"why, there's a razor!" shouted the rash barber in delight, and springing into the air, he snapped it off the lower branch and began to finger it lovingly.
"i'd take that harp, if i could just reach it," sighed the sad singer, looking wistfully aloft.
"i'll pick it for you," offered prince evered obligingly, and swinging up into the tree he broke the harp from its stem and dropped it into the singer's arms.
"see anything you want, betsy?" called the little prince, and pushing aside a cluster of paint brushes, he peered down at her expectantly. but with so many things to choose from, it was hard to decide. there were thimbles and shears, bottles of ink, hammers, saws, buckets and mops, brooms and hoes, music rolls, miners' caps, rolling pins, cook books, compasses and ship models--everything in fact that a body would need to work with.
while reddy was waiting for betsy to make up her mind, his curiosity carried him higher and higher into the branches. carter, too, walked round and round the base of the tree, shaking his head and exclaiming from time to time with surprise and astonishment. but the hungry tiger had small use for a tree that produced nothing to eat, nor was he interested in money or making money. so, while the others examined the marvelous tree, he began looking for a way out, and presently was rewarded, for in the far corner of the square were steps leading down into what seemed to be a tunnel. stretching his neck cautiously about the doorway, the hungry tiger spied some directions.
"take the subway here for up town," said a sign.
"here! here! i've found a way out!" roared the hungry tiger joyfully.
"what kind of a way?" cried carter, stumbling over the wheel-barrow he had just plucked from the indus tree.
"a subway!" puffed the tiger. "tell the rest of 'em, quick!"
"come on! come on!" cried carter waving to the others. "the hungry tiger has found some way out."
"i said, 'subway!'" growled the tiger a bit temperishly. "are you going to take that thing along with you?" the vegetable man looked lovingly at the wheel-barrow.
"it was the nearest thing to a cart i could find," he murmured sadly, "and will come in very handy if i pick up some vegetables or fruit. so will this." he patted a small spade that had grown on the same branch with the wheel-barrow. "hello, here they come now!" at carter's cries, the little prince of rash, who had been trying to decide between a policeman's club and a sword, plucked the sword and came crashing to earth, followed by several bottles of ink and an ironing board.
"i may have to fight for my kingdom," he told betsy importantly, "and this sword will help." betsy nodded understandingly, and without waiting to pick anything for herself she ran over to the hungry tiger. they were all anxious to leave down town, and when betsy told them a little about subways (she had often been in subways in the united states) the hungry tiger gave the signal to start.
"we've forgotten the barber and the singer," exclaimed betsy, pausing suddenly on the top step. but just then the two rashers came hurrying over, and when the hungry tiger announced that they were going up town and from there back to the marvelous land of oz, both drew back.
"i've had enough ups and downs in my life," sighed the barber, "and will remain here and make my fortune. by that time prince evered may, perchance, be restored to his throne. then and then only will i return to rash." the singer, after one look into the gloomy opening, declared that he too, preferred to stay down town.
"with this harp and my beautiful voice, i will soon be a rich man," he assured them earnestly, and with many goodbyes and good wishes the four travellers left them to make their fortunes. long after they had descended the steps and entered the subway itself, they could hear the plaintive wails of the sad singer and the thrum of the harp he had picked from the indus tree.
it was dim and mysterious in the underground passageway, and after looking in vain for a car or train to carry them up town, betsy began following the arrows painted on the white washed walls.
"there ought to be a car somewhere," panted the little girl, after they had made at least fifty turns.
"try mine," invited carter, and with a tired smile betsy dropped into the wheel-barrow. reddy was riding the hungry tiger, and after they had proceeded for more than an hour, the arrows stopped altogether.
"well, this isn't like our subways at all," exclaimed betsy in disgust. "when you take a subway at home, you get somewhere."
"isn't this somewhere?" asked carter, stooping a little so he could enter a rough stone cavern at the end of the tunnel. whistling cheerfully, he trundled betsy through the low doorway. the hungry tiger followed, sniffing the air suspiciously, and it must be confessed that the little rock chamber did not look very inviting. the walls were of jagged gray stone, the floor damp and slippery and the whole place dismal and chilly as a vault. a feeble light flickered down from an opening in the ceiling and after a discouraged look round, betsy shook her head.
"we'll have to go back down town," she sighed sadly. "i'll have to be a cash girl after all!"
"no you won't!" called reddy. he had jumped off the tiger and gone to examine the back of the cavern. "here's a door!" hurrying over, the others saw that the little prince was right.
"'cave inn,'" roared the hungry tiger, reading the door plate over the little boy's shoulder. "'knock three times.' why, that's fine! if it's an inn, they'll surely have something to eat. we can't get out so we might as well go in," he finished with a playful wink at carter. stepping back a few paces, the hungry tiger ran at the door and bumped his head three times against the brass plate. at the third bump, the door of cave inn flew open, the floor of the cave itself, tilted forward and the four adventurers fell through. stones and dirt rattled down after them and the hungry tiger's growls mingled with the screams of betsy and evered, as they went tumbling down into the darkness.
kaliko, king of all the gnomes, and metal monarch besides, sat gloomily on the jewelled rock throne in his underground cavern.
"nothing ever happens here," complained kaliko, frowning at his royal chamberlain.
"let's have a war," proposed guph, looking up from the ruby scepter he was polishing. "we haven't had a war since ruggedo left."
"ruggedo!" shrilled kaliko, stamping his foot furiously. "how dare you mention that name in my presence. begone! begone and never speak to me again."
"then i'll write," mumbled guph, and picking up his bottle of ruby polish unconcernedly he left the throne room. ruggedo was the former king and had ruled over the gnomes for many years. he had been deposed for his wickedness by a powerful jinn and kaliko was made monarch in his place. later ruggedo had tried to capture oz, itself, and had been banished by ozma to a lonely isle in the nonestic ocean.
but wicked as ruggedo had been, the gnomes often sighed for his return. things had been more interesting during ruggedo's reign and though kaliko was a good king, he was not half so interesting. kaliko knew this and any mention of the old gnome king always irritated him intensely. for several moments after guph's departure, he continued to mutter and mumble with displeasure. then, suddenly bethinking himself of a new invention of the chief wizard, he reached into his pocket and brought out a green case. in the case was a pair of pink spectacles, not merely spectacles, mind you, but exspectacles, and the gnome wizard had assured the king that with them he could see events before they occurred.
kaliko had not yet tried this new contrivance, and still grumbling a little he set the exspectacles upon his nose and stared drearily at the rock wall in front of him. he really did not expect anything to happen. therefore, when four figures appeared suddenly upon the wall, he gave a start of astonishment. reflected upon the rock surface as clearly as if it were a moving picture, he could see four people making their way through the lost labyrinth at the southern end of his dominions.
"guph! guph!" shrieked the gnome king, pounding vigorously on the gong at his side. "come back here at once." and when guph, rather sulkily, appeared, he pointed excitedly at the wall.
"look! look!" commanded kaliko. "it's betsy bobbin, the hungry tiger of oz and two others. what in mud is that fellow made of anyway?"
rubbing his eyes, guph stared at the wall and then at his master. then, taking a scrap of paper from a rock desk beside the throne, he scribbled two words on the paper and handed it to the king.
"you're crazy," stated the paper, quite saucily.
"how dare you write to me like that!" fumed kaliko, tearing the paper in two. "are you dumb, can't you speak? are you blind, can't you see?" he waved again at the great rock. then, suddenly realizing that guph had not the exspectacles to help him, tore them off and clapped them upon the chief chamberlain's nose. immediately guph was as excited as kaliko.
"hurrah!" exulted the little gnome, forgetting his determination not to speak to the king again. "hurrah! now we can have a war. shall i call out the guard and have the red hot dungeons heated? hah, hah, hah!"
"what are you laughing at?" exclaimed kaliko, as guph doubled up with mirth.
"that animated truck garden," panted guph. "he's fallen on his corn ear and the hungry tiger just slipped into a mud hole!"
"let me see," cried the king, snatching the exspectacles back again. and for the next five minutes kaliko and his chief chamberlain fought bitterly for possession of the magic glasses. as soon as kaliko had them, guph wanted to see how the travellers were progressing, and as soon as guph had them kaliko insisted on having them back.
"well, shall we have a war?" grumbled guph, as kaliko seized the specs for the seventeenth time.
"certainly not," answered the king. "betsy's a good friend of mine. don't you remember, she was here when ruggedo was deposed? and i see no harm in these others."
"i thought it would be like this," muttered guph in disgust. "you're such a goody-goody, you never let us have any fun at all. i suppose you'll end by inviting them all to lunch," he finished bitterly.
"just what i was thinking of," admitted kaliko cheerfully. "pray go and conduct them the rest of the way and don't slam the door when you go out, either." settling back on his throne with a little chuckle of anticipation, kaliko continued to watch the progress of betsy and her friends through the winding corridors of the lost labyrinth.
betsy, herself, did not even know she was in the gnome king's dominions. after a terrible tumble through the dark, the four adventurers had plunged into the underground pool of a grim green grotto. while the water had broken their fall and saved them from serious injury, it had not added to their cheerfulness.
"this is not the ruby that protects me from water," sputtered prince evered, as carter dragged him out of the pool. "ugh! i'm nearly drowned!"
"have you still got it?" asked betsy. the hungry tiger had already pulled her out and was helping carter fish his wheel-barrow from the pool. feeling in his pocket, the prince nodded. then, picking up his sword, he looked around in huge disgust.
"is this a cave inn?" he demanded indignantly.
"i wonder where this passageway leads," murmured betsy, who had run to an opening in the grotto. "maybe there's an inn after all." but there was no sign of an inn anywhere--only a maze of rocky corridors branching out in every direction. with betsy and reddy on his back, the hungry tiger stepped cautiously out of the grotto and started down the widest of the curious corridors. the floors were slippery with moss covered rocks, the ceiling was of glittering green stones, shaped like long, jagged icicles.
betsy and the prince of rash often had to lie flat on the tiger's back to escape their sharp points, while poor carter green was forced to bend double, as he walked. sure-footed as he was, the hungry tiger slipped again and again on the treacherous stones and carter's progress was a succession of spills, slides and tumbles. through it all the vegetable man maintained his cheerfulness, stubbornly refusing to abandon the wheel-barrow, but after an hour of winding in and out of the dreary labyrinth had still brought them nowhere, even the vegetable man grew anxious and sad. a thin blue mold was beginning to form on the end of his nose.
"if i don't get out of here soon, i'll spoil," he wheezed nervously. "do you see any opening ahead?"
the hungry tiger was about to reply when he slipped into the mud hole that had so amused guph. this so discouraged the poor beast he said nothing at all. indeed, the rest of their journey, while interesting to kaliko, watching comfortably from his throne, was neither interesting or amusing to the travellers themselves. when they came at last to an impassible rock wall and realized they must retrace their steps, carter sank dejectedly into the wheel-barrow and the hungry tiger lay down and panted with exhaustion. imagine their astonishment, when a door in the wall suddenly opened and guph, bearing a blazing ruby lantern, appeared before them.
"follow me," commanded guph disagreeably. "his majesty has foolishly invited you to lunch."
"it's a gnome!" cried betsy in surprise. "why, we must be in the gnome king's dominions."
"i was here with dorothy and billina, when we rescued the queen of ev and her ten children," puffed the hungry tiger, rising to his feet. "ruggedo was king then, but he's been put out of the kingdom, i understand."
"i wonder if kaliko's still king?" exclaimed betsy. the little girl had had a whole book of adventures with ruggedo and had even been present at kaliko's coronation. "oh, i do hope kaliko's the king," she finished earnestly.
"well, if you're going to wonder and hope, stay here," grumbled guph. "if you're coming to lunch, follow me." without waiting for an answer, the crooked little elf turned on his heel and started rapidly down the narrow passageway. the hungry tiger looked questioningly back at carter and carter looked uneasily at betsy.
"let's go," decided the little girl sensibly. "if kaliko's still king i know he'll help us."
"if he don't, i'll slice off his nose," declared reddy, peering over betsy's shoulder in an endeavor to catch another glimpse of guph. he had never seen a gnome before, and as they hurried after the king's messenger, betsy explained a bit about these queer rock-colored elves, who live under the earth's surface and dig for precious metals and stones. they passed hundreds of the busy little men on their way through the rocky tunnels, and when guph entered the underground castle of the gnome king, himself, both carter green and prince evered gasped with astonishment and admiration. lighted with jeweled lanterns, spread with silken rugs, furnished with taste and even magnificence, the spacious caverns opened in a blaze of splendor before the visitors. the gnome king's dwelling was an old story to betsy and the hungry tiger. they were more interested in knowing who was king, and when the tiger, hurrying after guph, burst suddenly into the throne room, betsy gave a cry of real pleasure.
"why, hello, kaliko!" cried the little girl, jumping down and running over to him eagerly.
"king kaliko, if you don't mind," whispered the gnome looking nervously at guph, who was making faces at the hungry tiger. "how did you happen into these parts, my dear?"
"we caved in," growled the hungry tiger, sniffing the air anxiously. "is lunch nearly ready, old fellow? i'm perishing for a square meal."
"certainly! certainly!" kaliko answered politely. "but first introduce me to your friends. i've been watching you through my exspectacles for an hour."
"exspectacles!" exclaimed betsy. "well, i was wondering how you knew we were here." with a proud smile kaliko held out the pink glasses and explained how they worked and, while the little prince and betsy were still examining his specs, the gnome king begged them to sit down and tell him the whole story of their adventures.
"for i'm quite sure," surmised kaliko looking curiously from one to the other, but longest at carter green, "i'm quite sure you've been having some amazing adventures."
betsy nodded vigorously and carter grinned from ear to ear, which seemed to surprise kaliko very much. then, seating herself in a little rock rocking chair, betsy told how the hungry tiger had been carried to rash, of her meeting with the vegetable man and the strange manner in which they had arrived in the same kingdom. then she went on with prince evered's story, told how he had been deprived of his throne and robbed of the three rash rubies.
as betsy described the magical powers of the stolen gems, the gnome king leaned forward with sudden interest and as the little girl explained how the vegetable man had come into possession of one of the lost rubies, carter saw a surprised look flash between kaliko and his chief chamberlain. then he saw the gnome king slip a small ring from his finger and hide it in a crevice of his throne. none of the others noticed kaliko's action at all. reddy was too interested in the gnome's curious cavern to bother about any possible danger, the hungry tiger's eyes had closed in a momentary doze and betsy, herself, seemed to have the greatest confidence in the king.
"i'll have to watch out for all of us," decided carter, hurriedly wiping the mold from his nose. and while betsy continued her story, the vegetable man began to examine the king's cavern with great care. "we may have to leave in a hurry," thought carter nervously.
"lend me those exspectacles," mumbled the hungry tiger sleepily, as the little girl told kaliko their intention of returning to the emerald city as soon as they could and having ozma restore reddy to his throne. "lend me those exspectacles." when the little prince of rash held them up before the hungry tiger's eyes, he gave a roar of delight.
"what do you see?" asked reddy curiously.
"what do i see?" purred the hungry tiger licking his chops. "why, i see that lunch is ready at last. come on fellows!"
"he's right," chuckled kaliko, taking back his glasses. "for i ordered it an hour ago. this way my dear." taking betsy's arm, the gnome king led the way to his crystal dining hall where one table was set cozily for four, and another, apparently for a dozen. "i haven't forgotten your tremendous appetite, you see," smiled kaliko, waving toward the low table along which roasts of beef and legs of lamb were ranged in a tempting row. the hungry tiger gave a sigh of satisfaction, and without waiting for a knife, fork or napkin, began to munch his way hungrily down the table. for betsy and the little prince, kaliko had prepared an alluring luncheon of fried chicken, sweet potatoes and peach pie. at the vegetable man's place stood a sparkling glass of root beer.
"i didn't suppose you'd care to eat," observed kaliko tactfully, "but i was sure you would enjoy our national drink."
carter was so touched by the gnome king's thoughtfulness that he began to reproach himself for his unkind suspicions.
kaliko, himself, ate sparingly of a hot mud pie and swallowed a cup of scalding black rock coffee and, while ten little nimble gnomes waited on the table, he and betsy talked over old oz times and discussed means of crossing the deadly desert.
"i don't know how you feel," yawned the hungry tiger, when he had finally worked his way to the end of his long table, "but i feel like a nap."
betsy and the little prince admitted that they were tired, too, and immediately guph showed them to a splendid suite of guest caverns, just off the throne room. the vegetable man slammed his door hard, then opened it quite noiselessly. just as he had expected, the two gnomes had their heads close together. now, when it comes to hearing there is nothing so fine as a corn ear and what carter heard through his made him tremble with indignation.
"if you weren't such a miserable mole," muttered guph bitterly, "you'd get that other ruby!"
"i told you there was a strange power in that ruby when you bought it from the fisherman," hissed guph. "no ruby has an r carved in the side without some reason. it is undoubtedly one of the magic rubies of rash--the one protecting the holder from danger by water."
several days before betsy's arrival, an old ev fisherman had brought a sparkling square ruby to the gnome king. he had found it in a fish he had drawn up in his nets and, knowing kaliko's fondness for jewels, had taken it straight to the king. kaliko at once purchased the stone and had it set in a small ring--the same ring carter had seen him slip into the rock throne. "if you had the courage of a flea," grumbled guph, "you'd steal the ruby this vegetable person discovered and become a real power in the land."
"but it wouldn't be right," objected kaliko, mopping his brow with his gray kerchief. "besides, ozma would hear of it and come with her army to conquer us."
"how could she if you had the two rash rubies?" argued guph. "how would she ever know? we'll just destroy all these rubbishy travellers and that will be the end of it. where's the ring now?" he inquired anxiously.
"safe enough," answered kaliko, glancing over his shoulder. "i took it off as soon as betsy mentioned the rubies. i was afraid she would notice it."
"come on then," urged guph coaxingly. "can't you be a little bad for once. tisn't natural for a gnome to be good all the time and where does all this goodness get you? show you're a real gnome for once and forget all this mortal stuff you learned from betsy bobbin."
as guph continued his wicked pleading, carter stood frozen to the spot, his corn ears waving to and fro with wrath and indignation. he longed to snatch the precious ruby from its hiding place and dash back to warn the others. but the gnomes were so close, he dared not move. but all at once kaliko came to a decision and began to hurry toward a small door.
"i will consult the wizard," muttered the gnome king in a weak whisper. "come, let us see what the wizard thinks about this." taking guph's arm, kaliko went pattering down the rocky hallway. in one leap, the vegetable man reached the great throne, found the ruby ring and dropped it into his leather pouch. he was about to return to his companions when the king's exspectacles, lying on the arm of the throne, attracted his attention. clapping them hurriedly upon his nose, he rushed toward the cavern occupied by the little prince of rash. but half-way there he gave a great leap.
"great cauliflowers!" gasped carter. as plainly as you see the pictures in this book, he saw guph thumping the little boy on the head with a pick-axe.
"stop! stop!" screamed the vegetable man, dashing into the cavern like a whirlwind. off flew the king's exspectacles and splintered into bits on the floor, and his entrance was so noisy, evered jumped up in a fright from the couch where he had been sleeping.
"what's the matter?" he demanded, feeling around sleepily for his sword.
"matter!" coughed carter, "wasn't that rogue guph in here?" the prince shook his head and, looking into the next cavern, carter saw betsy curled up peacefully on a green sofa and from the cave beyond came the resounding snores of the hungry tiger. "nothing's happened at all," yawned reddy.
"it was the exspectacles," puffed carter, catching a glimpse of the pink splinters of glass at his feet.
"do you know what is going to happen, my rash young friend? that scalawag of a gnome intends to bang you over the ears with a pick-axe. i saw him with my own eyes and kaliko's specs!"
"bang me with a pick-axe!" shuddered evered, jumping up in alarm, as carter ran to waken betsy and the hungry tiger. as fast as he could, the vegetable man told them all he had overheard, and showed them the ruby ring kaliko had slyly hidden away from them. their pleasure at recovering the second ruby was entirely spoiled by the treachery of the gnome king and, scarcely looking at it, reddy thrust the ring into his pocket.
"i can run the fastest," panted the hungry tiger. "jump on my back, all of you and i'll make a sprint for safety." almost as one, the three leaped on the hungry tiger's back, carter leaving his wheel-barrow with a sigh, and arming himself with the spade he had picked from the indus tree.
but as the hungry tiger dashed through the door into the throne room, guph and his entire army came swarming through another entrance. kaliko, himself, was nowhere in sight. he had delegated guph to secure the rash ruby and dispose of the travellers. then, thought the gnome king, if any trouble arose afterward, guph would be held responsible.
but guph did not intend to have any trouble afterward. he meant to destroy the travellers so utterly that not even ozma, with her magic, would be able to discover what had become of them. therefore, when the wicked little elf saw his four victims preparing to escape, he gave a loud screech, hurled himself at the hungry tiger, and brought his pick-axe down with all his might upon the head of the little prince. it might have been a feather for all the impression it made upon reddy. and while betsy and carter ducked back in dismay, the gnomes rushed at them in a body and simply rained blows upon their heads and shoulders. but the blows fell as harmlessly as an april shower and when carter realized this, he began laying about with his spade so briskly that the enemy went down in heaps.
"one of the rubies is protecting us," whispered prince evered, pulling out his sword. "take that you gray robber!" and bringing the sword down on guph's shoulders he stretched him flat upon the rocks. at the same moment, the hungry tiger, gathering himself for a spring, leaped entirely over the gnome army and, charging out the first door he came to, raced down a long dismal tunnel. they could hear the gnomes scampering after them and, redoubling his speed, the hungry tiger fairly flew down the dim corridor. when a sudden turn brought him up against a swinging door, he went through like a shot and out upon a huge rocky cliff.
"whoa! whoa!" quavered carter, jerking the hungry tiger frantically by the tail.
"stop! stop!" implored betsy and reddy both together. no wonder! bubbling up from the cliff and hurling itself down over the rocks below, was a shimmering sheet of flame, the highest fire-fall, to be perfectly exact, in the whole of kaliko's kingdom. but the hungry tiger could no more stop himself than a barrel rolling down hill. with a roar that loosened three rocks and a bowlder, he plunged over the cliff and down the fire-fall itself.
"ruby! ruby!" moaned the vegetable man, clutching betsy and the little prince. "do your work!" the roar of the flames drowned out every other sound and green and yellow tongues of fire licked out at the travellers as they were hurled downward. but so powerful was the rash ruby, they were harmless as spring zephyrs, while the stones and rocks against which they bumped and bounded seemed soft as pillows. the tiger was falling head first, and somehow the three riders managed to keep on his back and hang together. just before they reached the bottom and swirled down into the pool of flames at the base of the fire-fall, carter lost his hold on reddy's belt. he soon regained it, but not quickly enough.
"my ears burn," complained the vegetable man, as the hungry tiger struggled through the flaming torrent toward the shore.
"what's that?" questioned betsy, sniffing the air suddenly. at the same moment they were simply covered with a shower of crisp white flakes.
"my ears!" moaned the vegetable man, in grief-stricken tones. "they've popped!" this on top of all the other shocks was almost too much, and when the tiger had dragged himself out of the fiery stream and scrambled up the steep bank, they all dropped down upon the steaming rocks and simply panted with exhaustion.
"first time i ever came down a fire-fall," puffed reddy, gazing fearfully at the tumbling torrent of flames.
"well, it's the last time i ever come down one," growled the hungry tiger. "if it hadn't been for that ruby of yours we'd all have been nicely toasted by now. as it is--" the hungry tiger looked sorrowfully at the vegetable man.
"the best ears i ever had," groaned carter, feeling the husks that were left to him.
"did it hurt?" asked betsy sympathetically. but the vegetable man made no reply.
"he can't hear you," explained the hungry tiger gloomily. "if i had that gnome king i'd eat him."
"he didn't turn out very well," admitted betsy sadly. "but never mind. reddy has another ruby and we're in the upstairs world again."
"that's so! maybe we're nearer the emerald city than we think," rumbled the hungry tiger. "let's look around a bit and see." motioning for carter to follow, and still feeling depressed over kaliko's treachery and the vegetable man's sad loss, they started across the stony country edging the gnome king's dominions.
"it's funny ozma doesn't help us," whispered betsy to the little prince of rash, as carter strode gloomily and silently beside them. "i've been away from the emerald city two days now and she must be wondering where i am and they have certainly missed the hungry tiger by this time."
"but how would ozma know where to look for you?" asked reddy.
"the magic picture would show her," answered betsy, and quickly explained the most magic of ozma's possessions. this curious painting hangs in the royal palace, and when ozma wishes to know where her friends are and what they are doing she has but to stand before it and request them to appear. immediately they flash into view, the picture showing just where they are and what they are doing at the time. more than once, ozma had saved her subjects from serious disaster by consulting the magic picture, and it did seem strange that she had not looked for betsy and the hungry tiger.
while betsy and the little prince were still puzzling over it, they stepped across the rocky borders of the gnome king's dominion into a pleasant farming country and they were all so relieved to find themselves once again in more natural surroundings that they stopped worrying and began to enjoy themselves. the fields of potatoes and cabbages were especially cheering to carter green, and when they came upon a waving field of corn, he gave a joyful shout and sprang lightly over a fence.
"wait!" he called gaily holding up both hands. "wait till i pick a couple of ears!"
when the vegetable man returned with his new corn ears, nicely adjusted, everyone felt more cheerful.
"can you hear?" asked the hungry tiger curiously.
carter nodded. "i think they're even better than the last pair," he confided happily. "it isn't everyone who can pick a new ear when his old one pops or wears out. not so bad being a vegetable man, eh, betsy, my dear?"
"no," agreed the little girl thoughtfully, "and you haven't taken root for a long time, have you carter?"
the vegetable man grinned. "haven't had a chance," he chuckled merrily. "we haven't stayed in one place long enough for that. i hope the next country we come to is calm and quiet and that i can pick up a cart and some fresh vegetables."
"i hope we can pick up a square meal," roared the hungry tiger, licking his whiskers hungrily.
"i hope there's some magic!" clasping her hands, betsy looked around expectantly. "then we could cross the deadly desert and go home. i kinda miss dorothy and ozma," she acknowledged wistfully. "and i'd like to see hank."
"well, i hope we find the last ruby," exclaimed prince evered. "the one kaliko had must have been the ruby that protected one from danger by water. you said he bought it from a fisherman, carter?"
"yes," mused the vegetable man. "it must be the one irashi flung into the river, while the one i found was the ruby that protects from danger on the earth and under the earth. look how it saved us from the pick-axes and the fire-fall!"
"then the only one left to find is the ruby that protects you from danger in the air," reflected betsy thoughtfully. "do you s'pose we'll have to fly up in the air to find it?"
"not if i have anything to say about it," growled the hungry tiger, shaking his handsome head. "falling is bad enough; flying would turn my whiskers perfectly white. we'll stay on the earth if we can, and travel back to oz by the fastest route we can find. then ozma can settle affairs in rash, discover the whereabouts of the last ruby and restore reddy to his throne."
"can ozma do all that?" marveled the little prince wonderingly.
"ozma can do anything," betsy answered proudly. "just wait till you see the emerald city and scraps and the scarecrow."
"tell me about them," begged the little prince eagerly, and as the hungry tiger padded comfortably down the long sunlit lanes, betsy told reddy all about the jolly inhabitants of oz. the vegetable man listened attentively, too, his new ears a bit forward and a dreamy expression in his kindly blue eyes. but right in the middle of a description of tik tok, the metal man, he gave a bounce of surprise.
"spinach!" spluttered carter green explosively.
"where?" inquired the hungry tiger, coming to an abrupt stop and blinking around longingly. he was not very fond of spinach, but even spinach would taste better than nothing.
"i didn't mean spinach exactly," mumbled the vegetable man hurriedly. "but look!" pointing his twig-like finger to a bend in the road, carter directed their attention to a weather-beaten sign.
"beware the ants!" advised the sign mysteriously.
"oh, i hope they're not red ants," murmured betsy, anxiously. "red ants bite!"
"who's afraid of ants?" cried reddy disdainfully. "all you have to do is tread on 'em."
"that's right," agreed the hungry tiger. "i'm surprised at you, carter, stopping us for a little thing like that."
"but suppose there were millions of them," shuddered the vegetable man uneasily. "i'd be a feast for ants."
betsy looked troubled, but the prince of rash, slapping his pocket suddenly, reminded her of the rash rubies.
"the rubies will protect us no matter what happens," declared reddy, confidently.
"as soon as you see an ant, jump on my back," advised the hungry tiger calmly. "then we'll all stick together and i'll run like sixty."
carter shook his head and muttered unhappily to himself. he could not help remembering the sad accident to his ears. they all kept their eyes glued to the road for the first sign of the ants, the hungry tiger tip-toeing along almost as if he were walking on eggs. they were all so intent upon the road beneath their feet that they never thought of the road ahead at all. then betsy, suddenly looking up to see whether any towns or villages were visible, gave a shrill scream and clasped her arms round the tiger's neck.
"ants?" quavered carter, leaping upon the hungry tiger and fastening both hands in reddy's belt. betsy was too shocked for speech, and it was the hungry tiger, himself, who answered carter's query.
"ants!" coughed the hungry tiger, trembling like a leaf, "giants!" and swinging about like a pivot, the terrified beast raced off in the opposite direction. but the giants had already seen them. there were four of the huge creatures, and betsy, glancing fearfully over her shoulder saw the smallest--a perfectly tremendous little girl giant--beginning to gain on them. the hungry tiger did his best, but who could hope to outdistance a creature whose every step covered a city block?
"father! father!" shrilled the little giant, in a voice that shook the hills, "see that darling little kitten!" before the luckless travellers had time to plan, think, or act, a great hand came snatching downward and seized the hungry tiger by the scruff of the neck. up went the tiger, off went the three riders and, turning seven somersaults, landed together in a hay field. by the time they had picked themselves up, the giants were a mile down the road.
"they're worse than gnomes," sputtered carter indignantly. "called the hungry tiger, a kitten! did you hear that? it's a wonder that great girl didn't break us to bits."
"she would have if we had not had the rubies," panted evered, picking up his sword. "we must have fallen a quarter of a mile. weren't you scared, betsy?"
betsy shivered, but recovering herself quickly ran out into the road and tried to catch a last glimpse of the hungry tiger. "we'll have to go after them," she cried. "that girl needn't think she can have the hungry tiger for a kitten. why, he must be furious."
"i'm glad she didn't pick me for a pet," exclaimed carter, walking briskly up and down to keep from taking root. "let's go on, betsy. maybe the giants live around here somewhere and maybe we can help the hungry tiger to escape."
"i'm not afraid of giants," asserted reddy, in a slightly shaky voice. "come on, we've the rash rubies to protect us." trying to keep up their courage and assuming a bravery they were very far from feeling, the three adventurers started off in the direction the giants had taken.
"well, i hope we don't meet any more," sighed betsy, pressing closer to the vegetable man, "and i hope we find the hungry tiger before night time."
the sun had set, and in the gray twilight the trees and bushes took on fearsome shapes and forms. keeping close together, and conversing in scared whispers, they hurried anxiously along. soon large and disturbing signs began to appear on both sides of the road.
"this country belongs to the big wigs. keep out!" advised the signs.
"big wigs!" breathed betsy nervously, "why, they must be the giants."
"see how high the fences are, and the trees are so tall i cannot even see the tops," gasped reddy. feeling smaller than ever, the two children and carter tip-toed down the long dark lanes and presently came to the giant city, itself. all they could see was a grim gray wall, stretching up toward the sky. hanging in niches of the wall at regular distances were great yellow lanterns and traced on the wall itself in flaming letters stood the town's name.
"immense city," quavered the vegetable man, in a choked voice. "well, i should say it was!"
"if there were only a gate," mourned betsy, "we might peek through. oh, dear, i do hope the hungry tiger is safe."
"he's safe enough," groaned carter, looking sadly at the great wall, "but how are we ever to get in to him?" the only entrance to immense city seemed to be a huge stone door in the center of the wall, and it was locked and bolted with bars as big as telegraph poles. over the wall came a confused murmur of voices, the rumble of wheels and a muffled sound of music, while drifting down to the tired, hungry travellers came the delicious smell of a hundred giant dinners cooking.
"just one giant biscuit would be enough for us," sighed betsy, sniffing the air wistfully. "i'll bet it would be as big as you are reddy."
"what's the use of wishing," sighed the little prince gloomily. "we can never climb over the wall and there's nothing to eat on this side. i almost wish we had stayed down town!"
both children looked so down-hearted that carter saw at once that something must be done. so, bidding them keep close together, the vegetable man went off in search of supper. the lanterns from the city wall spread their radiance for miles around and it was not long before carter came to a great apple orchard. climbing the trees was impossible, but scattered about on the ground were apples the size of pumpkins. taking one of the smallest, the vegetable man hurried back to the others. in spite of its size, the apple was of delicious flavor. reddy cut it into slices with his sword and he and betsy grew so merry over their strange supper that carter felt well repaid for his trouble.
"to-morrow," promised the vegetable man gaily, "we will find a way into the city and rescue our old friend."
"and to-night?" queried betsy, uneasily.
"to-night we will rest," answered carter calmly, as if sleeping under the walls of a giant city were quite a usual affair. gathering leaves and twigs, he made betsy and evered comfortable beds in the shelter of a giant elm. for himself, he collected a pile of rocks. "so i'll not take root," he explained with a wink. the leafy beds were so soft and betsy and reddy so weary, they soon fell asleep, but carter on his rocky couch never closed his eyes.
the bright sun awakened betsy and reddy next morning. betsy had been dreaming of the emerald city and was but half awake. rubbing her eyes, she stared in bewilderment at the high walls of immense city.
"oh, dear!" mused the little girl, heaving a sigh of disappointment, "we're still here, aren't we?"
"i should say we are," answered carter, "and when you think of all we've been through it's quite a miracle, betsy my child, to even be here." carter had brushed back his celery tops, perked up his ears, washed his red cheeks in the brook and looked fresh as only a vegetable man may.
"i wonder if the big wigs ever use that door," yawned the little prince of rash, rolling over sleepily.
"just what i was wondering," murmured carter. "now my plan is this. let us watch the door carefully. then, when it opens, we will slip in unnoticed and look around for the hungry tiger. but we must be mighty careful not to get run over or trodden upon by the giants."
betsy turned a trifle pale at mention of the giants, but reddy hastened to reassure her. "i'll take care of you, betsy," promised the little prince boldly, "and the rubies will help even if the giants do catch us."
somewhat comforted, but not absolutely convinced, betsy ran over to the brook, and after she and reddy splashed their hands and faces with the cool water and took a long drink from a nearby spring, they both felt quite adventurous and cheerful.
"we'll not bother about breakfast," decided carter, "for i've a notion there'll be plenty inside."
"do you really s'pose they'll open the gate?" asked betsy, quite excited at the prospect of entering a giant city.
"well, the four big wigs we met on the road must have come out that way," observed carter, blinking up at the enormous tulip trees surrounding the big wig town. each leaf was large as a person and carter was about to pick one up from the ground and fashion it into a hat for betsy, when a perfect shower of rocks came flying over the wall. while none actually hit the three travellers they were so startled by the suddenness of the attack that they stood frozen to the spot. then carter, seizing betsy, darted behind a tree. before reddy could join them, a flock of monstrous pigeons swooped down from the wall and began pecking greedily at the rocks.
"why they're giant crumbs," cried betsy, peering around the tree in astonishment. "did you ever see such big birds? why, they're big as ostriches!"
"bigger!" gulped carter, anxiously motioning for reddy to hide himself. but just then one of the pigeons, taking the little boy for a crumb or a tempting little bug, snapped him up in its bill and soared over the wall of the city.
"stop! come back! help! help!" shouted carter green, while betsy jumped up and down with terror and astonishment. but the pigeons on the ground continued to peck at the crumbs and the pigeon that had carried off the little prince was as gone as yesterday.
"will it eat him?" cried betsy tearfully. "oh carter, what shall we do now?" and with reddy and the hungry tiger both gone, things looked dark, indeed. the vegetable man had no idea what to do nor how to do it but, determined to comfort betsy, he began talking so confidently and cheerfully that she soon dried her tears.
"no harm can come to reddy, for he still has the rash rubies," he reminded her gaily. "and all we have to do is wait here till someone opens the door in the wall. then we'll find the hungry tiger and reddy and continue our journey to oz."
after the pigeons had flown away, carter rolled one of the giant crumbs over to the little girl. breaking off the crust, which was a bit stale, they found the inside soft and fresh and, while it was not exactly the breakfast she would have chosen, betsy managed to satisfy her hunger. then, sitting down on the twisted roots of a tulip tree, they waited impatiently for the doors of immense city to open.
but nothing of the kind happened, and as the morning wore away carter grew terribly uneasy. he was more anxious about reddy and the hungry tiger than he cared to admit. afraid to leave the spot for fear the door would open while they were away, the two stared anxiously at the wall. but it was a weary business and more and more betsy began to wonder why ozma did not come to her assistance. there were plenty of crumbs for betsy's lunch and supper, but as night drew on and still no one came to open the door, carter decided to take matters into his own hands. slowly a plan was forming in the vegetable man's mind, and as the moon rose up over the tulip trees, he explained it carefully to betsy bobbin.
"to-night," announced carter in a firm voice, "i will plant my feet close to the walls of the city. in giant soil i ought to grow very rapidly and by morning should reach the top of the wall. then i will bend over and grow downward till i touch the ground on the other side."
"but what will become of me?" cried betsy, looking at carter with frightened eyes.
"you will grow with me," said the vegetable man calmly. "i will take you in my arms and we will grow up together."
"then what?" asked the little girl doubtfully. "how will you grow down again?"
"i won't!" answered the vegetable man resignedly, "but i'm not important, betsy dear, and shall doubtless make some sort of useful vine or tree."
"i don't want you to be a vine," wailed the little girl in dismay. "please don't be a vine and leave me all alone."
"but we must think of the others," carter pointed out gently. "once inside the city, you will find the hungry tiger and reddy and with the help of the rash rubies manage to escape. when you reach oz perhaps ozma will find a way to have me transported and transplanted in the emerald city. i'd like to be near you, betsy," sighed the vegetable man wistfully.
in vain betsy reasoned, argued and coaxed, carter's mind was fully made up. it grew darker and darker as they talked, and just as the lanterns flashed out from the big wig wall the vegetable man picked her up in his arms and ran over to the great barred door. standing as close to the wall as he could squeeze, carter set betsy on his shoulder and resolutely planted his feet in the soft earth and gazed up into the darkness.
"now then," chuckled carter, assuming a jaunty and care-free air to reassure the little girl, "i'm rooting for you, betsy dear, and to-morrow we'll grow over the top."
but at that instant there was a loud thump on the other side of the wall. with a screech, the door crunched open and a giant foot was thrust through.
"betsy! betsy!" bellowed a terrible big wig voice. "where are you, betsy?"
betsy bobbin stared at the vegetable man, and he stared at the giant foot. there was something familiar about that foot--but what was it?
betsy had been perfectly right in supposing princess ozma would soon discover her absence from the castle. dorothy had gone home with the tin woodman, so, of course, knew nothing about it, but when betsy did not appear for breakfast ozma immediately sent jellia jamb, her small maid-in-waiting, upstairs to search for her. ozma, herself, hurried out into the garden, thinking betsy might be gathering a breakfast bouquet. shading her eyes, ozma looked in every direction, but there was no sign of betsy anywhere. she was about to return to the castle when a loud bump sounded just behind her. spinning about, ozma saw the strangest sort of figure, sprawled over her favorite rose bush. it was four times the size of a regular man, the body something like a tremendous sausage, with a round, balloon-shaped head and pudgy arms and legs. while ozma was trying to determine what kind of being it was, the huge creature rose with a bounce and came clumping toward her.
"i told zeph there were people at the bottom of the air!" puffed the stranger gleefully. "here is one now. i'll take it straight back to the sky for proof."
ozma had just time to notice that he wore heavy iron boots, when he bent over and, tucking her under his arm as if she had been a package of sugar plums, kicked off one boot and then the other and soared, like a balloon released from its string, straight up toward the sky. it was all so unexpected and breath-taking for several minutes ozma was perfectly paralyzed. then, glancing down and seeing her lovely castle fading to a mere speck below, she began to squirm and struggle and pound with both hands upon the arm of her captor.
"take me back! put me down!" commanded ozma, imperiously. "how dare you carry me off like this?" but her tiny fists made no impression on the great fellow. he seemed to be constructed of some tough silken substance, and from the way he dented in when she poked him, ozma concluded he was filled with air. "like a balloon," thought the princess. "oh, please! please stop!" she called despairingly.
the voice of the little fairy came wafting faintly up to the airman and, with an interested sniff, he took ozma from beneath his arm and held her on a level with his nose. the quick change made her exceedingly dizzy, and while she recovered herself he examined her most attentively. he was swimming in the air all the time, with his feet in a strange climbing motion, and their flight upward never slackened during the conversation that followed.
"what a pretty little creature it is," mused the airman half aloud. his voice was so kind and his face so round and jolly that ozma took heart and began begging him to return her to the earth.
"i am a princess," she explained earnestly, "and anything may happen to my kingdom while i am away. something has happened already." breathlessly she began to tell of the disappearance of betsy bobbin and of the perils that might overtake her in a magic country like oz. but the airman seemed more interested in ozma's voice and appearance than in her story.
"why it's talking airish," he chuckled with a pleased grin. "and what splendid proof a princess will be when i deliver my lecture next month before the cloud country gentlemen. fellow airmen! i shall say, it has long been a matter of dispute as to whether any life exists in the lower levels of the air, but now the question is settled for all time. the earth is undoubtedly populated by small fragile princesses like this." here he paused and held ozma up as if displaying her to an imaginary audience.
"oh! oh! please stop and listen to me!" entreated ozma. then she gave a great gasp, for without warning the sky darkened and in their swift flight they barely escaped the gleaming point of a star.
"don't be alarmed," murmured the airman, feeling the little fairy tremble in his grasp. "night has fallen. the higher we go, the faster time flies. it will be daylight in a few moments. that's one of the advantages of high living," he continued comfortably. "one grows up so quickly and time flies so fast we never are bored. see, it is to-morrow already!"
"to-morrow!" wailed ozma, blinking in the sudden sunlight that came flooding through the clouds. "how dreadful! oh dear, mr. balloon man, do take me back to my castle."
"atmos is my name," announced the airman a bit stiffly, "atmos fere. i am a skyman, and i could not take you back even i wanted to, for i have left my diving boots on the earth. you'll grow used to it up here," he assured her, and turning on his back began to float lazily toward a long purple cloud, still holding ozma aloft so he could more easily observe her.
"a most interesting specimen," he muttered over and over, squinting at the little fairy approvingly.
"i'm not a specimen, i'm a princess!" declared ozma indignantly. "i do not wish to live in the sky. oh, dear! oh, my! what will become of oz while i am away?"
"now you're unreasonable," sighed atmos reproachfully. "what will become of my lecture if i let you go? do you think for one instant any air body would believe me when i told them there were living creatures at the bottom of the air? i must have proof and you are my proof, little princess. you should feel honored to have been discovered by a well-known explorer. you shall have an air castle all to yourself and the lecture will only take a few years of your time. hello, it's night again!"
and sure enough it was. shivering in the darkness, ozma began to fully realize the awful perils of her position. it might be years before she saw her old friends and the lovely emerald city again.
being a fairy, ozma knew that she herself would not grow older, but what might not happen in oz during her long absence? clasping her hands desperately, the little princess tried to think of some way to help herself, and as the sun came flashing through the clouds again a dreadful plan popped into her head.
atmos was still talking. "after the lecture, there will be a dinner," droned the airman sleepily, "that will take about seven years, i should say, though i've known sky banquets to last as long as ten."
"ten?" moaned ozma, with a little shudder, and steeled by the thought of a ten-year banquet, she drew an emerald pin from her dress and thrust it quickly into the airman's side. then covering her face with both hands, she began to cry softly, for this tender-hearted little fairy had never hurt anyone in her whole gentle life and could not bear to even think of what she had done. for several seconds the airman's calm conversation continued. then all at once he gave a great gulp.
"princess!" gasped the airman in a faint voice, "i seem to be losing my breath!"
ozma felt a rush of cold air past her ears, and next instant they were tumbling earthward, over and over, and over, down through clouds and mists and great blue stretches of empty air. how she managed, during that long, dizzy fall, to keep hold of the airman's limp arm, she never knew, herself. but hold on she did and after what seemed to be hours and hours, they landed together in a feathery field of wheat. the sudden plunge downward had kept all the air from escaping from the airman, but as ozma rolled over and saw his pitiable condition, she began to weep anew. his legs and body were perfectly limp and the air was issuing from his right arm with a shrill whistling sound.
"save me!" panted atmos, rolling his eyes wildly from side to side. "save me! can't you see i'm expiring?"
"but what can i do?" sobbed ozma, in a panic.
"tie something round my neck," directed the airman desperately. "keep the air in my head."
snatching the ribbon from her curls, ozma hastened to do as he suggested, shivering a little as she pulled the ribbon tight.
"i'd like to know how this happened," moaned atmos, as the little fairy tied the ribbon in a neat bow under his poor, wrinkled chin.
"it was my fault," confessed ozma, covering her face so she could not see him. "i stuck you with a pin. you wouldn't let me go and i couldn't leave oz for all those years. oh, dear! oh, dear! i'm so sorry!" and remorseful tears began to trickle through her fingers and drop on the airman's nose.
"punctured--by--a--princess!" puffed atmos, as if he could not get the idea through his head at all. "well, who would have thought it? she looked so harmless, and sweet, too. i think i should be the one to cry," he observed presently, and as the little fairy's sobs grew more and more violent, he lifted his head and regarded her with positive alarm.
"don't cry like that," begged atmos uncomfortably. "it didn't hurt, you know, and i have expired in the cause of high skyence. that's a great honor, besides i should not have carried you off. don't cry," he begged, trying frantically to rise. but the more he coaxed and blamed himself, the harder ozma wept, so that neither of them heard the approaching steps of a stranger.
"hello!" cried a bluff voice suddenly. "what's the matter here? did you bust your balloon, little girl, or what?" glancing up, ozma saw a tall red-faced fellow in a leather apron just behind her. the head of the airman did look like a great balloon, and while ozma quickly dried her tears, atmos simply stared at the newcomer, almost forgetting his misfortune in his curiosity.
"what is this?" he whispered huskily. "i thought earth was inhabited by princesses like yourself. is this a princess, too?"
"hah, hah, hah!" roared the stranger, slapping his great thigh. "do i look like a princess?" then, as the curiousness of a balloon's conversing struck him, his eyes grew rounder and rounder and his mouth hung open with astonishment.
"it's an airman," explained ozma with dignity, "and i am the princess of oz."
"airman!" muttered the big fellow under his breath. "oz? well, i've heard of oz, but you're a long way from home, little lady, and where on earth did you pick up this fellow?"
"he's from the sky," ozma hastened to inform him.
"and i've had a serious accident," added atmos, to save the little fairy from telling her part in the affair.
"you look like an accident," observed the stranger, kneeling down beside the collapsed form of the airman. "was it a puncture or an explosion?"
"a--a puncture," sighed atmos, with a sidelong glance at ozma, "but what manner of earth creature are you?"
"i'm an ornamental iron worker," announced the stranger proudly. "there's my shack over yonder. rusty ore is my name, and say!" he rose and looked triumphantly at the little fairy. "i believe i could blow this fellow up again. i've a bellows in the shop. shall i try?"
"oh, could you? would you?" begged the little princess, clasping her hands eagerly. the more rusty looked at lovely little ozma, the surer he became that he could. everyone who saw ozma had an immediate desire to serve her, and the ornamental iron worker was no exception. rolling the airman into a neat bundle, he slung him over his shoulder. then, taking ozma's hand, strode briskly across the fields.
"have you anything to eat in your house?" asked the little princess, skipping to keep up with rusty's long strides. "i haven't had anything to eat for two days!"
"two days!" bellowed the iron worker indignantly, and sweeping ozma up into his arms, he broke into a run, so that almost before they knew it, they had reached his queer little shop.
while ozma, perched on rusty's rude bench, nibbled hungrily at the big sandwich he had brought her, atmos looked around him with interest and frank curiosity. the little shop was filled with iron deer, fire irons, iron dogs and weather cocks, too. rusty had placed the punctured airman on top of a scrap heap, while he went to search for his bellows, that he might blow him up.
"is this an earth castle?" asked atmos, as rusty disappeared through the doorway. "are there many creatures like this at the bottom of the air?"
"rusty is a man. there are plenty of men, women, children, kings, queens and animals down here," answered ozma, hardly knowing how to begin to tell an airman about the real and unreal countries of the earth. "everyone here does not live in a castle," she went on seriously. "most people live in houses or on farms."
"what's a farm?" asked atmos, with a puzzled frown. "do you know, little princess, i think i had better explore this country a bit further before i'm blown up. think what a lecture i can give on the wonders at the bottom of the sky!"
"why don't you?" asked ozma, swallowing the last bite of the sandwich.
"what?" inquired rusty, returning just then with the bellows.
"i was just remarking to the princess that i'd like to see more of your earth before i return to the sky," confided atmos, blinking his round eyes at the iron worker. "but as soon as i'm blown up and patched i'll fly straight upward."
"how did you manage before?" questioned rusty, sitting down on the bench beside ozma.
"well," said atmos, "a friend of mine who lives on the mountains of the moon, made me a pair of iron boots. these enabled me to sink through the air and walk about the bottom of the sky which you call the earth. i wanted to find out if the earth was inhabited. putting on the boots, i dove from the tip of the moon and landed in a strange and lovely garden, where the first object that met my eyes was the lovely little lady before us. delighted with my find, i picked this princess from the garden, kicked off my boots and flew back to the sky, carrying her along as proof."
"proof?" blustered rusty, jumping up indignantly. "how dare you steal a princess for proof, you old rascal! what shall i do to him?" he puffed, turning angrily to ozma.
"oh, nothing, please do nothing!" begged the little fairy in alarm. "he did not really mean any harm and i'm down on earth again. besides--" (ozma's voice sank to a low whisper), "besides, i punctured him with a pin."
"you did!" exclaimed rusty admiringly. "well, good for you!"
"yes!" sighed atmos sorrowfully. "it was good for her, but exceedingly bad for me. still, i can see now that it was wrong for me to carry her away, and if you'll find some way to blow me up and keep me down, i'll take her safely back to her castle."
"now you're talking like a real man instead of a wind bag," said rusty approvingly. "i'll tell you what i'll do. i'll make you a pair of iron shoes myself, blow you up, patch you up and start you in the right direction. how would that be?"
ozma was so delighted with the iron worker's plan that she gave him a hearty hug, and as rusty started to work on the boots at once, it was not long before they were finished and standing in the doorway to cool.
blowing atmos up was a ticklish and dangerous operation. carrying the airman outside, rusty placed him on the ground. then, placing the bellows in his side, he began to work it slowly and carefully, while ozma watched to see that each arm and leg had the same amount of air. before they started, rusty had weighted atmos down with an iron bucket and an iron stag, but as the body of the airman filled out, he grew so light and buoyant they had to add the anchor and a couple of chains.
"not too much, now," warned ozma, anxiously untying the ribbon from the airman's throat. "not too much, or he'll burst!"
but atmos did not burst, and when rusty saw he had exactly filled out his strange silken skin, he pulled out the bellows, clapped a neat patch over the puncture and stood back to admire this curious citizen of the air. atmos, himself, began to bounce, swing his arms and sing aloud for pure joy.
"excuse my singing," chuckled the airman, "but i'm full of fresh air and you have no idea how fine it feels."
"well, don't put on airs with us," muttered rusty, who was really alarmed at the airman's size. "do you think he's safe?" he whispered nervously to ozma. ozma nodded enthusiastically and, somewhat reassured, rusty went off to pack her a lunch for the journey back home.
by this time, the boots had cooled and, with great difficulty, rusty fitted them to the airman's puffy feet, released him from the iron weights and chains and helped him to rise.
ozma watched with great interest, for she was not at all sure the boots would keep atmos on the earth. but after a few skips and flutters the airman began to walk soberly up and down, and with a pleased smile declared himself ready to start.
rusty was sorry to have the little princess go, but when she explained the strange disappearance of betsy bobbin and how she must return at once to the emerald city and try to discover her whereabouts in the magic picture, he reluctantly bade her good-bye.
"you are on the edge of the gnome king's dominions," said rusty, "and if you travel straight ahead you will come to the deadly desert. with iron boots atmos should have no trouble crossing the burning sands, and if he carries you on his shoulder no harm will come to you."
"i have never seen a desert," said atmos eagerly, "for there are no deserts in the sky. come, little princess, let us go at once." giving rusty a farewell embrace and thanking him again for all his kindness, ozma ran after the airman, who had already started toward the south.
"good-bye!" called rusty, as they turned to wave to him from a little hill. "be careful not to tread on her toes!"
the country through which they were passing was barren and wild and not at all interesting to ozma, but the airman stopped and exclaimed over every tree and boulder, collecting so many leaves, flowers, sticks and small stones, that his air pockets were soon bulging.
"i'm really quite glad i was punctured," he remarked happily. "otherwise i should have missed all this."
ozma nodded, a bit impatiently, for she was thinking of all she had missed during her strange two days in the air, and wondering what had become of betsy bobbin.
"maybe she's been home all the time," sighed the little princess, "and won't she be astonished when i tell her where i have been. oh, dear, i do wish he would hurry. if you put any more stones in your pocket you'll never be able to fly," she cautioned gently, "and if we don't walk a little faster, we'll never reach the emerald city at all."
"that's so," puffed the airman, and straightening up he reluctantly dropped a handful of pebbles. "but walking is so monotonous. in the air, we can drift, float, swim or fly and so we never grow tired."
"it must be very nice," agreed ozma politely, "but don't you think you could walk a little faster? we're going to have a storm," she added, glancing up at the sky, which was full of dark clouds. "oh, atmos, let's run and maybe we'll reach a house before it breaks."
"breaks?" panted the airman, clumping clumsily after the light-footed little fairy. "what will it break? us?"
"don't you ever have any storms in the sky?" called ozma over her shoulder.
atmos shook his head solemnly. "we're above all that sort of thing," grunted the airman, trying his best to keep up with ozma. "dear me, how dreadfully disagreeable." the sky had grown dark by this time and the rain was falling in torrents. blinding flashes of lightning and loud crashes of thunder added to the confusion and when large hail stones came pelting down upon their heads, atmos stopped in positive alarm.
"princess! princess!" choked the airman, groping toward ozma in the dark, "get me out of this or i'll be punctured!"
"if i only had my magic belt!" gasped ozma, pushing back her wet hair, "i could wish us both to the emerald city. oh, dear, i do wish there was a house somewhere!"
scarcely had the words been spoken before a house sprang up at the little girl's feet--so suddenly, in fact, that it tumbled her over backwards. the morning before she left her castle, ozma had slipped one of the wizard's wishing powders into her pocket.
but, shoe strings and button hooks! the little girl had not been careful to say what kind of house she wanted and there, perched askew on the dripping rocks, stood a dog house. while atmos stared at it in a daze, thinking it, too, had fallen from the sky, and ozma picked herself up in astonishment, a cross doggie face appeared in the doorway.
"gr--woof!" rumbled the dog threateningly. where he had been wished from i cannot say, but the journey had been unexpected and rough, and seeing two total strangers standing outside, the dog immediately decided they were responsible for the accident. paying no attention to the rain or hail, he dashed furiously out and tried to bury his teeth in the airman's leg. thanks to his iron boots, atmos was not punctured, and as the dog made a spring at ozma, the airman snatched the little fairy up in his arms and began running in a way he had not believed possible. so swiftly did atmos run that the barks of the dog soon died away in the distance and the storm was left far behind them.
"stop! stop!" begged ozma, when she could finally make the airman hear her. "stop, atmos dear. atmos fere, you're running the wrong way. oh! oh! do take care, there's something queer about this country."
with a final puff, atmos brought himself to a stop, or at least he tried to. but the earth beneath his feet was behaving most unaccountably, moving along in big brown waves and carrying him tumbling along with it. they had unluckily run into the great rolling country of the east, mentioned by a few explorers, but seldom crossed by ordinary travellers. standing first on one foot and then the other, atmos tried wildly to keep his balance, but in a moment a heavy mud wave struck him behind the knees and rolled him over, so that he and the little princess of oz were soon being buffeted along like tiny ships on an unruly ocean. when the waves broke, which they frequently did, sticks, stones, pebbles and dust showered over their heads. in fact, a more miserable mode of travel cannot be imagined.
"let us fly," choked the frightened airman, clutching ozma's hand. "say the word little princess, and i'll kick off my boots and carry you up to safety."
"no! no! not that!" coughed ozma in a panic. "wait atmos, something will turn up!"
while carter and betsy waited so impatiently outside the walls, the little prince of rash was having an amazing day with the giants. after a dizzy flight through the air, the great pigeon, attracted by a bit of stale cake on the ledge of a high window, had dropped him carelessly on the sill. fortunately for reddy, the window was open and, squirming through, he lay panting and pale, waiting for the bird to snap him up again. but the space was too narrow, and after a few angry pecks at the pane, the pigeon flew away.
with a gulp of relief, the prince rolled over and sat up. a delicious smell of coffee, bacon and rolls came floating upward and, glancing over the edge of the sill, reddy saw that he was in an enormous dining hall. far below the window stood the giant sideboard, covered with serving dishes the size of bath tubs, and seated at a huge table in the center of the room, two giants were eating porridge with spoons as large as snow shovels. they had golden crowns upon their heads, and from the richness of their robes and the elegance of the whole apartment, reddy guessed, and quite rightly, that he was in the castle of immense city itself.
waiting upon their majesties, were four monstrous footmen, and all of the giants wore huge white wigs, the curls of which bounced and bobbed when they walked in a truly comical fashion. crouching in a corner of the sill, and trusting that none of the giants would notice him, the hungry little boy watched the king and queen toss off huge basins of coffee, devour biscuits as big as boulders and pan cakes broad enough to cover an ordinary sized table. in these immense surroundings, reddy felt so little, lost and lonely that all thought of finding and rescuing the hungry tiger seemed hopeless. how was he even to reach the floor, without breaking himself to bits? therefore he listened listlessly to the booming voices of the big wigs, and fervently wished himself back with the vegetable man and betsy bobbin. but a cross remark of the giant king suddenly caught his attention and made him prick up his ears.
"that kitten," growled the big wig in a fierce voice, frowning across the table at the queen, "that kitten must go! it kept me awake the entire night with its miserable meowing."
"but what will elma do," murmured the queen gently. "our daughter dotes on the little creature."
"let her find something else to dote on," puffed his majesty indignantly. "my castle is no place for stray cats. if it's here to-morrow," continued the giant, blowing his cheeks in and out threateningly, "i'll throw it in the pond!" snatching up his paper, the king strode from the room, every curl in his wig expressing wrath and determination.
"stray kitten!" gasped reddy in relief, remembering the little giant girl's words. "why, that must be the hungry tiger!" the knowledge that his old friend was still safe and close at hand was so encouraging, the little prince cheered up at once, for after all reddy was a prince and naturally brave and resourceful. if the hungry tiger were still in the castle, he should certainly be able to find him, and together they would devise some way of escape. the queen, still arguing about her daughter's kitten, had waddled after her husband, and while the big wig footmen cleared away the breakfast dishes, reddy tried to think of some plan to reach the floor in safety. he put his hands in his pockets, stared nervously over the edge of the sill, then gave an exclamation of glee. for his fingers had closed over the rash rubies. the rubies! why had he not thought of them before? if one of them had carried him safely down the furious fire-fall, why would it not help him now?
without disturbing the dishes on the side table, the footmen had gone to the kitchen. so, closing both eyes and gritting his teeth, reddy jumped boldly off the window ledge. he landed with a crash, splash and splutter and, opening his eyes, found himself looking through the glass sides of the giant's water pitcher. the water was over his head, but he felt no discomfort, except a slight chill from the ice, for in his pocket was the ruby protecting him from all danger by water.
disturbed because he had not looked more carefully before he jumped, but elated over the way the rubies were working, the little prince rose to the top of the pitcher. luckily for him the water reached almost to the brim, and seizing the pitcher's edge he pulled himself up and dropped easily over the side. this time he landed beside a flat plate of sizzling hot cakes and bacon, and we cannot blame him for stopping long enough to hack off a few slices of each with his sword. this, with several crumbs from the giant biscuits, made an excellent breakfast, and stuffing a large piece of pan cake in his pocket for lunch, the little boy jumped gaily off the sideboard. thanks to the other ruby, he floated lightly as a feather down to the floor and then began his long walk to the kitchen.
his clothes were still wet and dripping from the unexpected bath, but his spirits were high and he was beginning to enjoy his strange experiences and to look forward with lively anticipation to his meeting with the hungry tiger. a brisk fifteen-minute walk brought him to the kitchen door and, slipping through, he saw the big wig servants seated at a large table. their loud voices made his head thump, and to bring their faces into view he had to lean so far over backwards, he soon had a severe pain in his neck. but he was sure he would learn from them the whereabouts of little elma and once he knew that, finding the hungry tiger would be almost easy. compared with the giants, reddy was about the size of a small doll and none of the chattering big wigs noticed the little boy crouched behind the coal bucket. after listening to a great deal of conversation that did not interest him at all, reddy was finally rewarded with the information he was seeking.
"where's little elma's tray?" wheezed a big wig maid, suddenly pushing back her chair. "that girl grows lazier every day!"
"there!" grunted the cook, pointing a pudgy finger toward the dresser. "and it's high time you took it up to her, you ill-natured clod."
after exchanging a few more rude remarks, the maid picked up the tray and started toward a back stairway. frantically, reddy began to run after her, risking discovery by the others in his anxiety to keep her in view. but it was a hopeless race, and he had just given up in despair when the giantess came hurrying back for the salt, which she had forgotten. almost treading on the breathless little boy, she snatched a salt shaker from the dresser and started off again, but this time, reddy went with her.
the strings of the maid's apron reached almost to the floor, and with a mighty spring the little prince seized one of the fluttering ends and hung on for dear life. unconscious of her passenger, the giantess briskly mounted the stair, reddy swinging round and round at each step and hoping heartily that the apron string would not come untied. after a very bumpy journey, the little boy found himself at the top of the stair and next instant in the presence of the little giant princess herself.
she was seated in a chair in the largest play room you could ever imagine, and looked extremely comical in her great white wig. letting go the maid's apron string, reddy dropped to the floor and creeping behind a toy block, peered around in amazement. dolls as big as himself were strewn about the floor. noah's arks, toy barns, doll houses and castles as large as our own dwellings were ranged along one side of the wall and here and there were stuffed and wooden animals of just the right size for reddy to ride. there was a toy train he longed to start and a wooden circus that made his heart thump with excitement.
"i wish betsy were here," thought the little prince. "couldn't we have fun? i wish she could see these dolls!" scarcely hearing the clatter of dishes on the tray, as the princess greedily ate her breakfast, reddy's eyes roved enviously over the vast collection of toys. a sudden thump, as the little giantess jumped out of her chair, recalled him to the serious purpose of his visit. princess elma, with a saucer of cream in her hands, was pattering toward him calling at the top of her voice:
"here kitty! kitty! kitty! where are you kitty dear?"
the thought of the hungry tiger as a little girl's kitten was so ridiculous that reddy chuckled in spite of himself, and when little elma, after several unsuccessful attempts, dragged the tiger from beneath a low sofa and began dipping his nose in the cream, reddy laughed outright.
the hungry tiger was growling and snarling so ferociously and elma filling the air with such boisterous terms of endearment that neither of them heard. after a futile struggle with the giantess, the tiger settled himself on the floor and began to lap up the cream, with an expression of unhappy and hopeless resignation. squatting on the floor beside him, the princess continued to shower him with vigorous caresses.
"finish your breakfast, sweet," she cooed in a voice like a ferry-boat whistle, "then mother'll take you for a nice little ride in the doll coach!"
reddy hoped to have a few words with the hungry tiger, and began to creep cautiously toward the strange pair. but just as he came within hailing distance the hungry tiger finished the cream, and elma lifted him joyfully into the air. torn between mirth and sympathy, reddy watched the giantess dress the indignant and struggling tiger in a doll coat and cap, tuck him unceremoniously into a doll coach and wheel him out of the nursery.
"i'll have to wait till they come back," sighed reddy, as the doll coach went bumping down the entry and the shrill protests of the hungry tiger grew fainter and fainter. "and while i wait i might as well look around."
this proved so interesting that he was surprised to hear the great clock on the mantle strike twelve. as there was still no sign of the hungry tiger, he sensibly decided to eat his lunch. choosing the coziest of the doll houses, he walked boldly up the front steps and into the dining room. the chairs and table were exactly the right size, and with a little chuckle of enjoyment reddy set the table, drew up a chair and ate his piece of pancake in peace and comfort.
the doll house was complete in every detail, and in the kitchen cupboard the little boy found canisters of tea, coffee and sugar. there was a small gas stove that really worked, so reddy made himself a cup of coffee and finished his lunch with a box of stale cakes he found on the dresser. then, feeling a little sleepy, he curled up on the doll lounge in the living room and had a fine nap. after this he amused himself trying on the doll hats and coats he found in the entry closet and sliding down the curved banister.
by this time it was four o'clock, and growing a little anxious about the hungry tiger, reddy ran out of the doll house to see if the princess had returned. but the nursery was still deserted and after trying in vain to wind up the toy engine, and taking a perilous ride on a mechanical donkey, which he did manage to start, the little boy decided to look for his friend in some of the other rooms of the palace. the toy donkey had carried him to a door leading from the play room into princess elma's bedroom, and slipping through, reddy tip-toed around, examining the tall furniture and fittings with deep interest. in the center of the room, he stopped short and gave a sharp cry of astonishment. what do you think? there, looking like a toy, in these huge surroundings, stood a bed no larger than reddy's own.
"now what," gasped the little prince of rash in extreme perplexity, "is that great girl doing with a little bed like this?" there seemed no answer to the question, but a sudden clump, clump in the hall made him dash for cover. princess elma was coming back, and just as reddy dove headlong into one of her slippers, she ran in, the hungry tiger in her arms.
"now stay here pet!" bellowed elma tenderly, and dropping the tiger on the floor she skipped noisily out of the room.
for a moment the hungry tiger lay motionless where he had fallen. the doll cap was down over his eyes, the doll coat in ribbons and reddy could see that he had had a hard day. when he did attempt to rise and try to run, the doll coat threw him down at every step, and the little prince, with a cry of sympathy and relief, ran out to help him.
"reddy!" roared the hungry tiger hoarsely, "how did you get here. run boy, run, before that dreadful girl gets you, too. look! look at me!" he groaned forlornly. "how shall i ever hold up my head again? run away, reddy, i beg of you! run, before it is too late!"
"sh--h!" whispered reddy warningly. "we'll run together." cutting the cap strings with his sword and tearing off the offensive doll coat, the little boy threw both arms round the tired old tiger and gave him a tremendous hug.
"to think that i, the hungry tiger of oz, should have come to this!" moaned the tiger, two tears running down his nose. "oh, oh, oh! i shall never be the same."
"sh--h!" begged reddy again. "to-night when the giants are asleep, we'll escape. i still have the rash rubies, remember." holding them up, reddy looked eagerly at the ruffled and doleful tiger. the sight of the rubies seemed to restore him a little.
"we can try it anyway," he mused wearily. "but, take care, here comes that awful girl back again. hide yourself, quick!"
reddy had just time to scramble beneath a chintz chair, when princess elma came bounding back, a plate of chicken in one hand and a doll bed in the other.
the giantess seemed astonished to find the hungry tiger without his wraps, and picking him up began to scold gently. she was thrusting his front paws into a doll's night dress, when a loud voice from the next room made her pause.
"bother!" exclaimed princess elma, putting the hungry tiger down beside the plate of chicken, "i've got to take my bath. but i'll be right back."
"don't hurry," growled the hungry tiger, gnashing his teeth ferociously as elma ran toward the big wig nurse, standing in the doorway.
"why don't you bite her," asked reddy, venturing out from beneath the chair.
"my conscience tells me it would be wrong," groaned the poor tiger. "after all, she is only a child and really means no harm."
princess elma was gone so long that reddy and the hungry tiger had time to dine most comfortably on the plate of chicken and tell their strange experiences in the giant castle. the hungry tiger was amazed to learn how reddy had been carried over the wall and listened eagerly to his plans for escape.
"we'll wait till midnight," whispered the little prince. "then, with the rash rubies to protect us, we'll fall all the way down the stairs and try to find our way out of the castle."
"i hope nothing has happened to carter and betsy," sighed the tiger mournfully. "help me out of these horrible sleeves, boy!" but reddy advised him to keep on the doll's gown so that elma would suspect nothing, and reluctantly the tiger agreed. "i had no idea kittens lead such hard lives," he groaned dismally. "my ribs ache from hugging and i've been dragged around all day like a duster. hide, reddy, hide! here she comes again."
reddy lost no time in concealing himself beneath the chair, and from his hiding place he watched the giantess kiss the hungry tiger good-night, and tuck him vigorously into the doll bed. then, with a huge yawn, she walked over to her own bed--the tiny bed that had so astonished reddy in the first place.
"how does the great creature expect to sleep in that?" thought the little boy scornfully. how, indeed? raising her hand to her head, elma calmly took off her huge wig, and as she did she shrank so swiftly downward that reddy clutched the leg of the chair and clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming aloud.
the hungry tiger, who had slept in the nursery the night before, was equally astonished at this sudden change in the princess. rearing up on all fours, he glared in disbelief at the little girl, who now no larger than reddy, jumped unconcernedly into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. the big wig, itself, grown small enough to fit a mortal-sized person, lay on the floor beside her. so surprised that he forgot all necessity for caution, reddy rushed out from beneath the chair, but the hungry tiger hastily waved him back and, curling down as if nothing unusual had happened, pretended to be asleep. fortunately the little girl had not seen reddy, and crawling cautiously back, he sank down beneath the chair and tried to work out the puzzle.
"these giants are frauds," decided the little boy exultantly. "why, they're giants only when they wear their wigs."
he longed to talk it over with the hungry tiger, but realizing the wisdom of hiding till all the giants were abed, set himself patiently to wait.
it grew quieter and quieter in the giant's castle, and as the nursery clock tolled out twelve, the hungry tiger slipped noiselessly from his bed and padded softly over to the little prince.
"she's asleep," breathed the hungry tiger, "and so are the rest of these bogus big wigs. let's make a dash for it, my boy."
"i've been thinking," mused reddy, as he helped the hungry tiger off with the giant doll dress, "i've been thinking that it will take a long time to get out of the castle and across the city. it might take us till morning."
"all the more reason to start at once," urged the hungry tiger. "come along, let's start now."
but reddy stood staring thoughtfully at the white wig beside princess elma's bed. "i've been thinking," repeated the little boy, "that if i put on that wig, i might grow into a giant myself, run a hundred times faster than i can now and fight anyone who tries to stop us."
"better not," shuddered the hungry tiger nervously. "it might stick to you. come along, hop on my back and we'll manage somehow."
but reddy, remembering the steepness of the giant stair and the hugeness of the giant city, began to creep determinedly toward elma's bed. as he did, elma stirred uneasily in her sleep, and alarmed, lest she wake and seize the wig before he could, reddy snatched it from the floor and clapped it on his head. stars! up like a bean stalk shot the little boy, till he feared his head would crack against the ceiling. as he grew, the chairs, tables and furniture that had seemed so immense assumed an astonishing smallness. the hungry tiger running in a frantic circle round his feet, looked as he must have looked to princess elma--a very tiny and cunning kitten. taking a long breath, reddy leaned down, picked the tiger up and ran out of the room. the hungry tiger was scolding bitterly under his breath, but reddy had to hold him up to his ear to discover what he was saying.
"mind what you're doing," rumbled the hungry tiger, crossly. "i'm tired of being picked up like a bundle of rags and tossed about. don't squeeze me either or i'll bite off your thumb. grr--uff! i'm real mad at you!"
chuckling a little to himself, reddy promised to be careful, and tucking the hungry tiger gently beneath his arm ran down the richly carpeted hallway. he could not resist peeping into some of the rooms, and everywhere the same sight met his eyes. tiny beds stood in the midst of gigantic bed chambers and the giants themselves, no bigger than ordinary folk, sleeping comfortably without their wigs.
"it would be a great chance to capture the city," mused reddy to himself and for a time wondered whether it might not be fun to try. but he was so anxious to see betsy and carter and continue his search for the lost ruby, that he decided to let the foolish big wigs rest in peace. quickening his steps, he hurried downstairs, unbolted the doors and let himself out of the castle. several big wig guards looked at him curiously, as he hurried down the street, but they made no attempt to stop him.
"it's funny," said reddy to the hungry tiger, as he panted along. "this city doesn't look large at all and it's not nearly so big nor fine as rash."
"that's because you're a giant now," roared the tiger, who was gradually recovering his good humor. "it looks pretty big to me. where are we anyway?"
"right at the gates," answered reddy triumphantly. "here, you, get out of the way!" the big wig guard, who was asleep with his back against the wall, blinked with surprise and resentment as reddy spun him out of his path and slid back the bolts. then, opening the gates, reddy darted through, calling betsy bobbin at the top of his voice.
"hush!" roared the hungry tiger. "be still, can't you. do you want to scare her to death?"
we know already how frightened betsy and the vegetable man really were. failing to recognize reddy in the huge big wig, as he came bounding through the doorway, they took hands and ran for their lives.
"come back! come back!" pleaded the prince of rash, making frantic little snatches at the fleeing pair. "stop, carter! stop, betsy! don't you know me?"
"the wig, idiot. take off the wig," grumbled the hungry tiger, who was tired of being jostled up and down. "take off the wig."
so reddy, who had been about to lift betsy up and explain who he was, snatched off his wig instead. in a twinkling he had shrunk down to boy-size and, releasing his hold on the hungry tiger, chased merrily after carter and betsy.
"betsy! betsy!" gasped the little prince breathlessly. "don't run away from me." when betsy, scarcely believing her ears, looked over her shoulder and saw reddy and the hungry tiger instead of a big wig, she spun about in perfect astonishment.
"but the giant!" exclaimed betsy, while carter green hurried forward to embrace reddy and hug the hungry tiger. "what became of the giant?"
"here it is," coughed the hungry tiger, dropping princess elma's wig, which he had picked up when reddy dropped it, and brought along in his teeth.
while carter and betsy continued to stare at them in wonder, reddy related the history of his experience in immense city, and told how he had stolen the wig. then, to demonstrate its strange power, he tried it on and turned before their eyes into a big wig himself.
"well," sighed betsy bobbin, as he took it off and shrank down beside her, "i don't believe anybody in oz is having as queer adventures as this. do you, carter?" the vegetable man shook his head positively.
"but they're turning out all right," he added cheerfully. "here we are, all together again, with two of the lost rubies and a magic wig besides. i think we should be very happy," finished carter, smiling at
"that's because you were never a kitten," roared the tiger, beginning to lick his satiny coat into smoothness again. "what i've endured at the hands of that great girl no one will ever know! ugh! brrr-rr!"
"won't she have to stay little without her wig?" asked betsy, curiously.
"hope she does. hope she feels just as small as i did," grumbled the hungry tiger vindictively. "she's far safer as she is now."
"maybe they'll make her a new one," suggested reddy. "why, betsy, they're not giants at all--just big frauds and i'm going to keep this wig always, just to remember them by."
"don't wear it when i'm around," groaned the hungry tiger, rolling his yellow eyes fiercely. "i don't want to remember 'em, and every time i look at it i'll think of the awful day i spent as a kitten."
though it was way past midnight, the four adventurers had so much to tell and so many plans to make for the morrow, it was a long time before they finally settled themselves for sleep. but after betsy had heard all over again about princess elma's marvelous toys and how reddy had fallen into the giant water pitcher, the little boy and girl stretched out on the soft grass beside the road and pillowing their heads comfortably on the tender-hearted old tiger, slept soundly as tops. but carter did not need to sleep, so perching upon a fence, he watched the moon sailing across the starry sky and kept a sharp look-out for giants.
"it was wicked of irashi to steal the throne, but i'm almost glad he did," remarked the little prince of rash, as he and betsy walked cheerfully down the road next morning. "why, if he hadn't, i'd never have known you or carter and the hungry tiger," continued reddy, slashing at a tall weed with his sword, "and i'd never have seen all these cities and celebrities."
much refreshed by their night's rest, the four travellers had breakfasted royally on a giant peach and set out once more for the emerald city of oz.
"don't you ever feel homesick?" asked betsy, a little wistfully. she, herself, was beginning to long for the emerald city and a glimpse of ozma and dorothy and her many friends in oz.
"well, i would like to see old fizzenpop," admitted reddy with a sigh. "he must be wondering where i am, and it will be fun to be a prince again. still, i am glad we had all of these adventures together, aren't you carter?"
the vegetable man nodded, but the hungry tiger did not seem at all enthusiastic. his experiences as a kitten still made him angry.
"what makes you think our adventures are over?" he rumbled irritably. "we don't even know where we are. i trust we are going in the right direction," he grunted, looking over his shoulder at betsy. "and even if we are, how shall we cross the deadly desert? we have to cross the desert before we come to oz, you know."
"let's wait till we come to it," advised betsy, sensibly. "and if reddy puts on his giant wig," she added suddenly, "he can see whether we are going in the right direction and--"
"whether there's anything to eat," put in the hungry tiger, who had not cared much for his breakfast. "maybe there's a roast beef bush around somewhere," he finished hopefully.
reddy really enjoyed nothing better than shooting up into a giant. as he explained to betsy, it made a chap see things in a much bigger way. so, quite willingly, he clapped on elma's wig and, turning slowly, looked in all directions.
as he was now taller than the tallest tree anywhere about, he could see for miles around and it at once became apparent to those on the ground that he had made an astonishing discovery.
"what is it?" roared the hungry tiger, rubbing impatiently against his shins. "something to eat? take off that wig, you rascal! come down here and tell us what you see."
but reddy lifted betsy into the air and, placing her on his shoulder, pointed excitedly toward the south. from that great height betsy could not see very distinctly, but even so the little girl gave a cry of surprise and delight. striding down a road that would soon cross their own came a most curious figure--none other than atmos, the airman, and pattering along hopefully at his side, the little princess of all oz.
"it's ozma!" cried betsy, nearly losing her balance. "oh, reddy, she's coming to help us. but who is that funny balloon man? hurry up reddy! let's go meet them!"
"like this?" boomed the prince of rash doubtfully.
"no," decided betsy shaking her head. "it might scare her if you were a giant. put me down and take off your wig."
almost dropping betsy, in his excitement, reddy pulled off his wig, and after quickly explaining their startling discovery to the hungry tiger, the two children started on a run for the cross-roads.
"i hope she never finds out why i went to rash," muttered the hungry tiger under his breath, as he padded hurriedly after them.
carter followed more slowly, brushing back his celery tops and perking up his corn ears. the vegetable man wished to make as favorable an impression on the little princess as possible. to ozma, herself, and to atmos, plodding wearily along the rough road, nothing could have been more astonishing than the sudden appearance of betsy bobbin and her friends.
"why betsy!" exclaimed the little fairy, running forward joyfully, "where have you been?"
"did you look in the magic picture and find us?" asked betsy, giving ozma an excited little hug. "oh, ozma, we've had such a lot of adventures and now we can all go home!"
ozma looked doubtful, and even more surprised, for as we know perfectly well, she had not looked in the magic picture at all and was as lost as betsy bobbin.
"and i thought the earth was inhabited by princesses," gasped the airman, looking in bewilderment from one to the other. "what odd and interesting specimens. are you real?" he inquired, earnestly tapping carter on the chest.
"as real as rhubarb," answered the vegetable man, with a grin. "are you? but let me introduce the famous hungry tiger of oz."
"he has a beautiful mouth--" shuddered atmos, glancing down sideways at the tiger--"er--when it is shut? does he bite, mr. er--rhubarb?"
"only when i'm hungry," sighed the tiger, rolling his yellow eyes mournfully up at atmos, "and i'm hungry all the time."
"how extremely dangerous," murmured atmos, stepping quickly behind the vegetable man. "is this little boy creature with you, too?"
"of course!" laughed betsy, smiling up at atmos. "he's a prince and we're both helping him find the lost rubies so he can be the rightful ruler of rash."
betsy had been trying to explain all the happenings of the last three days and now, as prettily as she could, she introduced carter and reddy to ozma, and carter, reddy and the hungry tiger to the comical airman. then, because there was so much to explain and consider, they all sat down under a huge handkerchief tree and talked to their hearts' content.
as betsy insisted on hearing ozma's story first, the little princess began it, the airman looking terribly embarrassed as she told how he had fallen from the clouds and then flown off with her. reddy nodded sympathetically, as ozma described her flight through the air. having been carried off by a pigeon himself, he knew just how she felt, and when ozma told how the days and nights flew past in the sky and how she had punctured the airman and come tumbling to earth, carter green was simply rooted to the spot. for the vegetable man, in his excitement, had forgotten to keep moving.
"but we are good friends now," put in atmos hastily, as reddy tugged the vegetable man loose. "aren't we, little princess?" ozma nodded and smiled and went hurriedly on with her story. after being tossed about by the rolling country, it had at last flung them into a small lake, which was on the whole, rather fortunate, as they were nearly choked with dust. atmos, in spite of his iron boots, floated nicely, and after they had washed off the mud, he towed the little fairy safely to shore. the sun had soon dried them off and they had taken the first road that stretched ahead.
"and you see," finished ozma, smiling gaily at betsy, "it was a lucky road, for it brought us straight to you."
betsy's story, as you can well imagine took much longer, for the time had not flown as fast for the earth travellers as it had for the sky travellers. and as the little girl, helped out by carter and reddy and the hungry tiger, recounted her strange trip with carter to rash, the discovery of the hungry tiger, the wickedness of irashi, the story of the lost rubies and the little prince, their escape and fall down town--ozma and atmos listened with simply breathless attention. and as betsy described their experiences with kaliko and the tumble down the fire-fall, the airman snatched two handkerchiefs from the tree and began to mop his head with first one and then the other.
"too strange to believe," sighed the airman weakly. "they'll never believe this in the cloud country."
ozma smiled to herself at this, and decided that the airman's lecture would last several centuries if he tried to include betsy's story with his own. betsy was so out of breath by this time, reddy took up the tale and told them all about immense city and the giants. as he put on the wig to demonstrate its marvelous power, ozma looked up at the little prince in frank admiration.
"you have shown yourself wise and brave and deserve to rule over a kingdom," said the little fairy, as reddy took off the wig and sat down beside her. "i wish i had some of my magic appliances with me, then we could locate the last ruby and restore you to the throne at once. as it is, we'll have to go back to the emerald city and consult
"last ruby," puffed atmos, who had not paid much attention to the ruby part of the story. "why, i have a ruby." reaching in one of his air pockets, the skyman produced a sparkling square gem. seizing the jewel with a gasp of surprise, reddy brought out the other two and held them up for all to see.
"why, it is the last ruby," cried the little prince, pointing to the r, carved distinctly on the side of the gem. "it is the ruby that protects me from all danger in the air."
"but how did atmos get it?" exclaimed betsy, completely bewildered.
"well, he is an airman," began reddy, not quite sure himself, but too surprised and delighted to really care, "and i suppose--"
"i got it from a sky-lark," announced the airman, puffing out his cheeks importantly. "one morning, as i was picking air currents from a large current bush near my air castle, a sky-lark flew by and dropped this ruby into my hand. and as it was bright and shiny, and unlike anything i had ever seen, i kept it."
"well, good for you!" cried carter green, clapping atmos on the back. "the lark must have caught the ruby as irashi flung it into the air. imagine the old scalawag's feelings when he knows that a vegetable man found the ruby he buried in the garden, a fisherman the ruby he hurled into the river and an airman, the ruby he tossed into the air! quite a coincidence, i call it." and taking three skips and a hop to keep from rooting to the spot, carter perched on a rock he had found himself and began to whistle merrily.
"and now!" exclaimed betsy, running over to seize reddy's hands, "now with all of the rubies you can conquer irashi and nothing can ever harm you again!"
"oh, let's go back to oz," growled the hungry tiger, lashing his tail a little at the very thought of irashi. "let's go back to oz where the meals are regular and a tiger's a tiger. reddy can live with us and we'll all have fun together. that is, if we can ever find a way to cross the desert."
"i'll carry you across," volunteered the airman, looking down at his boots. "i'm big enough and i'd do anything for little ozma. i'm her airrend boy," he grinned, winking at carter green.
"and i'm betsy's," declared carter proudly. jumping off the stone he began hopping round like a jackrabbit, and ozma could hardly keep her eyes off the comical little gentleman.
"let's start, fellows," suggested carter squinting up at the sun. "perhaps we are nearer this desert than we think and as we're not sure of the way either to the emerald city or to rash, we'll have to go where the next road takes us."
"the desert lies over there," announced reddy, pointing toward the east. "i saw the gleaming sand when i had on my big wig."
"then let's go east," sighed ozma, seating herself contentedly on the hungry tiger. in a twinkling betsy hopped up beside her and with reddy pacing proudly ahead and carter and atmos ambling comfortably behind, the little procession started off.
the time passed most merrily for the travellers. carter and atmos were so interested in each other, and betsy and ozma were so busy exchanging their strange experiences, they scarcely noticed the country through which they were passing. but after an hour's march reddy, who was still ahead of the others, gave a loud cry of surprise, for he had caught a glimpse of the pink towers of rash.
"we've travelled in a circle," panted the little boy excitedly, "and here we are back where we started from."
"well, shall we stop and conquer irashi or go on back to oz?" queried betsy. "the deadly desert is on the other side of the city, and we could easily march around it."
"march round by all means," roared the hungry tiger, who had his own reasons for avoiding rash. "in the emerald city ozma can do the whole conquering by magic, and then if reddy still wants to return to his measly little kingdom, she can transport him with the magic belt."
the little fairy looked inquiringly at reddy, but reddy lifted his chin and fingering his sword lovingly, shook his head.
"a prince should conquer his own enemies," declared the little boy bravely, "and after the way irashi treated us, i really ought to conquer him."
"but can six people conquer a city?" gasped the airman rolling his eyes a bit wildly. "in the sky it takes an army."
"i've seen one person conquer a city in oz," boasted betsy proudly. "come on red, i'll help you."
"so will i!" cried carter green, picking up a stout stick, "and we have the rash rubies, remember!"
"i don't know much about earth battles, but i can tread on a few toes," offered atmos, clumping up to the little prince and tapping his boots significantly.
"and if you are set upon it, i'll bite off a few heads," roared the hungry tiger. "on to rash!" bidding the little girls hold tight, he went charging full speed over the hill, reddy, atmos and carter racing breathless after him.
now it happened that irashi and his chief scribe were having luncheon in the castle gardens. they had long since dismissed the hungry tiger and the little prince from their evil minds. you can therefore imagine their astonishment and dismay when reddy and his companions came hurtling through the trees. the little army had rushed impetuously past the guards at the gate and, after one glimpse of the hungry tiger, the rashers they encountered in the city had fled like leaves before the wind, so that they had reached the castle without interference.
at sight of the huge airman, ippty, who had been about to pour himself a cup of coffee, gave a frightful scream and scrambled nimbly into a tree, while irashi, seizing a silver whistle, that hung round his neck, blew three shrill blasts and, drawing his scimiter, made a savage slash at reddy. but the scimiter slid harmlessly down the little boy's cheek, and the coffee pot, which ippty hurled from the tree, bounced like a rubber ball, off his head.
"it's the rubies, the rash rubies!" exulted betsy bobbin. betsy and ozma had jumped off the tiger, and the great beast, crouched at the foot of ippty's tree, was glaring upward with a look so terrible that the scribe of rash trembled till the very branches shook.
"see what's coming," coughed carter, with a warning wave toward the castle. in answer to irashi's whistle, the entire army of rash was advancing upon the invaders.
"spinach! gamin and spinach!" spluttered the vegetable man wildly.
"is that what you call 'em?" panted atmos, and putting the little girls firmly behind him, he made ready to tread upon the army's toes. swinging his stick like a flail, carter took his place at reddy's right and, roaring like a dozen cannons, the hungry tiger placed himself at the little boy's left. reddy, himself, giving no attention to the frantic slashes of the scimiter, nor the furious advance of the rash army, was pushing irashi steadily backwards.
and as the old rascal, breathless from his pummelings, turned to see whether his army were coming, reddy snatched off irashi's crown and tossed it back to betsy bobbin.
"keep it for me betsy," puffed the little prince, "i can't use it now." clinging anxiously together, both little girls began to wish they had persuaded reddy not to conquer irashi. how was one small boy, even though he was helped out by three magic rubies and five loyal friends, to conquer the entire army of rash?
but reddy's plans were all made. as the rashers rushed upon him, as the airman got in one splendid kick and carter one tremendous whack, the little boy clapped on the giant's wig.
you have never seen a more terrified and bewildered company. the screams of irashi and his guardsmen, as reddy shot skyward, nearly deafened betsy and ozma. and as he began to pick up one and then another of the soldiers and take away their swords, their terror was pitiful. they crawled, ran, leaped, and tumbled in a wild scramble to get away, the hungry tiger snapping viciously at their heels and the airman helping them most efficiently with his iron boots. in one moment more, not a rasher was to be seen anywhere.
"and that," grunted the airman, rubbing his hands together with great glee, "that is the end of the gamin and spinach."
irashi would have fled too, had not atmos seized him by the pantaloons and swung him up in the tree beside ippty. by this time word of the frightful battle had reached the castle and fizzenpop, his turban standing straight on end, came flying out to see what had happened. but even fizzenpop's knees smote together when he saw the great giant striding up and down the garden, and when the giant actually lifted him into the air, the grand vizier gave himself up for lost.
betsy and ozma, delighted at the splendid victory, now came hurrying over and while the hungry tiger guarded the two rascals in the tree, reddy took off his wig, and told fizzenpop the story of their adventures, proudly displaying the three magic rubies of rash.
at sight of the rubies, the delight and astonishment of the grand vizier knew no bounds, and after embracing reddy a dozen times and prostrating himself twice before each of the others, the old statesman rushed back to the palace.
next instant the tower bells were tolling out a joyful welcome to the rightful ruler of rash, and fizzenpop, himself, in his best turban and tunic was reading a proclamation from the pink balcony stating that evered, the scarlet prince had returned and the rule of irashi the rough was over forever.
"how about a little lunch?" proposed the hungry tiger, putting his paws over his ears to drown out the roars and cheers of the populace.
overjoyed at irashi's downfall, the citizens of rash were celebrating the victory as noisily as possible. "and what are we going to do with these two handsome rogues? i've a notion to eat them up!" the hungry tiger roared, glaring ferociously at the trembling pair in the tree.
"well, they certainly deserve it," exclaimed betsy, looking severely at irashi and ippty. "don't you think so carter?"
the kind-hearted vegetable man pulled his corn ear in embarrassment. "let ozma and reddy decide," murmured carter in a low voice. "they're not an earthly bit of use to anyone, but perhaps they'll reform," he finished uncomfortably. at carter's words, the airman gave a sudden bounce, and a gleam of purpose came into his round eye.
"tie them up," advised atmos, "especially that prickly fingered one. then, after lunch we can decide what is to be done."
"all right," agreed reddy, and to be sure that they would not escape, he put on his big wig. then, picking the two rashers out of the tree as if they had been toy soldiers, he wound them round and round with rope that carter obligingly fetched from the castle. ippty's pen and pencily fingers he bound up securely in strips of his handkerchief, which, grown to giant size, was large as a sheet. then, with the two culprits tramping gloomily before them, the conquerors marched gaily to the pink palace where a splendid repast already awaited them.
the hungry tiger's eyes shone with joy as he looked down the long table. one entire end had been reserved for him.
"isn't this better than rash prisoners?" whispered fizzenpop, leading him kindly to his place and waving to the rare steaks and roasts he had provided.
with a troubled glance at ozma, the hungry tiger nodded. he hoped that fizzenpop would not tell the others why he had come to rash. but betsy and ozma were talking so busily, they never even heard the grand vizier's remark. "and if ippty and irashi are disposed of, i have nothing to fear," thought the tiger uneasily.
reddy, still in his shabby clothes, but wearing the splendid ruby crown of rash, seated himself at the head of the table and, with ozma on his right and betsy on his left, presided in a truly royal manner. carter and atmos did not eat at all, but their jokes and questions kept the whole company in a roar of merriment.
"it is seldom," observed old fizzenpop, gazing fondly at the little prince, "it is seldom that a city is captured without one broken bone."
"i am glad i did not break mine," said the airman, patting his chest proudly.
"yours?" gasped betsy, "why atmos, have you any bones?"
"one," admitted the airman, feeling his side experimentally. "it's a floating rib, and i never know just where it will be. every airman has a floating rib," confided atmos blandly. "it helps them to float."
"well, i think you are one of the most interesting persons i have ever met," cried reddy, jumping to his feet. "and carter's the other. oh i do wish you would all stay in rash. won't you please stay? betsy and ozma can take turns being queen, carter can be royal gardener and the hungry tiger and atmos can be anything they want."
"thanks," murmured the airman, "but what about my lecture? besides," he looked bashfully from one to the other, "i'm engaged to an heiress and must return to the sky. but someday, when you have a few years to spare, i hope you'll all visit me and we'll go on a regular sky-lark."
"oh, i'd love to," cried betsy bobbin.
"you talk as if you were leaving us," objected the hungry tiger, raising himself with an effort. he had eaten a tremendous luncheon and could scarcely keep his eyes open.
"i am," declared the airman solemnly, pushing back his chair. and before the others half realized what he was about, the huge fellow had seized ippty and irashi and vanished through the doorway.
"wait! wait!" begged ozma, jumping up and hurrying after him. "atmos fere, atmos dear, don't you remember you promised to carry us across the desert and back to oz?" by this time they had all run out into the garden, but atmos did not even seem to hear their pleas. with ippty and irashi under one arm, he was feverishly kicking off his iron boots.
"these villains," puffed atmos, holding up his unhappy victims, "are as carter said, of no use on the earth at all, but they will be very useful to me in the sky. not as good specimens as i could have wished for, but i will take them back with me, to prove that there are really people at the bottom of the air. after the lecture, i shall drop them on some lonely island where they can do no further mischief," declared atmos calmly.
"hurrah!" roared the hungry tiger, overjoyed that his secret would now be kept safely.
"after the lecture," gasped ozma faintly, "but that will be years and years by skytime?"
"years and years," acknowledged atmos, with a grin, and freeing himself from one boot soared a hundred feet into the air. "look out below!" he called warningly, "here comes the other one."
they had just time to dodge aside when the other iron boot came crashing to earth. "good-bye!" shouted the airman in a faraway voice, "good-bye, little princess, i'll see you again, some time!"
"good-bye!" called ozma, sadly. standing on tiptoe, the whole company strained their eyes to catch a last glimpse of their strange fellow adventurer. but atmos and the two wicked rashers had already disappeared above the clouds.
"oh!" wailed ozma suddenly, "how are we going to cross the deadly desert now?"
"don't cross it," begged reddy again, "stay here. please, stay here!"
"maybe dorothy or the wizard will look in the magic picture," suggested betsy hopefully. "watch out carter, you're taking root again."
with a little exclamation of annoyance, the vegetable man jerked himself loose and began to comfort the princess of oz.
"it was really the best thing that could have happened," he assured her eagerly. "with irashi and ippty out of the way, reddy can rule his kingdom in peace, and while those two rogues will not really suffer, they will be kept out of mischief for years to come."
"that's so," mused ozma, thoughtfully, "and i'm rather glad atmos has some proof. he was such an old dear, when you got to know him."
"you may have my big wig if you wish," offered reddy, generously, "but i'm afraid, even as a giant, you could not step across the desert."
"no," sighed ozma, "i suppose not. besides, every ruler should have at least one magic possession. with the rash rubies and the giant's wig you ought to be able to rule for many years without any trouble."
"how about the rubies?" asked carter. "wouldn't the ruby that protected us from the gnome king protect us from the burning sands? why, maybe it was that ruby that helped us to cross the desert in the first place. i had it then, you know!"
"i thought it was the quick sandals," said betsy. "maybe the ruby would not work on sand carter and--"
"i have thought of something!" cried fizzenpop, who was anxious for reddy to keep all of his magic treasures. "it would be unwise for her majesty to risk crossing the desert with only the ruby to help her, but with our marvelous canes nothing could harm her at all."
"canes?" murmured ozma.
"hurry canes," smiled the grand vizier. "with our patent action, triply guaranteed hurry-canes you can all cross the deadly desert and safely return to oz."
"oh, fizzenpop!" exclaimed reddy, in delight, "why didn't i think of that?"
the hungry tiger rolled up his eyes and shuddered, but the others, who had never ridden a rash hurry-cane, were charmed with the grand vizier's suggestion. that evening, after reddy had shown ozma and the others all over his pretty pink kingdom, and after the populace had given three cheers for the rescuers of rash, fizzenpop took five hurry canes from the umbrella stand. five, because at the last minute, reddy insisted upon going to the emerald city, too.
giving fizzenpop the giant wig, but keeping the rash rubies himself, and promising to return in a month, reddy mounted his hurry-cane. then, at a signal from the little prince, each traveller clapped the head upon his cane and in five furious flashes they were off for oz, and five minutes later, a little shocked and breathless, dropped down in the emerald city itself.
knowing that dear delightful place as you do, you can imagine the welcome accorded the travellers. there were feasts and processions and story tellings and parties enough to satisfy even the hungry tiger. for days nothing was talked of, but the marvelous adventures of betsy bobbin and the little princess of oz. carter green was so sought after and invited about, he could not have taken root, even had he wanted to. the little prince evered has since returned to his own country, but often comes over to spend a pleasant evening in the castle, bringing along his big wig, to entertain the scarecrow.
as for the hungry tiger, he never drops off to sleep without thanking his stars he is not a kitten, and if at times he looks a little hollow-eyed and wan, he is on the whole happier than ever, for he has learned that it is better to have a stomach-ache than a heart-ache and the heart-aches he had in rash, missing his friends, cured him forever of the desire to eat a live man.
in the pink palace of rash the iron boots of atmos are still shown to visitors, to prove that an airman really visited that country, and on clear nights old fizzenpop, with a telescope, tries to catch a glimpse of his wicked countrymen.
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71273.txt
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The Gnome King of Oz
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queen cross patch, the sixth, stood at her castle window staring crossly down at her cross-patch country. from above it looked like a huge patch-work quilt, spread over the rolling hills of the winkie country in oz. each of her subjects had a separate cotton-patch, and as each patch produced a different color of cotton and each patch-worker dressed himself and his family in the color of his patch and painted his house the same color too, you can imagine the odd appearance of the kingdom itself. the quilties, as the people of patch were pleased to call themselves, did most of the patch-work in oz and, as the kingdoms of oz are nearly all old-fashioned enough to use and appreciate patch-work quilts, there was plenty of work to be done. not only did the industrious quilties gather the small cotton-patches from their garden patches and stitch them into gay quilts but they did mending and darning as well.
for miles around people brought their old clothes to queen cross patch for repairs, so that patch was as busy and prosperous a little kingdom as you would find anywhere, but by no means a pleasant one. constant picking of the scraps in their garden patches had made the quilty men exceedingly scrappy, and constant stitching upon the patch-work quilts had made the quilty ladies extremely cross and crotchety. indeed, everything about this little country was cross and patchy. all the roads were cross roads, and the houses as patched and shabby as the clothes of the people who lived in them.
but perhaps, of all the quilties, the queen, herself, was the crossest and patchiest. she even had a patch over her eye. she had strained it from too much fine sewing. just now she was straining the other one in an effort to see that all of her subjects were hard at work. finding that they were, she flounced across the room and sat down at her sewing table. here, grumbling and scolding to herself, she began sorting patches into separate piles, according to their size and color. except for her majesty's mumbles and the occasional snores of a scissor bird, who dozed on a perch by the window, there was not a sound in the great chamber. but suddenly, with a shrill scream, the queen flung a handful of patches into the air, toppled off her three-legged throne and went entirely to pieces--extremely small pieces, too.
"help!" shrieked the scissor bird, wakening with a bounce. "help! help! the queen has gone to pieces!" at the scissor bird's sharp outcries, the prime piecer and chief scrapper of patch fairly rushed through the doorway.
"i've been expecting this!" groaned the prime piecer, and taking a huge bite from the chunk of beeswax he held in one hand began to chew it gloomily.
"well, if you've been expecting it you're not surprised," sniffed the chief scrapper crossly, "but it's too bad to have it happen at the busiest season of the year. now we'll have to stop everything and find a new ruler. hold your bill, nipper!"
stamping his foot at the scissor bird, the chief scrapper of patch marched stiffly from the room. neither the prime piecer nor the chief scrapper seemed to think it queer for the queen to go to pieces. and no doubt this is because, sooner or later, all of the quilties do this very thing. living in a fairy country and being magically constructed they cannot die, so when they wear out, they simply go to pieces. when a quilty goes to pieces, his relatives or friends sweep up the scraps and put them away in a tidy scrap-bag and in ten years or so he comes out of the bag as good as ever. this does seem a curious custom, but curious or not, that is exactly what happens, and while scrapper went to fetch the royal scrap-bag and piecer the royal dust-pan, the scissor bird flew out of the window to break the news to the patchworking populace.
in a huge sewing circle, the quilty dames were stitching upon a quilt and in their separate garden patches, the quilty men were busily picking cotton-patches. but as the scissor bird flew screaming overhead and they realized that queen cross patch had gone to pieces at last, they all stopped working and looked fearfully at one another. who would be the next ruler of patch? whenever a ruler went to pieces another was immediately chosen by the method laid down in the imperial scrap book and always one of the quilties had been chosen.
now, curiously enough, no one wanted to be king or queen, for the ruler of this cross little country had to work six times as hard as anyone else and consequently went to pieces six times faster. therefore, dropping their thimbles and scissors, the quilties started to run in every direction, pelting into houses and down cellars, creeping into barrels and hiding themselves behind trees,--so that when piecer and scrapper issued from the palace not a person was in sight. they had carefully swept up queen cross patch and hung her in a closet, and now, grumbling a little--for choosing a new sovereign was always a troublesome matter--they stepped sternly toward the cotton-wood to the left of the palace. in this wood grew hundreds of spool cotton-trees--enough, in fact, to furnish all the thread used in the kingdom. there were pink spool cotton-trees, red spool cotton-trees, green spool cotton-trees, orange spool cotton-trees, and every other color you could imagine. in the center of the little cotton-wood grew a somewhat taller tree, bearing always one golden spool. it was to this tree that the prime ministers of patch hurried, for this golden spool was the royal spool of succession, and when cut from the tree led directly to the next ruler of the kingdom.
piecer had a large rag-bag over his shoulder, for it was usually necessary to capture a ruler by force; scrapper had a pair of gold shears and now, standing on tiptoe, he snipped the golden spool from the golden branch and held it expectantly in his hand. there was a regular speech written out in the royal scrap book, and as scrapper had already chosen three rulers, he knew it by heart.
"unwind, oh, royal spool of succession," commanded the little quilty importantly, "unwind and lead us to the imperial potentate of patch!" as he came to the word "patch," scrapper set the spool on the ground and, keeping hold of the golden thread, waited solemnly for something to happen. for a moment the spool lay quietly where he had placed it--then with a little bounce it began to unwind. letting the gold thread slip through his fingers, scrapper skipped nimbly after the spool, piecer following earnestly behind him. up one cross road and down another rolled the royal spool of succession, past the patched palace, past a dozen patched cottages, on and on and on.
as it passed each cottage, the quilties within would give a roar of relief, for they knew that for the present the danger of being king or queen had passed the members of their household. sometimes the golden spool would roll right into the front door of a cottage and scrapper and piecer, thinking their search over, would prepare to seize a sovereign but, just as they did, the spool would whirl out the back door and roll on merrily down the road. but never before in the history of patch had it gone so far nor so fast, so that soon the fat quilty ministers, panting along after it, were completely out of breath and temper. now the cotton-patches grew thinner and thinner, the little cottages farther and farther apart, and before they half realized it, the golden spool was rolling briskly down a yellow brick highway and the kingdom of patch lay far behind them.
"stop!" grunted piecer, letting go scrapper's coat-tails to which he up to this time had dutifully clung. "stop! i can go no farther."
"don't leave me," wailed poor scrapper, rolling his eyes backward in great distress. neither of the quilties had been out of patch before and the prospect was truly terrifying. now, whether the magic spool heard the two conversing is hard to tell but, quite suddenly, it stopped and sinking down by the roadway, piecer and scrapper began to mop their foreheads with their patched handkerchiefs and fan themselves with their hats.
"let's go back," quavered piecer in a low voice.
"but we cannot go back without a ruler," objected scrapper, who was the bolder of the two. "if we do not find a ruler in four days you very well know that patch and all of the quilties will go to pieces. do you want to go to pieces?" he asked severely.
"no!" said piecer mournfully, "i don't, but we'll go to pieces anyway, running on at this rate. something is wrong," puffed the prime piecer dolefully. "the spool never took us out of the kingdom before. it's twisted, i tell you, and dear knows where it will take us."
"it will take us to the next ruler," declared scrapper, who had recovered some of his breath and most of his courage. "it is our duty to follow. come!"
"oh, very well," sighed piecer, rising to his feet with a great groan, "but don't blame me if it leads us into a forest and we are torn to bits by bears."
as piecer finished this cheering speech the thread in scrapper's hand gave a little pull. the golden spool had started off again. this time, however, it rolled along more slowly and, in spite of their uneasiness, the two quilties cast interested glances to the right and left. it was all so different from their own patched and shabby little kingdom. pleasant yellow cottages and farms dotted the landscape, and the fields and meadows, full of buttercups and daisies, did not look a bit dangerous. on the hill a splendid tin castle shone and glittered in the sun, and though scrapper and piecer were quite unaware of it, this was the residence of the tin woodman, who ruled over the land of the east.
nowhere in oz is there a more cheerful land than the country of the winkies. but just as the two travellers were beginning to enjoy themselves, the spool turned sharply off the highway and plunged down a steep hill. the first jerk flung scrapper on his face, and as piecer had hold of his coat-tails he lost his balance too, and over and over they rolled to the bottom.
"now for the next ruler!" gasped scrapper. scrambling to his feet, and without pausing to brush off the dust, he bounded after the spool. it was fairly whistling ahead now, bouncing over rocks and tree stumps, so that the two patchy statesmen, in their endeavor to keep up with it, looked like a couple of boys playing leap frog. when it did stop piecer was too giddy to see, but scrapper gave a loud roar of anger.
"i don't care what it says," shouted the little quilty angrily, "i refuse to take orders from a cow. is this our future sovereign?" he demanded indignantly. the spool had stopped indeed, and under the very horns of a cross brown cow.
"moo!" bellowed the cow, lowering her head threateningly.
"that's just what we will do," sniffed scrapper, "move on!" at scrapper's words, the spool of succession, as if it had been waiting for a signal, zipped under the cow, dragging both ministers along, and from the way it behaved in the next half hour, i am convinced that some mighty bad magic had gone into its making. it rushed furiously under fences, over which the breathless quilties were forced to climb, 'round and 'round trees, till they were almost too dizzy to stand, up hills and down hills, through stickery bushes and over sharp stones. it even dragged them head first into a muddy river.
"let's go home," blubbered piecer, shaking himself like a big dog. fortunately the quilties could swim, but swimming in quilted trousers and coats was no fun at all and, dripping water and mud, the two sovereign seekers felt more depressed than ever.
"it's bewitched," insisted piecer, tugging at scrapper's coat-tails. "let's go back!"
but scrapper stubbornly shook his head and trudged stubbornly after the mischievous spool of succession. it was unwinding quite deliberately now, but leading them deep into a dangerous looking forest.
"i wish cross patch had never gone to pieces," moaned piecer dismally. "i don't care who's imperial potentate. i wish someone else had my position. i wish--"
"there's a sign," interrupted scrapper. "look! it says 'emerald city, thirty-five miles'."
"emerald city!" panted piecer, forgetting his weariness for a moment. "why, that's the capital of oz. patches and pincushions! why, i never expected to see the emerald city! maybe our next queen's in the capital, old fellow!"
"well, then she ought to make a capital queen," sighed scrapper, leaning over to untwine a bramble from his left shin, "but who wants to walk thirty-five miles?"
as he straightened up, the gold spool whirled between two tall trees and came to a complete standstill on a short foot-path. a rustic railing ran along the edge of the path and, taking hold of the railing, scrapper began looking anxiously around for the future ruler of patch.
"do you see anything?" he queried, looking over his shoulder.
"no, but i feel something," grunted piecer, peering anxiously down at his feet. "beeswax and basting threads!"
next instant both quilties leapt into the air. then, taking a firmer hold upon the railing and on each other, they clung desperately together, for the foot-path, rising up on its hundred broad feet, was rushing like the wind through the gloomy forest.
"are--we--going--to--pieces?" shouted the prime piecer, not daring to open his eyes.
cautiously scrapper opened one eye and the first thing that met his gaze was a neat notice tacked on the rustic railing. it was only a blur, so fast were they travelling, but opening the other eye he managed to decipher it.
"this foot-path runs straight to the emerald city. hold tight. no stamping or kicking allowed.
"private property of the wizard of oz."
"well, hurrah!" exclaimed scrapper, thumping his companion on the chest. "we're not going to pieces, we're going to the emerald city! going! going! why, here we are!"
and they were too. right at the gates of the loveliest city in oz. the foot-path, having accomplished its journey in less than a minute, now tilted its passengers rudely off and, coiling up like a serpent, went to sleep under a lime drop tree. too overcome to do anything but blink at the gleaming spires and turrets of the capital, the two simple quilties stood stunned and still. but a business-like tug from the gold thread brought them out of their trance.
the spool of succession had slid off the path with them and was now rolling gaily through the gates of the city. holding fast to one another, and scarcely daring to breathe, the fat little ministers of patch went tiptoeing after the golden spool.
the emerald city, which scrapper and piecer were now entering, is the capital of oz and lies in the exact center of that merry and magical kingdom. oz, as many of you know, is a funny and fascinating fairyland, oblong in shape and surrounded, for protection, by a deadly desert of sand. there are four large countries in oz; the yellow winkie land of the east, the purple gillikin country of the north, the blue munchkin country of the west and the red lands of the quadlings in the south. each of these four countries is divided into many smaller countries of which patch is the seven hundred and fifth, but all are subject to one ruler and governed by laws laid down by the queen of the realm.
the rulers of oz always lived in the capital, not only because it is so central and convenient, but because it is the most beautiful and enchanting city in the whole fairy world. its cottages and castle fairly twinkle with emeralds and these precious stones, studding the walls and even the marble walks, give the air a soft glow and shimmer, making gardens greener, fountains more sparkling and everything more glittering and gay.
ozma, a little girl fairy, is the present ruler of oz and the wisest and gentlest sovereign the fairy country has ever known. with her in the emerald city live fifty seven thousand, three hundred and eighteen gay ozites and nearly a hundred celebrities, for ozma has invited to her court the most interesting characters from her four fairy kingdoms.
the scarecrow, a lively fellow stuffed with straw, is perhaps the most famous. he has a palace of his own, but is a frequent visitor at the capital. then there is the tin woodman, who rules over the winkies and is a splendidly polished gentleman of tin, and sir hokus of pokes, a knight seven centuries old, jack pumpkinhead, a singular person carved from wood with a large pumpkin for a head, tik tok, a machine man who winds up like a clock and does everything but live, the famous wizard of oz and so many more that twenty histories have already been written about their queer doings.
on this late afternoon, as the two bewildered quilties trod timidly down the streets of the capital, ozma was busily conferring with princess dorothy about curtains. dorothy is a little kansas girl, who was blown to oz in a cyclone and later was made a princess and invited to live in the palace. she is ozma's favorite adviser and not only helps her rule over the turbulent tribes of oz, but is consulted about everything, even such small matters as new ribbons for the palace pets or, as now, about castle curtains. choosing curtains is fun and there were so many colors and fabrics, it took the two girls quite a long time to decide. they had about settled on green taffeta, edged with gold fringe, when a terrified cry came echoing in from the garden.
"what was that?" cried dorothy, and dropping a roll of taffeta, she rushed to the window. ozma followed quickly and, in some alarm, the two stared down over the flowered slopes and green terraces. but not a soul was in sight and after waiting for another scream, they concluded that the first was the shout of some mischievous boy and gaily returned to their curtains. had they looked five minutes sooner, they would have been surprised indeed. five minutes before scrapper and piecer, toiling breathlessly after the spool of succession, had run straight into the palace garden. darting here and there, it had led them to a secluded grape arbor. on a green bench under the arbor sat a most amazing young lady, and as the two quilties stared at her in perfect astonishment and admiration the golden spool stopped at her feet.
it was the patchwork girl, one of the very jolliest of ozma's subjects. she had been made originally by a wizard's wife out of an old crazy quilt and neatly stuffed with cotton. her eyes were silver suspender buttons, her tongue a piece of red velvet and her hair a bunch of yarn that refused to stay down. margolotte, the wizard's wife, had intended scraps for a servant, but when the wizard mixed up her brains a double portion of fun and cleverness had got in by mistake. when he brought her to life, scraps refused to work and ran off to the emerald city where she has lived ever since, making life lively for everyone and having more fun herself than a cageful of monkeys. being constructed from a crazy quilt makes her exceedingly reckless and gay and as more than half her conversation is in verse, scraps is a most amusing and delightful companion. to the weary and already homesick quilties she seemed a vision of perfect loveliness.
"superb!" gloated piecer, throwing both arms round scrapper's neck in his excitement.
"a beauty!" exulted scrapper, returning piecer's embrace with interest. indeed, so delighted were they at the appearance of their future sovereign that they began to dance up and down and fairly hug one another for joy. a sharp exclamation from the patchwork girl made them stop.
"ragmen apply at the rear!" cried scraps, pointing imperiously toward the back of the castle.
"ragmen!" the quilties exchanged indignant glances. the spool had led them such a chase that their clothes were torn and dusty and the bag over piecer's shoulder added a convincing touch to the picture. no wonder scraps thought them ragmen. piecer was about to explain, but scrapper, afraid that this bewitching damsel might escape them, rushed forward impetuously and seized her hand.
"scat!" screamed the patchwork girl, snatching it angrily away. "what do you take me for?"
"because we have to," confided the chief scrapper mysteriously. "we take you for what you are, a queen. three cheers for the queen of the quilties!" wheezed scrapper, signaling slyly to piecer. and while the patchwork girl fell back, stiff with astonishment, piecer clapped the bag over her head. then together the two little quilties shook her down into the bottom and pulled the string tight. it was the frightened scream of scraps, as she disappeared into the rag bag that dorothy and ozma had heard, but by the time they reached the window, she was out of the garden. thrusting a sharp stick through the neck of the sack, the ministers of patch hoisted it to their shoulders and, with the bag itself swinging violently between them, started on a run for the gates. they would never have succeeded in kidnapping scraps nor escaping unobserved had it not been for the foot-path. after a short nap it had grown curious about the two strangers it had brought to the city and pattering into the royal garden began to search for them. usually the wizard of oz kept this mischievous piece of property tied up when not in use, but to-day he had forgotten to do so and, enjoying its holiday, the little foot-path was running perfectly wild. coming upon piecer and scrapper as they dashed headlong over flower beds and borders, it scooped them neatly up and by a short, little known route carried them straight out of the emerald city.
for a time the quilties were too shocked to realize what had happened. then scrapper, shaken out of his stupor by a terrible jolt as the foot-path jumped over a boulder, gasped weakly. "why, it's the same flying path that brought us to the capital!"
"yes, but where is it flying now?" wailed piecer, tightening his hold upon the rag bag. inside scraps was thrashing around in a frantic effort to escape, her screams and threats somewhat muffled by the collection of pieces already in the bag. "can't we steer it?" panted the prime piecer wildly, "or stop it or something?" scrapper shook his head violently, then catching sight of a green card tacked on the rustic railing fairly pounced upon it.
"write directions here," advised the card. there was a pencil attached to the railing by a long cord, so scrapper seized the pencil and wrote hastily, "take us to the kingdom of patch."
the foot-path jiggled so frightfully while he wrote 'tis a wonder it could understand the directions at all, but as he let the pencil drop, it turned sharply in its tracks and started racing in the opposite direction, tripping and stumbling in its eagerness to get ahead. by the time they reached the quilty kingdom, the three travellers were so shaken up and down they tumbled off the path in a perfect heap of exhaustion. even scraps, in her imprisoning bag, had nothing at all to say. not satisfied with shaking them nearly to bits, the foot-path gave piecer a playful kick with its forty-ninth foot and then, jumping over a green cotton patch, gaily took its departure. now, ever since morning, the patch-workers had been anxiously awaiting the return of their ministers and, as the two exhausted sovereign seekers rolled through the gates, a great crowd of quilties came hurrying to meet them.
"what have you bagged? who is our ruler? show us the imperial potentate," they cried, clattering their shears and shaking their sewing boxes. seeing that nothing would satisfy them but an immediate sight of the queen, scrapper scrambled wearily to his feet and began fumbling with the strings of the bag.
"will your imperial highness deign to step out?" suggested scrapper, sticking his head cautiously into the bag.
"out!" shrilled scraps, and bouncing up like a jill in the box, gave scrapper a resounding smack on the ear.
"you villain ragman take me back how dare you hurl me in a sack?"
she cried furiously and, whirling upon piecer, boxed his ears as soundly as she had boxed scrapper's. at this the delight of the quilties knew no bounds. they began to cheer and stamp with approval.
"what a fine temper! what a marvelous beauty! she's the queen for us." and raising their shears they shouted altogether, "hurrah for the queen of the quilties!"
"try to act like a queen, can't you?" puffed scrapper, seizing the agitated patchwork girl by the arm.
"you're making a great hit!" whispered piecer persuasively. "give me your name, maiden, so i can announce it to your subjects." by this time scraps had recovered enough to look around and what she saw interested her greatly. the gaudy quilty kingdom, with its gay cotton patches, the quilties themselves, in their oddly patched clothes, seemed as beautiful to scraps as she seemed to them.
"what do you mean? am i a queen?" she demanded, rolling her suspender button eyes from side to side. the prime ministers of patch nodded and, as they did, two quilties, with a huge patchwork arm chair on wheels, pushed their way through the crowd.
"quick, now, your name," begged piecer. when scraps, in an excited whisper, imparted the information, he cried in a loud voice: "hats off to her patchesty! three cheers for queen scraps of patch!"
the cheers were given with a will and, as piecer grandly handed the patchwork girl into the royal rolling chair, the excited quilties fairly pelted her with patches, tomato pin-cushions and hard spools of cotton. luckily scraps is a stuffed person, with no feeling at all, otherwise she might have been hurt by these flying missiles. as it was, she sat back grandly, bowing now to the left, now to the right and feeling more important than she had ever felt in her whole cotton career. when they reached the patched palace, two quilty boys were waiting on the steps, one with the coronet and the other with the crown jewels and, amid the further cheers of the populace, scraps was crowned queen of the kingdom and led triumphantly into her castle. the crown was a round sewing basket, the crown jewels a string of old spools, but scarcely noticing the odd character of her royal regalia, scraps strutted proudly up and down the shabby hall of the palace, rehearsing grand speeches and queenly gestures. as for scrapper and piecer--too weary to bother about supper or bed--they immediately locked all the windows and doors and fell into a heavy slumber on a hall bench.
hungry from their long fast, for they had eaten nothing the day before, and wearied by their long quest, the two quilty statesmen arose early next morning. "high time to instruct her highness in the duties of her office," yawned scrapper, ruffling up his hair.
"i hope she has breakfast ready," muttered piecer, groaning a little as he straightened his knees and stretched out his arms. "and i hope this queen lasts a long time, scrapper, for another day like yesterday would be the end of me. come on, let's see what she's doing."
not requiring any sleep, scraps had spent the first half of the night wondering how she had come to be queen. then, giving it up, she spent the other half dancing and singing and composing long speeches to deliver to her subjects. as piecer and scrapper stepped into the main hall of the palace, she was arranging her yarn hair before a long mirror. catching sight of them in the glass, she spun gaily round and clapping her crown on sideways cried haughtily:
"vassals, fetch my rolling chair your queen desires to take the air!"
"stuff and nonsense!" sputtered scrapper, amazed at the patchwork girl's audacious verse. "don't you know the coronation is over and it's time to get to work?"
"work?" shrilled scraps, catching hold of a patched portiere to steady herself. "queens are not supposed to work. where are the servants?"
"there are no servants," answered scrapper calmly. "the queen does all the work here. just read off the list of her majesty's duties, piecer, old fellow."
putting on his specs, piecer drew a long sheet of paper from his patched pocket and began: "the queen of patch, on arising, shall prepare the breakfast of her two chief advisers (meaning us)," explained piecer, looking severely at the patchwork girl over his spectacles. "she shall make the beds," he continued complacently, his voice growing higher with each item, "sweep the floors, dust the furniture, scrub the steps, wash the windows, sort the patches, count the cotton spools, separate the old clothes for mending, feed the scissor bird, help pick tomato pin-cushions, scold the patch-workers--and--"
"stop!" commanded scraps, flinging up her arm imperiously.
"but i'm not nearly finished," objected piecer, rattling the paper impatiently.
"well, i am!" the patchwork girl's suspender buttons glittered angrily behind the steel spectacles. "get some one else to be your sovereign," she cried. "you don't want a queen, you want a cook, a housekeeper and a grandma!" snatching the work basket from her head, she dashed it to the floor and jumping on it with both feet shouted defiantly:
"eeejee, weejee, squeejee, squb! i will not sweep, i will not scrub! i will not scrub! i will not dust! so let those dust and scrub who must!"
"better save your strength for your work," advised piecer, stepping back a few paces. "you're chief scrapper," he whispered hurriedly to his companion. "you settle her while i fetch the scissor bird."
as the door slammed upon piecer, the chief scrapper faced the patchwork girl. "go on, get as mad as you please," he urged cheerfully. "the madder you are the better we like you. the crosser you grow the better queen you'll make for patch, our queens must be good scolders," he chuckled, rubbing his hands gleefully together.
"i'm not your queen," screamed scraps, stamping one foot and then the other. "take me back to the emerald city, you miserable ragamuffin. i am a free subject of ozma of oz."
"oh, no! you're queen of patch, now," corrected scrapper, picking up the waste basket and jamming it down upon her cotton forehead. "you were chosen by the royal spool of succession to be our ruler!"
while scraps listened in amazement, he explained how the former queen had gone to pieces and how the golden spool had led them to the emerald city.
"and you think, just because your silly spool tagged me, that i'm going to stay and do all your work?" exclaimed scraps, snapping her cotton fingers under scrapper's nose. "kazupp-kazick, you make me sick!" rushing to the door, she jerked it open, bumped against piecer, on his way in, and sat down with a thud.
"what a pretty creature," chirped the scissor bird, who had flown over piecer's head. "is this the new queen?"
scrapper nodded.
"she knows almost as many cross words as the last one," he chuckled admiringly. "but she refuses to work."
"oh, i think she'll work now," smiled piecer. with a significant wink at his companion, he thrust a broom into scraps' hands and, turning to the scissor bird, said quietly: "if her majesty refuses to clean the castle, just cut off her head!"
"nothing would give me more pleasure," chortled the bird, and snapping his scissor bill hungrily, he swooped down upon scraps and snipped an inch off her yarn hair.
"help!" screamed the patchwork girl. "help! help!" but there was no one to help her and, as the scissor bird took another snip at her yarn, she seized the broom and fell to sweeping for dear life.
"when you finish sweeping, you may wash the windows," said the chief scrapper and, taking the arm of the prime piecer, passed pompously out into the garden. all day, pursued relentlessly by the scissor bird, scraps flew from one task to another. being made of cotton she did not grow tired, but as she had never in her whole life done anything she did not wish to do, you can imagine how furiously angry she became.
"wait till ozma hears of this!" she raged, shaking her scrubbing brush under the scissor bird's bill. "just wait!"
"i'll wait!" yawned the scissor bird, "but you'll have to wait too, and while we're waiting suppose you go on with the scrubbing."
poor scraps, she could have wept with anger, but she had not been constructed for crying and having not a tear in her cotton constitution was forced to express her indignation in groans, shouts and threatening verses. to these the scissor bird paid no attention whatsoever and by night-fall scraps had not even energy enough to make verses. after complaining bitterly about their dinner, and it must be confessed that scraps, having had no experience, proved a poor cook, the two quiltie ministers locked her securely in the palace sitting-room and went off to tell their fellow townsmen about the emerald city. they took the scissor bird with them and, left to her own devices at last, the patchwork girl sank into a broken chair and began to rock to and fro.
"no wonder the queens go to pieces so fast," groaned scraps, anxiously examining a rip in her cotton finger. she had caught it on a nail while scrubbing the castle steps.
"kazupp kazoo, what shall i do? stay here and go to pieces, too? never!"
springing up, she took the candle the quilties had placed on the center table and ran from one window to the other. but the windows were all locked and barred and, after rattling the door knobs and pounding on the walls, she sat dejectedly down in the rocking chair again. there was nothing in the room to amuse her. all the books in the bookcase were needle-books, all the cushions were pin-cushions and the wall was simply covered with cross stitched mottoes.
"a stitch in time saves nine!" sniffed scraps, scornfully reading the one nearest her. "well, who wants to save nine? why should nine be saved any more than six or seven?"
there was no one to argue it with, so after a little silence she murmured: "i wonder what's in that chest?" except for a few rickety chairs and the sewing-table, the chest was the only other piece of furniture in the room. taking the candle, scraps walked over to the chest, and dropping on her knees, cautiously lifted the lid. at first she thought it was empty, but, as three or four drops of hot candle grease dripped inside, a low growl rumbled out of the darkness. in some alarm scraps jumped back.
"go away!" roared a gruff voice. "do your own scolding, i'm sleepy! shut that lid, i tell you!"
"shut it yourself!" cried the patchwork girl, who was extremely tired of being ordered about. besides she was a little frightened. at this, there was a short pause, followed by a surprised grunt, and presently a rumpled head appeared above the edge of the chest. it was a small brown bear. blinking at scraps, it grumbled crossly, "where's the queen? who in scratch are you?"
"i'm the queen, who in patch are you?" answered the patchwork girl saucily. the bear regarded her attentively for some time before he answered. then putting his head on one side he explained calmly, "why, i'm a pet of the late queen cross patch. has she gone to pieces?"
scraps nodded. "i don't see why she wanted a bear for a pet," she added frankly.
"you look bright, but i'm afraid you're quite dumb," sniffed the bear, climbing out of the chest. "why shouldn't she have a bear for a pet? isn't a bear about the crossest pet one could find? i helped cross patch with the grumbling and growling when she was tired. i'll help you if you wish, though it will be a little harder. just looking at you makes me want to laugh."
"well, why don't you?" asked scraps, seating herself in the rocker again.
"sh--hh! do you want me to lose my position?" breathed the little bear, looking around anxiously. "i mustn't laugh. don't you know a bear is supposed to be cross? you have to be pretty cross to keep your place in this country!"
"well, i don't intend to stay in this country," announced scraps, rocking vigorously backward and forward. "i was kidnapped and crowned queen against my will and i intend to run away as soon as i can. princess ozma may send for me any minute, too. all she has to do is to look in the magic picture." this was quite true, for in ozma's palace hangs an enchanted picture, showing a country landscape. if the little fairy ruler wishes to locate any of her subjects, she has but to command them to appear and the magic picture immediately shows where they are and what they are doing. all of this, and a bit about ozma and the emerald city, scraps explained to the cross little bear and he listened most earnestly, wiggling his buttony nose with interest.
"what's your name?" asked scraps presently.
"grumpy!" answered the bear gruffly. "what's yours?"
"scraps!" said the patchwork girl, kicking her heels against the rocker.
now, one of the delightful things about oz is that all the animals and birds can talk; and as talk of any kind interested scraps she began to feel quite cheerful and like herself.
"you mean queen scraps," corrected the little bear, eyeing the work-basket on her head with great respect.
"not if i can help it!" cried the patchwork girl, springing out of her seat and rattling the crown jewels defiantly. "the country is all right, but who ever heard of a queen doing all the work? it's ridiculous."
"queen cross patch liked to work," muttered grumpy. then, sitting down thoughtlessly on a pin-cushion, he arose with a loud roar.
"well, i don't," said scraps, while grumpy, growling furiously, pulled two needles from his fur. "so i hope ozma looks in the magic picture soon, but whether she does or not i shall run off first chance i get--
"back to the city of sun and song, back to the city where i belong!"
"it'll be a long time before they let you," observed grumpy thoughtfully, "and if you try to escape the scissor bird will cut off your head. what would you do then?"
"have it sewed on again," declared scraps stoutly, but she shivered a little at the prospect and in a slightly shaky voice inquired, "don't you know any games or riddles? no one's around now and we might as well have some fun."
grumpy shook his head, then brightening up a little he slid out of his chair. "cross patch and i always cuffed each other a bit after dinner," he said casually.
"cuffed each other!" gasped scraps. "what for?"
"for practice," explained grumpy solemnly. "you have no idea how many new cross words we learned that way. it's simply astonishing what cross words you can think of when someone thumps you on the ear. come on--let's try it. you'll need to know a lot of cross words." drawing back his fuzzy arm, grumpy gave the patchwork girl a cuff that sent her flying into the corner.
"what a pleasant pastime!" puffed scraps, picking herself up with a flounce. "do you call that fun?" she demanded, shaking the dust scornfully out of her skirts.
"well, what do you want to do then?" mumbled the little bear sullenly. "that's the only game i know. say, someone's at the door! listen!"
someone certainly was. first, the bell rang long and clangingly. then came such a series of thumps, kicks and slams that all the cross stitched mottoes fell sideways.
"oh!" shrilled the patchwork girl, flinging up her arms joyously, "i know. ozma has sent someone to rescue me. come on grumpy, we'll let them in."
"how do you know it's rescuers?" shivered the little bear anxiously. "they sound like robbers to me!"
"get out!" cried scraps, running over to the door.
"we can't get out," grumpy reminded her patiently, "for we're locked in good and tight."
"that's so," sighed the patchwork girl, pressing her cotton nose to the window bars. "they'll have to break down the door."
"sounds as if they had," sputtered the little bear, as a terrible crash sounded from the hallway. "here they come!" jumping head first into the chest grumpy pulled down the lid.
"nothing at all ever happens here," exclaimed peter, digging his hands deep into his pockets and staring discontentedly out of the window.
"there's a balloon man on the corner," chuckled his grandfather, who was standing just behind peter. "go buy yourself a balloon." with another chuckle he dropped a quarter into peter's hand and went back to his evening paper.
"i'm too old for balloons," said peter with great disgust. "i should think you'd know that, grandfather."
"then buy me one," laughed the old gentleman, winking provokingly. there was no use arguing with a person like that, so peter, fully intending to buy some marbles and a double nut sundae, ran out of the house.
peter's home was in philadelphia, facing on a large public square and the balloon man, his boisterous wares nearly tugging him off his feet, stood on the corner nearest peter. there was something mysterious about the man. his face was dark and merry and his long pointed beard and slouch hat gave him the appearance of a merchant from some far country, so that in spite of himself peter stopped.
"a balloon, young gentleman?" inquired the dealer, bowing politely to the little boy. "what do you say to this one?" separating a bright green one from the bunch, he held it out invitingly.
"how much?" asked peter doubtfully. he liked being called a young gentleman, and the more he looked at the green balloon, the more it fascinated him. the balloon man had already seen the quarter in peter's hand and quickly stating that twenty-five cents was the price, he thrust the balloon upon peter and pocketed his quarter, all so quickly the little boy fairly gasped. why, he had not even made up his mind to buy, and yet here he was with the green balloon and there was the man with his quarter. uncertainly, peter stood staring at the balloon man.
"it's a bird!" whispered the merchant, leaning forward to touch the balloon lovingly with the tips of his fingers. "ah-h-h!" as the balloon man said "ah!" a crowd of peter's friends turned the corner and not wishing them to catch him with anything so babyish as a balloon, peter started to run across the square. and never had peter run so easily. each step took him four or five paces ahead, and when he found himself bounding entirely over the fountain in the center of the square, he wisely decided to stop running. so he did, but it made no difference. his legs stopped moving, to be sure, but peter himself shot upward, soaring lightly as a feather over tree tops, house tops, huge buildings and church steeples. not until the tall figure of william penn, on the town hall, faded into the merest dot, did peter remember the balloon man's words.
"why, it is a bird," murmured the startled boy, blinking at the comical creature above him. the stem of the balloon to which he clung had turned to a strong stiff leg, while the balloon itself had expanded into a plump, green balloon bird. it careened through the air without any motion of wings or body and for a while, peter, hanging to its leg, was too frightened to open his mouth. the city had disappeared long ago and, as they pushed up toward the clouds, peter, regaining a little of his courage, gave the bird's leg a sharp pull. "stop!" shouted peter in as commanding a voice as he could muster.
"stop yourself," retorted the balloon bird sharply, and the words came in tiny explosions like the pop pop of an air gun. "do you think i enjoy having my leg pulled?" it chirped indignantly.
"but where are we going?" cried peter anxiously.
"balloon island!" popped the bird, bending its head to get a better view of the little boy. "hold tight, for if you let go, you'll probably puncture yourself on a steeple."
peter had been thinking this very thing himself. "you are a present to queen luna from sandaroo," continued the bird calmly. "she needed an airrend boy, so sandaroo sent you."
"the balloon man?" gasped peter, scarcely believing his ears.
"he's not a balloon man," replied the bird disdainfully. "he's lord high bouncer of balloona. you were picked for airrend boy," he continued placidly, "because you look strong and stout and because the balloon boys on the island are always puncturing themselves or exploding. did you ever explode?" asked the bird severely.
"people don't explode," answered the little boy scornfully, "and i'm not going to be an errand boy for a lot of balloonatics either," he shouted angrily. "you'd better let me go or i'll tell my grandfather on you."
"let go if you want to," said the bird carelessly. "you're holding on to me aren't you?" this was only too true, and after one dizzy look downward, peter tightened his clutch on the balloon bird's leg and wondered desperately what to do. "you must tread lightly when we land on the island," warned the balloon bird, after a short silence, during which they covered miles of air, "but i daresay it will be all right after you are blown up."
"blown up," coughed peter, "why, what do you mean?"
"well, you wouldn't do as you are," murmured the bird, rolling its eyes disapprovingly down at the little boy, "so the queen has a splendid plan. she will cut a tiny hole in your back and then have you blown up till you can float as easily as we do. oh, you'll enjoy floating," promised the balloon bird, diving through a moist cloud bank.
peter doubted that he would enjoy floating, he doubted it very much, and the more he thought about being blown up and the hole that was to be cut in his back the more dreadfully uneasy he became. his arms ached from the long swing through the air and, as the balloon bird plunged through a particularly black cloud, peter took a long breath and let go.
"maybe ... i'll land ... on ... something ... soft!" panted peter, as he turned over and over and then dropped straight downward. "anyway, it won't be any worse than being cut and blown up." he had fallen several miles by this time and it was so confusing, tumbling through clouds and air-ways, and the wind made such a frightful whistling in his ears, he finally gave up thinking altogether and closed his eyes.
splash! with a terrific slap, peter struck the surface of a shining blue ocean, the force of his fall carrying him to the very bottom, where he bumped his head severely on a clam shell. dazed and choking, peter rose to the surface and almost mechanically began to swim. after several strokes, he shook the water from his eyes and looked around him. then he gave a little exclamation of excitement and relief. not more than twenty paces off lay a small, straggly looking island.
"well, this is better than being blown up," gulped peter, heading straight for the island. "maybe some fishermen live here and maybe some boats pass. gee whillikens, won't grandfather be surprised when he hears about this, though!"
immensely cheered, peter cut swiftly through the choppy blue waves, and the water was soon shallow enough for him to wade ashore. the island was not much larger than the public square at home. a few sea gulls circled aimlessly overhead, but so far as peter could see there were no people or houses. first he walked completely round the island, then, feeling rather depressed, started across. the soil was poor and rocky and there were only about a dozen trees altogether. when he had come to the top of a small hill, peter sank down on a heap of rocks and began to wring the water from his coat. how long he sat there wondering what he should eat, how he should endure the loneliness or ever find his way back to philadelphia, peter never knew. but he suddenly became aware of a rattle and rumble below and out from the opposite side of the rock heap sprang a perfectly furious little man. he was gray as the rocks himself, and his long, wispy white hair and beard blew and snapped in the wind.
"get off my chimney, idiot!" screamed the old gentleman, dancing wrathfully up and down. "can't you see you're filling my cave with smoke?"
stopping right in the middle of his dance, he glared long and searchingly at the little boy. then, bursting into loud sobs, he began to hop 'round and 'round on one leg, wiping his tears on his whiskers and fairly sizzling with indignation.
"to think!" he shouted, raising his arms to the heavens, "to think, that after five years of loneliness a miserable mortal should fall on this island! why couldn't it have been a gnome or a witch or somebody real and interesting. i hate children," shrieked the angry little fellow, stamping his curly foot at peter.
peter had been so startled by the sudden appearance of the old gentleman and then so surprised at his curious actions that he had said nothing at all. but now he jumped angrily off the rock heap. "he's no bigger than i am," thought peter courageously, "and he needn't think he can talk to me like that. is this your island?" he asked stiffly.
"of course it's my island!" spluttered the little man. "go away, i hate children."
"well, i can't help that," answered peter. "besides, i'm not a child. i'm nine years old and in the fifth-b."
"i don't care what you're in," shrilled the little islander. "you're in my way now, and if i had my magic belt i'd turn you to a potato and mash you for supper. don't you know i'm a king?" he squealed, thumping himself three times upon the chest.
"well, you don't act like one," answered peter, in disgust. "if you are the king of this island i wish you'd give me some supper and a place to sleep."
"king of this island!" screamed the angry little man. "i'm ruggedo, the rough, the one and only metal monarch and ruler over five hundred thousand gnomes besides."
"gnomes!" murmured peter, pushing back his cap. he had read about these underground elves, who mine all the precious stones in and out of the world, but he had never really believed in them.
"yes, gnomes!" boasted the little grey gentleman, marching proudly up and down.
"where are they?" inquired peter, a little anxiously. for, thought peter to himself, if they are all as cross and tempery as this one, life on the island is going to be very unpleasant and dangerous.
"you stand there and ask me that," howled the gnome king furiously. "don't you know i've been banished from my kingdom for years and made a prisoner on this ridiculous little island, just because i tried to get back my magic belt from ozma of oz? don't you know it was a miserable child who stole it in the first place. i hate children," repeated the gnome king, clutching his hair with both hands and snapping his wicked little eyes at peter.
"if you've been here all that time by yourself i should think you'd be glad to have someone to talk to," ventured the little boy, seating himself carefully on a rock. "i read a book about oz once," he went on in an interested voice, "but i didn't know it was really true. is ozma still queen and does dorothy still live in the emerald city?"
"dorothy's the girl who stole my belt," sputtered ruggedo, for it was the gnome king. "if you have read about dorothy, you must know about me."
"you weren't in the book i read," explained peter patiently, "but if you know dorothy and ozma, they must be real and if we are near oz, maybe you can tell me how to get there?"
"if i knew do you suppose i'd be here?" yelled ruggedo. picking up a rock, he flung it at peter's head and rushed violently into his cavern. peter dodged the rock and, almost wishing he had stuck with the balloon bird, stared dejectedly out to sea. the sun was sinking in the west and the prospect of a long stay on the barren island with the dreadful little gnome king was not at all cheering.
"i'll probably starve to death," sighed peter, kicking gloomily at a stone. then, remembering some string in his pocket, he pulled it out and, fastening a small piece of wire on the string, started toward the beach with the intention of catching a few fish for his dinner. halfway there, he came to a small sluggish stream and, casting his line into its muddy waters, sat down to wait for a bite. he had no matches but thought maybe if he caught a few fish and offered ruggedo one he might allow him to cook over his fire.
now ruggedo had fully intended to stay in his cave and not speak another word to peter, but finally his curiosity got the best of him. after you have been all alone for five years, even a creature you despise is better than no one at all, so presently he came stalking out again. peter had in the meantime decided to be as polite as possible to the old gnome, for no one could help him. therefore, as ruggedo approached, puffing away at a short clay pipe, he waved to him quite cheerfully.
"don't wave at me," wheezed ruggedo, taking his pipe out of his mouth and frowning darkly. "i'm a king, i am!"
"oh, what difference does that make?" said peter impatiently. "we're both stranded, aren't we? let's stop quarreling and try to find a way off the island. don't boats ever stop here and how far away is this land of oz, anyway?"
"boats!" scoffed the gnome king, "i've been here five years and not one boat has passed. as for oz, you are in the very middle of the nonestic ocean and about as far from oz as you could possibly be."
"you mean to say you've been here five years?" gasped peter incredulously, "and nothing has happened in all that time?"
"nothing--but you," answered the gnome king.
"well, you needn't think i'm going to stay that long," blustered peter, jerking at his fish line in great agitation. "i'll build a boat, or a raft or something."
taking his pipe from his mouth, the old gnome looked at peter almost respectfully. he had often thought of building a raft himself but, being a king and naturally quite unskillful and lazy, he had never really gotten down to it.
"if you help me off this island," he puffed after a short pause, "i'll make you the richest boy in the world."
"humph!" grunted peter, not much impressed by the old gnome's promises. just then, his line gave a tug and he was pulling it up quite joyfully when ruggedo seized his arm.
"look!" shuddered the gnome, pointing a trembling finger out to sea. not far from the island, the waters of the nonestic ocean were boiling and churning in a terrifying manner. as peter jumped to his feet, the waves arose in a mighty green wall and, with a deafening roar, came crashing downward.
flung flat upon their faces by the terrific shock, it was some time before either ruggedo or peter had the courage to look up. then peter, rubbing the sand and dust from his eyes, raised his head and stared fearfully out to sea. what he saw made him blink with astonishment. the sea had turned itself upside down and on top of the waves, and almost touching ruggedo's island, lay a long gleaming stretch of sea bottom.
crystal caverns and sea grottos, coral walls and castles glittered and shimmered in the last rays of the setting sun and, rushing toward the edges of the strange morass was every sort of sea creature peter ever had imagined. giant fish wallowed desperately toward the sides and hurled themselves back into the water. peter rubbed his eyes again to be sure he was not dreaming and, as a golden haired mermaid plunged boldly from the window of a coral castle, he made a grab for ruggedo. but ruggedo was already on his crooked little legs.
"come on! come on!" wheezed the old gnome king frantically. "can't you see it's a way off the island?"
in a daze, peter ran after him and jumped across the small stretch of water separating their island from the mysterious sea country. it extended as far ahead as they could see.
"hurry! hurry!" urged ruggedo, stumbling over slippery rocks and pausing every few moments to disentangle himself from the oozy arms of some clutching sea plant. "it may go straight to the shores of ev!" panted the gnome, giving no attention to the frightful sea monsters who were rushing past him in an effort to fling themselves back into the water. "come on! come on!"
shuddering a little, as he collided with an octopus, peter came. now they were wading knee deep in green slime, with lobsters, crabs, turtles, jiggers and jelly fish squirming and wiggling uncomfortably against their legs.
peter wanted to stop at the first coral castle, but ruggedo ran scornfully past. an old merman, sitting sadly on the top step, reminded peter of his grandfather. he wanted to stop and sympathize with the old gentleman, but fearing to be left alone in so scaresome and strange a country, he hurried after the gnome king. then peter saw that which made all else fade from his mind. it was the battered hulk of an old ship, resting against the side of a green sea cavern. it was overgrown with sea moss and barnacles, but the name, in raised letters of pure gold, was still visible.
"blunderoo!" breathed peter softly. then snatching at ruggedo's coat-tails forced him to stop.
"let's go aboard!" puffed peter. "i'll bet we'll find all sorts of useful things. oh jimminee! look! it's a pirate ship!"
peter pointed to the gold skull and cross bones below the ship's name, his voice trembling with eagerness. even ruggedo's eyes began to snap and sparkle with excitement.
"that would mean treasure chests," muttered the old gnome greedily. there was a rusty chain ladder hanging over the ship's side and, seizing the lowest rung, peter swung himself up and in less than no time had reached the ship's deck. how long it had lain at the bottom of the sea was hard to say, but the planks were water soaked and rotten and everything was crumbling with rust and decay. as the gnome king dropped down beside peter, a thunderous explosion shook the boards beneath their feet.
"another one!" roared ruggedo, clapping his hands over his ears.
"another what?" shouted peter, who was not quite sure what had happened in the first place.
"sea quake!" quavered the gnome, cowering back against the ship's cabin. and ruggedo was right. for a moment longer the strange stretch of sea bed quivered on the surface of the waves. then, with a splash, grind and rumble, it went crashing back to the bottom and the hungry waves of the nonestic ocean tossed and tumbled over the place where it had been.
now the same terrific shock that hurled the sea land back to the depths of the ocean dislodged the crumbling old pirate wreck and hurled it high into the air. with a shattering smack it smote the churning waters, rocked violently backward and forward, finally righting itself.
"well, i'll be scuppered!" letting go of the ring in the cabin door to which he had clung during the whole excitement, ruggedo slid down to a sitting position on the deck. peter, with one arm hooked about the ship's railing, was so surprised to find himself alive that he did not speak for several moments.
"well!" he coughed finally, "at least we have a boat!"
"if we hadn't come aboard we'd have been at the bottom of the sea by this time," shuddered ruggedo, as peter sank down beside him. "i believe you've brought me good luck, boy, and when i reach my kingdom i'll make you general of all my armies."
"thanks," murmured peter, smiling faintly, "but i'll have to be getting back to philadelphia. my grandfather will be worried, besides i'm captain of our baseball team and there's a big game on soon."
"would you rather be captain of a baseball team than an army?" asked ruggedo, staring at the little boy in real amazement. he didn't know just what a baseball team was, but felt that it could not compare with his army of gnomes.
"of course," answered peter, in a matter of fact voice, "but if we're going to get anywhere we'll have to steer the ship." the sun had sunk down into the sea by this time and it was growing darker and darker. stepping carefully along the rail, for the ship was still plunging and pitching terribly, peter made a careful survey. but the rudder was gone, the masts crumbled to mere stumps and not a vestige of the sails remained.
"we'll have to drift," called peter resignedly. scarcely hearing him, the old gnome nodded. already a hundred plans were skimming through his wicked little head--plans to reinstate himself as metal monarch, revenge himself upon ozma and dorothy and destroy once and for all the emerald city of oz. the tides of the nonestic ocean were very strong, and he felt that sooner or later they would be carried to the shores of ev, under the surface of which lay his own vast dominions. directly across the deadly desert from ev, lay oz, and when he reached his own kingdom some means of crossing the desert would have to be devised.
while ruggedo was planning all this, peter was busily exploring the ship. he would have liked to descend into the hold of the pirate vessel, but it was already too dark to venture down, and as he was very hungry, he began to look around for something to eat. fortunately the decks were still full of wiggling sea creatures that had failed to get back in the water after the sea quake. peter threw most of them overboard, keeping only three tiny fish for his dinner. these he killed, cleaned and scaled with his pocket knife and, borrowing ruggedo's pipe which quite miraculously had stayed lit, kindled a small fire in an iron pot and broiled them most satisfactorily.
ruggedo refused to share peter's dinner, crunching up instead a handful of pebbles he had in his pocket. as the moon rose the sea grew calmer and, riding up and down the silvered waves, the strange ship mates sat conversing together. delighted to be off the lonely island, impressed by peter's enterprise and spirit, ruggedo had grown almost friendly. he listened quite pleasantly, while peter told how the balloon bird had carried him off and then in his turn related a bit of his own history. he first explained to the little boy how dorothy had captured his magic belt, which seemed to be his most treasured possession, and how she had given it to ozma. pulling away at his pipe, he spoke of his many efforts to recover his property, but always, it seemed, through no fault of his own, he had been defeated. after his last attempt he related how ozma had banished him to the lonely island where peter had found him.
"well, why bother with the belt?" asked peter, a little sleepily, as the gnome paused to knock the ashes from his pipe. "if you have all the riches you say you have, and are ruler over five hundred thousand gnomes, why do you need this belt?"
"because it is my most magic possession," explained ruggedo impatiently. "with the magic belt one can change people into any shape or form whatsoever and transport them where one desires. and don't you see that so long as ozma has this belt, i am in her power?"
"i suppose so," yawned peter, but he couldn't help reflecting, from what he had read of ozma and what he already knew of ruggedo, that the magic belt was far safer with the little fairy ruler of oz.
"why did dorothy take it from you in the first place?" he inquired drowsily.
"just because i wanted to transform her and a few of those useless oz people into ornaments for my palace," complained ruggedo in a grieved voice.
"oh!" murmured peter and, chuckling a little to himself, curled into a more comfortable position. the deck was hard and wet, but peter, thinking over the strange events of the day, did not even notice. up to now, he had believed in the usual things of life, like grandfathers, school, baseball, circuses, vacations in summer, plenty of friends and fun. to suddenly be confronted by balloon birds, gnomes, fairy kingdoms and sea quakes was terribly confusing. peter tried his best to figure it all out but, lulled by the motion of the ship and the monotonous drone of ruggedo's voice, he finally fell into a deep slumber.
when peter awakened, the sun was already high in the heavens and the sea a glittering, dancing expanse of blue. stretching his arms joyously, peter bounded to his feet, not even minding the little stiffness he felt from his long sleep on deck. the ship was rolling along comfortably with the current, and ruggedo was nowhere in sight. tiptoeing over to the cabin, peter peered in the window, but he was not there.
"he's gone below, i guess," decided peter, and started down the broken ladder that led into the ship's hold. the port holes, still overgrown with moss and sea weed, let in only a dim, green light but, even so, peter could see that the walls were hung with rusty swords and muskets, while all about the sides stood old iron sea chests and boxes and rotting sacks, spilling out their gleaming contents of gold and silver coins. before the largest sea chest, crouched the old gnome king. he was crooning happily to himself and running his fingers through the sparkling jewels that filled the chest to the very top.
"well!" exclaimed peter, pausing with both hands on his hips, "this is a find!"
"i found it first! i found it first!" babbled ruggedo. "they're mine, peter, all mine! you may have the gold pieces," he finished jealously. disgusted with the greedy old gnome, peter shrugged his shoulders. the gold pieces seemed more desirable any way. giving no further attention to ruggedo, he sank down before one of the bulging sacks and began planning what he should do with his treasure. first, he would build a splendid club house for the team, with hot and cold showers, and next he would buy himself and the gang motorcycles, ponies and canoes! his grandfather should have a new automobile and twenty-five pair of specs, so he'd always have one pair handy. after that--
clasping his knees and fixing his eyes dreamily upon the beamed ceiling, peter fell into such pleasant reveries that it was nearly 10 o'clock before he so much as thought of breakfast. then he suddenly realized he was dreadfully thirsty and went hurrying up the ladder in search of water and provisions. "i hope there are some left," muttered peter anxiously, "something in tins or bottles that the salt water hasn't got into."
the cabin was a mass of wreckage but opening from that was a small narrow pantry that had evidently been the ship's galley. the shelves had rotted and fallen to the floor. sand and shells sifted back and forth with the motion of the boat, but in the darkest corner peter found a heap of casks and tins. seizing one of the square boxes and a cask, peter raced out on deck and after some trouble managed to uncork the strangely shaped vessel.
ah! water! sparkling, cold and clear! peter almost emptied the cask, then, knocking open a box with a piece of wreckage, he found it full of hard, salty ship's biscuits. smiling to think how long this breakfast had been waiting for him, peter ate heartily, for when you are hungry even a stale biscuit tastes delicious. satisfied at last, he took the biscuits and cask below.
without even a "thank you," ruggedo gulped down the water and gobbled up the biscuits, which were hard enough to suit even him. then, wiping his mouth upon his ragged sleeve, he fell to fingering the pirate's jewels again, bending as lovingly over the sea chest as a mother bends over a cradle. after several unsuccessful attempts to draw ruggedo into a conversation, peter gave up and went poking around the great dim interior to see what else he could find. shreds that were once the pirates' coats clung to the nails on the wall and below one of these nails peter picked up a small metal bound book. water had blurred all the first pages but, carrying it up to the light, peter found the last page quite legible. it was the pirate chief's diary and, thrilled to his last bone, peter pored over the pirate's final entry.
"i, polacky, the plunderer," said the thin, angular writing, "did this day capture the island of ashangabad, taking from the islanders ten chests of gold, three bags of silver, the crown and jewels of state, together with the magic casket of soob, the sorcerer. the treasure will i divide, but the magic appliances hold for myself in case of mutiny or capture."
as he read, peter could almost see the swaggering old pirate chief and his men swarming over the strangely named and defenseless little island. there were some further remarks about the winds and tides, but what interested peter was the magic casket. "i do wonder what he did with it?" mused the little boy. "maybe there might be some magic in it that would take me back to philadelphia." deciding to say nothing of his discovery to ruggedo, peter went below and began a systematic search, poking behind the great chests and bags and tapping on the dank walls for secret cupboards or hollow boards. he had completely circled the treasure room without any success, and was standing on the spot where he picked up the diary, before he made any progress at all. then, looking down, he noticed that the plank beneath his feet was raised up higher than the others. it might easily have been swollen out of place by the action of the water but, bending down, peter began to pry at the board. at the second tug it came up altogether, revealing a square, box-like enclosure. in the enclosure lay a small carved casket of jade, a ruby key on top.
forgetting the necessity for caution, peter gave a shriek of excitement and, falling upon his knees before the opening, reached eagerly down for the magic box. to fit the key in the lock and open the casket was the work of but a moment. he was a bit disappointed to find what looked like a package of grey gauze, a small uncut emerald and an ivory box with a few directions on the lid. placing the smaller objects on the floor beside him, peter unrolled the grey package. it proved to be a long, misty cape, and on the collar was a tiny tag stitched in green.
"the flying cloak of invisibility," announced the tag. "renders wearer invisible and takes him wheresoever he desires to go."
with a sharp exclamation of delight, peter arose and was about to fling the magic cloak around him when it was snatched roughly from behind. it was the old gnome king, of course. for several minutes he had been peering over peter's shoulder and had also read the legend on the green tag.
"take me to the emerald city!" shouted ruggedo, wrapping himself in the misty folds of the gray garment. too startled to even try to recover his property, peter stood blinking at the old gnome. but he neither disappeared nor whirled off in a cloud of silver dust, as peter had expected him to do. in fact, nothing happened to him at all.
"what kind of a miserable mumpish magician made this?" stormed ruggedo, dragging off the cloak and holding it up to the light.
"well, you had no business to take it in the first place," burst out peter angrily. "i found the magic casket and the cloak is mine! what good would it have done, any way, if it had carried you to the emerald city?" he continued more calmly. "you would have left all this treasure behind and had no one to help you capture your belt."
"that's so," admitted ruggedo, sitting down with the cloak in his lap. "if i had gone you would have taken all the jewels for yourself."
"you bet i would." folding his arms peter stared sternly down at the mean little gnome. "why can't you play fair?" he demanded indignantly.
"well, weren't you going to fly back to philadelphia and leave me?" asked ruggedo triumphantly. "hah! hah! you're no better than i am. that's why i like you," he finished maliciously.
peter blushed a little at the gnome king's shrewd guess. he had been going to wish himself back to philadelphia, but pretending not to care, he swept up the other treasures from the magic box and put them into his pocket.
"if you keep the cloak, i shall keep these!" he announced firmly, "and i know why the cloak won't work, too!"
"why?" in spite of himself, ruggedo's voice trembled with eagerness.
"oh--because!" smiling provokingly and whistling a careless tune, peter climbed up the ladder. ruggedo was after him in a flash.
"tell me!" begged the gnome in his most coaxing voice. "don't you realize that with the magic cloak i can fly into ozma's palace and recover my belt without being detected. and when i do," he promised earnestly, "i'll transport you immediately back to philadelphia--you and all the gold pieces."
"promise?" ruggedo nodded so vigorously his hair blew backward and forward seven times.
"all right then," agreed peter, leaning against the rail of the blunderoo. "it won't fly because it's torn." holding the cloak up, ruggedo saw that peter was right. there was a large hole in the back and a rent reaching from the collar to the hem.
"huh, my gnomes can soon mend that," boasted ruggedo in relief, "and then let miss ozma of oz look to her crown! i'll fly to the emerald city, steal my belt, and i'll turn her to a canary and clap her into a gold cage. i'll clap them all into cages!" roared ruggedo, beginning to bounce up and down like a rubber ball. "there won't be one emerald left upon the other, when i get through with them. banish me for five years! take away my kingdom! i'll show them!"
forgetting all about peter, the old gnome king stamped, shrieked and threatened till the little boy in disgust retired to the other side of the ship. he could easily have taken the cloak away from ruggedo, but wisely decided to wait. "if we ever do reach this kingdom of his and the cloak is properly mended i'll take it myself, fly to the emerald city and warn ozma that the gnome king is free," resolved peter, staring dreamily at the tumbling blue waves. "and once in the emerald city, ozma will surely send me back to philadelphia with the magic belt." having settled all this to his satisfaction, the little boy pulled out the other possessions of soob, the sorcerer. the emerald was covered with strange markings, but peter could make nothing of them, so he put it back into his pocket and opened the ivory box.
"in case of extreme danger, plant these," advised a pink slip on top of the box. "these" proved to be two onions, or at least they looked like onions. peter had hoped to find something exciting, like a wishing ring, and putting the onions back, he closed the box with a little sigh. then, clasping his hands behind his head, he fell to thinking about the pirates and wondering why there were no bones on board.
"they must have taken to the small boats and escaped when the blunderoo sank," concluded peter and, having disposed of this question, began wondering what his friends in philadelphia were doing. he was sorry indeed to have his grandfather worried by his absence, but could not help feeling a little important at the commotion it must be causing. "they've probably called in the police by now," mused peter, and he hoped that when his grandfather gave his picture to the reporters he would remember to mention that peter was captain of the a. p. baseball team. in fancy, he saw the large headlines in the morning papers when the news of his final return did get out.
"'young philadelphia boy finds treasure ship and saves the emerald city of oz!' that wouldn't be bad," thought peter, and was going over in his mind just how he would describe the sea quake and his other strange adventures when a loud screech from ruggedo called him to the side of the ship.
"land!" shouted the gnome king, with an excited wave toward the west. and it was land. rolling gently in with the tide, the blunderoo was approaching a long shallow beach.
"we'll probably go aground," exclaimed peter, looking anxiously over the side. "it's a good thing the waves are not any larger. what country do you suppose it is, rug?" ruggedo had been staring intently ahead and now jumped at least three feet into the air.
"why, it's ev!" croaked the gnome king, hoarse with delight. "ev! ev! ev! the most beautiful country in the world. my country, peter!"
"looks like a wilderness to me," puffed the little boy, but even peter felt strangely elated and gay. he had not really believed the old gnome's story of his vast dominions, but if this was ev, he must have been telling the truth. "i don't see any castle!" he murmured, leaning far out over the rail.
"underground!" panted ruggedo. "caverns! caves! labyrinths and everything. wait till you see them, peter. you'll never want to go back to philadelphia again. wait!"
every wash and slap of the waves sent the battered old hull of the blunderoo nearer to shore and, at last, with a tired groan, it stuck its nose into the sand and, listing over sideways, came to a creaky stop.
"have you the cloak?" asked peter, one leg already over the rail. ruggedo held up the small gray package, but looked doubtfully at the foaming waves below.
"how are we going to get to the beach?" he frowned uneasily.
"lived here all your life and can't swim?" exclaimed peter. "great goldfish! come on, i'll help you," he added impatiently, as the gnome continued to stare uncertainly down at the water. hurrying down the ladder, peter dropped easily into the sea, and after a good bit of coaxing, ruggedo slipped in after him. taking a firm hold on the gnome's long whiskers and with ruggedo sputtering and sizzling like a hot coal in a dish pan, peter struck out for shore. it was soon shallow enough for them to wade and in exactly three minutes from the time the blunderoo grounded, they stood on the barren shores of ev.
forgetting his discomfort, for gnomes like water about as much as cats, the metal monarch began to run as fast as his crooked legs would carry him toward a group of little hills. looking round without much enthusiasm at the dreary waste of sand and cactus, peter followed more slowly. his only plan was to keep a sharp watch over ruggedo and, as soon as the cloak was repaired, to take it away from him and fly to the emerald city.
"i do hope ozma can transport the treasure to philadelphia with me," sighed peter, quickening his steps as ruggedo disappeared behind a particularly large rock. he half expected the gnome would try to slip away from him but, to tell the truth, ruggedo was more kindly disposed toward peter than toward any mortal he had ever met. he admired peter's courage and felt that his good fortune was largely due to the boy's enterprise and spirit. besides, ruggedo wished to show off his immense dominions and treasure caves, so, as peter rounded the rock, he took his hand and pressed a hidden spring in the crevice. instantly a huge door swung inward and they found themselves in a long, dim tunnel.
"i wonder if kaliko still thinks he is king!" wheezed ruggedo, pattering along ahead of peter. kaliko had been appointed to rule in ruggedo's place and had been promoted from royal chamberlain to king of the gnomes. "ha! ha!" laughed ruggedo maliciously. "he'll be as pleased as a gundersnutch when he sees me back!"
peter answered nothing to this, for he was too interested in the underground world in which he found himself to pay much attention to the old gnome's remarks. as they proceeded, a perfect network of passageways opened from the main tunnel, the sides, walls and ceilings gleaming with sparkling jewels. thousands of gnomes with pick axes were busily at work digging out the gems and they did not even look up as peter and ruggedo passed them. blazing rubies and emeralds set in tall stands lighted up the strange caverns and peter's heart began to pound with excitement as the passageway broadened out into a richly carpeted hallway. presently they found themselves before a grilled golden door with a diamond knob. without pausing, ruggedo turned the knob, opened the door and simply rushed into his former throne room. on a huge round ruby, hollowed out to form a seat, a thin, nervous gnome sat reading a silver sheet about as thick as our morning papers. it was the gnome man's daily, and as peter and ruggedo burst noisily into the royal chamber, he dropped the silver sheet and looked up with an exclamation of alarm.
"you!" gasped kaliko, as if he could not believe his own senses.
"who else?" snickered ruggedo, winking at peter. "i'll thank you for my crown, you robber. take it right off your kalikoko. quick now! hand it over!"
"ozma will never consent to this," stammered kaliko, holding to the crown with both hands.
"ozma has nothing to do with me now," announced ruggedo calmly. "i have magic stronger than ozma's and if you don't hop off that throne, i'll turn you to a ball and bounce you off!"
peter listened in amazement to ruggedo's boasts, but kaliko seemed to believe every word. with quaking knees, he descended the steps of the throne and held out the crown to his former master.
"ha! ha!" roared ruggedo, snatching the crown and clapping it jauntily on the back of his head. "you're enough to make an alligator laugh, kaliko. so brave! so kingly! but don't stand there gibbering like a dunce. if you are no longer king, you are still royal chamberlain, and this is peter, future general of my armies!" tripping merrily up the steps of the throne, ruggedo waved toward the little boy. "we will shortly make a journey to the emerald city," he announced grandly, "but right now we desire refreshment. lunch for two," he commanded, putting his finger tips together and leaning back comfortably. "and, by the way," he added as an afterthought, "there is a pirate ship on the beach. have it unloaded and the treasure stored in the silver grotto. then order me a dozen new suits and send in the royal wizard."
at each command, kaliko bowed meekly, and as ruggedo picked up the ruby scepter lying on the arm of the throne, he ducked and ran out the door, for ruggedo, as a mere matter of habit, had flung the scepter after him.
"a blockhead!" sniffed ruggedo contemptuously, "but didn't i manage him well?"
"he's not very brave," admitted peter, sitting on the edge of the crystal rocking chair, "but how are you going to get along without any magic? suppose the gnomes don't want you back again?"
"one thing at a time! one thing at a time!" beamed ruggedo, in such a fine humor at his unexpected turn of luck, he felt almost pleasant. "let's not worry till we have to, general." peter couldn't help smiling at his new title and, surveying himself in the long mirror, wondered how he would look in a gnome uniform. but at this juncture they were interrupted by the entrance of the royal wizard. he looked frightened and anxious, and peter could see from his manner that the old gnome king was no great favorite with his former subjects.
"well, potaroo!" grinned ruggedo, taking up the pipe kaliko had been smoking, "what have you been inventing in my absence?"
"flying dishes," croaked the magician, looking curiously at peter. "they do away with extra servants, fly backward and forward with the food and wash and dry themselves as well."
"very good!" puffed ruggedo, complacently. "well, here's another little job for you." drawing out the cloak, he handed it down to the wizened old gnome. "just mend this," ordered ruggedo carelessly, "and have it back by three o'clock." spreading the cloak across his knees, potaroo examined it carefully all over. then backing away from the throne he shook his head.
"that, your majesty, is impossible," he muttered uneasily. "this cloak cannot be mended by gnome magic."
"no magic at all?" gasped peter, disappointed beyond words, while ruggedo glared angrily.
"i command you to mend it!" screamed the hot-tempered little king, looking angrily around for something to throw at the wizard.
"that makes no difference," quavered potaroo, backing still farther. "this cloak cannot be mended properly anywhere but in the kingdom of patch."
"and where is patch?" demanded ruggedo, emitting a perfect cloud of pipe smoke.
"in the winkie country of oz, just below the kingdom of ann of oogaboo," exclaimed potaroo, looking longingly over his shoulder at the door.
"very well," snapped ruggedo disagreeably, "you may go, but next time your magic fails to work you'll be turned to a door mat. a door mat, do you understand? hah! hah! a door mat to stand under my feet. see!" ruggedo laughed wickedly, and the poor wizard, mumbling his sorrow, rushed from the throne room.
"rubyation!" blustered ruggedo, as the door closed on potaroo. "now we'll have to go to patch."
"well, isn't that on the way to the emerald city?" inquired peter, very much amused by all that had happened.
"yes," acknowledged ruggedo, "i suppose it is, but here comes lunch! ah! i'm hungry enough to eat a billy goat stuffed with soldier buttons!"
preceded by two gnomes carrying a huge golden tray, kaliko came stepping timidly into the room. ruggedo had the usual gnome fare of ground rocks, pebble pie and muddy coffee; but for peter, kaliko had brought a small steak, fried potatoes and ice cream. after the hard sea biscuit, this tasted perfectly delicious, and peter, not knowing what strange adventures lay ahead, ate every scrap. ruggedo, too, enjoyed his luncheon and amused himself by throwing the dishes at kaliko as he finished with them. peter wondered why the flying dishes were not in use, but feeling sorry for the old wizard decided not to ask.
"you may now pack us up a lunch," announced ruggedo, as he swallowed the last of his coffee. "we're starting for the emerald city almost at once."
"how are you going to cross the desert?" inquired kaliko. angry as he was at the old gnome king, he could not help feeling curious about his plans.
"magic! old cauliflower! magic! how do you suppose i got off the island?" wheezed ruggedo haughtily. "don't stand there stuttering. fetch me a new suit and hurry along with the lunch."
shrugging his thin shoulders, and turning up his eyes, kaliko did as he was told, and in less than an hour peter and the gnome king were wending their way over the rocky hills of ev. ruggedo had the magic cloak tucked carefully under his arm and peter carried a small basket of provisions.
"how are we going to cross this desert?" asked peter, looking with interest down toward the beach where the gnomes were busily at work unloading the treasure from the blunderoo.
"i don't know," confessed ruggedo quite frankly, "but if kaliko had discovered i had not magic enough to cross the desert, he would have roused the gnomes and kicked us out of the kingdom."
"is there no other way to oz?" sighed peter. he was growing a little anxious about ever reaching philadelphia in time for the baseball game.
"nope!" puffed the gnome king, trudging along sturdily. "the deadly desert surrounds the whole country. it's supposed to keep people out of oz," he finished with a malicious wink. "but it has been crossed before and can be crossed again, though i'm sure i don't know how."
the entrance of the gnome king's caverns was quite near the edge of the deadly desert, so it was not long before they reached this dangerous expanse of burning sand and sat down on a boulder to try and devise some means of crossing over.
"can't you think of anything?" snapped ruggedo, as peter sat kicking his heels against the boulder. "if this silly old cloak weren't torn, i'd skim across in no time. a skudge on those pesky pirates anyway! sa--ay?" opening his eyes very wide, ruggedo thrust his face close to peter's. "what else was in that casket?"
"only a couple of onions and an emerald," answered peter listlessly.
"let's see 'em!" bounding off the boulder, the gnome king held out his hand. peter produced the strangely marked stone first.
"command it to carry us across the desert," advised the gnome king, after trying unsuccessfully to decipher the markings on the sorcerer's stone. so peter closed his eyes and commanded the emerald to carry them across the desert. they waited for several minutes, then, when nothing happened, peter opened the ivory box and showed ruggedo the two magic bulbs.
"in case of extreme danger, plant these." ruggedo read these directions with a puzzled frown, then snapping his fingers began to skip with excitement. "why don't you plant 'em?" he squealed impatiently. "plant 'em, general! plant 'em!"
"but we're not in extreme danger," objected peter reasonably enough.
"we're not!" yelled ruggedo, tugging at his beard. "why, boy, you don't know what extreme danger is. we have to cross that desert, don't we? well, just put one foot on that sand and you'll go up like a puff of smoke. don't you call that extreme danger?" peter argued a while longer, then, as ruggedo insisted and there really seemed nothing else to do, he scooped out two holes in the ground at his feet, dropped in the magic roots and covered them with mud and sand. stepping back a few paces, they waited eagerly for what would happen. first came a sharp explosion. then two great green plants burst through the surface of the earth. they were about three times the size of peter and, as he watched, the outer leaves opened downward, disclosing round plush seats within. peter looked questioningly over at ruggedo, but the gnome, being more experienced than peter in magic, had jumped into one plant and seated himself on the plush cushion. a little doubtfully, peter jumped into the other.
"just like an elevator," thought peter, as the bulb grew rapidly upward, shooting higher and higher on its long, pliant stem. "but i don't see what good growing up will do," he muttered, peering giddily out between the green leaves. whether he saw or not, the stem of the bulb continued to grow. clouds flew by with dazzling swiftness. peter was all prepared to bump his head on the ceiling of the sky when the long stem began to arch downward. suppose it broke and dropped him on the burning sands of the deadly desert! with a violent shudder, peter closed his eyes, and as he did, the stem with a final spurt turned the strange elevator in which peter was riding completely upside down, and out fell the little boy, heels over eyebrows.
ruggedo had been served in the same manner but, none the worse for their tumble, they picked themselves up and began looking around. they had fallen in a sunny peach orchard. in the distance they could see the shimmering sand of the dangerous desert, while not far away stood a small, yellow, dome-shaped cottage.
"we'll go there," declared ruggedo, tucking the magic cloak more carefully under his arm. "we'll go there, general, and inquire the way to the kingdom of patch. but remember to say nothing of the plans to capture my belt. we're in the enemy's country now!"
still dazed from the surprising way in which they had crossed the desert, peter looked around him with delight. it did not look like the enemy's country to peter and, picking up a large, luscious peach, he decided then and there that he was going to like the marvelous land of oz.
peter thought that even the wizard of oz, himself, would be interested in the wonderful elevator plants, and decided to tell him all about them when he got to the emerald city.
as they walked up the neat pebble path to the little yellow house, peter tried to remember all he had read about oz and its curious inhabitants. but nothing he had read prepared him for the next happening. in answer to their knock, the door simply burst open and out came a hand and foot without any body at all. the hand seized peter's hand, shook it warmly and drew him into the house. the foot gave ruggedo such a kick, he went flying into a gooseberry bush. drawn by the hand into a cozy sitting room, peter stood trembling with uneasiness. in a comfortable chair, smoking a pipe, sat the owner of the cottage, also the owner of the hand and foot, and peter gave a gasp as they immediately snapped back to their proper places.
"don't be alarmed," said the stranger in a soft voice and, taking the pipe out of his mouth, he smiled kindly at the little boy. peter was not alarmed--he was perfectly petrified and, as the old gentleman's head flew off his body and looked out the window, he dropped into a chair and began to fan himself with his cap. "i thought he'd go away," sighed the head regretfully, "but he's coming into the house. why do you travel with a bad little creature like that?"
"because i'm lost," explained peter, in a slightly shaky voice, turning around to address himself to the head.
"well, you may find yourself in a heap of trouble, travelling with a gnome. never trust a gnome," advised the head, coming back to settle on the old gentleman's shoulders. "ah! here he comes!"
"who kicked me?" demanded ruggedo, glaring all around in a perfect fury. the owner of the cottage made no reply, but as he needed more tobacco for his pipe just then flung out his hand toward the mantel. the hand sailed through the air like a bird and, seizing the tobacco pouch, set it on the table and then quietly attached itself to the man's wrist. at this odd occurrence, ruggedo's eyes rolled wildly. cringing against the wall, he began to move stealthily toward the door.
"don't go," begged the owner of the cottage blandly. "i'm not especially fond of gnomes, but as you are with this honest lad you may stay. sit down on that bench there and if i catch you stealing anything, i'll throw my head at you." pale with terror, ruggedo did as he was told, while the man's hand, flying off again, closed and locked the door.
"there!" he sighed, leaning back contentedly, "now we can talk without being disturbed and let us start at once with names. my name," he confided proudly, "is kuma party, and i have had the curious gift which seems so to astonish you since early childhood. my father was a wizard, practicing magic in the zamagoochie country, before the practice of magic was forbidden in oz, and it is to my father that i attribute my strange come-apartishness." he paused and waited politely for peter to make some remark, but peter by this time was simply speechless, so kuma, with an indulgent smile, went quietly on with his story.
"being constructed as i am is extremely convenient," he explained earnestly. "i am never tired or rushed about as ordinary oz folk are. if i wish to pick the peaches in my orchard, i send my hands to attend to the matter and while they are busily at work i rest myself comfortably at home. if my body is tired and i desire to be amused, i send my head to the nearest village for news and i can often help my less fortunate neighbors by lending them a hand or foot when they are in trouble. perhaps i can help you?" he suggested, leaning amiably toward peter. "may i lend you a hand?" he finished graciously.
now kuma, in spite of his come-apartishness, seemed so pleasant and jolly that peter wanted to tell him the whole history of his adventures, but ruggedo frowned and shook his head, so for the present peter decided to fall in with the gnome's plans and merely told kuma his name and asked him the way to patch.
"patch?" mused the winkie thoughtfully. "why, that's not far from here. it is just below the kingdom of queen ann of oogaboo, but why not wait till morning? it's growing dark now and besides it's raining." looking out in surprise, peter saw that it was raining. he had been so interested in kuma's story that he had not even heard the patter of raindrops on the roof.
"better stay," urged kuma hospitably. "while my hands are preparing the supper, you can tell me some more about your own self and why you are going to patch."
all during kuma's conversation, ruggedo had been wiggling with impatience and now, bouncing to his feet, he motioned for peter to come along.
"i guess we will have to go," sighed peter. "which direction do we take from here, mr. party?" the old winkie looked disapprovingly at the little gnome, then shaking his head and evidently concluding that it was no affair of his, threw out his right arm. it immediately whizzed up stairs, but was back in a moment, a large umbrella hanging in the crook of the elbow and a lantern grasped in the hand.
"since you must go," said kuma, rising slowly to his feet, "at least let me point out the way for you and loan you an umbrella."
"it's very kind of you," faltered peter, ducking in spite of himself as the arm passed over his head on its way to open the door. "are you sure you can spare it?"
"oh, yes!" kuma nodded cheerfully. "i still have one left, you know, and as i'm only going to play checkers this evening, one will be plenty. goodbye." he smiled, patting peter kindly on the shoulder. "remember what i told you about gnomes." he stared sternly down at ruggedo, and ruggedo, not daring to meet his eye, scuttled nervously into the garden.
"maybe i'll see you again," said peter, and shaking kuma's remaining hand stepped reluctantly after the gnome king.
"i hope so," called kuma and, with a farewell wave and nod he went in and shut the door. peter had to run to catch up with ruggedo. he was already out of the gate and halfway down the road. as he reached the gnome's side, kuma's arm, holding the umbrella carefully, took its position over their heads.
"why didn't you stay?" grumbled peter crossly. "there were lots of things i wanted to ask that man." really he felt quite provoked with the old gnome.
"sh-h!" warned ruggedo, pointing warningly up at the arm over their heads. "shh-hh!"
"well, you don't suppose he can hear through his fingers, do you?" teased peter, and then, because everything did seem so comical and ridiculous, he burst into a loud laugh. "i wish grandfather could see this," gasped the captain of the a. p. baseball team, reaching in his pocket for his handkerchief. "jimminy, wouldn't it be fine to have an extra arm in a scrap with the fellows!"
ruggedo was too busy with his own thoughts to pay any attention to peter's, so for quite a while they walked along in silence. it was pouring steadily, but kuma's umbrella was so large and his hand held it so carefully, not a drop fell upon the travelers. it was too gloomy to see much of the country but, from the tidy farms and orchards they did glimpse through the curtain of rain, peter concluded that the winkie country must be a very prosperous and delightful place to live in. they had to walk briskly to keep pace with the umbrella, but after an hour or so the rain stopped. the arm stopped also, and after standing about uncertainly and wondering what to do, peter reached up and closed the umbrella. then taking a match, which he noticed in the rim of the lantern that swung from kuma's wrist, he lifted the chimney and lit the wick within. this was evidently what the arm had been waiting for and now it moved confidently a few paces ahead, the forefinger of its hand pointing stiffly in the direction they were to follow. it was quite late by now and the lantern shed a cheery light over the fast darkening road.
nibbling at the supper kaliko had packed up for them, peter and ruggedo hastened after kuma's guiding hand.
"i wonder if it will fly back when we come to patch," mused peter as they turned off the main road and into a small wood.
"let's hold on to it," whispered the gnome king craftily. "we can tie it up somehow and then when i get my magic belt, i'll make it work for me."
"that's a nice way to repay a man for helping us," said peter angrily. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"well, i'm not," grunted the gnome king, pausing to light his pipe, "and if you are going to be general of my armies, you'd better get over these nice ideas and notions. didn't i hear you say a while ago that you'd like to have an extra arm yourself?"
"i said i'd like to have one, but i never said i'd steal one," answered peter indignantly.
"take anything you need," advised ruggedo, puffing away at his pipe. "that's my motto." realizing it was useless to argue with so bad a little gnome, peter kept his own counsel and, fixing his eyes on the bobbing lantern ahead, wondered when they would reach patch and what it would be like when they did reach it. he hoped there would be no wild animals or bandits upon the road and peered anxiously from side to side as they made their way through the tangled woodland. but without any worse mishap than a tumble over a fallen tree trunk, they came to the end of the wood and struck out across a broad field.
"tomatoes!" muttered peter, treading carefully between the plants. leaning down he picked an especially tempting one and sank his teeth deep into the side. "ugh!" choked peter, shuddering with distaste. "it's cotton! what kind of a silly country is this anyway?"
"a cotton country, i s'pose," grinned ruggedo, greatly amused at peter's wry face. "cotton? why, maybe it's patch itself!" by the light of kuma's lantern, they could now see some cottages ahead and the dim outline of a castle.
"rocks and rookies!" exulted the gnome king, waving the cloak over his head. "it won't be long now before i'm ruler of the realm, boy!"
"i thought you just wanted your magic belt," puffed peter, running anxiously after ruggedo.
"oh, grow up!" called the gnome scornfully over his shoulder. "grow up and don't be so soft. you're a regular wooshmacushion!" shooting ahead like an arrow, kuma's arm now flew so swiftly that it was all they could do to keep up with it. by the time they had reached the castle they had barely enough breath to mount the steps. as they did, the arm, in a business-like manner, set down the lantern and, taking the umbrella in its hand, thumped hard upon the castle door.
"good!" panted ruggedo, sinking down on the top step. "that ought to rouse them." when no response came, he jumped up himself and began to kick and pound on the panels. peter, naturally more polite, had at once put his finger on the bell and they were thus engaged when piecer and scrapper, returning from town, turned in at the gate.
"customers," murmured scrapper, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
"wizards!" faltered piecer, pointing with a trembling finger to the detached arm of kuma, still beating on the door with the umbrella.
"so much the better! so much the better! wizards always pay well." running up the palace steps, the chief scrapper of patch tapped ruggedo respectfully on the shoulder. "what can we do for you?" asked scrapper, pulling the castle key from his pocket.
ruggedo had been expecting attention from the other side of the door and was so startled that he made no answer, but the hand of kuma immediately dropped the umbrella and shook hands with the quilty statesman. it then moved quickly on toward piecer, but piecer, with a muffled scream, dodged behind a pillar. snapping its fingers to show that it did not care one way or the other, the hand approached peter and, after patting him approvingly on the shoulder, slipped a small note into his pocket. then it shook its finger sternly under ruggedo's nose, picked up the lantern and umbrella and vanished from view.
even scrapper was somewhat dashed at this and, in a slightly choky voice, repeated his question to ruggedo. ruggedo was terribly provoked to have the arm escape but, recovering himself quickly, bowed civilly to the two quilties.
"i have a cloak to be mended," he announced grandly, "and will pay you handsomely for the trouble."
"certainly! certainly!" unlocking the door, scrapper waved them into the shabby hallway then, lighting a candle, bade them follow him.
"i'll take you to the queen," said scrapper importantly, "and while she is entertaining you i will fetch our most skillful needlewoman."
as for peter, he was so excited over the adventure with kuma's hand, he could think of nothing else.
it is hard to say who was more astonished, when scrapper opened the door of the sitting room and ushered in peter and ruggedo. the patchwork girl, who had been expecting a rescue party headed by the scarecrow or some of her other old friends, stared in disbelief and horror at the king of the gnomes. ruggedo was so surprised to see scraps outside of the emerald city, and so disconcerted to know that she was the queen on whom he must depend for favor, that he nearly ran out of the room. scraps knew all about the wicked little gnome, and had even been present when he was banished to runaway island. peter thought of all the curious people he had met so far, and this queen was the most curious and comical. but as they all kept their thoughts to themselves, scrapper noticed nothing amiss.
"kindly entertain this customer until i return," ordered scrapper and, with a curt nod at the queen, went out and locked the door behind him. for a second longer scraps and the gnome king stared fixedly at one another. then the patchwork girl, snatching off her steel-rimmed spectacles, groaned:
"ruggedo, as i live, oh my land! how'd he get off of that island?"
"that's my affair," answered the gnome king in a surly voice. "how do you happen to be queen of patch, i should like to know?"
"that's my affair," sniffed scraps haughtily. "but i know you are up to some mischief. boy," she demanded, turning severely to peter, "where did you meet this robber and what is he planning to do?"
peter shuffled his feet uncomfortably, hardly knowing what to say. he was anxious for the magic cloak to be mended, for how else was he to reach the emerald city and warn ozma of her danger. if he told the whole truth they might both be thrown into prison, or so thought peter then. ruggedo was waiting nervously for his reply, and as the little boy mumbled out a few words about being lost and trying to find his way back home, the gnome king sighed with relief.
"why get so excited?" wheezed ruggedo in a conciliatory voice. "i merely want to have my cloak mended and was told it could be done here better than anywhere else. what's wrong about that?"
"it's wrong for you to be off the island," insisted scraps. "you know perfectly well you were banished forever. oh, for an egg! for a dozen eggs!" at the mention of eggs, ruggedo turned quite pale under his wrinkled grey skin and, as peter looked at the two in perplexity, scrapper returned bringing an old quilty grandame with him. she was angry to be summoned at so late an hour and, grumbling crossly, snatched the cloak from ruggedo's hand. seating herself in a low chair by the candle, she opened her sewing box and began to stitch so rapidly that her needle fairly flashed through the air.
"now then," murmured scrapper, smiling in satisfaction, "as to the price?"
"i command you to arrest this creature," interrupted the patchwork girl, rushing up to the chief scrapper. "don't you realize that he is the former king of the gnomes and that he has tried to capture oz at least a dozen times?"
"a king?" exclaimed scrapper, clasping his hands rapturously. "why, how we are honored! have a chair, your majesty! have a cushion! have--"
"oh, have some sense!" screamed scraps, while ruggedo sidled closer to the old woman who was mending his cloak. "if you let him go he'll try to capture the emerald city. he always does.
"he's mean, he's cruel, he's dangerous, he'll ruin oz and all of us!"
"nonsense!" sniffed scrapper, giving the patchwork girl a push. "he is our honored customer, and you may be the queen here, but remember, i'm the boss. keep quiet or i'll send for the scissor bird."
"wouldn't this make your ear ache?" peter jumped at the new voice and, peering around in the direction it had come from, saw a little bear peeking out of a chest. it was grumpy, of course, and, as peter continued to stare at him, he retired into the chest and closed the lid. but the gnome king, encouraged by scrapper's treatment of the patchwork girl, puffed out his cheeks quite cheerfully.
"you are a man of judgment," he observed in a flattering tone. "be assured that i will remember this kindness, but what can i do to repay you for mending the cloak?" scrapper looked thoughtful for a moment while the patchwork girl continued to mutter and scold under her breath.
"is this your slave?" he inquired at last, turning inquisitively to peter. ruggedo seemed a little surprised, but to peter's disgust and astonishment immediately nodded briskly.
"well, then," said scrapper, "suppose you give us the boy in payment for mending the cloak. our queen is not quick enough to do all the work here and he looks strong and willing."
"i'm not his slave!" burst out peter wrathfully. "i'll not stay here, you old simpleton." but the more he shouted the more ruggedo nodded and smiled at scrapper.
"never mind," whispered the patchwork girl, as peter, on his way to the door, bumped into her, "never mind, i'll help you." and with this assurance he was forced to be satisfied. realizing that ruggedo meant to keep none of his promises, peter tried to plan a way to get hold of the cloak first. but the gnome king, pressing close to the old quilty seamstress, waved him jealously away, and scrapper, jerking him roughly by the arm, whirled him off into a corner.
and now the cloak was mended. shaking the threads from its folds the old grandame held it out to ruggedo. as she did so, peter rushed forward impetuously, but the gnome was too quick for him. flinging on the magic garment, ruggedo vanished from view, only the blue patch on the back of the cloak showing he was still in the room. scrapper and the others screamed out in alarm, but peter, throwing up his arm, cried out loudly, "take him to zamagoochie!" in a flash the gnome king was gone, at least the blue patch was gone, and peter, stamping his foot angrily, turned to the foolish old quilty. "now you've done it!" panted the little boy.
"i told you not to help him," cried scraps, coming over to stand beside peter. "you'll be sorry for this."
"oh, keep quiet!" mumbled scrapper, mopping his forehead with his patched hanky. to tell the truth, the sudden disappearance of the gnome king had upset him terribly. "i don't see what you're fussing about," he finished fretfully. "here you have a nice new slave to work for you. out of my way there!"
taking the old quilty woman by the arm, he brushed rudely past peter, unlocked the door and went out. as the key clicked in the lock, peter sank down on the floor, the picture of discouragement.
"why did you say that about zamagoochie?" asked scraps, dropping down beside the little boy and regarding him curiously.
"because it was the first place that came into my head," explained peter. "jimminy, but i hope it's a long way from the emerald city, and i hope something happens to keep him there."
"will the cloak take him anywhere he wants to go?" demanded scraps. peter nodded gloomily.
"then good-bye to the emerald city and ozma!" moaned scraps. "good-bye to all of us."
"yes, but what's to be done with the slave?" grumpy had lifted the lid of the chest again and was regarding peter with great interest.
"he's not a slave!" exclaimed scraps scornfully. "i can tell by his looks, he's a mortal child like dorothy and betsy. how did you find your way to oz, boy?" peter was anxious to escape from the castle, but when scraps assured him that there was no present hope of such a thing, he told her all that had happened since the balloon bird carried him off from philadelphia. as the story progressed, grumpy climbed out of the chest and sat as close to peter as he could possibly squeeze.
"tell him about us!" urged the little bear, as peter wound up his story with a description of kuma party and his guiding hand. scraps shook her head impatiently, but when peter added his voice to grumpy's she introduced the pet of the former queen and gave a brief description of herself and her happy life at the capital. when peter heard how she had been kidnapped and forced to do all the castle work, he shook his head sympathetically.
"we'll both run away," declared peter, resolutely, "and as you know more about oz than i do, perhaps we'll reach the emerald city ahead of ruggedo."
"but first you must escape from the castle," the little bear reminded them sagely. "how will you do that?"
"i wish there had been a little more magic in that casket," sighed scraps. "all you have left is the emerald. let me see the emerald, peter." peter pulled out the sorcerer's stone and handed it over to scraps and, as he did, felt the note that kuma's hand had thrust into his pocket. opening it eagerly, peter followed the patchwork girl to the light. but as they reached the center table, the candle which had been burning lower and lower gave a final sputter and went out, leaving them in total darkness.
"botheration!" cried peter in exasperation. "now what shall we do?"
"go to sleep," yawned the little bear. "whenever you don't know what to do, go to sleep. that's my advice. here, lean on me."
"why don't you?" suggested scraps, feeling her way carefully back to the rocker. "mortal folk need rest, but as i do not, i'll sit and plan our escape."
grumpy's advice did seem sensible and, as peter was very tired, he curled down beside the little bear and soon did go to sleep, his head resting comfortably on grumpy's soft shoulder. in his hand he grasped kuma's note, and in his dreams imagined himself already in the emerald city, fighting to defend the little queen of all oz.
when peter awakened next morning, he thought for a few moments he was still aboard ship. but he soon realized that the up and down motion he was experiencing was merely the deep breathing of the little bear. without disturbing grumpy, he straightened up and rubbed his eyes. scraps was over by the window turning soob's emerald over and over in her cotton fingers. reminded of the letter he had been about to read when the candle went out, peter felt around till he found kuma's note. hurrying over to the patchwork girl, he spread it open and quickly read its contents.
"if you ever need a helping hand, send for mine," said the note. "write directions on this paper and toss into the air."
"well, hurrah!" exclaimed peter, showing the note to scraps. "kuma will lend us a hand any time we need it."
"three cheers! four laughs! five grins--a bow! send for it quick, i need it now,"
cried the patchwork girl. "in a minute i'll have to cook, sweep, dust, scrub and make beds. why, an extra hand will be wonderful. send for it, peter. send for it right way. you're a slave too, remember."
"i was thinking it might unlock the doors and help us escape," mused the little boy, wrinkling up his brows. "could you read the markings on the emerald?"
"no," admitted scraps, handing back the stone, "but keep it safely, peter. you never know when or where magic will work in this country and we need all the magic we can find to get to the emerald city before ruggedo."
"i wonder where he is now?" worried peter. "zamagoochie was the country kuma's father came from, but i wonder where it is and whether rug is still there or whether he has reached the emerald city and turned ozma to a canary?"
"stop! stop!" begged scraps. "let's stop worrying and try to think. if we send for kuma's hand now, when all the quilties are working in the fields, we will soon be captured, even if we escape from the castle. we'll have to wait till night," sighed the patchwork girl, "though how i'm going to stand another day here i don't see!"
"never mind," said peter sympathetically, "i'll help."
"i'll help, too!" volunteered grumpy, rolling over on his side and yawning tremendously. "it won't be as bad as growling all the time and that's how i helped cross patch!"
"sh-hh!" warned scraps, "here they come! look out for the scissor bird, peter, he's dreadfully careless with his bill." thrusting kuma's note into his pocket and assuming as defiant an attitude as he well could, peter waited for the door to open, which it presently did. in came scrapper, the scissor bird on his shoulder and piecer staggering under a great pile of coats and other garments that had been sent in to be mended.
"good morning, slave!" scrapper bowed stiffly to peter and then to scraps. "kindly prepare breakfast, at once!"
"oh scrapple!" scolded the patchwork girl.
"not scrapple, eggs," said piecer, setting down his pile of garments. "and when you have finished with breakfast, please sort these."
"why don't you sort them yourself," suggested peter boldly, but as the scissor bird made a dash in his direction he hastily sprang behind scraps.
"it's an outrage to expect a queen to do all the work," began scraps, settling her spectacles severely. "ozma never does a stroke of work. ozma--"
"ozma?" shrilled the scissor bird. "well, every time you think you're ozma, look in the glass. come along, you lazy creature!" circling over the patchwork girl's head and making playful snips at her yarn, the scissor bird drove her ahead of him toward the castle kitchen. peter and grumpy followed cautiously, conversing in indignant whispers.
peter had often been camping and, seeing how terribly unhandy scraps was with the cooking utensils, he prepared the breakfast himself. then he set the table and carried the eggs, nicely fried, to the two quilties, who sat at ease in the shabby dining room. the scissor bird ate a saucer of calico scraps and grumpy a loaf of bread and an apple. after being assured that the patchwork girl herself would eat nothing, peter fried himself an egg and sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy himself. the scissor bird was too busy eating to bother them for a moment and, availing himself of this opportunity, peter began to talk in a low voice to scraps.
"why did you wish for a dozen eggs when you first saw ruggedo?" he asked curiously.
"because eggs are poison to gnomes," whispered scraps. "they are more afraid of eggs than of bombshells and they cannot even stay in the same room with one."
"hm-m!" mused peter thoughtfully, "i'll remember that. how is it," he asked presently, "that grumpy can talk?"
"all the animals in oz talk," explained scraps in a matter of fact voice. "just wait till you hear the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger!"
"do they live in the emerald city?" peter's eyes grew round with interest. scraps nodded enthusiastically, then noticing that the scissor bird had finished, she sprang up and began to clear away the dishes. but grumpy kindly offered to wash them, so hurrying back into the sitting room, scraps and peter fell to sorting old clothes. in one pile they put coats, in another dresses, in a third, trousers, and in a fourth, all the shirts needing new cuffs or collars. conversation was impossible, for the scissor bird was never quiet for a moment and soon peter's head began to ache from its continuous screeching. once when he dropped an old cloak, it snipped a lock of his hair and when he struck out at it angrily, it nearly nipped a piece off his ear.
to scrapper and piecer, sitting in the doorway, this proved highly amusing and, glaring at the old quilties, peter resolved to send for kuma's hand at the first opportunity. grumpy had finished the dishes and, with a gingham apron tied round his waist, was energetically sweeping the floor.
"don't you care," he whispered comfortingly as he passed peter. "to-day won't last forever!" it seemed like forever to peter and scraps, but as they came to the bottom of the pile the patchwork girl made a startling discovery. between a faded vest and a quilted dressing gown lay an old grey sack. as scraps held it up, she saw a note sticking out of the pocket. the scissor bird happened at that moment to be swinging on the chandelier so, snatching out the note, scraps read it quickly herself and then passed it on to peter.
"the sandman's nap sack. will put wearer to sleep at once," read peter. then, as scraps put her finger warningly to her lips, he tucked the nap sack beneath his coat.
"we'll put 'em all to sleep," whispered peter out of the corner of his mouth. "we'll send for kuma's hand and get away from here!" they soon had a chance to try the nap sack, for piecer and scrapper, having some work to attend to in the garden, went out and locked the door in their usual manner.
immediately scraps threw down a pile of coats and stood up defiantly.
"i refuse to work any longer," she shouted, stamping her foot emphatically.
"hah!" snapped the scissor bird, falling off the chandelier and stopping directly in front of scraps' nose. "every time you open your mouth you say something."
"yes!" answered scraps saucily, "and every time you say something you open your mouth." as the furious creature rushed at the patchwork girl, peter threw the nap sack over his head. no sooner had he done so than its shrill voice grew lower and lower, until, with a tired flop, it fell to the floor and lay snoring like a zazagooch, which is the loudest snoring animal in oz.
"we won't wait till night. we'll send the note now, scraps," cried peter triumphantly.
"what's up? what's up. don't leave me," begged the little bear, crowding close to peter. "i'm tired of being cross. i want to go some place where i can be pleasant without losing my position."
"all right! all right!" promised peter. "but you'll have to help us, grumpy. now keep quiet while i write to kuma." pulling out the crumpled letter, peter found a pencil and scribbled on the bottom of the page: "we are prisoners in the palace of patch. please send us your hand to unlock the doors and help us to escape." signing his name hurriedly, peter tossed the note into the air. it disappeared almost at once and in high excitement the three sat down to await developments. "i believe we could take that nap sack off and use it again," observed peter after a little silence.
"he might wake up," objected scraps.
"but we can easily put him to sleep again." tiptoeing over to the scissor bird, he took off the nap sack. as he did there was a crash outside and, hurrying to the window, they saw kuma's right arm and hand smashing its way through the glass in the castle door.
"hurry! hurry!" cried scraps. tearing the work basket from her head she threw it into a corner and flung the crown jewels of patch after it. "i abdicate!" chuckled the patchwork girl, turning expectantly toward the door.
"now then," breathed peter, "let's all stand together and run like sixty."
"if we stand, how can we run?" mumbled grumpy, but no one answered the little bear, for at that instant the key turned in the lock, the door opened and in swept the arm of kuma, a stout club grasped in its hand. motioning for them to follow, it whizzed down the hallway. scrapper, running in from the garden to see what was happening, received a smart blow on the head. piecer, panting up the steps from the kitchen, was picked up bodily and dropped out of the window.
through the castle door, down the steps and out of the garden rushed the three adventurers. as they started down the road, a crowd of quilty men, on their way to the palace with a fresh load of patches, stared at them in astonishment. then, suddenly realizing that the queen was escaping, they rushed after her with yells and shouts of disapproval. but the arm of kuma laid about with the club, seeming to be everywhere at once, and with groans and screams the quilties fell back. only three of the bolder ones continued the chase. over the most persistent of their pursuers peter flung the nap sack and, as he fell snoring by the roadside, grumpy sent the second flying into a ditch. kuma's club soon disposed of the third and without further interruption they pelted down the crossroads of patch.
always kuma's hand flashed on ahead, making the way easy, taking down fence bars, opening gates, thrusting aside the branches of trees. many of the quilties saw them from the cottage windows, but before they could get down to their doors the strange procession had passed by. scraps, being magically made and stuffed with cotton, did not tire, but grumpy and peter were soon panting with exhaustion. there was a remedy for even this, however. throwing down the club, kuma's arm jerked first one and then the other into the air, carrying them by turns to the very edge of the little kingdom.
in a small maple grove, several miles from patch, they stopped to rest. peter still had hold of kuma's hand and would have liked to keep it longer, but gently disengaging itself, it patted him kindly on the shoulder, shook hands with scraps and was gone. this time it left no note and regretfully they watched it soar over the tree tops and disappear from view.
"well," gasped peter, leaning back against a tree, "we're out of patch and where do we go now, scraps?"
"south by east, and if i'm right, we'll reach the capital to-night!"
answered the patchwork girl cheerfully.
"oh, i hope we do," puffed peter, taking a long breath. "come on, let's start, i'm rested."
"do you realize that the kingdom of patch will go to pieces in four days without you?" grunted the little bear, pattering along beside scraps.
"let it!" cried scraps, recklessly turning a cartwheel.
"i'll not be queen and work all day, i'm the patchwork girl of oz, hurray!"
walking slowly at first, and then more briskly, peter and his companions hurried on in the direction scraps had pointed out. grumpy was very helpful, for whenever they were in doubt, the little bear would climb a tree and, after looking all around, would guide them to the best and widest of the roads that ran hither and thither through the pleasant land of the winkies. after his last climb, grumpy had reported a village ahead and, quite cheerfully, they trudged along under the banana trees that edged the roadway.
"even if ruggedo has reached the emerald city," remarked scraps, waving to a winkie farmer at work in the fields, "we'll find some way to capture him. our wizard is very clever, boys. perhaps he has captured him already!"
"but with the magic cloak, ruggedo will be invisible," answered peter gravely, "all but the patch, and no one will know that he is there. i hope he's still in zamagoochie. do you think ozma will be able to send me back to philadelphia, scraps?"
"of course!" chuckled the patchwork girl, skipping at the mere mention of the little queen. "ozma can do anything."
"well, i hope she sends me back in time for the game," sighed peter. "it's only three days off and i'm pitcher. and i wish i could take grumpy back for a mascot. would you like to be our mascot, grumpy?"
"it doesn't sound safe," mumbled grumpy, wiggling his nose very fast. "what is a mascot, peter?"
"oh, a kind of pet to bring one luck," explained the little boy. "you could come to all the games and have all the cake and peanuts you wanted." grumpy considered the matter for a few moments, then, dropping on all fours, shook his head.
"i belong to scraps," he announced, looking up admiringly at the patchwork girl. "i'm her pet. besides, i'll never leave oz."
"why not?" asked peter in surprise.
"oh, because--" rearing up on his hind legs, grumpy waved his paw solemnly. "in your country, peter, i could only be a bear, but in oz, i'm a bear and a person, too. that's why it's more fun to be an animal in oz than a person. look at me," he exclaimed complacently. "i can do everything a boy can do and everything a bear can do, so, of course, i have twice as much fun! can you do this, for instance?" drawing himself up into a ball, grumpy started rolling down a grassy slope at the side of the road.
"ho! ho!" laughed scraps, running after grumpy, "he has you there, peter."
"yes, but we shouldn't have turned off the road," objected peter, hurrying after the patchwork girl. "stop! scraps, stop!"
from a gentle slope, the hillside dropped suddenly downward and now none of them could stop. faster and faster rolled grumpy, faster and faster ran scraps and peter, catching at trees and bushes to keep from falling. instead of grass, the ground beneath their feet grew smooth and slippery as ice and from an incline the hill turned to a regular mountain side. it reminded peter of the time he had tried skiing and, after several frantic attempts to keep his balance, he fell flat on his face and finished the slide on his stomach. scraps, too, after a few wild spins and flourishes, sat down hard and, in a state of breathless surprise, they reached the foot of the mountain. grumpy had travelled most of the way on his ear and was growling terribly in his own language. he was covered with a fine yellow powder and, as scraps and peter slid past, he began to lick his fur furiously. but one taste was enough.
"soap!" coughed the little bear, wrinkling up his nose. "yellow soap, too!"
"no wonder it was so slippery," said peter slowly. "now how are we going to climb up again?"
"we're not!" announced scraps, rising to her feet with great difficulty. "might as well try to walk up a looking glass. why, what funny trees!"
"they're rubber," announced grumpy, giving himself a shake, "and every branch is a spray."
"a bath spray," marveled peter, staring up at the snakelike mass of tubes overhead. they had landed directly under one of the rubber trees and, as peter spoke, from every spray a perfect shower of warm water sprinkled down upon them. covered with soap from their slide down the mountain, they were soon in a fine lather, especially the little bear. when they tried to dash out from under the rubber tree, they immediately slipped and fell, for the ground was green soap and even more slippery than soap mountain. spluttering with surprise and shock, they finally crawled on their hands and knees out of the tree's range.
"water!" groaned scraps dolefully.
"water makes my spirits sink, it's very bad for me, i think, i know i'll fade, perhaps i'll shrink."
"don't shrink," begged peter in alarm. "shake yourself, old girl." balancing herself with difficulty, the patchwork girl began shaking herself vigorously and wringing out her skirts, while peter, rubbing the soap from his own eyes, saw that they were in a strange and amazing village, where everything was soap. the houses were built of small, square cakes and the walks laid out in large blocks of green soap. turkish towel trees edged all the avenues and, stepping cautiously to the nearest one, peter picked a towel and wiped his dripping face. grumpy soon followed his example. then both went to help scraps, who was feeling both damp and discouraged. they were fanning her briskly with dry towels, when a procession of villagers came skating down the main street.
"so that's how they manage it," whistled peter, taking a few skating steps himself to see how it was done.
"more soap?" grumbled grumpy. "let's run!"
"no, let's wait and see what they have to say," whispered peter.
the villagers were quite close by this time and peter was amazed to see that they also were entirely made of soap. they wore turbans and robes of turkish toweling and, with their arms tucked comfortably in their flowing sleeves, came skating toward the travellers. some of them were pink, some green, some white and others violet, and they were all about the size of ten-year-old children.
"hello!" said peter politely, as the first soapman came to an abrupt stop before him. "how do you do?"
"as i please, mostly," retorted the soapman shortly, "but i'm afraid you won't do at all. who cut you out, anyway?"
"oh, fall down!" advised grumpy, picking up his towel and beginning to fan scraps again. "fall down, why don't you?"
"who are you?" sniffed the patchwork girl, wringing her hands. they were still full of water.
"we are suds," answered the villager proudly. "but we will have to take you to the sultan. are you hard or soft?" he asked, turning again to peter.
"hard!" cried the little boy, stamping his foot defiantly. he regretted this action almost immediately, for his heel, slipping on the soap sidewalk, threw him down on the back of his head. at this the suds simply bubbled over with amusement and scorn. then one sud seized him by the left arm, another by the right, and started skating down the street. looking over his shoulder, he saw that scraps and grumpy were being treated in the same sudden fashion. but soon he grew so interested in his surroundings that he almost forgot his indignation. the cottages of smooth green and pink soap were really charming. the gardens were full of soap-bubble bushes and vines and the bubbles, with their shining colors, sparkled and shimmered in the sunshine. fountains of perfume filled the air with fragrance and, besides the turkish towel and rubber trees, there were bushes covered with snowy powder puffs. as they reached the stately green soap palace it began to snow and, catching one of the flakes on the back of his hand, peter discovered it was a soap flake. hurrying them through the soap stone gates, the suds pounded upon the castle door. it was immediately opened by a tar soap slave in a yellow robe and turban.
"take these interlopers to shampoozle," said the sud who had first spoken to peter.
"whoozle?" gasped the patchwork girl, shaking the soap flakes from her hair. no one deigned to answer her question, but at the sud's command two more slaves appeared and, bowing out the villagers, closed the castle door.
"follow me, interlopers," said the slave and, skimming expertly over the polished soap floor, he started down the royal hallway.
"i suppose we might as well," giggled peter and, taking grumpy's paw, began sliding after the slave. the two other slaves slid gravely behind and, as they reached two royal purple soap doors, the first slave threw up his arm and cried impressively:
"give three salaams for the sultan of suds!" and, jerking open the door, he fell flat upon his nose. it was so unexpected that peter and grumpy lost their balance and salaamed in spite of themselves, but the patchwork girl slid defiantly up to the throne itself.
"i don't give three slams for anyone!" announced scraps, snapping her fingers under shampoozle's nose. "show us the way out of here."
"what!" snorted the sultan, rising shakily from his throne. "you refuse to salaam? caka! bara!" he clapped his hands sharply. "salaam her!" at his command, the two slaves behind scraps seized her arms and, forcing her downward, touched her cotton nose to the floor three times.
while scraps was still choking and spluttering with rage, peter and grumpy regained their footing and stared curiously at shampoozle. he was sitting on an ivory soap throne with red sponge cushions. he seemed to be made of green soap and his towel turban was twice as high as the turbans of the other suds.
"that will teach you how to treat a sultan," sniffed shampoozle, shaking a finger severely at the patchwork girl.
"sultan!" cried scraps, giving caka and bara each a push. "you're not a sultan, you're an insultan."
shampoozle's eyes grew round with displeasure and peter and grumpy had some difficulty to conceal their mirth.
"there, there!" said the sultan testily, "don't be impertinent. kindly answer my questions, so i can put you in your proper places. what kind of soap are you made of, hard or soft, laundry or tub--are you floaters or sinkers?"
"we're not soap at all," declared peter indignantly. "i should think--"
"tut! tut!" interrupted shampoozle loftily, "i am thinking. don't talk so fast, we'll soon make good soap of you. why, we can make soap of anything, even rubbish," he finished proudly. "caka! bara! just see how they lather."
before peter or the others had time to object, the two slaves, with three wet sponges, were rubbing vigorously at their cheeks.
"no lather at all," sighed shampoozle in evident disappointment. "never mind, i'll use you somehow. that creature," he pointed contemptuously at grumpy, "that creature, flattened out and rolled down, will make an excellent bath mat. the rag girl can be ripped up into wash cloths and the boy boiled down to soap fat."
"bath mat!" roared the little bear, putting back his ears. "why, you can't make a bath mat out of me. don't you know i'm a pet? you'd better not touch scraps either, she's a queen and peter's a pitcher!"
"pause!" commanded the sultan, extending his arm wearily.
"i'll pause and claw you!" threatened grumpy, doubling up his furry fists. "we're on our way to the emerald city to save the queen and you daren't stop us!" while grumpy was saying, or rather growling all this, peter had noticed an open window at the back of the throne room. signaling to scraps, he pushed aside the soap slaves and, seizing grumpy's paw, made a grand slide for freedom. scraps reached the window first and recklessly jumped. then peter and grumpy, without one look, jumped down after her. fortunately, scraps landed first so that the little bear and the little boy had something soft to fall upon. the drop from the window was nearly thirty feet and they looked around rather breathlessly.
"did we hurt you?" asked peter, hopping up quickly and pulling grumpy to his feet.
"no!" puffed the patchwork girl, raising her head experimentally, "but i feel rather flat. shake me up, boys, and then we'd better run." so grumpy took one of her arms and peter the other and they shook with all their might. scraps' cotton stuffing was still damp from the rubber tree's shower and her face had a wrinkled and rough-dry look but, quite cheerfully, she patted herself into shape. they had fallen on a flat gray beach and, leaning down to examine the soil, peter discovered it was sand soap. without stopping to discover anything more, they started to run along the shore of a deep blue lake. as the waves broke on the shore, they frothed and foamed beautifully and dancing soap bubbles formed and floated over the waves. at any other time peter would have liked to stop and admire the view but, fearing pursuit, they all ran along as fast as they could. cliffs of soap stone rose steeply in places and there seemed no way to cross the lake nor to escape from the slippery clutches of the sultan of suds. finally rounding a large cliff, they came to an abandoned soap building. white soap bricks were lying about in orderly piles and stacked against the building itself were several huge slabs of soap, evidently intended for doors. picking up one of the soap bricks, peter hurled it into the lake and, as it floated jauntily off, threw his cap into the air.
"i have it!" cried peter gaily. "this soap floats. we'll drag one of the big pieces down to the edge of the lake and float across."
it was hard work, for the slab they chose was both thick and heavy, but at last, after much pulling, tugging, grunting and pushing, they managed to launch their queer raft. peter and grumpy carried scraps out so she would not get wet again, then, climbing carefully aboard themselves, sat down on the slippery surface. peter had sensibly brought along a long bar of green soap and, using this as a pole, he pushed the raft out into the current.
"good-bye to suds!" yelled scraps, as they slipped smoothly over the blue waters of the lake,
"good-bye to soap and water, too, shampoozle, you're a sham--shampooh!"
they were half way across the sudsy lake before any of the suds themselves appeared. then a whole company of them rushed down to the shore. peter waved his cap cheerfully and, redoubling his efforts with the soap bar, pushed their raft toward the opposite bank.
"i'm afraid we've wasted a lot of time," puffed peter, as the raft slid in toward the beach.
"never mind," grinned scraps, "we've something new to talk about. i'm glad we met the suds, peter."
"humph!" sniffed grumpy, balancing himself carefully. "i'm glad they met us. now they'll have something new to talk about, something worth while." peter chuckled a little at this and, seizing scraps' hands, helped her to rise, for little waves were rippling aboard and he did not want the patchwork girl to fade or shrink. but without any accidents or spills the raft washed up on the beach and they all jumped off.
"do you think you still know which direction to take?" asked peter anxiously.
"which direction to take, which direction to take, i lost my direction out there in the lake! we'll have to start on and just trust to good luck; what kind of a desert is this we have struck?"
throwing up her arms, scraps looked around in dismay.
"a wilderness!" quavered the little bear, sitting down resignedly on a tree stump. shading his eyes, peter stared off in the distance. as far as he could see, there was nothing but a barren stretch of desert, with here and there a tree or jagged rock.
"let's start toward that tall pine," suggested peter, pulling his cap down hard over his left eye and waving toward a pine tree just visible on the sky line. "if we keep walking we're bound to come out somewhere, but i'm afraid we'll never catch up with ruggedo now."
"maybe he's lost, too," said grumpy, ambling along beside scraps on all fours.
"yes, but he has a magic cloak to help him," sighed peter, "and all we have is an emerald we don't know how to work."
"which tree are we walking toward?" asked scraps, blinking her suspender button eyes rapidly. "i don't see any pine tree now, peter."
"neither do i," growled grumpy, rising up on his hind legs, and neither did peter when he looked again. as he strained his eyes for a glimpse of the missing tree, all the stumps and stones around them began to change places as naturally as if it were quite the usual thing to do, while the sand beneath their feet began to slip and slide uncomfortably.
"wouldn't this make your hair curl?" breathing hard, grumpy edged close to scraps. as he did, a whole cluster of bushes jumped up and, seizing branches, danced madly about the three travellers.
"here we go 'round the mulberry bush--mulberry bush--mulberry bush!" chanted scraps, putting her hands up to her eyes.
"you mean, here they go 'round us!" mumbled peter dizzily. "stop! stop! go away, i never saw anything so silly."
the bushes, however, went gaily on with their dance, but when they had circled around the travellers at least a hundred times, they seemed to tire of the sport and all of them skipped off together.
"this makes me cross," growled grumpy, scowling terribly.
"well, it makes me cross-eyed," acknowledged scraps, starting forward uncertainly. "look out for that tree, peter, it's going to trip you if it can. i'll tell you, let's shut our eyes and run!" trying to walk straight ahead with trees, rocks and bushes jumping about like colts was certainly a problem and, closing their eyes, they did begin to run. but a young tree, dropping across their path, soon put a stop to that and they all fell sprawling together. rubbing his knees, peter sat up.
"wish we had kuma's hand to guide us through this place," muttered the little boy, brushing his hand wearily across his forehead.
"what we need is blinkers," sniffed grumpy. "hello, i see something that hasn't moved for a whole minute."
"where?" peter and scraps spoke in the same breath. swallowing hard, grumpy waved his paw toward a great feathery bush, with three main branches. without a word they kept their eyes fixed upon it for several minutes. then peter, jumping up determinedly and giving no heed to the skipping stones and slipping sands, ran straight for the bush. as fast as they could, grumpy and the patchwork girl followed him. it was quite a distance and scraps was tripped up several times on the way, but at last they stood before the only stationary object in that whole whirling wilderness.
"feathers!" gasped peter, pushing back his cap.
"and it's alive," cautioned grumpy, moving back a few steps. "see, it has feet."
"it looks like--it may be--why, it is!" rushing forward, scraps tapped the strange creature smartly on the leg. peter had supposed it had three legs and no head, but at the patchwork girl's tap, a head burst through the sandy soil and, rearing its long neck, an oztrich looked at them inquiringly. now an oztrich, i don't mind telling you, is quite like an ostrich, except that it has green feathers and blue eyes.
"well?" hissed the oztrich, looking sadly from one to the other. "where do you think you're going?"
"that's what we want to know," cried scraps, for peter was too surprised to speak. "where are we going, how do we get there and what is your name?"
"my name is ozwold," answered the great bird gently. "how do you feel?"
"dizzy!" groaned grumpy weakly.
"bewildered," sighed scraps, jumping aside to let three rocks roll by.
"i thought so." the oztrich shook its head in a satisfied manner. "this is a bewilderness, you know. bury your heads like i do," he advised calmly.
"but we want to go to the emerald city," put in peter, "and if we bury our heads we'd smother. couldn't you carry us to the emerald city on your back?" he asked daringly.
"oh, ozzy, if you only would!" clasping her hands, scraps rolled her suspender button eyes pleadingly at the huge bird.
"who'd take care of my child?" objected the oztrich, blinking its eyes very fast and indicating with its bill an enormous egg lying beside it in the sand.
"haven't you a wife?" asked peter in surprise.
"she's gone home to visit her mother," explained the oztrich in an embarrassed tone. "i must stay here till the egg hatches."
"couldn't we take it with us?" proposed peter eagerly. "think how proud you'd be to have your child hatch out in the capital!"
"ozma would give it a hatchday present, too," added scraps coaxingly.
"if you stay here, a rock will probably rush by and break it to pieces. it's a wonder to me it hasn't been broken long ago," sniffed grumpy, leaning over to touch the egg with his paw.
"great moguls! i never thought of that!" shifting from one foot to the other, the oztrich looked nervously down at his child. "if you carry my egg i will go away from here," he murmured in a troubled voice. "might as well go to the emerald city. i've always wanted to see the capital. just wait though, till i get my bearings!" burying his head in the sand again, the oztrich stood perfectly motionless for nearly ten minutes. fidgeting with impatience and dodging trees and rocks as best they could, peter and his companions waited anxiously for the head to re-appear. it came up so suddenly, when it did come, that grumpy fell over backward.
"don't speak," warned ozwold in a tense voice. "don't speak or i'm lost. climb up and we'll start at once!"
scraps, taking a running jump, landed safely on the oztrich's back. then peter carefully handed up the egg and, boosted by the little bear, took his place behind scraps. grumpy himself climbed aloft with no difficulty and before they were fairly settled the oztrich began pounding across the bewilderness. it missed all the trees and rocks very cleverly and, as it travelled nearly a mile a minute, conversation was out of the question. scraps, for greater security, wound her long arms about its neck, peter had his arms round scrap's waist, the egg balanced carefully in his lap and grumpy, blinking and gasping, bounced up and down behind peter.
"i hope it knows where it's going," thought peter, as the wind whistled through his hair and the desert sand stung his cheeks and eyelids. for almost a half hour the oztrich rushed along like an express, then changing its gait began to travel more slowly. they had come to the end of the bewilderness by now and peter was relieved to see again the yellow farms and fields of the winkies.
"i've thought of something!" exclaimed peter, leaning forward to whisper in the patchwork girl's ear. "if ruggedo is afraid of hen's eggs wouldn't an oztrich egg frighten him much more?"
"hurrah! hurray, well i should say!" squirming round, scraps looked delightedly at the huge egg in peter's lap. "as soon as you see ruggedo, throw it at his head," advised scraps, in an excited whisper.
"but i promised to keep it safe for the oztrich," objected peter uneasily, "and i can't break my promise, can i?"
"you'd be breaking the egg, not your promise," said scraps earnestly. "besides, ozma's more important than an oztrich egg."
"i'll threaten to throw it," decided peter. "anyway, we'll wait till we come to the emerald city. hello, what's this?" looming up ahead was a high yellow wall. with a snort of displeasure, the oztrich came to a halt.
"do you see any gate?" he wheezed, curling his long neck around at peter.
"i see something over there to the right," answered the little boy, "but are you sure this is a safe place to go through?"
"no," admitted the oztrich hoarsely, "but unless we go through, how are we to go on to the emerald city?"
"i'll open the gate," volunteered scraps, slipping easily to the ground. running over to the right, scraps soon found the hollowed out space peter had noticed, but instead of a gate, an upright piano was wedged into the opening. scraps tried to see over the top, but it was too tall. then she tried to shove it aside, but it was too heavy. so shrugging her shoulders and tossing back her yarn, scraps sat down at the piano and started to play the grand march of oz, which she had been practicing faithfully on dorothy's piano back at the palace. at the first chord, the piano, as if moved on an invisible hinge, fell backwards and scraps, taken entirely by surprise, jumped over the top. the oztrich was not slow to follow and he had barely jumped over the fallen piano before it snapped back into its upright position, shutting them into the queerest city peter had yet seen.
"now how did this happen!" sitting exactly where she had fallen, scraps folded her arms dramatically.
"opening chords!" boomed a deep voice, and out from a niche in the wall sprang a handsome person in a bandmaster's uniform. "the gates of tune town are locked with piano keys," he explained graciously, "so when you struck the opening chords, of course you fell in."
"very good," murmured ozwold. "but now that we are in, how do we get out?"
"out of tune?" exclaimed the bandmaster in a shocked voice. "don't get out of tune, i beg of you, besides it's against the law. may i call your attention to our principle laws here?"
raising his baton he pointed to a large poster on the wall and much to his astonishment, peter read:
"no talking allowed, sing! no walking permitted, dance!"
"but you're talking," said peter, shifting the oztrich egg from one knee to the other.
"ah, but this is the intermission. in a moment the music will begin and you must keep time, keep step and keep moving. we do everything to music here. quick now, which would you rather do, sing and dance or play in the band? that bear ought to be in the band, he has such bandy legs? would you care to be in the band, creature?"
grumpy slid down from the oztrich and shook his head bashfully. "let's stick together," he rumbled under his breath to peter. "tell him we're a quartet."
"this is very awk," sighed ozwold, who always clipped off his words when he was annoyed. "i am a bird but i cannot sing a single note."
"then keep quiet and dance," advised the bandmaster.
"but look here!" put in peter impatiently. "we don't want to sing and dance, we just want to go through your town. we're in an awful hurry and haven't time to be in a show."
"say 'ah!'" commanded the bandmaster, giving no attention to peter's remarks. striking a tuning fork on a railing before him, he waited expectantly for them to begin. raising one eyebrow peter looked at scraps and as scraps, jumping to her feet, winked her suspender button eyes, they both burst into a loud "ah," grumpy and ozwold joining in so vigorously that the bandmaster's cap blew off.
"that's fine," he approved, picking his cap up somewhat nervously. "and now you're in tune. when the music starts go where you wish, do what you want, but be sure to keep step and remember to sing, not to speak, or you will be arrested."
"oompah! oompah! who are these strangers?" dancing down the marble street came a small bobbed-haired queen, with a very short skirt and a tunic embroidered all over with fiddles and horns. on her head for a crown was a hollowed out drum and by her side was a tom-tom cat, clattering and clanging as he ran along.
"travellers, my dear jazzma," answered the bandmaster with a bow. as the queen stared curiously at the travellers and they as curiously stared back, the loud roll of a drum sounded in the distance. instantly from every dwelling marched men arrayed in gay uniforms like oompahs and tunesters in embroidered tunics like the queen's, only instead of drums, on their heads they wore bright bandannas.
"it's a play!" murmured peter, as oompah placed himself hastily at the head of the band and all the tunesters stood waiting with toes stiffly pointed. when oompah raised his baton, the band burst into a lively march and the whole population began dancing in every direction. some of the women and girls danced toward the markets, singing out their orders in rhyme, others began sweeping the pavements, carrying on long conversations in song as they swept. everybody was doing something and doing it to music. it really was quite gay and, fluttering his plumes importantly, the oztrich began strutting along in perfect time to the music. grumpy watching the queen, who was just ahead, slid and shuffled along skilfully. as for scraps, she simply outdid herself. peter, from his vantage point on the oztrich's back, watched the whole performance with great interest, feeling exactly as if he were in a circus parade. the inhabitants of tune town seemed all to live in flats and the walls of their dwellings were covered with lines, notes and scales, while all the streets were marked with musical signs. the trees, instead of leaves, bore musical notes and when the wind swept through them played silvery tunes that mixed not unpleasantly with the music of the band. song birds fluttered in the branches and, quite forgetting the law against speaking, peter called out to grumpy to look at them.
"if you have a word to say, sing it out in rhyme; do you wish to spoil our play and throw us out of time?"
warbled the queen, waving a drum stick at peter. peter grew very red and while he was trying to think up a rhymed reply the music started again and scraps, capering up to jazzma, chanted gaily:
"you really are a funny nation, and must we sing our conversation?"
the queen, taking three steps to the right and four to the left, nodded vigorously and, looking admiringly at the patchwork girl, sang:
"maiden stay, you are so gay, i'd like to look at you all day. my maid in waiting you shall be and live in rag time harmonee!"
peter waited anxiously for scraps to answer. tune town was so jolly, he was almost afraid scraps would forget their important mission. but scraps, for all her giddiness, was deeply attached to ozma and extremely worried about the plans of ruggedo for her downfall. so kicking up her heels, she sang out saucily:
"and that your majesty would mean to dance attendance on a queen; a maid of waiting, not for me, i'm the patchwork girl, but i won't work, wheee!"
turning a cartwheel, scraps walked a few paces on her hands, then coming right side up, danced amiably along beside jazzma. peter chuckled to himself and hoped he would remember all of this nonsense to tell his grandfather. then, suddenly catching sight of a small inn, set back among the tune trees, he reached over and touched scraps on the shoulder. he was terribly hungry, but not being quick at rhymes could not put his hunger into song. scraps, however, caught his meaning at once and again turned to address the queen. she had to sing quite loud for all the tunesters were warbling about this and that till the confusion was terrible.
"if we stopped at this inn, would you think us rude? your majesty, my friends crave food!"
bawled scraps not untunefully.
the queen, who was dancing a fox trot and purchasing a bouquet from a flower girl at the same time, nodded graciously and screamed back:
"eat if you wish, our viol inn is kept by the famous daddy linn, but eat in time and use your feet, be careful not to drop a beat!"
scraps sang back to queen jazzma:
"using one's feet to eat's a feat we've never tried, nor dropped a beat."
"if anyone drops a beat, i'll eat it," mumbled grumpy under his breath. fortunately no one heard him, and in a few moments they reached the inn. pausing at the foot of the steps and still marking time to the music, they stared up with great interest. as they did so an old gentleman with a fiddle body and bow legs came skipping out on the porch.
"before you eat, you must pay me in harmonee, sweet harmonee!"
sang the inn keeper, accompanying himself upon his fiddle body with one bow leg, while he stood upon the other.
"does he mean we have to sing?" whispered peter, sliding off the oztrich and setting the egg down carefully under a tree. scraps nodded and while grumpy and the oztrich rolled their eyes at her pleadingly, she clasped her cotton hands and sang with great feeling a song she had made up about sir hokus, the good knight of oz.
"as brave as a lion, as bold as a king, is sir hokus of pokes; he can fight, he can sing, he can sweep out the castle, but hokus likes best to bag a big giant, or go on a quest, and in oz an adventure is happening each minute and whenever one happens, he's sure to be in it!"
"well, he's not in this one," thought peter almost as interested in scraps' song as the inn keeper. as daddy linn was now bowing and smiling and motioning for them to come up, they started quite cheerfully up the steps. but no sooner had they set foot upon the first one than the whole flight danced off. you see, they were dance steps, all the steps in tune town are, but after dancing three polkas and a three-step, they waltzed back to the porch and somewhat dizzily the travellers jumped off.
"let's run away, let's run away, i can't keep dancing here all day,"
puffed ozwold, proud to have made up a song at last.
"eeney meeney miney mo, first you eat and then you go," answered scraps. peter and grumpy quite agreed with her and, shuffling their feet in time to the music, they waited impatiently for the inn keeper to re-appear. when he did come out he had four leather music rolls on a tray and handed them around as if they were the most delicious morsels imaginable.
"fie! fie! have you no pie!" sang scraps, while peter and grumpy shook their heads in disappointment.
ozwold pecked savagely at one of the rolls, but even he could not eat leather.
"pie? i have a grand piana, how would that suit, miss diana?"
the inn keeper looked inquiringly at the patchwork girl and, when she shook her head, danced crossly into the inn and slammed the door.
"no wonder they call this a viol inn, no dinner at all, just a dreadful din!"
mumbled scraps, who hated to have peter disappointed. peter, with a sigh, jumped over the flighty dance steps, picked up the oztrich egg and, with grumpy shuffling disconsolately after, started back toward the main street.
"very awk--when one can't talk," wheezed the oztrich, rolling its eyes sadly at peter.
"never mind, a way i'll find, tunester, will you be so kind--"
touching a tunester on the sleeve, scraps trilled earnestly:
"mister, will you show us how to leave this town? we're going now."
"to get out of tune, get out of tune! you'll find yourselves out, pretty soon,"
chuckled the singer, waltzing away unconcernedly.
"what do you suppose he means by that?" exclaimed peter, forgetting that he was breaking the law again. no sooner had he spoken than the music and dancing stopped and this time the whole band rushed toward him with instruments threateningly upraised.
"scream!" puffed the patchwork girl, struck by a sudden idea. "altogether now, ah!" not knowing what else to do, peter, grumpy and the oztrich screamed "ah" as loudly as they could, scraps joining in with a will. as each one screamed in a different key, the result was a perfectly dreadful discord. covering their ears and dropping their horns and drums, the members of the band, jazzma and her tunesters fled in every direction. before the last echoes of that "ah!" had died away, the four offenders found themselves out of tune indeed, though how they had gotten over the wall not one of them could have told you.
"did we blow over?" asked peter, looking down anxiously at the oztrich egg to see if it was broken.
"no," giggled scraps, throwing a kiss in the direction of the wall, "we sang out of tune, peter, and here we are out of tune. which road shall we take, boys?" there were three roads leading away from tune town and after quite a debate they chose the center one.
"i hope we find something to eat soon," sighed peter, as ozwold started briskly down the road. "i'm hungry as a bear!"
"not as this bear," growled grumpy, patting his middle sorrowfully.
"that was a fine place for you, scraps," chuckled peter as the oztrich thudded good humoredly along the sunny road. "you'd rather sing than talk anyway. but singing and dancing all your life, whew! how would you play base ball to music, i wonder. imagine singing out signals and trying to make a home run to a waltz."
"the dinners were the saddest," sighed grumpy, licking his chops hungrily. "do you see any biscuit bushes or carrot trees around here?"
"there's some kind of a tree in that field," answered peter, "but the fruit is up so high we couldn't reach it, anyway."
"i could," grunted the little bear eagerly. "let's stop and try." the oztrich had spied some especially appetizing rocks by the roadside and was quite willing to stop. so peter placed his egg child beside him and, while they ran off to investigate the fruit tree, ozwold lunched quite contentedly on a couple of cobblestones. the tree was about as tall as a cocoanut palm and clustered at the top were large green fruits about the size of watermelons.
requiring no luncheon, scraps danced off to amuse herself and, as peter and grumpy blinked hungrily upward, two of the melons detached themselves from the branch of the tree and came sailing gracefully downward.
"why, they've umbrellas over them," gasped peter.
"of course," said the little bear calmly. "have you never seen an umbrella melon?" peter never had and said so quite frankly.
"well," explained grumpy, placing himself in a position to catch the larger of the two. "if they didn't have these umbrella attachments they'd smash to pieces when they fell. as it is, when the fruit is ripe the umbrella leaves open and float them safely down. ah-hh!" holding out both arms, grumpy neatly caught his melon and, hugging it blissfully, sat down to enjoy his first meal since leaving patch. peter had to chase his luncheon all around the field, for the breeze was brisk and the umbrella attachment larger than the melon itself. but finally he did manage to overtake it and bringing the melon back, settled down beside grumpy. cutting off the umbrella leaves with his pen knife, peter split the melon in two. it was something like a cantaloupe, only much larger and much sweeter and to the tired, hungry, dusty little traveller, it tasted perfectly delicious. but, hungry as he was, half the melon was all he could eat and he looked in admiring astonishment as grumpy burrowed his nose deeper and deeper into his. the entire center was gone and he was nibbling at the rind when scraps came hurrying back across the field.
"are you boys going to eat all day? glad i don't waste my time that way!"
"you don't know what you miss, miss." licking his nose, grumpy grinned up at the patchwork girl, but scraps, sticking out her tongue, merely turned a cartwheel, jumped over a fence, and landed neatly on the back of ozwold. peter and grumpy were not slow to follow, for they were all anxious to reach the capital before nightfall.
"is my child safe?" mumbled ozwold as well as he could with the two cobblestones still sticking in his throat. "whatever you do, don't drop my child. he is my wife's favorite egg. i do hope he doesn't hatch out before we reach the emerald city!"
"so do i," breathed peter, looking quite nervously at the huge egg in his lap. "have you ever been in the emerald city?" he asked politely.
"no," answered the oztrich slowly. "have you?" peter shook his head and as ozwold jogged along the lane, scraps told him all about the capital of oz and the delightful people who live there, ending up with the story of ruggedo's escape and his wicked plan to steal all the oz magic and make himself ruler of the realm.
"ruler of oz!" screamed the oztrich, stopping in consternation. "great grandmothers, why didn't you tell me this before? why, if that old gnome has a flying cloak, he's probably reached the emerald city and captured everybody by this time. a gnome on the throne of oz, how perfectly impos! ruggedo ruler of oz, how simply ridick!" at each word ozwold grew more indignant, and finally, with a screech like an engine whistle, he hurled himself forward, running along at such speed that trees, fences, farms and hills whirled by in a blur of dust and peter and the others had all they could do to keep their places. hugging the oztrich egg with one arm and scraps with the other, peter blinked and bounced and tried to catch a glimpse of the country they were passing or the country they were coming to. but between the speed and the dust, he could see nothing.
"if he's just going in the right direction," thought the little boy, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, "we'll get there in no time. if he isn't--"
"whoa! whoa!" roared grumpy, as long as he had breath enough to roar. even scraps tried to check the mad plunge of their excited steed. but finally they all stopped shouting and devoted all their energies to hanging on. peter rather expected they would run into something and so was not greatly surprised to find himself sitting in the middle of the road. scraps sprawled beside him and grumpy, rubbing his head, limped crossly out of a ditch. ozwold himself was leaning up against a tree with both eyes closed, while across the roadway lay an extremely upset and odd looking traveller.
"i told you to whoa," growled grumpy, shaking his paw angrily. "now see what you've done!"
"never say whoa to an oztrich," muttered the green bird, opening one eye. "say whum!"
"but we've run over somebody," exclaimed peter.
"is my child broken?" asked the oztrich, opening the other eye and peering wildly in every direction. fortunately the egg had fallen on a heap of soft sand and while ozwold hurried over to assure himself it was not cracked, scraps and peter ran to help the stranger.
"are you broken, stunned or killed, wrecked or sprained or simply spilled?"
quavered the patchwork girl, leaning over him.
"it's all right," sighed the stranger, sitting up slowly. "i'm used to being slammed. just so my back's not broken, i don't care!"
"why, it's a book!" burst out peter, coming closer to make sure.
"not a book, a bookman!" corrected the traveller, rising with scrap's help to his feet. "books are old fashioned, but a bookman is right up to date. i don't wait to be advertised, i speak for myself, i don't lie around waiting to be read, i run after people and make them read me. i can carry myself and turn over a new leaf every day in the year. i'm very interesting!" finished the bookman, with a wide smile at peter. peter smiled back and how could he help it? above his big book body the fellow had a round jolly face with floppy dog ears. his legs and arms were quite thin and he was about as tall as scraps.
"are you sure you're not hurt?" asked the little boy, as the bookman began to run briskly up and down thumping the covers of his book body to knock out the dust.
"what are you about?" asked grumpy, looking curiously at the traveller and still rubbing his head with his paw. "have you any animal tales?"
"or verse?" cried the patchwork girl eagerly.
"or baseball stories?" questioned peter, coming closer and closer. in their interest they had almost forgotten the oztrich.
"i've all kinds of stories," boasted the bookman and, unclasping his middle, spread wide the pages of his book. "which will you have first?"
"a bear story," said grumpy, sitting down on his haunches and waving both paws. "bear stories are the most exciting!"
"no, a verse," shrilled the patchwork girl quickly. peter was about to call for a baseball story when he suddenly remembered his manners.
"ladies first," said peter, looking reprovingly at the little bear. "just show us one of your verses," he remarked carelessly.
"funny or sad?" asked the bookman, running his finger down his table of contents.
"funny, of course," chuckled scraps, tossing her head impatiently. turning his pages rapidly the bookman stepped off a few paces and, leaning forward, the three travellers read:
"do fishes use the liquid tones the world so highly praises? could they speak dryly, and do bees converse in honeyed phrases?"
"ho! ho!" laughed peter merrily, "if they do they'd soon get stuck. that's a good one--almost as good as your verses, scraps."
"there's a much funnier one on page seventy-six," said the bookman gaily. "wait!"
"what for?" coming up behind them, ozwold looked severely at their new friend. "what are we waiting for?" he repeated sternly.
"this is the man you ran over," explained peter quickly, "and he's letting us read his book."
"and you stand here reading with the whole kingdom in danger?" hissed the oztrich, thrusting his long neck forward angrily. "a nice way to save the queen, i must say."
"i've a chapter on saving, somewhere, but i'm afraid it's on saving money," mumbled the bookman, thumbing his pages over hurriedly. peter and scraps looked rather crest-fallen and, while they walked slowly toward the oztrich, he again addressed the bookman.
"if you know so much, perhaps you can tell us the way to the emerald city," he wheezed disagreeably.
"i'm not a guide book," answered the bookman stiffly.
"then shut up," advised the oztrich so sharply that without intending to at all the bookman did shut up.
"are you coming, or do i have to save the kingdom myself?" asked the oztrich, turning impatiently to peter.
"i'll come, too, and entertain you as you go along. read as you run," said the bookman brightly.
"not as i run," sniffed ozwold, who seemed determined to snub this new acquaintance. "better keep out of my way or you'll be run over again."
"i'm afraid you will," sighed peter, patting the bookman kindly on the back, for he seemed quite crushed by ozwold's rude speeches.
scraps had already mounted the oztrich and now, leaning far out to the side, shook hands with the bookman, singing:
"bookman! bookman, don't you care, we'll see you some day somewhere, come to the emerald city, do and then i'll read you through and through!"
"so will i," promised grumpy earnestly. "you'll find us in the palace. just ask for the queen of the quilties and her pet," finished the little bear grandly.
"there won't be any palace if you stand here much longer," fumed the oztrich, kicking up the dust angrily. "come on!"
realizing that there was some truth in the oztrich's remarks, peter picked up the huge egg and climbed aboard. grumpy, growling under his breath, took his seat behind peter.
"this is no time for improving literature," hissed the oztrich, starting off at a two legged trot. peter did not bother to answer, but waved his cap cheerily to the bookman, who still stood uncertainly in the middle of the road. he kept on waving till the bookman became a mere speck in the distance, then, turning about, devoted all his attention to holding on. for nearly an hour ozwold pelted down the endless road. then suddenly scraps clutched him excitedly about the neck.
"stop!" shouted the patchwork girl. "stop! stop!"
"what's the matter?" coughed the oztrich, slackening his speed a trifle.
"turn out between those pear trees quick, i see the road of yellow brick,"
cried scraps, waving one arm joyfully over her head.
"where does that take us?" inquired peter, leaning curiously over scraps' shoulder.
"to the emerald city's golden gate; home! home at last, i can hardly wait!"
sang scraps, nearly choking the oztrich in her excitement. "hurry, ozzy, hurry! hurry!"
"don't forget to whum when you come to the emerald city," grumbled grumpy, as the great green bird gathered itself together for another burst of speed.
"the emerald city may be destroyed for all we know," wheezed ozwold gloomily. "but hold tight, everybody. here we go!"
the gillikin country of oz has always been a favorite retreat for witches, wizards and sorcerers. since the practice of magic has been forbidden for everyone except glinda, the good sorceress of the south, and the wizard of oz, a great many of the lesser wizards and magic workers have retired to the mountains of the north to practice in secret or study for their own satisfaction the ancient art of wizardry.
in a crystal cavern on the western slope of zamagoochie lived wumbo, the wonder worker. in his youth, wumbo had studied in the best schools of sorcery and was not only an accomplished magician, but a lovable and loyal citizen of oz. therefore, when ozma passed a law against the practice of magic, wumbo withdrew to his favorite cave and quietly and harmlessly continued his studies. now, of all studies sorcery is the most profitable. being able to grant most of his own wishes, wumbo lived in the utmost comfort and contentment, his cavern being almost as magnificent and luxurious as ozma's castle. from preference, wumbo lived by himself, but was seldom lonely, for when you can conjure up a company of acrobats from a handful of pebbles, or an orchestra from a few sticks and dried peas, you are always sure of entertainment. long after ordinary oz folk were in their beds, wumbo, in his crystal study, would pore over his musty books of magic, trying out new spells and charms for his own satisfaction and amusement.
he was especially fond of his book of chants and enchantments and, on the evening i am writing of, sat beside his great crystal lamp, turning over its leaves and humming cheerfully to himself.
"i think," mused wumbo at last, "i shall use the speech-giving chant, to-night. it's been a long time since i've talked with my furniture and no doubt it has a lot to tell me!" rubbing his hands gleefully, wumbo turned to page ninety-seven and, after reading the chant several times to himself, walked over to his foot-stool and, touching it gently, droned:
"ooney, mooney, nooney nill, tell me foot-stool what you will."
"i need re-covering," creaked the foot-stool promptly. "and next time you trip over me, i trust you will crack both shins."
"ho! ho!" roared the wizard, bending backward and forward with mirth, "that's nice of you. anything else?" as the foot-stool made no further remark, he walked to the mantel and touched the clock.
"ooney, mooney, nooney nill, tell me, old clock, what you will."
"your wig's on crooked," ticked the clock critically, "and there's a smudge on the end of your nose." looking in the glass, wumbo saw that the clock, as usual, was telling the truth. straightening his wig, he went next to his favorite chair.
"ooney, mooney, nooney nill, tell me, arm-chair, what you will!"
chanted wumbo, putting both hands in his pockets.
"somebody's sitting on me," complained the chair in a stuffy voice.
"somebody's sitting on you," gasped wumbo in astonishment. "why, i don't see anybody!"
"then feel 'em," whispered the chair hoarsely. putting out his hand cautiously, wumbo touched a long wispy beard and immediately jumped back with a cry of alarm.
"fold your arms! fold your arms!" spluttered the wonder worker, rushing back to the book of enchantments. the chair lost no time in obeying this order. instead of ordinary arms, wumbo's chair had real ones and it clasped them about the invisible sitter, so that he could neither move, scream nor scarcely breathe. meanwhile, with trembling fingers, wumbo fluttered over the pages of the chant book, till he found the exact one he was searching for--the chant to render visible the invisible.
"ominey, hominey, dominey deer, i command you invisible one to appear!"
mumbled wumbo, straightening his specs excitedly, for he had had no visitors for seven years. instantly the figure of a gray gnome appeared in the arm-chair, kicking, struggling and sputtering with fright and fury. as wumbo continued to stare at him, the chair lowered one of its arms, and ruggedo, for, of course, it was the old gnome king, jerked up his head and roared loudly:
"take me to the emerald city! take me to the emerald city!"
"are you addressing me?" asked wumbo, dropping into a chair opposite the gnome and regarding him attentively. "if you are, you may as well save your breath. i have never practiced long-distance magic and could not send you to the emerald city, even if i wanted to."
"who wants your old magic," sneered ruggedo. "i've magic of my own. take me to the emerald city. take me to the emerald city!" he screeched, trying in vain to squirm out of the clutching arms of wumbo's chair.
"you are evidently unfamiliar with one of the first and simplest of magic laws," observed the wizard reprovingly. "i see now that you are wearing an invisible cloak, but two magic charms cannot work at the same time and as i spoke first you will have to wait till my chant wears off."
"who are you? where am i? how dare you keep me here!" panted ruggedo furiously.
"you are in the zamagoochie country, in the humble cave of wumbo the wonder worker," answered the old gentleman quite amiably. "and as you came here yourself, why blame me for trying to entertain you as i see best?"
"i knew it! i knew it!" raged the gnome king. "this is peter's doing. when i catch that boy i'll turn him to a peach basket and jump on him! and you, i suppose, are the father of that meddling kuma party?"
"why, yes," said wumbo in surprise. "have you met my son?" ruggedo gave a spiteful nod, and began to struggle anew with the arms of the chair.
"i command you to let me go," puffed the gnome king. "i've important business in the emerald city and must reach there to-night."
"i'm afraid that will be impossible," sighed wumbo softly. "when my chair takes a fancy to a person, it sometimes hangs on to him for days and days. why not sit still and rest yourself," he suggested, folding his arms comfortably. seeing that for the present he was perfectly powerless, ruggedo lay back and glared at the old wizard, his red eyes snapping with rage and resentment.
"i'll report you to ozma," threatened the gnome king darkly. "you know perfectly well that you are breaking the law, having all this magic furniture and stuff."
"take your feet off my rounds," ordered the chair sharply, giving ruggedo a good squeeze.
"how about your magic cloak?" said wumbo, smiling a little as ruggedo hastened to take his heels off the rungs of the chair, "and how about turning a boy to a peach basket? that sounds like pretty bad magic to me. who is this boy? and why are you wearing a cloak of invisibility?"
"that's my business," muttered the gnome, looking uneasily around. "are you going to let me go or not?"
"that depends on where you are going and what you are going to do," answered wumbo, clapping his hands three times. a box of chocolates instantly appeared and tilted invitingly toward the wizard. helping himself, wumbo offered a chocolate to ruggedo, but the gnome shook his head impatiently, so wumbo clapped his hands again and the chocolates disappeared.
"i am going to the emerald city to report the discovery of a treasure ship," explained the gnome king after a short silence. "i am going to have ozma transport the jewels and gold pieces to her own castle. i'm making her a present of them," finished ruggedo virtuously.
wumbo said nothing but, rising slowly, went over and stared into a great crystal ball on his desk. "that, of course, is not true," said wumbo, coming back to sit in his chair. "my crystal ball tells me that much and my own eyes tell me that you are wicked and untrustworthy. therefore i shall keep you here until i find some way to warn ozma of your coming."
at these words ruggedo was simply beside himself. kicking and screaming and threatening wumbo with every sort of death and destruction, he writhed about in the chair. but wumbo was not easily frightened and, picking up the book of enchantments, began to read it to himself, while the arm chair, indignant at the gnome king's bounces and screeches, hugged him till he was forced to keep quiet. but sitting there in the firelight, he did a lot of thinking, and as it grew later and later and quieter and quieter in the great crystal cavern, the gnome king's spirits began to rise. for ruggedo was beginning to remember some of his magic.
"if he doesn't try any more chants, the present ones will wear off in four hours," thought the old gnome craftily. "four hours, and then for the magic cloak!" wumbo, himself, fully intended to keep a strict watch over his visitor, but the heat from the fire and the drowsy chants in the old book made him sleepier and sleepier. besides, he had the utmost confidence in his arm-chair and, not realizing that ruggedo knew the length of time the magic chants would take to run out, he felt sure the old gnome would not try again to use his cloak. so he read on and on and, while he was searching for the chant to force a person to tell the truth, the book slipped from his knees and a loud snore issued from his lips.
"wake up, master! wake up!" buzzed the clock, tilting forward in alarm.
"wake up! wake up!" scolded the arm-chair and foot-stool both together. but before they could arouse the wizard, ruggedo had vanished. four hours had passed to the very minute, the magic of the wizard's chant had worn entirely away and at a whispered command from the gnome king, the magic cloak had lifted him out of the imprisoning arms of wumbo's chair and whirled him off and away. over mountains, hills and valleys flew the gnome in his invisible cloak, through the chilly mists of early morning till, far below, he saw the flashing spires of the emerald city of oz.
as the chair, foot-stool and clock lost their power of speech at the same instant the gnome king regained his freedom, there was no one to arouse wumbo. and it was nearly noon time before he did awaken. puzzled to find himself in a chair instead of bed he straightened up, gave himself a shake and blinked sleepily up at the clock. something about the clock reminded him of his bad little visitor and, whirling round, he stared anxiously at his arm-chair. but of course ruggedo was not there.
"gone!" exclaimed the wizard, clapping his hand to his head. "wumbo, you're growing old and stupid. what's to be done now? what's to be done now?"
shuffling anxiously up and down his crystal hearth, wumbo tried to think of the quickest way to locate the wicked little gnome. a loud thump upon the door interrupted his wonderings and, as he mechanically muttered the magic phrase that opened it, the arm and hand of kuma party came flying into the study.
"a message from my son," breathed wumbo, hurrying forward to clasp the hand. there was a note folded up in the palm and while the wizard opened it the arm settled quietly down beside the clock.
"dear father," wrote kuma, "a small mortal boy and a gnome came to my cottage yesterday afternoon. the boy is lost and the gnome quite evidently means mischief. knowing the perils for a mortal boy traveling in a magic country, i offered to lend him my hand if he ever needed it. this morning he sent for help and i have dispatched my right arm and hand to help him escape from the kingdom of patch and am sending my left to you for instructions. can you, by your magic, suggest a way to locate the gnome and keep the boy from harm?
"your dutiful and affectionate son kuma."
pushing his specs high on his forehead and knocking his wig sideways, wumbo dashed over to his desk, and wrote:
"send your arm to the emerald city. the gnome has gone there wearing a cloak of invisibility. take a letter of warning to ozma and find and hold the gnome till ozma can by her magic overpower him."
folding the paper, he slipped it into kuma's hand. the hand closed over it at once and in a flash the arm swept out of the cave and away over the gillikin mountains.
"well," sighed wumbo, sinking into his chair, which immediately gave him a reassuring little hug, "that ought to help some. but the gnome certainly means to make trouble!"
wumbo had never mastered long-distance magic and his spells and chants worked only when he was present, but feeling that he had done all that he could without breaking the law, and being fatigued by so much thinking before breakfast, he gently clapped his hands. in a flash an appetizing repast floated in on a golden tray and settled upon his desk. pulling up his chair, wumbo mumbled a few words over the pens and pencils scattered about his desk. next instant they had rolled to the floor and straightened up into an orchestra of five pieces. softly and sweetly they began to play an old oz quadrille and, somewhat soothed and comforted, the wonder worker began eating his breakfast.
"of course," said dorothy, leaning down to tie her gold slipper, "of course, ozma has only been gone since yesterday, but even so, i think it would be fun to have a party to welcome her home."
"so do i! i love parties!" clasping his knee with his clumsy, stuffed hand, the scarecrow smiled down at the little girl. he had just walked over from his corn-ear residence and they were sitting cozily in a big swing on the front porch of the palace.
"where did ozma go?" asked the scarecrow, taking off his hat and smoothing back the few wisps of straw that served him for hair.
"just to spend the night with glinda," said dorothy, picking up a book of party games and beginning to flip over the pages. "ozma has her magic belt with her and is going to wish herself back at three o'clock. why, what are you laughing at?" putting down the book, dorothy stared reproachfully at her companion.
"i'm not laughing," said the scarecrow solemnly, "but why pinch me that way? of course, i have no feeling, but it's not very polite."
"i didn't pinch you at all," exclaimed dorothy, sitting up very straight. the scarecrow eyed the deep dent in his stuffed arm, looked suspiciously all round and then, seeing no one but dorothy, moved quickly to the opposite end of the swing.
"what's the matter?" rumbled a deep voice and, coming out from behind a gold pillar, the cowardly lion paused before the royal swing. the cowardly lion had come to the emerald city with dorothy on her very first adventure and is the biggest pet in the palace. he was a bit out of breath, for he had just been running a race with his friend the hungry tiger. "what's the matter?" he panted anxiously, for dorothy was frowning crossly and the scarecrow, in spite of his painted smile, looked extremely sulky.
"while i was telling him about ozma's party, he laughed at me," pouted the little girl, moving as far as she could from the straw man.
"but she pinched me," explained the scarecrow in an injured voice, "for no reason whatever!" it was so unusual for these two--or for anyone in the emerald city--to quarrel, that the cowardly lion could scarcely believe his lion ears and, when dorothy began to protest angrily that she had not pinched the scarecrow, he held up his paw pleadingly.
"oh, let's talk about the party," begged the lion in a shocked roar. "what were you planning, my dear?"
"well," said dorothy, flashing an angry glance at the scarecrow, "first i was going to have a speech of welcome, then games and dancing and, after that, ozcream and--"
"ouch!" coughed the lion, interrupting dorothy with an angry growl. "who pulled my tail?" rolling his eyes from one to the other he rose to his feet, trembling in every knee. "i've known you nearly all my life," roared the cowardly lion, shaking his mane furiously, "but no one can pull my tail. not even you, dorothy."
"oh dear! oh dear! i think you're both perfectly horrid!" throwing down her book, dorothy jumped out of the swing, and dashed around the side porch, where she bumped violently into sir hokus, who was taking his morning turn on the veranda.
"odds daggers!" ejaculated the knight, straightening his shield and buckler. "what's wrong, maiden?"
"everything!" wailed dorothy, throwing her arms round his neck. "just because i'm trying to plan a party everybody is fighting with me."
"fighting?" puffed sir hokus, brightening up at the mere sound of the word, for he did dearly love a battle. "well, i'm on your side. who dares to fight with princess dot?" thundered the knight in his deep voice and, seizing her hand, stepped quickly around the corner of the porch. but when he saw the cowardly lion and the scarecrow simply glaring at one another, he paused in dismay. they were his oldest friends and never, since his arrival in the emerald city, had he had a disagreement with either of them. feeling that there must be some mistake, he strode hastily between the two celebrities and held up his hand. as he did, he received a staggering blow on the head that pushed his helmet well down over his ears.
"odds dragons and flagons!" blustered the knight, sputtering like a red hot coal. "have at you, villains! varlets! rascals and rogues!" drawing his sword, he began slashing in every direction, but as his helmet was over his eyes, he fortunately did no harm.
crouching behind the swing, ruggedo, in his invisible cloak, rocked to and fro with silent merriment, holding his sides and shaking all over with malicious glee. arriving at the palace early that morning, the gnome king had immediately ordered the cloak to carry him to the royal apartment. but ozma, to his great disgust and disappointment, was not there. neither was his belt, nor any of the little queen's magic appliances, for she had taken them all with her to glinda's castle. until he had the belt, ruggedo was perfectly powerless and, after his first disappointment had worn off, he determined to wait for ozma's return, seize the belt as soon as she appeared and at once destroy the emerald city and all of its inhabitants.
while he waited, ruggedo had run here and there about the palace, amusing himself in his own spiteful fashion. now that he had learned from dorothy the exact time of ozma's return, he fluttered off to the kitchen to steal some breakfast and plague the cook. meanwhile sir hokus had tripped over a flower pot and fallen flat, while the cowardly lion and the scarecrow had retreated behind two porch pillars. dorothy, terribly alarmed at the serious turn the quarrel had taken, rushed hurriedly forward. now that ruggedo had gone, the whole thing seemed silly and ridiculous.
"let's make up," begged dorothy, helping sir hokus to his feet. "i'm sure it's all a mistake."
"well, it was a great mistake to pull my tail," rumbled the cowardly lion, coming out very slowly and majestically, "but i'll overlook it this once." he blinked suspiciously at the scarecrow, but the scarecrow was helping sir hokus with his helmet and did not even notice.
"who thumpst me again--" panted the knight, pointing his fore finger furiously downward--"who thumpst me again--d--dies!"
"but nobody will!" dorothy hastened to assure him. she looked pleadingly at the scarecrow, who she felt must be responsible. "let's forget all about it and think about the party," she proposed brightly. "now, who'll make the speech of welcome?"
"let scraps do it," muttered the cowardly lion, licking his paws sulkily. "she's clever at speeches and makes short ones, too. i'll go find her," he offered in a little more cheerful voice. "haven't seen her since yesterday, but i s'pose she's around somewhere."
"all right," smiled dorothy, as the cowardly lion thudded across the porch. "now, who'll help me decorate the banquet hall?" sir hokus had taken off his helmet and was rubbing his head wrathfully. at dorothy's words he glanced across at the scarecrow, but the straw man's painted eyes met his so frankly and innocently that he impulsively put out his hand. certainly the scarecrow's flimsy arm could never have dealt him such a blow.
"we'll help you," said the knight, taking the scarecrow's arm. "'twas that villain lion who thumped me," he whispered as they started for the banquet hall.
"here come betsy and trot," cried dorothy, forgetting all about the quarrel. "maybe they will pick some flowers for the table!"
betsy and trot, as many of you already know, are two little mortals like dorothy, who have been invited by ozma to live in the royal palace. both reached oz after ship-wrecks and many trying adventures and they found life in the capital so exciting and gay that they have never wished to return to the united states. they were delighted at the prospect of a party, and so was the hungry tiger, who had come up just behind them. putting a huge flower basket on his back, the two little girls ran gaily down the palace steps.
"i'll have a strawberry sandwich," purred the tiger, looking over his shoulder at dorothy. "be sure to have strawberry sandwiches!"
"i never heard of a strawberry sandwich," laughed the little girl, shaking her head dubiously.
"well, there always has to be a first," chuckled the tiger, trotting after betsy.
dorothy, looking a little puzzled, waved after him and, well pleased with her plans, ran into the castle to ask the wizard of oz to think up some new tricks to entertain the guests, and to confer with the cook about refreshments. soon the palace began to hum with activity. the banquet hall, under the skillful hands of the scarecrow and sir hokus took on a truly festive air. messengers and pages ran hither and thither with invitations, while the royal band, tuning up on the castle lawn, added its strains to the general gaiety. indeed, from the preparations for her return, one would have thought ozma had been gone a year instead of a day, and ruggedo, fluttering here and there in his invisible robe, chuckled with amusement and malice.
"work away," muttered the gnome king darkly. "at three o'clock i shall send you all to the bottom of the nonestic ocean, transport my gnomes here and enjoy this party my own self." at first, ruggedo had continued his pinching and punching and hair pullings but, at last, fearing detection, he had stopped his mischievous teasing and seated himself calmly in ozma's chair at the head of the banquet table. in this position it would be a simple matter to unclasp his magic belt as soon as the little fairy made ready to take her place. the patch, which was the only visible thing about ruggedo, was now on the seat of the chair, so did not show and, quite unconscious of their dreadful peril, dorothy and her friends went on with their preparations for the party, while ruggedo, fidgeting with impatience, kept his eyes fastened upon the emerald clock.
twenty minutes of three! twenty minutes, and then--! the little gnome fairly hugged himself with wicked anticipation. ten minutes of three and now everything was in readiness. dorothy and betsy, giggling together, were putting the finishing touches to the table. the scarecrow and sir hokus, between them, were composing a speech of welcome, for, of course, the cowardly lion had not been able to find the patchwork girl. ranged about the walls in pleasant anticipation stood the courtiers and dear old celebrities of oz. nick chopper, the tin woodman, summoned from his palace by the wizard's magic, stood conversing in a low tone with pastoria, ozma's royal father, about his crop of tin cans, which were larger this year than ever before. the little wizard of oz, himself, was whispering to tik tok, the machine man, some of the tricks he was planning for the company's amusement and the metal man was chuckling with mechanical mirth. hank, betsy's mule, toto, dorothy's little dog, the saw horse, ozma's royal steed, and all of the other palace pets were sitting expectantly at their own special table.
"now then!" exclaimed the scarecrow, having finished the speech of welcome to his own and the knight's satisfaction, "as soon as i have finished this address, i shall extend a hand of welcome to our little ruler, lead her triumphantly to the head of the table and--"
"look!" rasped the tin woodman, who stood nearest the door. "look! look up! look out!" following the direction of nick chopper's tin finger everyone did look and, next minute, in fright and bewilderment, huddled together for protection, for over their heads flashed the hand of kuma party.
"the welcoming hand!" gasped the scarecrow, clutching sir hokus. "but whose? everybody count his hands," mumbled the scarecrow, looking anxiously at his own.
"the hand that smote me," roared the knight, making a lunge at the hand with his sword. everyone else ducked, dodged and shuddered as the arm sailed hither and thither over their heads.
"it's a trick of the wizard's," faltered dorothy, looking hopefully at the little man. but the wizard, peering palely from behind a huge green chair, shook his head positively.
"i had no hand in this," muttered the wizard, mopping his bald head with his best hanky. now, kuma's hand could unfortunately carry out only the instructions given it by its owner. the note of warning for ozma was tightly clasped in its fingers, but as ozma was not present, it presumed she was to be found in another part of the palace and immediately flashed up the golden stairway in search of her and the invisible gnome. but ruggedo was now more invisible than ever, having crawled under the table at the first sight of the flying arm. as the arm disappeared, everyone heaved a high of relief.
"come! come!" wheezed the wizard, stepping out nervously from behind the green chair, "we must not let a little thing like this spoil the party."
"why, it's three o'clock now!"
"and here's ozma!" cried dorothy. and there, indeed, was ozma, standing with a quiet smile in the doorway. at once the scarecrow burst into his speech:
"welcome ozma, beauteous queen sovereign of this city green, illustrious ruler--"
thump! ban--g! crash! with hand still upraised, the scarecrow swung to the long french windows. so did everyone for that matter.
"a menagerie!" shrilled nick chopper, falling back against the wall.
"why, it's scraps!" burst out the scarecrow, as the oztrich, with his three dusty riders, plunged giddily into the room.
"beware!" roared the oztrich in a terrible voice, and when an oztrich roars it is four times louder than a lion. "beware!"
knocking over tik tok and three footmen, bearing trays of lemonade, the great green bird rushed impetuously toward the queen. "beware!" it roared again so lustily that ozma's curls blew straight out behind.
"beware," coughed the scarecrow irritably. "well, i ought to be where you are. out of my place, you rude monster."
"beware the gnome king!" finished the oztrich, bowing his head so low and so suddenly that the patchwork girl fell off one side and peter and grumpy off the other.
ozma, surprised enough at the party, was so startled and dismayed by the oztrich's roars that she caught at a little gold stand to keep from falling. as she steadied herself, two arms clasped themselves round her waist.
"oh! oh! someone is trying to steal my magic belt!" wailed the little fairy, swaying dizzily from side to side.
"take this! take this!" bounding to his feet, peter picked up the oztrich egg and fairly forced it into ozma's arms. as he did so there came a blood-curdling screech, and then, perfect silence.
"it's ruggedo!" puffed the patchwork girl, who had picked herself up by this time.
"look for a blue patch! look for a blue patch!" panted grumpy, standing on his hind legs and sniffing the air anxiously. but there was no sign of a blue patch anywhere, for ruggedo at the first glimpse of the egg had commanded the magic cloak to carry him to the royal stable. here, trembling and shaken, he cowered in the hungry tiger's stall. furious to have been frustrated by peter at the very instant when success seemed sure, he raved and sputtered and tried to think up some way to get his belt in spite of the hateful egg. meanwhile, in the palace, the utmost confusion prevailed, and when the hand of kuma again flashed into the banquet hall and flew like an arrow to ozma and dropped the note of warning into her lap, the courtiers fled in every direction, while the celebrities crowded close about the little queen to protect her from these confusing and invisible enemies.
"stop! stop!" panted peter, as sir hokus, waving his sword, made determined swings at the flying arm. "it's a helping hand! it belongs to a friend of mine, sir!" tugging at the iron coat tails of the knight, he sought to dissuade him from his grim purpose, but not until ozma clapped sharply did the good knight desist.
leaning back wearily in the chair to which the scarecrow had guided her, and still holding the great oztrich egg in her lap, ozma turned to scraps.
"what does this mean? who are these strangers, and where is the gnome king?" asked ozma in a faint voice. as she spoke, kuma's hand patted peter approvingly on the head, doubled into a fist under the knight's nose and, sailing upward, settled quietly on the green chandelier.
"i've been a queen, i've riz and fell and have a thrilling tale to tell!"
puffed scraps, tossing back her yarn dramatically.
"never mind the thrills, come to the point! come to the point!" growled the cowardly lion, looking uneasily at the oztrich, who was strutting pompously up and down the banquet hall, and at grumpy, who was casting longing eyes at the banquet table.
now the whole company turned expectantly to the patchwork girl and, enjoying the importance of her position and news to the very fullest extent, scraps told her story and peter's, while the little boy kept a sharp lookout for the invisible gnome. scraps' own adventures were surprising enough, but when she came to peter's experiences with the former gnome king, the sea quakes, their escape in the pirate ship and the magic casket of soob, the sorcerer, the excitement of her hearers knew no bounds. clapping on two pair of specs, the wizard of oz rushed from the room to fetch his encyclopedia of magic and his black bag, for he felt that his utmost skill would be needed to prevent the gnome from carrying out his wicked plans.
"it must have been ruggedo who pinched you and pulled the cowardly lion's tail," whispered dorothy, who was standing between sir hokus and the scarecrow. when the good knight heard how kuma had dispatched his hand to aid peter and scraps in their escape from patch, he waved apologetically at the arm resting on the chandelier. it at once descended and began shaking hands all around and peter, staring at that gay and brilliant assemblage, thought he had never seen so interesting and strange a sight. the hungry tiger, now that the story was told, was all for going on with the party, but the wizard, realizing the extreme danger they were in, said no.
"put all the magic treasures together and place the oztrich egg on top of them," commanded the wizard, "for ruggedo dare not touch them so long as the egg is near."
so ozma unclasped her belt and, placing the oztrich egg in the center, put her magic box and wishing pills beside it.
"i cannot believe ruggedo would be so wicked," sighed ozma, turning sadly to the scarecrow. "now that he sees it is impossible to steal the belt perhaps he will go away."
"not he!" answered the scarecrow positively. "he's around here somewhere, depend on that, and until we find him, watch out!"
"why not eat, while we watch?" purred the hungry tiger. "these travellers look tired and hungry and deserve refreshment after their long journey."
grumpy rolled his eyes approvingly at the hungry tiger and ozma, in spite of herself, had to smile. as she nodded her royal head, the scarecrow burst into his speech of welcome all over again, the footmen began pulling out the chairs and everyone settled down as if nothing at all had happened. grumpy had a place between the hungry tiger and cowardly lion, and they, well pleased with the behavior of the little bear, did their best to make him feel at home. the oztrich stood up behind grumpy, swallowing rapidly everything that came within reach. scraps had the seat of honor beside ozma, and peter, between dorothy and sir hokus, was plied with every delicacy. the hand of kuma, trained to serve, flew backward and forward, filling tumblers, carrying trays and generally making itself useful.
"dost like our emerald city, lad?" queried sir hokus, bending kindly toward the little boy.
"well," acknowledged peter quite truthfully, "i haven't seen much of it, the oztrich ran so fast, you know."
"a rare and exceptional bird!" murmured sir hokus mildly, "but not my idea of a giddy steed."
"nor mine!" whispered peter, winking sociably at the knight. "he goes twenty feet at one jump and travels like a hurricane." between bites, peter told the knight how they had run over the bookman and a little more about the pirate ship and the sultan of suds, while scraps, at the head of the table, gave a spirited account of her experiences as queen of the quilties.
so light hearted and gay are these dear people of oz that soon they were laughing and chatting as merrily as if no danger threatened their little ruler or themselves. only the wizard seemed to be bothering about the gnome king. he had placed his encyclopedia beside him on the table and, nibbling absently at a chicken leg, continued to pore over its finely printed pages in an effort to trace the magic articles peter had found in the sorcerer's chest. it must be confessed that peter glanced from time to time at the chair where the magic belt lay, marveling at its wonderful powers and hoping that when everything was over it would safely transport him back to philadelphia.
"after the party we'll have the cowardly lion take us all over the emerald city," promised dorothy, as peter dipped his spoon into a heaping saucer of ozcream. blissfully, peter nodded, then glancing again at the magic belt, dropped his spoon with a crash and pushed back his chair.
"the egg!" gasped peter wildly. "it's hatched!" and it most certainly had! as the startled company sprang to their feet, the baby oztrich stepped awkwardly out of its shell, wabbled to the edge of the chair and fell off. and that was not all! for as the oztrich, with great strides, rushed to the side of its child, the magic belt, the box of wishing pills and the magic box disappeared and a blue patch began to flutter and dance before the horrified eyes of the now thoroughly alarmed guests of ozma.
"the gnome king!" groaned the wizard, slamming his book with a bang.
"the belt!" screamed peter, dashing toward the blue patch. feeling that something might happen that would enable him to carry out his plans, ruggedo had returned to the banquet hall and, watching from a safe distance, saw to his utter relief and astonishment that the egg had hatched. instantly its power over him ceased and, dashing forward, he had pounced upon the belt and clasped it about his waist.
"revenge!" roared the voice of the invisible gnome. "revenge! next moment i shall send you all to the bottom of the nonestic ocean!"
"not that! not that!" faltered the patchwork girl, clutching ozma in a panic. "i never could stand water!"
at ruggedo's words, the celebrities and courtiers clung shuddering together. knowing the awful power of the belt and feeling that they were indeed lost, they waited for the gnome king to speak. but peter, seizing first a tumbler, then a plate, sent them flying at the blue patch. ruggedo might be invisible, but he was still there. shaking his head angrily as the tumbler broke over his crown he cried in a loud voice, "i command you to transport--"
the plate, crashing against his nose, made him pause, and peter followed this with a vase and water pitcher. but gnomes have hard heads and, with an angry roar, ruggedo began again, "i command you to transport these people--"
by this time peter had thrown everything in reach. feeling desperately in his pocket he sent a top, a baseball and a box of fish hooks whizzing through the air. then, as his fingers closed on the sorcerer's stone, he flung that, too, at the invisible gnome. instantly there was a complete and utter silence. the patch still fluttered wildly before their eyes and, as the stunned company eyed it in horrified suspense, the hand of kuma descended and closed roughly on the invisible shoulder of ruggedo.
"hold him! hold him!" panted the wizard, rushing forward with his black bag. "i remember now the magic to make him visible." the little wizard of oz seldom uses chants and, instead of the verse wumbo had employed, sprinkled a black and white powder over the gnome king. even years afterward peter could remember the distorted and furious face of ruggedo, as the spell of the magic cloak was broken and he stood revealed to his enemies. struggling to shake off the clutch of kuma's hand, he was desperately trying to speak to the magic belt. but, though his mouth moved, not a sound issued from his lips.
"struck dumb!" cried the scarecrow, unclasping his arms from the knight's neck, where he had flung them in his extreme agitation. "but how! and why?"
"i have it! i have it!" exclaimed the wizard, pouncing upon the emerald that peter, as a last resort, had hurled at the gnome king. "this is the famous silence stone, used by the ancient emperors of oz to keep their wives quiet in times of war. how it came into the possession of soob i cannot imagine, but see, here written in magic on the emerald itself is the whole story: 'whom this stone touches on the head shall remain silent for seven years'."
"yon honest lad hath saved the realm!" boomed sir hokus, slapping peter on the back and beaming joyfully upon the still trembling company.
"i wish i could have read that before," puffed peter.
"well, it's lucky you threw it when you did," answered the wizard. "one more word and we'd have been at the bottom of the sea. as it is--" calmly the wizard unclasped the belt from the scowling gnome king and, snatching the box of mixed magic and the wishing pills, handed them back to ozma--"as it is, ruggedo is perfectly harmless."
"three cheers for peter!" cried the scarecrow, waving his hat over his head. "his aim and arm have saved the day."
"that's because he's such a good pitcher," mumbled the little bear, and the cheers were given with such a will all the dishes on the table skipped. ozwold, who had buried his head in a flower pot at the first of the gnome king's threats, now reared it cautiously and, with mud still sticking to his bill, approached the queen.
"if your highness will excuse me," quavered the oztrich hoarsely, "i must be going. this excitement is very bad for my child."
plucking a plume from his tail, ozwold extended it politely. smiling kindly, ozma took the plume and sent jellia, her little maid, to fetch an emerald necklace, for scraps had, just in time, reminded her of the hatchday present for the baby oztrich.
"this is simply magnif--!" murmured ozwold and, as ozma fastened the necklace round his long neck, the company cheered and cheered again, for they felt that the great green bird was in a large measure responsible for their safety. ozwold, himself, was anxious to turn his child over to his wife and tell her the story of his amazing adventures, so dorothy and peter placed the baby oztrich on his back, fastening it securely with a hair ribbon. nodding stiffly to the right and left, ozwold strutted proudly from the banquet hall, and immediately the ozites surrounded peter, congratulating and praising him, till the little boy grew quite red with embarrassment and pleasure.
at ozma's command, ruggedo was led away to the cellar and, with nothing more to worry them or mar the festivities, the party began again and lasted far into the night. the emerald palace is so large and so roomy that none of the guests thought of going home and, after the wizard had performed the last of his tricks and scraps had recited the funniest of her verses, they all trooped off to bed, calling cheerily to each other as they mounted the golden stairs. peter had a royal suite to himself and, curling down luxuriously in the grand gold bed, wondered if he were not already asleep and dreaming of all this magnificence. a bare little room had been found for grumpy, and the little bear, well pleased with his new quarters and comrades, was soon asleep and snoring tremendously.
with scraps and dorothy for guides and the cowardly lion and hungry tiger for steeds, peter and grumpy rode over the whole emerald city next morning, receiving everywhere the cheers and acclaim of the inhabitants. the story of peter's prowess had gone abroad and he was everywhere hailed as the hero of the hour. right after breakfast, he had written a long note to kuma, telling him the whole story of ruggedo's treachery and thanking him for his great generosity. kuma's arm, which had needed for the night only a little elbow room, immediately flew back to its master, with the note and a great bag of emeralds sent by ozma to express her thanks and appreciation.
luncheon was another party, but, as dorothy and betsy explained to the little boy, every day in the emerald city is just like one big party.
"do stay here!" urged dorothy and, ozma herself, coming to peter's chair, begged him to make his home in the marvelous land of oz.
"you shall be a prince!" promised ozma graciously, "and rule over one of our smaller kingdoms. prince peter the first, how is that?" the celebrities waved and cheered at ozma's words, and peter, seeing that everyone expected it, rose to make the most important speech of his life.
"i'd like to stay and be a prince," said peter slowly, "but you see, folks, i'm a pitcher and i couldn't go back on the fellows and on my grandfather, so if your majesty will just transport me to philadelphia, why that will be reward enough."
"spoken like a true and loyal knight!" cried sir hokus, thumping on the table.
"good-night!" sighed scraps, for she had taken a great fancy to peter, and had rather hoped he would stay in oz.
"would you like to go now?" asked ozma, with a merry smile, for ozma had a little plan of her own. peter nodded a little bashfully, for it did seem a bit rude to want to leave so delightful a place and company, but he felt that he ought to get in a little practice for the game. so ozma immediately put on her magic belt and, extending her right hand, said, imperiously:
"i command you to transport this boy and the pirate's gold to philadelphia!" instantly peter vanished and the ozites, running up the stairs two at a time, crowded round the magic picture in ozma's sitting room.
"show us peter," panted ozma, for she was a little out of breath from her run. at her words the country scene in the picture faded and there was peter, sitting in the middle of a dusty ball field, with a bag of gold on each side, and a crowd of cheering boys around him.
"i thought some of that gold might be real!" exclaimed ozma, turning triumphantly to the wizard. "polacky must have been a real pirate before he sailed into the nonestic ocean and while i could not transport any of our gold or jewels to philadelphia, two bags of the pirate's gold were real."
"oh! won't he have fun!" squealed dorothy, giving scraps a hug.
that night peter, sitting on the arm of his grandfather's chair, had the pleasure of seeing in the evening paper the heading he had thought up himself:
"philadelphia boy finds treasure and saves the emerald city of oz."
back in the capital there were only a few things to settle now. the silence stone and magic cloak were carefully stored away in the emerald safe in the wizard's laboratory to be used in case of extreme danger or war.
kaliko was at once notified of ruggedo's capture and permitted to resume his place as king of the gnomes.
walking in the garden, the same afternoon that peter had been sent back to philadelphia, the wizard of oz had noticed a gold thread running under one of the benches. following it curiously he found that it led into the palace, up the stairs to the very top sunny chamber where an old winkie woman named susan smiggs did all the palace mending. susan, then, was the proper ruler of patch, and scraps, shaking her head dubiously, watched the fat little seamstress drive away in the red wagon, to take up her duties as queen of the quilties. but as ozma had promised to revise the laws of patch, perhaps susan will have a better time than the patchwork girl did.
as for ruggedo, deciding that the loss of speech for seven years was punishment enough, ozma kindly granted the gnome his freedom, first taking the precaution to have him dipped into the fountain of oblivion. as anyone touched by these waters forgets all his past wickedness, let us hope that from now on ruggedo will lead a better life and cause no more trouble in oz.
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73170.txt
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The giant horse of Oz
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far to the north, walled in on all sides by the craggy slopes of the munchkin mountains, lies the great lost lake of orizon. and glittering on its blue bosom, like a large and lovely necklace, rest the ozure isles of oz. now oz itself, this mysterious land about which we read and hear so often, is a large oblong kingdom divided into four smaller kingdoms with the emerald city in the exact center. here dwells ozma, the present ruler, a little fairy of great gentleness and power. while all the kingdoms in oz are subject to ozma, each has its own special sovereign.
for instance, the northern country of the gillikens is governed by the good witch tattypoo; the red land of the quadlings, by glinda the good sorceress of the south; the western and yellow empire of the winkies is under the kindly control of nick chopper, the tin woodman of oz; the blue munchkin country is governed by a king of whom nothing much has been heard for many a long year. but be that as it may, it is in the munchkin country that the great lost lake of orizon lies.
the waters of orizon are deep, salt and dashing, so that it is more like an inland sea than a lake. on ancient oz maps orizon is marked by a large blue circle, but so steep and impenetrable are the paths over the mountains, so beset with dangerous beasts and yawning chasms, few travelers have glimpsed its sparkling waters, or the islands rising so dazzlingly from its center. on oz maps to-day, orizon is not shown at all, and the lost lake and its jeweled islands have long since been forgotten by the merry inhabitants of ozma's kingdom.
except for the blue gulls that circle endlessly over the sapphire city of cheeriobed, no one thinks of, or visits the ozure isles, at all. yet in the whole curious land of oz is no kingdom more interesting or delightful. there are five of the ozure isles, each small and sparkling with flashing cliffs of iridescent gems and shores honeycombed with caves and jeweled grottoes. instead of pebbles, the beaches are strewn with precious stones, opals, rubies and amethyst, turquoise and pearls, but more numerous than any other of the precious stones are the glittering sapphires that color the whole island realm with their dazzling blue light, and from which cheeriobed, the king, has fashioned his capital city.
the ozurians number one thousand and seven and are a tall fair haired race of munchkins. in olden days they were the happiest, most care-free people in oz, but that was before mombi, the wicked witch of the north, stole the young queen and sent the monster quiberon to guard the waters of orizon. since then, the good king and his subjects have been virtual prisoners on the islands. the great flock of sea horses on which they were wont to ride to the mainland have been destroyed by this pitiless monster and only when quiberon is sleeping dare the inhabitants venture down to the shore. you see in aquariums, the sea horses that abound in our own tropical waters. well, the sea horses of orizon were like that, only as large as arabian steeds, with flashing manes, great winged fins and powerful shining tails. to ride upon their backs must have been more pleasurable than anything i can imagine and their loss was one of the greatest griefs this island monarch had suffered. one would wonder that so unfortunate a king could endure life at all.
but cheeriobed was so kind and gay and so naturally merry that even in the face of all his misfortunes he was calm and uncomplaining and often had whole days at a time when he forgot to be unhappy. upon his shimmering islands grew everything necessary for comfort and ease and his subjects were light hearted and industrious and always obedient to his desires. then, to see the sun flashing on the jeweled rocks and sparkling shores of the ozure isles by day and the moon silvering the spires of the sapphire city by night would lift the heaviest heart. to further lighten the sorrows of this good king, there was philador, his son. nowhere in the four kingdoms of oz lived a gayer, handsomer and more companionable little fellow. then too, cheeriobed was fortunate enough to have at his castle a juggler who could balance ten chairs and some more things upon his chin, a minstrel who knew a thousand songs, and a carpet that could beat itself. so on the rare occasions when quiberon lay dozing, life was gay and happy in the blue castle.
on one such calm and sunny morning, cheeriobed, his throne drawn close to the great windows, was gazing dreamily off toward the munchkin mountains. he was thinking of the old happy days and only half listening to the strumming of umtillio, the minstrel. at his side, toddledy, faithful scribe and prime moneyster was balancing the castle accounts, while palumbo, the court juggler, balanced seven books, three ink wells and a gold chair on the tip of his nose.
"has your highness ever considered," panted palumbo, speaking with difficulty because of the books and ink bottles--"has your highness ever considered how the noses and chins in this kingdom have been neglected? with a little training, i could teach the islanders to carry their entire possessions in this careless and interesting fashion. take your own nose for instance--" the king passed his hand uneasily over his nose and toddledy looking up from his accounts began to mutter crossly under his breath. "take your own nose," continued palumbo persuasively, "with a little practice you could balance the fire tongs, the screen and the sapphire clock itself upon the tip. we'll begin with a few simple exercises."
paying no attention to toddledy, the court juggler set down the books and ink bottles and lifted the huge clock from the mantel. "now then," he puffed earnestly, "if your highness will kneel and turn the head to the left." cheeriobed with a resigned wink at his prime moneyster had just got down upon his knees, when a shuddering explosion shook the castle. the jeweled chandeliers rattled like castanets, ornaments left their accustomed places and flew through the air, chairs slid into corners, and the carpet that could shake itself, shook off three tables and a chair and rolling up so rapidly it caught umtillio unawares, reared stiffly on end and stood in a corner. cheeriobed had fallen heavily to the floor and small wonder. at the first tremor palumbo had dropped the sapphire clock upon his head and taken to his heels.
"quiberon!" quavered toddledy, rushing over to the window and drawing aside the blue curtains, "great totomos--what does he want now?"
as if to answer the old prime moneyster the castle rocked more violently than ever. the waters of orizon below began to toss and bubble, and presently from their churning depths rose the frightful head of mombi's monster. no sea serpent was ever uglier than quiberon, fire shot from his eye and smoke from his nostrils. he had the head scales and talons of a dragon and the long hideous body of a giant fear-fish. as toddledy clutched at the curtains to keep from falling, quiberon sent a great cloud of smoke upward. it twisted, curled and spiraled, forming itself finally into a long black sentence, the words hanging like a dark threat in the clear morning air.
"send a mortal maiden to wait upon me or in three days i will destroy you utterly!" as toddledy with smarting eyes read this monstrous message, quiberon showed all of his red tusks and dove beneath the waves. at the same instant akbad the soothsayer came tearing into the throne room.
"dunce!" shrieked akbad, shaking his long finger under toddledy's nose, "why do you stand there idle when the whole kingdom is in danger? the king is in danger, the prince is in danger, i, akbad the soothsayer, am in danger of being destroyed utterly. utterly! utterly! utterly!"
racing around in a frenzied circle, akbad began to tear out handfuls of his hair and cast it upon the floor. his loud outcries aroused the unconscious monarch. rubbing the lump that the sapphire clock had raised upon his forehead, cheeriobed rose and unsteadily made his way to the window. the black sentence was growing fainter but was still legible. after reading it twice, the unhappy monarch groaned heavily and dropped his head upon the sapphire sill. "where are we to find a mortal maiden and even if we do find one, who would condemn her to such a fate?" mourned the king.
"here comes jewlia," panted toddledy, ducking his head as a small ozurian came sailing through the window. each of the ozure islanders took turns serving quiberon and the last to take charge of his cavern was jewlia, the court jeweler's daughter. not caring for land food quiberon had never molested the keepers of his cavern. so far, he had satisfied himself with devouring the sea horses, preventing any of the ozure islanders from leaving the islands and shaking them up whenever he wished to amuse himself. his treatment of jewlia was therefore all the more alarming. while the king continued to groan and akbad to tear out his hair, toddledy hurried anxiously over to the little maiden.
"my child!" stuttered toddledy touching her gently on the arm--"what has happened, are you hurt?"
"i was only telling him stories," wailed jewlia, wiping her eyes on her blue silk apron.
"a pernicious and wicked habit," fumed akbad, shaking his finger at the trembling little girl. "what kind of stories, may i ask?"
"stories about ozma of oz and the three little mortal maids who have come to live in the emerald city," sobbed jewlia. "i found them in an old history book in my father's shop, and when i finished the last story--" jewlia paused to wipe her eyes--"quiberon rushed out of the cave, and when he came back, seized me in his talons and hurled me through this window." burying her head in her hands jewlia began to weep afresh.
"there, there," begged cheeriobed, patting her kindly on the shoulder. "don't cry, my dear."
"let her cry!" roared akbad, stamping furiously up and down. "the mischievous wench, with her tales of mortal maidens, has ruined us all. nothing can save us now." as if to emphasize his gloomy prediction, the castle began to tremble violently. holding to his crown with both hands--it was inset with cobble stones which are extremely rare on a jeweled island--cheeriobed sat down hard upon his throne.
"i must think!" muttered the king in a faint voice.
"think if you can!" sniffed the soothsayer, hooking his arm around a pillar. "can you think a mortal maid into the monster's cave? can you think of a way to leave the islands, even?"
"has your majesty forgotten the golden pear?" swinging backward and forward on the window curtains as the castle rocked to and fro, toddledy peered out inquiringly at the king.
"the pear!" chattered cheeriobed. "no one must pick the golden pear. that is for prince philador and to be picked only in times of extreme danger."
"what do you call this?" demanded akbad indignantly. "are we to be destroyed without lifting a finger to save ourselves?"
"philador? where is philador?" groaned cheeriobed, putting both hands to his ears, as toddledy and akbad began to scream hoarsely at each other. "send for the prince!" glad to escape from the confusion, and keeping her footing with difficulty, jewlia ran off to search for the little prince. by the time she reached the beach, the islands had stopped quivering. breathlessly jewlia hastened to the hidden cove where philador was usually to be found sailing his toy fleet. at the first quake, he had thrown himself face down on the rocks. but so accustomed was philador to the tempers of quiberon that he thought nothing of the terrible quakes that rocked the islands from time to time. when the shaking had ceased, philador jumped up and was unconcernedly feeding the blue gulls as jewlia came running over the shining sands. as quickly as she could, jewlia told him of quiberon's latest demand and of his dark threat to destroy the kingdom. then arm in arm they made their way back to the castle. the carpet that could shake itself had unrolled, and umtillio, looking terribly tossed and ruffled, was sitting in the center, plucking out a sad tune upon his harp. he nodded mournfully as the two children came tip-toeing into the throne room. akbad was feverishly thumbing over an old book of necromancy and toddledy and cheeriobed were conversing in subdued whispers.
"the only one who can help us is the good witch of the north," mused cheeriobed, as philador sank down at his feet and rested his head affectionately against his father's knee.
"let me go to her," begged the little prince eagerly. "surely she will help me find my mother and destroy quiberon before he destroys us."
cheeriobed shook his head quickly and decidedly. "no! no! it is too dangerous. besides, there is no way to cross the lake. we must think of something else." taking off his crown, cheeriobed gazed sadly off into the distance. long ago, word had been brought by the blue gulls of the capture of mombi, the wicked witch of the north, by tattypoo, who now ruled in her stead. great had been the rejoicing on the ozure isles and hopefully cheeriobed had waited for tattypoo to restore his queen and deliver him from the cruel clutches of quiberon. but time had passed and nothing had happened. much of mombi's mischief had been remedied by the good witch of the north, but many of mombi's misdeeds were not known to her or anyone else in the land of oz, so not knowing of cheeriobed's misfortunes, tattypoo had done nothing to help him. but the good king always felt that some day tattypoo would find out about quiberon and come to his rescue. as he continued to gaze unseeingly straight ahead, as akbad continued to mutter and toddledy to groan, the little prince grew more and more miserable and unhappy. finally he slipped unnoticed from the throne room and, running down to the shores of the lake, cast himself gloomily on the sapphire rocks. surely it was sad to live on the loveliest islands in oz and never to be safe or happy.
"if i could just find a way to cross the lake," muttered philador, feeling in his pockets for some crumbs to throw the gulls, "then i could find the good witch of the north." the gulls were his constant and never failing friends and, as one and then another settled down on the rocks beside him, he told them of quiberon's demand for a mortal maiden and his threat to destroy the kingdom. in oz, as you all know, the birds and beasts can speak and the blue gulls not only listened sympathetically to the little prince but talked among themselves of quiberon's cruelty.
"come back, princeling, when the moon is high," whispered a little blue lady gull, when the others had flown away. "come back when the moon is high. i have thought of a way to help you!" comforted in spite of himself, but resolved to say nothing at all to the king, philador crept quietly back to the castle.
the great silver bells in the sapphire tower had tolled ten. it was night time, and still cheeriobed and his councillors had thought of no plan to appease quiberon. in gloomy knots the ozure islanders gathered to discuss the almost certain destruction that threatened their kingdom. in the castle toddledy and the king pored over ancient books and maps trying to devise some way out of their difficulties, but as quiberon would allow no one to leave the islands how were they to search for a mortal maiden?
"and even if we did find one," sighed cheeriobed wearily, "i would never turn her over to a monster like that. we who are magically constructed can be destroyed without pain, but a mortal can be hurt and no one shall ever suffer to save me or my kingdom."
"then we must perish, i suppose." pushing his specs high up on his forehead, toddledy looked resignedly at the king. "it might be quite restful to be destroyed," observed the poor prime moneyster, trying to look on the cheerful side of things. but umtillio rose with a protesting screech and striking both fiddles at once sobbed dolefully.
"oh no, no, no! let us go, go, go, far away! cheerio oh, oh! you don't know, know, know, what you say! to be de destroyed with life half enjoyed is too bad, can't you see, see, see, it would be, be, be, much too sad?"
"well, we still have two days," mumbled the king unhappily. "maybe something will turn up."
"nothing will ever turn up here but your majesty's nose," sniffed akbad, who had been listening to the conversation with growing impatience. "you may stay here and be destroyed if you like, but i, i, akbad, the soothsayer, shall think of something better!"
folding his robes haughtily about him, akbad swept from the throne room. in his own high tower he flung the sapphire casements wide and leaning both elbows on the sill, stared moodily out into the night.
"surely it is better for one mortal to be destroyed than a whole kingdom," reflected akbad. "the king's a soft hearted old joffywax. the way to solve a problem is to begin at the beginning and go on to the conclusion. quiberon desires a mortal maiden and a mortal maiden he shall have. now where am i to find a mortal maiden?" striding to the book-case he pulled out a history of oz which opened almost instantly to the picture of three little girls sitting in a hammock.
"dorothy, betsy and trot," muttered the soothsayer, reading the names under the picture. "these little girls, though native americans, now live in the emerald city of oz and are loved and honored by the entire populace." akbad paused thoughtfully after reading this sentence, then tearing out the page stuffed the picture into his sleeve. "one will be quite enough," he remarked, with a little shrug of his shoulders, "and all that i have to do now is to reach the emerald city." standing before a huge map of oz that covered one side of the wall, akbad traced with his finger a line between sapphire city and the capital. not a great distance, to be sure, but to the old soothsayer who had never been away from the ozure isles in his entire life, it seemed a long and perilous journey. sinking into an easy chair he began tugging at his whiskers and pulling his long nose and soon a perfectly splendid plan popped into his turbaned head.
"the pear!" puffed akbad delightedly. "i will pick the golden pear and save myself and the entire kingdom." jerking out his magic descriptionary, a booklet all soothsayers carry in their pockets, akbad turned to the proper page though he knew almost by heart what it would say of the golden pear. "in the gardens of the king grows an emerald tree, bearing always one golden fruit. this fruit shall be plucked by the prince of the realm in times of extreme danger or peril. it will immediately transport him wheresoever he desires to go."
"if it transports a prince it will surely carry a soothsayer," decided akbad. "if the king is too stupid to bid philador to pick the pear i myself shall pluck it from the bough and save the people from destruction."
the king, as it happened, was at that very moment thinking of the golden fruit. "if nothing turns up to-morrow," yawned his majesty, blowing out the tall candle beside his bed, "i shall command philador to pick the magic pear. i have lived a long time and do not mind being destroyed, but he is too young to suffer destruction." comforted by the thought that the little prince, at least, would escape so hard a fate, cheeriobed sank down among his silk cushions and was soon fast asleep. his slumbers would not have been so calm nor his dreams so untroubled had he seen the two figures that presently stepped out of his castle. one passed from the eastern gateway into the gardens, the other from the western doorway and, after looking all around to see that he was not observed, hastened down to the beach.
in the moonlight the radiant capital of cheeriobed floated like a city of dreams in a silver mist. looking over his shoulder at its sparkling turrets and spires, philador wondered if he should ever have the courage to leave so lovely a spot. then catching a glimpse of the horrid head of quiberon, rising suddenly above the waters of orizon, the little prince shuddered and gathering his cloak about him hurried down to the rocks. he wondered if the blue gull had kept her promise and looked anxiously up and down the deserted strand. there was no one in sight and dejectedly he was about to return to the castle when a low whistle from a nearby cave came floating up to him.
running down and into the cave, philador stopped short in perfect astonishment. crouched upon the rocks and regarding him with bright interested eyes was a giant blue gull twice as large as philador himself. on its head, the feathers grew into a circlet that rested like a crown upon its brow.
"you wish to leave the ozure isle?" asked the gull quietly. "climb upon my back, then; you have been kind and gentle to my subjects, therefore i, the grand mo-gull, king of all the land and sea birds, will carry you wheresoever you wish to go."
for a moment philador was too startled to move. then as a deep roar from the throat of quiberon came reverberating through the grotto, he sprang upon the gull's back and clasping his arms around its neck whispered hoarsely, "carry me to the good witch of the north!"
with scarcely a flutter, the great gull rose, mounting higher and higher, till the ozure isles were no more than sparkling dots on the waters of the lake. akbad, standing under the magic tree in the king's garden, saw a great shadow cross the moon. brushing his hand uneasily across his eyes he looked again, but this time the shadow had gone. concluding that it had been but a dark cloud, the soothsayer drew a deep breath and, leaning forward, broke the golden pear from the sacred bough. now akbad hardly knew what to expect, but the thing that did happen exceeded his wildest imaginings. the pear in his hands grew larger and larger, bursting finally with such a golden splutter and glare he was almost blinded. stars! it was a pair of wings!
thoroughly frightened, the soothsayer fell back against the tree, putting up both hands to beat off the whirling pinions. but it was no use. the great wings swooped down upon him and next moment had fastened themselves to his shoulders. his heart, as they lifted him into the air, dropped so suddenly into his boots both boots fell off. motionless and helpless and just above the emerald tree he hung suspended, trembling so violently his turban came unwound and fluttered like a banner in the evening breeze. for about as long as you could count ten akbad dangled limply between the golden wings. then recovering a little of his courage he moistened his lips and muttered weakly.
"take me to the emerald city of oz." next instant, another shadow had crossed the moon and akbad, like some strange ungainly bird, was being borne swiftly and silently towards the south.
in the dusty shop of dan, the second-hand man, there was no sound except the whirr of a rickety sewing machine in the back room. dan bought old clothes which he mended and pressed and sold again to people who could not afford new ones. usually he spent every evening in his dim little boston shop, but to-night dan's niece was to be married, and the old clothes man was hurriedly stitching up a rent in a dress suit he had bought that very morning from a dusky gentleman in grant street. it was worn and shabby, but surveying himself in the cracked mirror a few moments later danny felt he would look quite as fine as the groom. well pleased with his appearance he nodded to his reflection and taking down a second-hand high hat from his shelf let himself out into the night.
it was a warm starry evening in may and, coming to the end of the narrow street in which he lived, dan struck out across a small park, whistling softly to himself. he would have preferred his pipe, but in honor of the grand occasion had purchased a handful of five cent cigars. placing one between his teeth, he fumbled in his pocket for the box of matches he had surely placed there before starting. his fingers closed instead on a small leather book.
"what's this?" exclaimed danny in surprise and, stepping under a park lamp, he began fluttering over the pages. it was filled with closely written paragraphs in a strangely cramped hand. the words were no words danny had ever heard or seen. to prove it he settled his specs more firmly and read a whole paragraph aloud, moistening his lips between the long hard sentences, and keeping his cigar in place in his mouth with great difficulty.
"well, did anyone ever hear the like of that?" chuckled danny, winking up at the statue of a public benefactor who stood facing him in a small plot of grass. "what do you think of it yourself, old felly?"
"i hardly know," murmured the public benefactor, letting the arm which had been stiffly extended fall heavily at his side. "i hardly know. you see, i've never thought before, and--"
"merciful mackerel!" the cigar fell from danny's lips, the high hat from his head and hurling the leather book into a clump of bushes, he turned and fled for his life, bumping into trees and benches and running in the opposite direction from the wedding. in fact, i am not sure he ever did get to the wedding at all. the public benefactor watched him go with round unwinking eyes, then stepping down from his pedestal, picked up the high hat, fortunately an extremely large one, and placed it gravely upon his head.
"now for an umbrella," murmured the stone gentleman determinedly. "i must have an umbrella. what i've suffered all these years, rain and snow. ah--hh." catching sight of an old lady hurrying down one of the cinder paths, he called loudly. "stop! stop! give me that umbrella!" for some seconds the old lady who was quite deaf paid no attention, but when, looking over her shoulder, she saw a gray stone gentleman in a frock coat pounding after her, waving both arms, she picked up her skirts, jumped over a little hedge and fell face down among the pansies. without feeling at all sorry, or stopping to help her to her feet, the public benefactor took the umbrella from her hand. opening it with a little grunt of satisfaction and holding it over his head as he had seen other people do, he stepped carelessly over the old lady and continued down the cinder path. "i've always wanted to be like other people," mused the statue, striding along contentedly, "and now, i am. but i wonder why i never did this before?"
why indeed? simply because he had never been alive before. the words in the little black book must have held some strange and mysterious force; the owner of danny's dress suit must have been a powerful magician to bring this cold statue to life. and as he strode across the little boston park, with danny's hat upon his head and the old lady's umbrella clasped tightly in his hand, little boys who had come for a quiet game of marbles before bed time, men and women on their way home to tea, stared in perfect astonishment and then took to their heels, screaming hoarsely as they ran.
"i'm acting just the way they are acting, and yet they run away," grumbled the public benefactor crossly. "what's the matter with them anyway?" he sank down on a park bench to puzzle it all out, but the bench, which had been built to hold only ordinary folk, crumpled like a match under his great weight. a tramp who had been asleep on the other end, wakened by the terrible tumble, took one glance at the stone man, then rolled into a clump of shrubbery where he lay trembling so violently leaves fell in showers to the walk. by the time the public benefactor had struggled to his feet a great crowd had gathered. at a safe distance they peered at him, waving their arms, shaking their heads and looking so frightened the public benefactor began to feel frightened himself.
turning his back upon them, he walked out of the park and straight into the middle of a busy crossing. here he stopped to gaze at a winking electric sign when a dreadful thump almost knocked the umbrella from his hand, and a series of shouts almost raised the hat from his head. a motor truck going at a fast clip had run right into him! but instead of upsetting the stone man, the truck splintered to bits and lay scattered about the street like a broken toy! surely a pleasant change from breaking up poor pedestrians. but the truck driver did not seem to think so. separating himself from the wreckage, he advanced threateningly upon the public benefactor. but one good look at that calm stone figure seemed to be enough. a mounted policeman leaning down seized the high hatted gentleman by the arm, then feeling the hard stone beneath his fingers he reined back his horse and blew a shrill blast on his whistle.
in less than a minute the street was a seething mass of men, women, little girls and boys, all striving for a glimpse of the man who had stopped a truck. next someone turned in a fire alarm and the fire engines came clanging on the scene. the firemen not knowing what else to do turned their hose full upon the offending statue.
alarmed and disgusted, and protecting himself as well as he could with the old lady's umbrella, the public benefactor decided to return to his pedestal. but in the excitement he took a wrong turning. then he began to run and the crowd to run after him--faster and faster and faster. his stone feet, thudding upon the asphalt, shook the houses on both sides and, dodging as best he could the sticks, stones and other missiles of his pursuers, the poor bewildered statue ran on. being very large and perfectly tireless, he soon out-distanced them and, looking over his shoulder to make sure, failed to notice the steep embankment ahead, till it was too late. the workmen themselves had not intended to blow such a terrific hole in the earth; a thin crust of earth at the bottom hid the yawning cavity from view. but the stone man, tumbling head over heels down the steep sides, crashed through this crust as if it had been paper and plunged into a damp darkness.
"what now?" groaned the statue dismally, clutching his umbrella. "am i a bird? why, oh why did i ever leave my pedestal?" but wishing made no difference at all and down he dropped to the very bottom of no where. then all at once he crashed through a crust of blue sky out into the blazing sunlight and thumped down in the middle of a broad green field. luckily he landed upon his feet, but so hard and so heavily that he went down to his knees in soft earth. for a few moments he stood perfectly still. then, closing his umbrella, he pulled one leg and then the other out of the mud and took a few steps to shake the stuff from his stone shins.
"it was night and now it is day. i was there and now i am here. what next?" he muttered uneasily. the country into which he had fallen so suddenly seemed safe enough. green fields, dotted with feathery trees, stretched to the right and left. but after the dusty boston park it seemed large and lonely. as he gazed about uncertainly, he noticed a blue figure, walking briskly along a yellow highway that ran through the center of the fields. he had never in his whole carved career seen a fellow like this and as the figure drew nearer he grasped his umbrella firmly and made ready to fight or run.
it was a scarecrow, a live, jolly, sure enough straw stuffed scarecrow. as he came opposite he took off his hat.
"good after-night," said the scarecrow politely. the public benefactor made an unsuccessful effort to remove his own hat, but he had jammed it down too hard.
"i suppose you mean good morning," he remarked stiffly, returning the scarecrow's bow.
"have it your own way," smiled the scarecrow, with a care free wave, "and speaking of ways, where are you going?"
"i'm not going, i'm coming," announced the public benefactor sulkily. the experiences of the past few hours had made him suspicious of every place and everybody. the scarecrow considered his answer for a few seconds in silence, then stepping closer inquired earnestly, "tell me, are you a person?"
"are you?" at this quick and unexpected turning of his question, the scarecrow threw back his head and laughed heartily.
"i don't know," he admitted merrily, "whether i'm a person or not, but i do know that i'm alive and it's great fun to be alive!"
"is it?" the public benefactor looked dubiously into the scarecrow's cheerful cotton countenance. "i'm not sure i like it," he sighed, shaking his head ponderously.
"oh, you'll get used to it." clapping on his hat, the straw man regarded his companion attentively. "you're the only live statue i've ever seen," he observed at last. "how do you happen to be alive?" there was something so jolly about this queer fellow, the poor statue began to feel a little happier.
"first," he began slowly, "i was quarried, then i was hacked and hewn into my present shape. for many years i stood on a pedestal in a little park in the city of boston. while i could neither move nor talk i could see and hear all that went on about me. and what i saw and heard was interesting enough. i watched the children sail their boats in the small pond, listened to the band on warm summer evenings and observed the strange habits of the men and women who walked about under the trees. if i had just had a hat or umbrella to protect me from the rain and snow, i could have been perfectly happy."
"you must be perfectly happy now," put in the scarecrow slyly, "for i see you have both." the public benefactor shook his head impatiently at the interruption.
"once a year," he continued pompously, "a crowd of citizens came and hung wreaths around my neck, and in long tedious speeches which i could not understand referred to me as a great public benefactor. do you know what a public benefactor is?" he inquired curiously.
"well," answered the scarecrow cautiously, "you probably founded a school or a library or gave large sums of money to the poor. what was your name anyway?"
"i never knew," replied the gray stone gentleman sadly. "it was carved on the base of my pedestal and as i was unable to bend over i could never discover this interesting information."
"then i shall call you benny," decided the scarecrow cheerfully, "short for public benefactor, you know. do you look like the person you're supposed to be?"
the statue shook his head. "i don't know that either," he admitted gloomily.
"oh, never mind that," said the scarecrow, sitting down on a nearby tree stump. "you are a speaking likeness of somebody, but how did you come to life?"
"i was coming to that," exclaimed benny quickly, and in short excited sentences he told how an old irishman in evening clothes had stopped under the park lamp and read some strange words from a little black book and how he immediately felt a desire to step down from his pedestal. "so i did," he went on mournfully, and proceeded to relate his terrifying experiences and his final fall into this strange land. "it is very queer," he finished in a depressed voice. "when i was uninteresting and unalive, people treated me with respect and hung wreaths around my neck, yet when i came to life they turned a hose on me and even hit me with bricks."
the scarecrow shook his head. "there's no accounting for mortals," he explained solemnly, "but now that you are in the fairy kingdom of oz, things will be different. anybody can be alive here, and no questions asked. they even let me live!" he concluded gaily.
"is it a republic?" asked benny, eyeing the scarecrow with new interest.
"indeed not!" exclaimed the straw man loftily. "we are a magic monarchy under the beneficent rule of a little fairy and there--," he waved proudly to the left, "lies the capital. if you wish, i will take you to the emerald city at once and present you to the queen. what would you like to be now that you are alive?" he asked curiously.
"well," said benny after a moment's thought, "i should like to be a real person. do you think i could ever be a real person, scarecrow?" the scarecrow took off his hat and pulled several wisps of straw from his head.
"i don't see why not," he decided brightly. "the way to be a real person is to act like a real person. just begin acting like a real person, benny, my boy, and first thing you know you'll be one!"
"is that what you did?" benny looked doubtfully at this strange citizen of oz. the scarecrow nodded modestly and, taking the stone man's elbow, started down the yellow brick highway. "look alive now," he chuckled merrily, "for you are to meet a queen."
"it's hard for a stone man to look alive but i'll do the best i can," sighed the public benefactor in a resigned voice. "how do you happen to be alive yourself?" he inquired heavily.
"that!" said the scarecrow airily, "that is a long story, you see--"
"i see a great ugly bird," interrupted the public benefactor, waving his umbrella wildly. "let's run; i never did like birds. they perch on my head."
"pray do not concern yourself," begged his companion earnestly, "and try to act like a real person, can't you?" withdrawing his arm from benny's the scarecrow took off his hat and blinked upward.
"well," queried benny nervously, "what would a real person do now?"
"he would run," choked the scarecrow in a hoarse whisper. "run you son of a boulder, run!"
so well did benny carry out the scarecrow's instruction, the flimsy straw man was jerked from the ground and fairly flew through the air at the stone man's side. and so intent were they both upon their running, they never saw the little girl in the pink dress until they had bumped right into her. now to be run into is upsetting under any circumstances, but to be run into by a live statue is the most upsetting thing yet. trot, for it was trot, not only was upset but rolled over and over and bumped her head on an emerald milestone at the side of the road.
"stop!" cried the scarecrow, recognizing her at once. "now see what you've done!"
"but the bird!" quavered benny coming to a reluctant halt and glancing fearfully over his shoulder.
with an impatient exclamation the scarecrow dropped his hand and hurried over to trot. "fancy, running into you like this," he puffed ruefully.
"fancy it!" gasped trot rubbing her head with one hand and her knee with the other, "i don't fancy it at all. why don't you look where you're going!" she frowned crossly at the scarecrow and then catching a glimpse of benny jumped to her feet in real alarm. "who's he?" she asked in a frightened whisper.
"just now he's a public benefactor, but he's trying to be a real person," explained the scarecrow hastily. "benny, old fellow, this is trot, a little girl from california who was shipwrecked and came to the land of oz. she lives in the royal palace with ozma. benny comes from america too," he added proudly.
"but the bird!" panted benny, nodding absently to trot.
"you see my dear, we were escaping from a horriblus bird when we ran across you," apologized the scarecrow with an anxious glance upward.
"i don't see any bird." still rubbing her knee, trot looked up too and after they had all gazed intently at the sky for several minutes they had to admit that trot was right. there was not even a speck in the bright blue expanse overhead.
"but there was a bird, a most fearful, queerful bird," the scarecrow assured her positively. trot gave a little sniff and while she did not exactly say so, both benny and the scarecrow felt that she did not believe there had been any bird at all.
"i was coming to see you," continued the scarecrow in a slightly embarrassed voice. "how fortunate that we met this way, now we can all go to the emerald city together." trot, looking down at her skinned knee and feeling the lump on her forehead, could not help thinking it had not been so fortunate for her, but being a really sweet-tempered little girl she said nothing further and walked along quietly between these two singular looking gentlemen. the scarecrow she had known for years, but she kept stealing inquisitive glances at his solemn stone companion. seeing her evident interest, the straw man told her all about benny's strange coming to life and his fall into oz.
"do you think i can ever be a real person?" asked benny wistfully as the scarecrow finished his story. "now, as you see, i am a hard person of stone. but i wish to be like other people, to laugh, to sing, to dance and be happy."
it was hard to imagine this pompous looking image singing and dancing, but trot had seen stranger things than this happen in the marvelous land of oz, so, stifling her misgivings, smiled at him kindly.
"you'll have to be a little careful about dancing," she cautioned gently, "not to step on anyone's foot, or hold them too tightly or--"
"ho ho!" roared the scarecrow. "i should say you had better be careful. one step from your stone toes, and one squeeze from those stone arms would finish any partner brave enough to waltz round with you." at this the stone man looked so downcast that trot felt really sorry for him.
"i guess stone arms and legs are not much use," he sighed, rolling his eyes sadly at the little girl.
"but they're terribly strong," trot reminded him cheerfully, "and would be fine in a battle. and after awhile, when you're quite used to being alive, i wouldn't mind dancing with you," finished trot in a little burst of generosity.
"wouldn't you?" stopping stock still, benny began to bow. "my dear," exclaimed the stone man gratefully, and bending so low he almost lost his balance, "those are the kindest words i've heard since i came to life and to oz." trot, pleased and delighted at such appreciation, curtsied back.
"hurrah!" shouted the scarecrow, tossing his hat into the air. "you're acting realer every minute. do you know, this reminds me of my first journey to the emerald city. i was not always the accomplished person you see before you," he confided mysteriously.
for a long time benny had been trying to puzzle out just what kind of a person the scarecrow was. never in his whole park experience had he seen anyone so curiously constructed, so unsteady and flimsy, yet so gaily alive. he listened attentively therefore as the straw man began to tell his story to his new friend.
"i am a scarecrow," he began impressively, and i must admit he was as fond of talking about himself as most of the gentlemen of my own acquaintance. trot who had heard the story many times began to hum a little tune and to think of something else.
"originally," continued the scarecrow brightly, "i was intended to scare away the crows from a farmer's corn field. my head is a small stuffed sack on which the features are neatly painted. this blue suit and these red boots and cotton gloves belonged to the farmer; also this hat. having assembled me in this more or less careless fashion and stuffed me with hay, he hung me upon a tall pole in the corn field and went about his planting. for a long time i hung around, not knowing how interesting life could be. then, one day," the scarecrow paused and waved his arms dramatically, "along came dorothy, a little girl about the size of trot. she had been blown from kansas by a cyclone and was on her way to the emerald city to ask the wizard of oz to send her back home. well, to make a long story short, dorothy lifted me from my pole and i found i could walk and talk almost as fast as she could. but while i was alive, i realized that i could never be a really important person with a head full of hay. so i decided to go to the emerald city with dorothy and ask the wizard of oz to give me some brains."
"well, did he?" benny looked curiously at the scarecrow's bulging forehead.
"haven't you noticed them?" demanded the scarecrow in a vexed voice. removing his hat he tapped the top of his head proudly. "in here are the finest and most magic brains in oz," he announced seriously. "not only did they help me to become an emperor, but they have since solved many questions of state for our present ruler, ozma of oz. i can think of anything, can't i, trot?"
the little girl nodded politely and benny, much impressed, watched the scarecrow put on his hat. "i have a castle of my own in the winkie country but spend most of my time in the emerald city," he concluded proudly.
"did the wizard send dorothy back to america?" asked benny, as the scarecrow stopped to pick a green rose for trot.
"certainly!" answered the scarecrow, pulling two thorns from his cotton thumb, "but she is in oz again. no one who has lived in oz can stay away long. dorothy lives in the castle with ozma, betsy and trot. betsy bobbin is another little girl from america, so you see you'll have lots of company, old fellow."
"does the wizard live there, too?" questioned benny eagerly, as the scarecrow clumsily presented the rose to trot, "and do you think he could change me to a real person?"
"of course, but if i were you, i should stay as you are. there are lots of real people but precious few stone ones. think of the advantages!" tapping benny lightly on the chest the scarecrow began to enumerate them. "first of all," he explained merrily, "you will never tire, need food or suffer pain. you will never wear out nor require clothes. why, you have all the advantages of life without any of its inconveniences. isn't that true, trot?"
trot smiled and made a gesture that might have been "yes" or "no". it would have taken a wiser person than trot to settle a question like the scarecrow's.
they were drawing nearer to the emerald city every moment now. over the tree tops ahead, benny could see the tall towers and flashing spires of the castle. the air was fresh, fragrant and somehow exciting. on each side of the yellow brick road, cozy green cottages with domed emerald roofs began to appear. friendly faced folk, in stiff green silk costumes, waved to them from the doorways. trot and the scarecrow waved back, and benny, taking off his hat and bowing stiffly from time to time, decided that he was going to find life in the land of oz extremely pleasant and interesting. at trot's suggestion they turned off the yellow brick highway to take a short cut to the castle.
"well," laughed trot, dancing along through the pleasant little wood, "we'll soon be in the emerald city now, and then--and then!"
"then what?" wheezed the scarecrow, stopping to swing on a low branch.
"why, then we'll have a party!" exclaimed trot. "don't we always have a party when you come to the castle, but this party will be for benny, in honor of his coming to life." the stone man was not sure just what a party was, but so long as trot was in it he knew everything would be all right. "we'll have games," continued the little girl happily, "and music and riddles and refreshments--and--"
"stop!" roared an imperious voice in trot's ear. "now then, will you come along peaceably or must i use force?" at this sudden horrid interruption, benny and the scarecrow swung round in perfect astonishment.
"a--a goblin!" faltered trot, catching wildly at benny.
"run! run! that awful bird!" panted the scarecrow, taking a great leap forward.
"run if you want to," rumbled the public benefactor stopping short. "but as i am not a real person, i shall stay here and fight. get away from here, you wild whankus! leave trot alone, you old wallybuster!" words that he had never known were in his head came tumbling from benny's stone lips and brandishing his umbrella threateningly he stepped between the little girl and the great ugly bird-man. but akbad, for of course it was akbad, paid no attention to benny's expostulations. he was looking earnestly at the picture he had torn from his history of oz. all night the magic wings had carried him steadily toward the capital and it was akbad who had scared the two travelers. after frightening them to his heart's content, he had alighted in a small orchard to refresh himself with a few peaches. when he flew on again the wings had carried him straight after trot and her companions. looking down and seeing a little girl with them this time, he had immediately dropped to earth.
"you'll do, you're one of them!" shrilled the soothsayer, waving the picture triumphantly. "come on, there's no time to lose!" before either benny or the scarecrow realized what was happening, akbad seized the little girl and spread his great golden wings.
"stop!" yelled the scarecrow, running back and catching trot by the hand.
"stop!" gritted benny, making a wild snatch for the soothsayer's heels. as benny's stone fingers closed around his ankles akbad soared into the air. you would have thought the great weight of the stone man would have held him down. but what are a thousand pounds to a pair of magic wings! up and away, over the sparkling spires of the capital circled akbad, paying no more attention to benny than to a feather and scarcely noticing the scarecrow at all.
"take us to the ozure isles," he commanded, tightening his grasp on trot's arm.
it had taken the golden wings nearly nine hours to carry akbad to the emerald city. it took scarcely five to bring him back, so that it was a little after noon when the soothsayer and his prisoners reached the sparkling shores of the ozure isles. not a word had been spoken by anyone during the entire flight. trot had started to scream, but the wind rushing down her throat about a mile a minute had almost choked her. when she managed to get her mouth shut again she was glad to keep it that way, her eyes too, for that matter. benny was too startled to say anything and the scarecrow had all he could do to keep himself from blowing apart. but as akbad, folding his wings, began to descend, trot with a long sigh opened her eyes.
the five lovely islands of cheeriobed lay glittering just below and trot gave a little gasp of relief and pleasure, as they hovered over the gorgeous sapphire city. frightened though she was, trot's heart began to beat with excitement and curiosity. surely nothing so very dreadful could happen in a place like this! but akbad did not stop, and flying over the beautiful city carried them to the extreme end of the last island. here the waters of orizon were pounding and roaring between two jeweled cliffs. between the two cliffs and at the very mouth of a great cave, akbad closed his wings. with a suddenness that took what little breath trot had left, they came tumbling down on the narrow beach. benny got such a thump, he let go the soothsayer's heels and almost fell into the lake. trot and the scarecrow rolled over twice and, clutching each other wildly, sat up, simply speechless with indignation.
"you," puffed akbad, for he, too, was worn out by the long fly, "you have been chosen to save the ozure isles." he shook his long finger in trot's face. "these others may escape if they wish, but you must stay and serve the monster quiberon." as trot, blinking her eyes between shock and consternation, tried to understand what it was all about, there came a great snort and splashing and in toward the cave swam the monster himself.
"here's your mortal maiden!" yelled akbad, and spreading his wings, rose quickly into the air, leaving trot and her friends to face the giant fear-fish. benny had by this time struggled to his feet, but at sight of the monster he nearly lost his balance again. as for trot and the scarecrow, after one horrified glance, they seized hands and dashed in the only direction open to them--straight into the blue cave.
"wait!" thundered quiberon, shooting a long tongue of flame from his fiery nostrils. he was so close that the fire and smoke blackened both benny's eyes. with a grunt of surprise and displeasure, the stone man snatched up his umbrella and pounded after trot and the scarecrow.
"i thought you said that in oz things would be different," shouted benny, grinding the jeweled pebbles on the floor of the cave to powder beneath his flying stone boots.
"well, isn't this different?" stuttered the scarecrow, tripping over a sapphire boulder and sprawling upon his nose.
"oh, hurry!" begged trot, jerking him quickly to his feet. "here it comes." at another time the three travelers might have paused to admire the great jeweled grotto, but with this snorting, puffing monster at their heels they scarcely glanced at the sapphire icicles hanging from the roof and jutting out from the sides and the sparkling gems that strewed the floor of the cave. water rushed through the center and it was no easy task running over the rocks and boulders at the side. the glowing eyes of the monster lighted up the whole cavern. like a steam engine, he puffed and snorted behind them, filling the air with a sulphurous smoke, till it smelled like twenty fourths of july rolled into one. at every flash from his nostrils, the poor scarecrow would wince and shudder.
"one spark, and i am an ash heap!" groaned the unhappy straw man, leaping wildly from boulder to rock.
"what shall we do now?" wailed trot, stopping in dismay, for they had come to the very back of the cavern and could run no farther.
"i don't know what a real person would do," panted benny glancing around desperately, "but i'll do something. quick, squeeze into that little opening." there was just time for trot and the scarecrow to slip into the narrow crevice at the back of the cave before quiberon dragged himself out of the water and flung himself up on the rocks.
"where is the mortal maiden?" roared the great dragon, as benny placed himself bravely between his friends and the monster.
"turn off your fire works! do you want to burn her to a crisp?" shouted the stone man, waving his umbrella boldly under quiberon's very nose. "can't you talk without smoking?" he continued crossly, "you're turning me quite black."
"speak without smoking," muttered the monster in a puzzled voice. "well, i might try it. is this better?" he grunted presently. benny nodded and waving the cloud of smoke from before his eyes peered anxiously downward.
"what do you want with trot?" he asked suspiciously.
"i want her for a servant," answered quiberon promptly. "she must polish my scales, comb my hair," he lifted a great silver lock that hung between his horns, "sweep out the cave and tell me stories." benny was about to snap his stone fingers in the monster's face, when trot tapped him sharply on the ankles.
"don't make him angry," whispered the little girl. "maybe if i tried it for a time we could find a way to escape." disgusted at the thought of trot even looking at such a creature, benny nevertheless realized that she was more experienced in the ways of this fairy kingdom than he was. stifling an impulse to jump on the monster's head benny called gruffly:
"will you promise not to hurt her?"
"not at first," agreed quiberon readily enough. "not till she tells me all she knows about mortals. that's fair enough, isn't it?" with an angry grunt benny stepped aside and trot and the scarecrow slipped out of the crevice.
"remember now, no more firing," quavered the scarecrow, "and no nonsense either!"
"pooh!" sniffed quiberon so vigorously the scarecrow was blown five feet into the air and only saved by the quick action of benny from falling into the tumbling stream below.
"what shall i do first?" asked trot, bowing timidly to quiberon.
"you may practice some songs," purred the dragon drowsily. "and when i return you may sing me to sleep."
"are we going to stand for this?" demanded benny in a furious whisper to the scarecrow, who was balanced insecurely on a sharp spike jutting out from the side of the cave.
"hush!" warned the scarecrow. "i'm thinking!" and putting his cotton finger to his wrinkled forehead he gazed intently at the ceiling.
"i shall be just outside, so don't try running away," advised quiberon, sliding into the water with a tremendous splash and in a few minutes his glittering tail had disappeared through the opening of the cave.
"well!" exclaimed trot, clasping her hands resignedly, "i've never tried singing a dragon to sleep, but i suppose there must always be a first time. i hope he doesn't put his head in my lap, though."
"he'd better not!" stormed benny, tramping angrily up and down. "i'll dance on his talons, i'll tread on his tail and pull out his whiskers!"
"maybe there's another way out," mused the scarecrow removing his eyes from the ceiling of the cave.
"let's look," proposed trot, darting eagerly toward the back of the cavern. hurriedly they circled one entire side without success. tumbling straight from the top of the cave on the other side was a sparkling silver water-fall.
"i wonder what's beyond that?" muttered the scarecrow looking up at it thoughtfully.
"water doesn't hurt me, so i'll just take a look," said the stone man and before trot or the scarecrow could stop him benny stepped right through the water-fall and disappeared. with a sharp cry of distress trot rushed forward.
"he's gone!" wailed the little girl dolefully. the scarecrow looked almost as upset as trot, for even in this short time he had grown fond of their strange stone comrade. as they discussed in anxious tones what they had better do, the dripping face of benny looked out through the water-fall.
"come on!" he spluttered excitedly. "run through, it leads into another cave!" taking a deep breath and the scarecrow's hand, trot plunged into the water-fall. benny seized them just in time, for the terrible rush of water took trot's breath and the poor scarecrow was limp and helpless, when they stepped out on the other side.
"i'll carry him," decided benny, as the scarecrow made an unsuccessful attempt to walk. the live statue was really beginning to enjoy all these strange adventures and excitements. "hurry!" he puffed, picking up the poor, soggy straw man. "that monster's coming. i hear him." before they had reached the end of the second cave, quiberon with a flop and flash came plunging through the water-fall.
"how dare you run away?" sizzled the monster. as the water poured over his fire-breathing nose, steam came rolling in hot clouds toward trot and her friends.
"faster! faster! you go on!" urged benny. "i'll stop him." with the stifling steam curling round her head, trot ran as never before, all the way through the second cavern and rushed headlong into a narrow passageway that opened out between two rocks. benny meanwhile, realizing that they could never outdistance quiberon, stopped directly in his path, first placing the scarecrow on a little ledge beside him. with a snort that shook seven sapphire rocks from the roof, quiberon opened his monstrous mouth, and without a moment's hesitation the stone man stepped in. the scarecrow, water soaked and helpless though he was, could not help admiring the courage of his new friend. down came the jaws of the great fear-fish. crunch! crunch! crunch! then, there was a howl of anger and pain and eight red tusks lay on the floor of the cavern.
"bite a public benefactor, would you?" sniffed benny, stepping calmly out as the monster opened his mouth, and before quiberon had recovered he snatched up the scarecrow and pounded after trot. they had almost reached the end of the dim blue corridor before quiberon appeared at the head. five times as furious as he had been before, he came crashing on like an express train. trot dared not look over her shoulder, and even benny felt that nothing could save them now. without plan or hope they dashed on, till an ear splitting screech brought them to a sudden stop.
"you look!" begged trot, covering her eyes with both hands. expecting almost anything, benny swung round, then instantly gave a great shout of relief.
"he's stuck!" cried the stone man exuberantly. and so he was, a few yards behind them. smoking, screaming and sending up shower after shower of sparks, the monster lay jammed between the rocky sides of the passageway. so fast had trot and benny been running they scarcely noticed the gradual narrowing of the corridor, and so fast had quiberon rushed after them that he had stuck fast before he had time to stop himself.
"a narrow escape for us, but not for him," remarked the scarecrow in a moist whisper. scarcely able to see through the black smoke quiberon was sending out, and almost deafened by his whistles and roars, trot and benny ran on. the passageway was growing narrower still, and after several twists and turns, it came to an abrupt stop.
"cave city!" puffed trot. the words were studded in sapphire on the rock ahead. "admittance three rocks."
"well, we can't go back," sighed the little girl, sitting down wearily, "so we'll just have to try cave city."
"but we haven't any rocks," observed benny, putting the scarecrow down beside trot and looking carefully all around. "and will the people of this city welcome us--or--" benny did not finish his sentence but looked uneasily from trot to the scarecrow.
"there is a great deal of water on my brain," complained the scarecrow, "but if someone will wring me out, i'll endeavor to think." benny looked on rather nervously as trot squeezed the water from the flimsy body of the scarecrow.
"don't forget to wring my neck," directed the straw man calmly. "i believe i am the only man in oz whose neck can be wrung without discomfort," he explained, glancing brightly up at the live statue. benny said nothing and indeed what could he say? and trot, after shaking up the scarecrow and smoothing him out as best she could, propped him up against the side of the passageway.
"i suppose if i were a real person, i could think of something too," mourned benny, taking off his high hat and rubbing his stone crown reflectively.
"you're much better than a real person!" declared the scarecrow promptly. "a real person could not have jumped into the jaws of a monster like quiberon. i, for my part, am glad you are yourself!"
"come on, benny, let's look for some rocks!" cried trot.
"and i shall think of some," said the scarecrow leaning his head back against the wall. but though benny and trot searched up and down the narrow corridor not a loose rock, stone or even a pebble could they find. the walls, ceiling and floor were of smooth sparkling sapphire. it shed a weird blue light over the three travelers and soon they began to feel as blue as they looked. after searching in vain for rocks, they began to thump upon the door of cave city, but with no results and had about decided they were prisoners forever in the narrow enclosure, when the scarecrow gave a loud shout. "i have thought of some rocks," he announced excitedly. "there are three of us here. well then, we have but to rock with laughter and the doors will fly open."
benny looked doubtful and trot did not feel much like laughing, but as the scarecrow insisted, they ranged themselves before the door of cave city. benny and trot had to support the scarecrow between them for he was still too wet and soggy to stand alone.
"now you laugh 'he!', i'll laugh 'ho!' and trot must laugh 'hah!'", directed the scarecrow solemnly. so at his signal benny burst into a loud "he!" trot into a shrill "hah!" and the scarecrow into a husky "ho!" at the same time they rocked all together and fixed their eyes expectantly upon the door. much to trot's surprise, it instantly swung inward, and an old mer-man on crutches stood in the opening.
"well! well!" he began querulously, "why don't you come in? come in! come in, i'm mighty sorry to see you."
"sorry?" gasped trot, as benny stepped forward, drawing the others along with him. "why?"
"you'll know that soon enough," mumbled the old mer-man swinging along ahead of them on his crutches. "this way please, and mind you don't tread on my tail."
after leaving trot and her companions to the mercies of quiberon, akbad flew quickly to the king's garden, intending to rid himself of the golden wings and say nothing at all about his curious adventure. but before he had come to the enchanted tree, the king and half of the courtiers came rushing out of the sapphire palace.
"my son? where is my son?" panted cheeriobed, seizing akbad by the arm, not even noticing the great wings that drooped from the soothsayer's shoulders.
"the prince! where is the prince?" demanded toddledy in the same breath. "miserable mesmerizer can you think of nothing?" akbad, worn and weary from his long flight, fairly blinked with astonishment, for naturally he knew nothing of philador's disappearance, but he realized that he would be severely punished for stealing the golden pear. he felt that quiberon had probably devoured the little prince, but resolved for the present to save himself.
"have no fear for the prince of the ozure isles," he began boldly. "i, akbad the soothsayer, have saved him."
"how? where?" the king plucked him frantically by the arm.
"he is safe in the emerald city," lied akbad calmly. "last night, determined to save not only the prince but our fair islands as well, i picked the golden pear."
a little murmur of disapproval greeted akbad's statement and they all looked curiously and accusingly at the golden wings, which they seemed to see for the first time.
"immediately," continued the wily soothsayer, "these wings attached themselves to my shoulders. flying into the prince's bed chamber, i lifted him in my arms and carried him to the great capital of oz. leaving him in the kindly care of our gentle ruler, ozma, i stole into the garden and seizing a mortal maiden returned to the ozure isles and left her in the cave of quiberon." folding his arms proudly he waited for the king's commendation.
"that was very wrong of you," sighed cheeriobed, letting his arm drop heavily at his side, "but i suppose you did it for the best."
"idiot!" hissed toddledy, "why did you not ask ozma to help us?"
"i did!" declared akbad promptly. "as soon as the wizard returns from the blue forest she will journey to our illustrious islands, destroy quiberon and restore his majesty's queen!" even toddledy was silenced by this surprising news, while the ozure islanders began to cheer loud and lustily. only the king still seemed disturbed.
"but the mortal maiden, we must save the mortal maiden!" exclaimed cheeriobed anxiously. "you should never have carried her to that monster's cave. who will go with me to rescue this poor child?" the islanders looked uncomfortably at one another, then as the king started resolutely off by himself, a dozen of the boldest guards followed.
"we can only perish once," declared the leader gallantly, "and to be destroyed with your majesty is not only an honor but a pleasure as well." akbad made no attempt to accompany them, but the others, shamed by such bravery dashed hurriedly after the king.
when the last one had gone, akbad stepped quietly into the garden. sinking down under the emerald tree he mopped his brow with his sleeve and cursed his own stupidity. why had he not done as he had said; appealed to ozma for help instead of foolishly seizing the mortal maiden? perhaps it was not too late. he would fly back and beg ozma to find the little prince and save the ozure isles. hoarsely he commanded the wings to take him to the emerald city, but motionless and heavy they hung from his shoulders. horrified to find that they would no longer obey him, he rubbed against the tree in an unsuccessful effort to brush them off. then he tried every magic phrase and incantation that he knew to rid himself of the golden wings but though he pulled and tugged the wings stuck fast.
now having wings sounds fine enough, but one must be born with wings to wear them comfortably. akbad could neither sit nor lie down with any ease and when he walked the wings trailed disturbingly behind him. he found, after several trials that he could still fly, but not beyond the shore of the island and as he sank exhausted on the rocks the king and his army came marching back. they had tramped boldly into the monster's cave, but had of course found neither quiberon nor trot. as they knew nothing of the caves beyond the water-fall they had sadly turned homeward. the king at least was sad, the others, while they said nothing of it, were secretly delighted to find themselves alive.
"quiberon has gone," declared cheeriobed gravely. "the mortal maiden also has vanished. but as you have saved philador i shall say nothing of the stealing of the golden pear. there is naught to do now but wait for the coming of ozma and the little prince. and no doubt ozma will find a way to save this mortal child."
"no doubt," muttered akbad and, as the king shaking his head went on up to the palace, the soothsayer flew into a tall tree and tried to think up the excuses he would offer his majesty when ozma failed to appear.
as for cheeriobed, troubled though he was over the disappearance of the little mortal, he could not help but think that the worst of his misfortunes were over. almost cheerfully, he bustled about giving orders for a grand reception to welcome ozma to his island kingdom and bidding the royal household have everything in readiness for philador's return.
on the same evening philador and akbad flew off from the ozure isles, the good witch of the north sat quietly before her fire, spinning silver from straw. from time to time agnes, her pet dragon, would toss a log on the blaze and set it glowing with her fiery breath. the cat with two tails purred drowsily in the chimney corner and nothing could have been cozier than this little room in the good witch's hut. and tattypoo was content. ruling over the north country, settling disputes between its small kingdoms, and advising the gillikens about everything from birthday parties to preserves, filled her time most pleasantly. the door of the good witch's hut was never bolted and no one, coming for help or advice, had ever been turned away. so though her skin was drawn and wrinkled and her hair white as snow, and the little hut plainly, even poorly furnished, tattypoo was perfectly happy.
but agnes, the amiable dragon, was not. agnes longed for grandeur and style and felt that the ruler of all the gillikens should wear a crown or live in a castle. agnes, while not exactly conceited, felt that her own beauty was utterly wasted in this little hut. she longed to flash her silver scales and switch her tail at the fine courts of oz. but tattypoo was neither vain nor ambitious and only chuckled when agnes complained of the poorness of their dwelling, the plainness of the food and the lack of servants to wait upon them. she had lived so long in the purple forest on the gilliken mountain side that she had grown to love every tree and tumbling brook and even the witch's little cottage.
at the time the wizard first came to oz it was ruled over, as you well know, by four witches. little dorothy's house fell on the wicked witch of the east, and later this same little dorothy had put out with a pail of water the wicked witch of the west. glinda the good sorceress had conquered the bad witch of the south and tattypoo had conquered mombi, the wicked witch of the north, not before she had stolen cheeriobed's queen, however, and done many mischievous transformations. at first mombi had been deprived of her magic powers but after her last attempt to capture the emerald city she, too, had been put out with a pail of water, so that tattypoo was the only witch of any power or consequence in oz. and as she explained over and over again to agnes, being a good witch in an important country like oz was honor enough for her, and as long as she used her magic powers for good and so long as the gillikens were peaceful and prosperous under her rule, she would be perfectly satisfied and happy.
agnes, in spite of her vanity, was as good a dragon as tattypoo was a witch and had really earned her title of the amiable dragon. for agnes had never devoured any captive maidens, burned down a village or threatened a kingdom. she was a small cozy sort of a dragon, too, taking up only about half a room and wearing rubbers to keep her claws from scratching the floor. she had wandered into tattypoo's hut the very day the good witch had conquered mombi, and had lived with her ever since. she was so good tempered and companionable, tattypoo put up quite cheerfully with her occasional dissatisfied spells.
to-night, agnes was feeling particularly dissatisfied. in the morning tattypoo had disenchanted a poor forest maiden. the girl had knocked on the door and asked for food. tattypoo after one look realized she was under some evil spell and immediately consulted her books of sorcery. a few magic potions and passes had changed the maiden to her rightful self. and she had been no less than a king's daughter, whom tattypoo had sent home on a fast wish to her father's castle.
"if you can change poor girls to princesses, why don't you do something for yourself?" complained agnes, giving the fire a vicious poke. "i don't mind being a dragon. dragons are unusual and interesting, but witches are ugly and out of style. were you always a witch? do you always intend to be a witch? were you never young or pretty at all?" agnes' question made tattypoo pause. the hum of the spinning wheel ceased as she tried to recall the past. had she ever been young or pretty? letting the silver threads slide through her fingers, she gazed thoughtfully into the fire, but it was all dim and hazy and the good witch could remember nothing of her youth or the days before she had come to the purple forest. she remembered distinctly her first meeting with mombi. the wicked witch was changing a woodcutter into a tree stump and tattypoo, running forward, had put a stop to it. her magic proved stronger than mombi's so it had not been hard to overpower her. not only that, but she had driven mombi out of the forest and taken possession of her hut and magic tools. later, the gillikens had come in crowds to thank tattypoo and beg her to rule over them in mombi's place. so tattypoo had stayed on, undoing as much of mombi's mischief as she could and growing fonder and fonder of the peace loving gillikens. she had always been so busy helping other people, she had never thought about herself at all, but to-night agnes' question made her vaguely unhappy and she began to feel really annoyed that she could remember nothing of her own past.
"i must have been young, once," murmured tattypoo, absently leaning down to stroke the cat with two tails. "even witches are young."
"of course they are," sniffed the dragon impatiently, "and if i had your magic powers, i'd be young again."
"it wouldn't be right to practice magic for my own benefit," answered tattypoo in a shocked voice. "it's against the law."
"is there any law against youth and beauty?" demanded agnes tartly, but the good witch kept shaking her head and muttering over and over, "it wouldn't be right. it wouldn't be right."
"well, at least you could see how you used to look," said agnes, waving her tail toward the stairway. "surely there is no law against that?"
"how?" asked tattypoo, leaning back in her chair and fixing her mild blue eyes full upon the amiable dragon.
"why, the witch's window! let's have a look through the witch's window!" coaxed agnes, and sliding across the floor she began pulling her silver length up the rickety steps of the cottage. tattypoo, reaching for her staff, hobbled hurriedly after her.
"i never thought of the window," panted tattypoo feeling extremely excited and fluttery. in the attic of mombi's hut was a curious dormer window, its two leaded panes opening out upon the slanting roof. one pane was of blue glass and one of pink. tattypoo had often consulted the witch's window, when her subjects needed to know about the past or the future. one look through the blue pane showed the person looking out the past, and one look through the pink pane showed the future. it was curious that tattypoo had lived in the hut all these years and never looked out the witch's window, but as i said a minute ago, she was so happy and so busy she never thought of herself at all. and now, it was largely to satisfy agnes that she tip-toed over to the dormer window. first she pushed back her cap ruffles and straightened her specs.
"well?" asked agnes, pulling herself laboriously up on the sill. "what do you see?" instead of answering tattypoo gave a terrible scream and jumped right out the window. yes, she did.
"stop! help! what are you doing!" shrieked the poor dragon, falling half way out herself. but the good witch had disappeared, staff, cap, spectacles and all. and in her desperate concern for her unfortunate mistress, agnes lost her balance and falling out the witch's window disappeared as quickly and completely as tattypoo. so of course, there was no one to answer the door.
"rap! rap! rap!" the knocker rose and fell. then the latch was lifted cautiously and in stepped a small boy. it was the prince of the ozure isles, for the blue gull had brought him straight to the good witch's door.
"tattypoo!" called philador softly. "where are you, tattypoo?" but there was no reply--only the rush of a black shape as the cat with two tails scampered across the cottage floor and jumped out of the low window.
the firelight lit up the little cottage quite cheerfully and after looking all over and even taking a candle end into the attic, philador curled up in a big easy chair to await the return of the good witch. "she's probably out visiting a neighbor," decided the little prince sleepily. the chair was so comfortable, and philador so drowsy from his long fly through the night air, he soon fell fast asleep and dreamed he had found his royal mother and saved his father's kingdom. a soft thud in his lap wakened him next morning and starting up in alarm he looked straight into the green eyes of the cat with two tails.
"well," sniffed the cat, transferring herself to the arm of the chair, "since you are still here you may as well fetch me my breakfast."
"but where's tattypoo?" cried philador, rubbing his eyes and trying not to show his astonishment at a two tailed cat.
"gone!" announced the cat calmly washing her face.
"gone!" exclaimed the little prince jumping to his feet in great distress. "why, where has she gone?"
"oh, she probably fell down the well," muttered the cat, walking unconcernedly toward the kitchen.
"you don't really mean that she fell down the well?" begged philador, running distractedly after the unfeeling creature. "not really?"
"how should i know?" yawned the cat. "the milk is in that chest, boy. just pour me a full saucer, will you?" her eyes glittered so cruelly and she sharpened her claws so suggestively on the rug, philador hastily opened the chest, took out a jug of milk and poured her a full saucer. then dropping into a kitchen chair he wondered what in oz to do next. he had counted so entirely on tattypoo's help that without her he felt utterly lost and bewildered. the witch's cat looked at him curiously from time to time and after she had finished her milk, deigned to speak. "there might be a message on the slate by the stove," she announced stepping daintily through the open door into the forest. immediately philador rushed over to the stove. sure enough, there was a slate hanging on the wall, but there was nothing written on it. with a sigh the little boy was turning away, when the pencil hanging on a cord beside the slate moved upward and began to write on the smooth black surface. philador's scalp prickled uncomfortably at this odd occurrence, but recovering himself quickly, he leaned forward to read the message.
"the good witch of the north will never return!" stated the pencil mournfully, and falling the full length of the cord swung excitedly to and fro. such a message was almost worse than none and philador stared in horror at the gloomy announcement. if tattypoo never was coming back, how could she help him save the kingdom, and without tattypoo to help him how was he to save the ozure isles all by himself? the slate must have been of a magic sort, for while the little prince stood dismally wondering what to do, the pencil began scribbling a second message.
"go to the emerald city, ozma of oz will help you," wrote the pencil in a firm, decided hand. philador waited a few minutes to see whether any more advice was coming but the pencil dropped beside the slate and refused to write another word. with only two days left before quiberon would destroy his father's kingdom, the little boy did not see how he was ever to reach the emerald city in time, especially as he did not even know in which direction it lay. going over to the little window he drew aside the checked curtain and looked out. deep and impenetrable, the purple forest loomed up on all sides, and with a long sigh philador let the curtain drop and went back to his chair. but it was not long before his natural courage and cheerfulness began to reassert itself. surely the good witch's slate would not advise him to go to the emerald city if the journey were impossible and, jumping up resolutely, philador began to make his preparations.
first he cooked himself some breakfast. there were bread and coffee in the cupboard, and eggs and milk in the chest and after he had eaten, philador's spirits rose considerably. putting a loaf of bread, a square of butter, some cheese and a jar of honey into a small basket, he was about to step out into the forest, when a really splendid idea occurred to him. perhaps there might be some magic contrivance in the good witch's hut to help him on his journey. setting down the basket, philador searched carefully through the whole cottage and in a small shed at the back found tattypoo's witch work-shop. a huge cauldron hanging on a crane was set in the large fire place. the walls were lined with shelves and the shelves covered with curious boxes and bottles. with both hands in his pockets and his crown on the back of his head, the little prince tried to decide which to take. the labels were mostly in magic, a language philador had unfortunately never studied. taking down a blue box he started to open it. now this box had an eyelid and it winked at philador so knowingly that he gave a jump and knocked a simply enormous bottle from the shelf over his head. the bottle fell to the floor with a loud crash, breaking into three separate pieces and a thick brown liquid began to ooze out upon the floor. as philador, dropping the blue box, looked down in fright and dismay, the liquid began to run into the shape of a man. backing into a corner the little prince watched the queer figure forming on the floor. it grew more and more distinct, thickening through the middle and finally as philador, with both hands before his face, backed as far into the corner as he could, the man out of the bottle curled upward and made him a deep bow.
"i thank you," he began in a husky voice. "i've been shut up in that bottle for thirty years and thought i was shelved for life."
"who--what are you?" stuttered philador in an unsteady voice. "and how did you get into the bottle?" he half expected the man to melt and run away, but the liquid from which he was formed seemed to have hardened perfectly and, except for his strange eyes and powdered hair, the old fellow looked almost natural. he sighed deeply at the little prince's question and seating himself on a low bench, motioned for the prince to sit beside him. rather nervously philador seated himself on the other end of the bench.
"i am a medicine man, and a gilliken," began the old gentleman solemnly.
"of course!" thought philador with a little chuckle. "who but a medicine man would come out of a bottle!"
"i spent my whole life studying cures and remedies, but though i hung out my sign, and had office hours every day, no one ever came to consult me," said the medicine man sorrowfully. "but this was not strange when you stop to consider that no one in oz is ever ill; however, it was very dull for me."
the little prince nodded sympathetically and gave a slight start as he noticed for the first time that the medicine man's eyes were cough drops. he was so interested in this discovery he missed a whole sentence of the old fellow's story. "so i decided to travel," the medicine man was now hurrying on to explain, "and discover cures for trouble oz people really did suffer from, such as impatience, bad tempers, rudeness and so on. in the forests hereabout grow many powerful roots and herbs and it was while i was searching for an herb to prevent talkativeness that i met the wicked witch of the north."
"mombi!" gasped philador, edging closer, and thinking how much mischief this old sorceress was responsible for.
"yes, mombi!" sighed the medicine man mournfully. "i had a great cauldron of cough mixture, which i always use as the basis for all my cures, boiling over the fire, and mombi, declaring i had stolen her rarest herbs, threw me into the pot." philador shuddered. he could fairly see the furious witch pouncing upon the helpless little gentleman.
"didn't you fight?" he asked, as the medicine man stared sadly at his boots.
"oh, yes!" the little fellow assured him earnestly, "but mombi had the strength of ten men and tumbled me into the cauldron before i could even call for help. being a native of oz, i could not be utterly destroyed. i remember quite distinctly melting into the cough mixture and later being poured into a bottle. after that i recall nothing till you knocked me from the shelf this morning. how do i look?" he asked.
"you look all right to me," answered philador kindly. "how do you feel?"
"well," answered the medicine man, clearing his throat experimentally, "i feel a little hoarse, but i suppose that's the cough mixture." jumping briskly to his feet he walked over to a large mirror that hung on the wall of the shed, and leaning forward stared long and earnestly at his reflection.
"well?" asked philador as the little man continued to gaze in the mirror, "are you the same?"
"no, i've shrunk! it must have been the boiling," mused the medicine man in a depressed voice. "my eyes look queer and there's a queer rattle in my chest. hear it?" he shook himself from side to side, and philador was forced to confess that he did. "never mind, though," piped the little fellow at last. "i'm out of that bottle and that's something!" throwing out his chest he put both hands in his pockets and beamed upon the little boy.
philador gave a frightened scream and pointing at his shirt front bade him look in the mirror. no wonder philador had screamed! when the medicine man threw out his chest, both sides of his shirt front flew open like the doors in a small closet, disclosing three shelves. on these shelves stood a row of boxes and bottles and as the little prince continued to stare, the old gentleman took out first one and then another. clicking his heels together he sprang gleefully into the air.
"it's all my remedies!" he explained excitedly. "my laugh lozenges, soothing syrup, cross drops and everything! how handy to have a medicine chest and always right with me!"
"doesn't it hurt?" asked philador doubtfully. "can you breathe all right and don't it feel hollow?" the medicine man took three long breaths, put back all the bottles and boxes and slamming the doors of his chest shook his head delightedly.
"it feels fine!" he said gaily. "but look here, isn't this mombi's hut and hadn't we better run before she comes back?" philador had been so interested he had forgotten his own troubles for a few moments, but now he rapidly told the medicine man the mischief mombi had done to his own royal family and of the threat of quiberon to destroy the ozure isles. then he explained how mombi herself had been conquered by tattypoo and later put out by order of ozma of oz.
the medicine man listened with interest and concern and when the little prince told of his flight on the blue gull to the good witch's hut and of the strange disappearance of tattypoo and the message on the magic slate he ruffled up his wonderful hair and declared himself ready to go at once to the emerald city.
"two heads are better than one," he asserted stoutly. "you released me from that odious bottle and i shall never rest until i have repaid you."
"thank you, sir!" straightening his crown, philador smiled gratefully at his strange new friend.
"oh, call me herby," chuckled the medicine man, winking his cough drops eyes merrily, "and i'll call you phil for short. how will that be?"
"all right, herby," laughed the little prince, deciding it would be quite jolly to have this gay little gilliken accompany him to the capital. herby heartily approved of his plan for taking some of tattypoo's magic along and after a short search they took the good witch's thinking cap from a peg on the door and a rope they found curled up on the kitchen table. the rope was marked "jumping rope," and would come in mighty handily on a journey of adventures. pouring several saucers of milk for the cat with two tails, philador put the jumping rope in the basket, the basket on his arm and declared himself ready to start. herby had the witch's thinking cap slung round his neck and almost instantly it proved its magic powers. neither herby nor the little prince knew in which direction the emerald city lay, and as they stood looking uncertainly into the forest the medicine man bethought himself of the cap. putting it on his head he asked it to tell them the way to the capital. the medicine man's little brown face looked so comical under the cap ruffles, philador could not help laughing, but herby, closing his eyes began to walk straight ahead.
deeper and deeper the two travelers penetrated into the grim forest. except for the twitter of birds, and the occasional creaking of a branch, as some animal made its way through the underbrush, there was no sound. almost holding his breath, philador trotted after the old medicine man, peering nervously to the right and left and half expecting a bear or walapus to spring out of some hollow tree. but as time passed and no wild beasts of any nature did appear, he began to breathe easier and to look around with real interest and delight. the huge gnarled trees were tinged with purple. wild grape and wistaria vines climbed in riotous profusion up the trunks and out over the limbs, lacing them together and forming fairy-like arbors and leafy lanes. the floor of the forest was thickly strewn with violets and the fragrance of lavender was everywhere. herby, being a native gilliken, was accustomed to the grandeur of the forest and pattered along in a business-like manner, giving no attention to the purple pansies, clustered around the great trees, nor the lordly flags, edging each forest stream.
"i've heard that the emerald city is but a day's journey from mombi's hut," he called over his shoulder, "and with this thinking cap to guide us we'll be there for dinner. then ozma can magically transport us to the ozure isles and save your father's kingdom. i trust the wizard of oz will give me an audience," he added hopefully. "i'd like to show him my medicine chest and tell him my story."
"but i wonder what did become of tattypoo?" mused philador, stopping to admire some especially lovely pansies. "do you suppose we shall ever find out?"
"of course! of course! with ozma's famous picture and the wizard's magic we shall discover everything." waving his arms happily, herby quickened his steps. as for philador, the more he thought about the capital of oz, the more impatient he became to reach his journey's end. herby had taken off the thinking cap, and was marching along briskly, the boxes and bottles in his medicine chest rattling and tinkling and his wispy white hair snapping in the morning breeze. the trees were farther apart now, and presently they stepped out of the forest altogether. but only to find themselves on the brink of a rushing torrent.
"now what?" muttered the medicine man gloomily, and while philador gazed anxiously up and down the bank, he hurriedly opened the chest.
"what are you doing?" asked the boy curiously, as herby poured several pills from a small bottle into his palm.
"keeping myself from getting cross," puffed the medicine man, quickly swallowing the pills. "have some?"
"but we want to get cross this river?" chuckled the little prince laughing in spite of himself.
"well, i don't see how we are to do it, phil." mournfully the little man returned the pill bottle to his chest and slammed the doors. "that's what was making me cross, and i never allow myself to feel cross," he finished placidly.
"surely there is some way over." sitting down on a log, philador stared thoughtfully at the ground. both had forgotten the thinking cap which would doubtless have solved the problem in a second. as it was, they wasted nearly ten minutes wondering what to do and would probably have been sitting there yet, had not a sudden rattle from the witch's basket attracted their attention. peeping in to see whether a squirrel had gotten into the sandwiches, phil was surprised to see the jumping rope knocking its handles sharply together.
"hurrah!" shouted the medicine man. "tattypoo is helping us. take the rope phil, and see what happens." rather uncertainly philador picked up the rope. nothing happened at first, then phil began to revolve it as he had seen the little girls on the ozure isles do. at the second skip he flew lightly over the raging river. herby shouted and waved from the other side so he gaily skipped back.
"it's a good thing i took those pills," cried herby, shaking his finger at phil, "otherwise i should have been very cross when you skipped across the river and left me." at philador's suggestion they each took an end of the rope, then both skipping together jumped the river at one bound.
"i'm glad we brought this, aren't you?" beaming with satisfaction and pleasure, philador rolled up the marvelous jumping rope and put it back in the basket. the medicine man, again bethinking himself of the witch's cap and to be sure they were still going in the right direction, put it gravely on his head.
"the way lies over those mountains," he observed after a short pause. a quick walk through some fields brought them to the foot of the first mountain and, undaunted by its height and cragginess, they began to ascend, pulling themselves upward with the help of small saplings and bushes. the mountain side was covered with heather so that it was as purple as the witch's forest. half way up, there was a small plateau and, weary from their stiff climb, the two adventurers stopped to rest.
"whew!" puffed the little prince, taking off his crown and looking ruefully at a long rent in his blue cloak. "i hope there are not many more mountains like this one!"
"there aren't!" the answer was so loud and emphatic philador jumped nearly a foot, and herby, after one astonished glance at the speaker, threw open his chest and began rummaging wildly among its contents.
"what's he doing?" asked the stranger, as herby clapped a dozen lozenges into his mouth.
"taking his medicine. it's just a habit he has," answered the little prince, eyeing the newcomer apologetically.
"i was taking a laugh lozenge, if you must know," announced the medicine man, slamming his chest.
"a laugh lozenge!" roared the huge mountaineer, leaning over to get a better look at the little man. "why, what for?"
"to keep from laughing at you," explained herby calmly.
"give me one! give me two, give me a dozen before i die!" rocking backward and forward, the great stranger howled so long and so heartily that philador began to pound him on the back, but herby, waiting his chance, popped six lozenges into his mouth. instantly he stopped laughing. "that's funny!" he mused uneasily. "i still feel like laughing at you, but i can't."
"same here!" slapping his medicine chest, herby strutted up and down. "they're one of my best cures," he boasted proudly. "you've heard of cough drops to keep one from coughing. well laugh lozenges keep you from laughing at the wrong time. have another?" he invited generously.
"no thanks!" the big man shook his head in a puzzled manner and turned to the little prince.
"how do you happen to be climbing my mountain?" he inquired politely.
"because it wouldn't climb itself," answered philador boldly. his answer tickled the mountaineer so tremendously he burst into a loud roar.
"ho! ho! so it can't!" he shouted, "and you've saved my laugh, boy! i was afraid i was cured for life."
"those laugh lozenges will only keep you from laughing at me," explained herby hastily.
"oh!" wheezed the stranger with a relieved chuckle, "that's all right then. i can stand not laughing at you, but i must laugh with you. it's the only thing i really do well," and to prove it he began to laugh so merrily that philador and herby could not help from joining in. every time philador tried to stop, another look at the mountaineer would set him off again. to begin with the fellow was six feet tall and dressed in purple velvet kilts like a highlander. then, his toes curled up almost to his knees, his nose curled up, so did his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth, while his hair grew straight on end and waved to and fro. indeed, a more comical and curious countenance the little prince had never gazed upon in his life.
"ex--explain yourselves!" choked the mountaineer at last. "i'm on a vacation but what are you on?"
"vacation!" exclaimed philador wiping his eyes and taking a long look at a huge ax the mountaineer carried over one shoulder, for he had quite evidently been chopping wood, "you're joking!"
"joe king! why, of course i'm joe king, but how did you guess?" regarding the little boy with twinkling eyes he continued, "i'm joking all the time. that's my name you see and that--" he waved up toward the mountain top, "that is my kingdom. i am king of the uplanders, but i was tired of kinging it so came down here to work and have a little fun."
"do you think work is fun?" asked herby seriously.
"well, it is for a king," admitted the mountain monarch frankly. "takes the kinks out of kinging. you look like a royal person your own self," he observed, eyeing philador with sudden attention. "i see you are wearing a crown."
"he's a prince," confided herby mysteriously, "and unless we reach the emerald city to-night, his kingdom will be utterly destroyed by a monster."
"then he can have half of mine," offered joe king promptly. philador could not help smiling at this generous offer.
"if you would just show us the quickest way over the mountains," he began eagerly, "it would help us a lot. you see my father is back on the ozure isles, and he is more important than i am. then there's my mother!"
"tell me all," commanded joe, sitting down on a tree stump and drawing phil to his side. so philador related the whole of his strange story and even told how the medicine man had been released from mombi's enchantment. when he had finished the king slapped his thigh and sprang briskly to his feet.
"i'll help you!" he declared promptly, and began ho-ing and hah-ing so sonorously that philador had to put both hands to his ears and herby dodged behind a tree to keep out of the draught.
"ho! ho! where are you? hi! hi! come back here you rascal. high boy! ho! boy, i say high boy!"
"whom are you calling?" faltered the little prince, removing one hand from his ear.
"my horse," panted the king, beginning to stamp, whistle and clap his hands. and presently there was a clash, clatter and scrape, and down the mountain slid the strangest steed phil or the medicine man had ever beheld. it was, to be perfectly frank with you, a giant horse. and as you have doubtless never seen a giant horse i'd better describe him at once. he was, to begin with, twice as large as an ordinary horse and of a shiny purple. his eyes were red and roguish, his mane white and flowing, while his tail was an umbrella. yes, it really was. but it was his legs that were most remarkable. high boy had telescope legs, capable of stretching up or down. when he slid into view, the front two were short and the hind two were long, so that he had the appearance of a kangaroo. a thistle bush hung loosely from the corner of his mouth, and he seemed quite annoyed at being disturbed.
"what's up?" he snorted, rolling his eyes from one to another. as they finally rested on the medicine man, he began to chew up the thistle bush with great rapidity. then, throwing back his head, he began to laugh as only a high horse can.
"better give him a laugh lozenge," muttered his majesty, winking at philador, and herby, who really did not like being laughed at, tip-toed forward and slipped several lozenges down high boy's throat.
"i cannot help looking funny," he explained with great dignity. "i'm made from a funny mixture!"
"haw! haw!" sniffed the giant horse, opening one eye. "i should say you are! that open front chest! that cap! he! he! you're enough to make a horse laugh and a stone lion roar! ho! ho! hah! hah!"
"there, there!" cautioned the king. "we all have our peculiarities. herby's a medicine man and just full of harmless remedies. there, there now, that will do!"
"it will have to do," coughed the giant horse "i can't hah another hah!"
herby and phil exchanged a satisfied little nod at this, and the king, taking high boy by the fore lock, introduced him to the travelers.
"high boy, this is the prince of the ozure isles! prince, my horse!" the giant horse pulled himself up and politely thrust out his hoof, which philador shook with some nervousness. next herby was presented and hastily munched a laugh lozenge, so he could keep a straight face during the proceedings.
"high boy will carry you quickly to the capital, won't you, old fellow?"
high boy nodded his head merrily and after several prances came over and stood beside the king. his legs were now all of the same length, and as philador wondered how they should ever mount upon his back there came a series of clicks. the horse's legs grew shorter and shorter, till its body almost touched the ground.
"hop on," directed joe and, seizing his lunch basket, philador hastened to obey. herby, holding his chest with both hands, climbed up after him and the king mounting last of all gave the signal to start. then up went high boy's legs to an unbelievable height, up snapped his umbrella tail shading the travelers most comfortably and next instant they were galloping over the purple mountain as fast as the west wind and the south wind, too.
and riding a high horse has its advantages, let me tell you. when climbing a mountain it keeps its front legs short and its back legs long, so that its body is always on a level. this was quite fortunate, for herby and philador had trouble enough keeping their seats and the little medicine man was so jostled and bounced about he did nothing but groan.
"my bottles will be smashed to bits," he chattered anxiously. "do you hear them knocking about?" philador certainly did, but was so excited and interested in this strange steed and his merry master he could not be properly sympathetic.
"look!" he cried breathlessly, "we're almost to the top and there's a purple city and a castle high up in the clouds."
"that's up town!" cried joe king pridefully. "and a tip top place to be, isn't it, highty, old boy?"
"take the high way up and the low way down, and when you are there, you may have the town!" he roared lustily. "and here we are on my mountain top! where we have high times. whoa! high boy. stop!"
the giant horse, with a joyous neigh, did stop, for they were right at the city gates. no one came to admit them so high boy raised himself up and looked over the wall.
"open in the name of the law!" he snorted impatiently. "the king and two strangers are without!"
at high boy's loud call, two uplander guards in purple kilts came running to open the gates. they were as tall and comical as their king and bowed deeply as they swung back the golden bars. high boy was in such haste to enter he did not lower himself sufficiently, and the king's head was knocked severely on the top of the arch.
"look what you're doing!" spluttered his majesty, returning the salute of the guards and waving for two small pages to approach.
"pray announce us to the queen," he commanded grandly. "here are the right brave and puissant prince of the ozure isles and his friend and companion, the medicine man of oz!"
the pages immediately raised their golden trumpets and blew three shrill blasts, and while philador secretly wondered what puissant might mean, called loudly: "his high and mighty majesty, the king! his brave and puissant highness the prince of the ozure isles and the medicine man of oz!"
"how about me?" whinnied high boy, shaking his mane and prancing along so skittishly that herby threw his arms 'round philador to keep from falling off.
"and the high horse!" shouted the pages joyously, at which the irrepressible beast rose on his hind legs and bowed to the left and right. the uplanders, who had run to doors and windows at the pages' loud cries, clapped and cheered, first for the king, next for the visitors and lastly for high boy himself, till the noise and confusion was simply tremendous. whenever high boy saw one of his friends leaning from an upper window, he'd stretch up his telescope legs.
"hello mary!" he would snort, nudging the little girl or whoever it chanced to be with his soft nose. "hello jim!" then down he would drop to greet an old gentleman in a basement doorway, so that his three riders had an exceedingly up and down time of it.
but even so philador managed to see a lot of up town. the streets of this strange mountain city were narrow and steep, the houses tall and towered. there were glimpses of gardens at the back, gardens sweet with hyacinth and lilac, and in the open spaces between, grew the tallest grass philador had ever imagined. a purple haze hung in the air and the castle, rising majestically from the top of the town, seemed to rest on an airy embankment of clouds. in almost no time, they were in the courtyard of the castle itself, the pages tooting away for dear life. a dozen of the king's retainers rushed out and philador, gazing upward, saw a lovely lady in a lavender lace dress leaning over the balcony. she wore an amethyst crown and he guessed at once that she must be the queen.
"hi! hi! hyacinth!" lengthening his legs till his body was on a level with the balcony, high boy rested his head affectionately on the queen's shoulder. "did you miss me?" he whinnied hoarsely.
"of course! of course!" smiled her highness, nodding pleasantly to herby and phil.
the king, with a great grunt, had immediately flung himself off high boy's back, and the little prince and medicine man made haste to follow him. on closer inspection philador found queen hyacinth even lovelier than she had seemed from the courtyard. although her nose and mouth tipped upward like the king's, she was so gay and pretty that the little prince almost wished she were his own lady mother and did not mind at all when she kissed him on both cheeks. herby blushed with pleasure as the queen shook his hand and held himself stiffly to keep his pills from rattling.
while two uplander footmen drew out high chairs for the visitors and fetched tall glasses of grape juice, joe king told her majesty the strange story of their adventures. when hyacinth heard how mombi had long ago stolen philador's mother, she kissed him again, then hurrying into the castle ordered the royal cook to prepare a tremendous feast for the travelers. high boy, resting his chin on the balcony rail, had listened with close attention to the whole recital. now with a tremulous sigh he began to lower himself into the courtyard.
"goodbye, old toz!" he called roguishly to the medicine man. "see you again, princeling, but now the tall grass is calling me."
"does he eat tall grass?" asked philador, looking over the balcony with great interest as high boy galloped away.
"of course! that's what makes him so tall. what did you suppose a high horse ate?" asked the king merrily.
leading the visitors into the castle he left them in a sumptuous dressing room with amethyst mirrors and brushes and gorgeous silk hangings. philador was glad enough to wash off the dust and brush his hair, but herby spent most of the time rearranging the bottles and boxes in his medicine chest.
"better take a couple of these," he advised, as the little prince started for the door.
"what are they for?" asked phil curiously, as herby swallowed several of the pills himself.
"for yawns," explained the medicine man quickly. "where there's a feast there's bound to be talking. now speeches always make me sleepy, so to keep from yawning and offending their majesties, i have taken this slight precaution."
"give me a couple of precautions, too," laughed philador. "i hope they won't keep us long herby, for we ought to be halfway to the emerald city by now."
as philador and the medicine man stepped through the doorway, they were met by a tremendous uplander who introduced himself as high jinx. he was joe king's chief adviser and immediately conducted them to the dining hall where he seated them between the king and queen.
herby had been quite right about the speeches. almost everyone at the table made a speech, complimenting the little prince on his bravery and wishing him success on his perilous journey. but the medicine man's pills worked so well that neither he nor philador yawned even once during the entire procedure. as for the luncheon, it might have been a birthday party at least, from the number of goodies served. what with the chicken and waffles, sweet potatoes and hot biscuits, not to mention the cream cake, custard pie and lavender ices, philador decided he could never be hungry again.
queen hyacinth had ordered a lunch packed up for the travelers, and when herby and philador both declared they could not eat another bite, joe king himself went off to search for his high horse.
"on high boy you will reach the capital in no time," his majesty assured them earnestly, "and when you have saved the ozure isles and saved your royal mother, you must come back and pay us a real visit."
this philador readily promised to do; also to find out from ozma what had become of the good witch of the north for, without a ruler, the gilliken country was open to war and invasion by hostile tribes. while they were waiting for the high horse to appear, phil and the medicine man expressed a desire to walk about the city. joe, giving each of them an umbrella, in case a storm came up, as he put it, hurried off to find high boy himself.
greatly encouraged by the happy change in their fortunes, philador and herby walked briskly along high street, stopping now and then to gaze in shop windows or to wave to the friendly children playing in the doorways. they were careful to keep close to the castle and were about to turn back, when a great gust of wind came tearing across the town, flattening them against the side of a house. they had just time to open their umbrellas when the storm broke with such suddenness and fury that they could neither see, hear nor call for help. and help they most certainly needed.
philador had a confused glimpse of an old uplander putting down his umbrella and jumping into it, before the wind seized his own and whirled him aloft like a kite. drenched and breathless, he soared over the city. fortunately the wind was light and buoyant and the umbrella strong and sturdy, so that when it did come down philador landed gently enough. the storm seemed to be left behind and scrambling to his feet, the little prince looked anxiously upward. he was at the very bottom of joe king's mountain and the top was still hidden by the black storm clouds. though he looked and looked, not one glimpse of the castle nor city towers could he catch. with a discouraged sigh, he turned about just in time to see the medicine man sail down into the midst of a huckleberry bush.
"well!" spluttered herby, putting down his umbrella and pulling himself out with great difficulty. "what do you think of this?"
"not much," confessed philador ruefully. "we've lost high boy and we haven't time to go back and--"
"the good witch's thinking cap is gone too," mourned the medicine man, clapping his hand to his head. "we'll have to do our own thinking hereafter." herby opened his medicine chest and peered in, and presently he was crunching away at one of his remedies. when philador, who had been looking about, called that he was ready to start, the medicine man came almost cheerfully.
"we still have the jumping rope," he reminded the little boy happily. "and we still have the lunch basket and we're over the first mountain."
philador nodded soberly and wondered what herby had been taking to make him so cheerful. for his part, he could not help thinking that their fall had been most unfortunate. without the thinking cap how were they to know which direction to take, and without high boy's long legs to help them how were they ever to reach the emerald city in time? ahead loomed a still higher mountain. sighing deeply he trudged along the rocky little path, his head down and the lunch basket trailing listlessly from his hand.
"if we'd only stayed in the castle," he mused sorrowfully, "this never would have happened." herby did not answer but quietly passed him a small round box. "comfort pills. will cure any trouble that hasn't happened," announced the label. absently the little prince took two and handed the box back. as he popped the pills into his mouth, there was a joyful snort and stamp behind them. it was the king's horse, and with outspread arms philador ran to meet him.
"why didn't you wait for me?" whinnied high boy, lowering himself down to the little boy's height and looking reproachfully into his eyes. "i've been looking for you all over the mountain."
"the storm came up and blew us away," explained philador hastily.
"did you put your umbrellas down?" asked high boy, nodding amiably to the medicine man.
"why should we put them down?" questioned herby, puckering up his forehead, "it was raining!"
"of course it was raining. wasn't i there too, but you must know that in our country, the storms come up and the thing to do is to put your umbrella down and jump in it. like this," explained high boy, swinging his umbrella tail expertly under his telescope legs and standing calmly in the center of it. "then when the rain comes, you don't get wet or blown away. always put your umbrella down when a storm comes up," he finished, jumping out of his umbrella and swinging it back into place.
philador was too surprised to make any remark, but herby, delighted to see the king's famous steed, put his foot into the stirrup and pulled up into the saddle.
"do you know the way to the emerald city?" he asked breathlessly.
"two mountains and a couple of countries to the south," answered high boy carelessly. "up with you princeling, four legs are better than two, especially when they are my kind." to this philador could agree most heartily, and swinging himself up in front of herby, he took the reins hanging loosely round high boy's neck and begged him to start.
"i always did want to see the capital," confessed high boy trotting smartly along the stony mountain path. "i hear that there is a saw horse at the emerald city, and i want to see whether he is as handsome and as useful as i am."
"he couldn't possibly be as nice," sighed philador, putting both arms round high boy's neck. "you're even better than my sea horse."
"hey! hey! well, what do you think of that?" with a snort of surprise and pleasure, the king's horse set off for the second mountain at such a pace that the wind whistled by like a hurricane.
"hold on, boys," he neighed boisterously. "i'm your friend for life!"
"a----very----fast----friend!" stuttered herby, clutching philador by the belt and wincing each time he struck the saddle. and so up the mountain pounded high boy, his front legs short, his back legs long and his umbrella tail switching behind him.
the same morning that philador was having his amazing experiences in the good witch's hut and on joe king's mountain, trot and her friends were having some curious adventures in cave city.
"where are we going?" asked trot, following the old mer-man cautiously and once almost treading on his tail.
"to the king," answered the mer-man sadly.
"do you call this a city?" sniffed the scarecrow, looking scornfully down the dim damp corridors opening to right and left and the muddy stream of water flowing through the center.
"no, i don't call it a city," wheezed their guide resting for a few moments on his crutches, "but you had better not let the cave men hear you criticizing their town. it will go hard enough with you as it is." sighing to himself the old fellow went tapping along on his crutches. "wait till silly sees you," he mumbled mournfully.
"who's silly?" inquired benny, picking up a boulder and hurling it into the center of the stream.
"the king," replied the mer-man without turning 'round.
"humph!" chuckled the scarecrow, winking at trot, "i've known many kings who acted silly and who looked silly, but i have never met one who called himself that. do you mean to say you call him silly right to his face?"
"to his side face," answered the mer-man solemnly. "he only has half a face," he added, stopping again. "that's all anyone has here. that's all you'll have presently," he predicted gloomily.
"half a face!" gasped trot, putting one hand to her cheek and looking around uneasily. "why what do you mean?"
"are you a cave man?" demanded the scarecrow, running around and planting himself in front of the old mer-man. "if you're not, get us out of here. my face may be funny, but i'm attached to it and it's attached to me and nobody can have half of trot's face either!"
"nor mine!" panted benny, bringing his stone heels together with a resounding click. "show us the way out of here or i'll tread on your tail."
"there is no way out," quavered their guide, sitting down on a sapphire rock and waving his tail about sadly. "i have been here for years, ever since mombi stole the queen of the ozure isles and sent quiberon to plague the islanders."
"mombi! why mombi was put out two years ago," exclaimed trot, dropping down on another rock. "do you mean to say she stole this queen before then? and were those the ozure isles we flew over this morning?"
"were they jeweled islands?" inquired the mer-man eagerly, "and did you see a city of sapphires?" trot shook her head quickly and the old mer-man, covering his face with both hands began to rock to and fro with grief. "if i could but see the sapphire city once more, if i could just see the jeweled rocks and the blue waters of orizon," he mumbled miserably.
"then you're a prisoner, too?" asked trot, leaning forward sympathetically.
"who are you?" demanded the scarecrow again. "and how is it you still have both sides of your face?"
"because the blue ray could not destroy a waterman," said the old man proudly, and sitting up he told them a strange story.
"my name is orpah," he announced sadly, "and i was keeper of the king's sea horses. every morning i would drive them from the jeweled caverns to graze upon the green plants at the bottom of the lake, bringing them back when the king and his subjects wished to ride. yes--for many years i cared for the sea horses of cheeriobed, who gave me not only every thing i wished for but had these golden crutches made for me so i could travel on land as well as in the water."
"are all the inhabitants of the ozure isles like you?" interrupted trot, "or have they wings like the bird-man who brought us here?"
"i am the only mer-man in these parts and the other islanders have two legs like you yourself. i never saw any with wings," exclaimed orpah, regarding the little girl with a puzzled frown.
"let him tell his story and then we'll tell ours," advised benny, who was extremely interested in the old man's recital.
"there isn't much more," sighed the mer-man gloomily. "everything went well and happily till the day the little prince of the ozure isles was two years old. then mombi suddenly appeared, snatched up her majesty and flew off. the same day quiberon came roaring across the lake. one by one, he devoured the herd of sea horses on which the ozure islanders were accustomed to ride to the mainland. when i tried to defend them he seized me and thrust me into his cave. leaping through the water-fall, i escaped to cave city and have been a prisoner ever since. if i refuse to obey the cave men, they shut me up without water. without water i cannot live, so as their slave i have been forced to work in this dismal underground cavern."
"just wait till ozma hears this," cried trot indignantly. "that monster tried to catch us too, but he's caught himself now, and never will get away."
"do you mean it?" orpah sprang to his crutches and looked joyfully from one to the other. trot hastily told him how the bird-man had carried them from the emerald city to quiberon's cave, how they, too, had escaped through the water-fall and how the great monster, rushing after them, had become wedged in the narrow passageway.
"i wish the king knew about this. if cheeriobed knew, he'd start at once in search of the queen," cried orpah excitedly.
"we'll tell him as soon as we're out," proposed the scarecrow cheerfully, "and help him find the queen besides."
"but how are we to get out?" groaned the mer-man dismally. "i've been here for twenty years."
"i will fight these cave men," declared benny, picking up a rock and glancing belligerently from left to right.
"hush," warned the scarecrow in a low voice. "we are being shadowed."
"what's that?" shivered trot, as a cold damp wind went whistling past her ears and a long series of wails came echoing through the cavern.
"the cave men," whispered orpah, quickening his pace. "they are coming to get you."
"they won't get me," blustered benny, brandishing his umbrella in one hand and the rock in the other.
"why, they're shadows!" cried trot, seizing the scarecrow's arm. "live shadows."
"silhouettes," corrected the mer-man, placing himself boldly in front of the little girl.
rushing along both sides of the wall, came the cave men, shouting and yelling and waving their shadow swords and clubs. you have seen the pictures of egyptian silhouettes carved on old tombs and walls? well, the cave men were like that, except that they could move and talk.
"pooh! who's afraid?" stuttered trot, as the threatening shadows swept along each side of the cave.
"surrender!" called a blue shade, armed with a long spear. "surrender in the name of king silly the second."
"nonsense!" puffed the scarecrow, shaking his cotton fist at the shadow, while benny let his rock fly directly at the speaker. it struck the wall with a terrific thud, but the silhouette did not even seem to notice it. at the same time, the three travelers felt an irresistible force pushing them forward. the cave men themselves were moving backward.
"you are summoned into the presence of the king!" announced a pikeman in a high thin voice.
"well i'll be pebbled," panted the stone man. for even benny's great weight could not withstand the relentless force that was dragging them along with the shadow army. orpah tried to comfort them, but there was little the old man could say in the presence of this cruel and ghostly company. when at last they reached the king's cavern, even benny felt dismayed. king silly the second was so immense he took up one entire side of the royal cave. he was sitting sideways, like all of the other shadows, upon a throne roughly drawn on the rocks. his one eye rolled angrily around at the intruders and as his subjects grouped themselves around the throne, he called loudly.
"no bodies allowed here. how dare you clutter up my kingdom with your miserable bodies?"
"we can't help being ourselves," faltered trot, eyeing his majesty nervously, "and if you'll tell us the way out of your kingdom, we'll go immediately."
"faster than that, even," added the scarecrow, looking 'round with a shudder.
"hold your tongue," advised the king sharply. "since you are here, you might as well be silhouettes too. i need some new slaves. pray stand against that wall yonder with your best sides out and i'll have you melted down to shadows."
"i won't be a shadow!" cried benny, stamping his foot determinedly. "i am going to the emerald city so i can be a real person."
"you'll make an excellent shade," muttered the king, resting his chin upon his arm.
"but look here," protested the scarecrow, waving his hat to attract his majesty's attention, "you can't do this. we are important subjects of ozma of oz and when we fail to return she will come here with her army and destroy you."
"she can't fight shadows," answered the king calmly. "fetch the blue ray, ozeerus."
backing along the wall, the blue shade thus addressed left the cavern, returning presently with a flaming blue torch. as the weird blue light danced all over the ceiling and walls, trot seized her two friends by the hands.
"run!" panted trot frantically. but at their first step, the same invisible force that had swept them into the king's presence, thrust them back against the left wall of the cave.
"this ray," explained the king, smiling icily, "will destroy those clumsy bodies of yours and transform you into fine, useful shades. quick, best sides out."
"am i to become a shadow before i become a man?" groaned benny, glancing about desperately.
"will i be the shadow of myself?" moaned the scarecrow, putting both hands before his face and crouching back against the wall.
"never mind," comforted trot. "maybe it won't hurt much and we won't have to be shadows long, for ozma will soon miss us and then this silly old king will be sorry as well as silly."
"who is to be first?" inquired the monarch, giving no heed to trot's remarks. benny glanced from the blazing blue torch to trot and then quickly stepped forward.
"i will be first," announced benny, "but beware, when i become a shadow, i'll toss you off the throne, i'll hammer you to shadow bits, i'll--" benny got no further, for at this juncture, ozeerus turned the blue torch full upon him. there was a sparkle and flash as the blue flame sprayed against the wall and then such a roar and grind that the scarecrow toppled over like a ten-pin and trot clapped both hands to her ears.
the last thing trot remembered was an ear splitting explosion, a terrible tumble through a dark tunnel, a terrific splash and the sudden shock of finding herself under water. choking and spluttering the little girl struck out valiantly. as she did, two wet arms clasped themselves 'round her waist and she felt herself being borne swiftly upward. next instant the warm sun was shining on her face and, opening her eyes, trot found herself on the surface of lake orizon. supporting her with one arm, orpah was swimming steadily toward a rocky beach. blinking and gasping, for she had swallowed a dreadful dose of salt water, the little girl tried to look for her friends. but there was no sign of benny or the scarecrow, nor of the jeweled islands she had seen before the bird-man dropped her in quiberon's cave.
too exhausted to ask questions, trot let the old mer-man tow her ashore. as it grew shallower, he lifted her in his arms and set her on a high rock out of the reach of the tide.
"now, i must go back for the others," he wheezed hoarsely. "but we're free--free my girl--and all of our troubles are over!"
trot smiled faintly, too wet and shaken to say a word and, with a joyous flirt of his tail, orpah disappeared under the waves. but the warm sunshine and bracing breeze soon restored trot to herself. wringing out her dress and shaking back her hair she began to look eagerly for the return of orpah. she wondered just how she had reached the bottom of the lake and whether benny and the scarecrow had been blown there with her. and before she had answered this question to her own satisfaction, the hard head of the stone man appeared suddenly above the water. at each step he rose higher and orpah, swimming joyously at his side, waved gaily to trot. benny was carrying the scarecrow in his arms, and when they reached the little girl's rock, the straw man gave a feeble cheer.
benny had lost his high hat and umbrella and was covered with clinging sea weeds, but at sight of trot, safe and sound upon the rocks, his stone lips parted in a broad smile.
"well," rasped benny jovially, "this is better than being shades, but let's go in where it's dryer."
"by all means," coughed the scarecrow. "i feel like a sponge!" as benny came opposite, trot, standing on tip-toe, put her arms 'round his neck. striding easily over the jagged rocks, the stone man carried both trot and the scarecrow far up on the beach. the mer-man had recovered his crutches by this time, and hobbled happily along behind them.
"i'm glad you're not a real man yet," muttered the scarecrow, as benny put him carefully down on the sand, "a real man could never have walked along the bottom of a lake, nor saved us from being shadows."
"did i save you?" asked benny, easing trot down beside the scarecrow.
"of course you did!" dragging himself up beside the others, orpah beamed on the former statue. "when you refused to melt into a shadow, ozeerus turned the blue ray higher and higher till it exploded and blew out the side of the cave and carried us all to the bottom of the lake."
"but where are the ozure isles?" questioned trot, standing up and shading her eyes with one hand.
"back there," explained orpah, waving toward the west. "that blue ray blew us clear across the bottom of the lake to the mainland."
"i shall never be the same," the scarecrow assured them sorrowfully. "i feel like an aquarium. is my face washed off, trot? and see what's got into my chest, will you?" trot thrust her hand into the scarecrow's stuffed shirt and, with a little grimace, brought forth a wriggling fish. there were several crabs and a turtle in the scarecrow's pockets, but after they had shaken him well and restored the wiggling creatures to the lake, trot and orpah wrung out the poor straw man and stretched him in the sun to dry.
"you'll be all right soon," smiled trot, giving him a little hug, "and when we reach the emerald city, you can have yourself laundered and restuffed and i'll touch up your face with my new paints."
"but what are we going to do now?" asked benny, surveying the little girl expectantly.
"well," answered trot, shaking back her wet hair, "i think we'd better get back to the emerald city as soon as we can, so that ozma can help find the queen of the ozure isles, and keep quiberon from doing any more mischief. don't you think so, orpah?"
"that's the best thing i've heard since i escaped from cave city," smiled the mer-man, "and if you can spare me, i'll swim across right now and tell cheeriobed the good news."
"don't be too sure it will be good," sighed the scarecrow, raising his head with a great effort. he still felt damp and depressed, but trot shook the old mer-man heartily by the hand and promised to return with ozma to the ozure isles.
"i'd like to see the sapphire city again," finished trot.
"if trot comes, i'll come too," promised benny, "but you may not know me, for i'll be a real person after i have seen the wizard of oz!"
"you're a real person now," chuckled orpah, tapping benny on the arm with his gold crutch, "and cheeriobed will reward you well for your services."
"i hope they won't hang wreaths 'round my neck," worried benny, as the mer-man dove into the lake. "i hate wreaths! when do we start on, trot?"
"as soon as the scarecrow dries off and i find something to eat," answered trot. "oh, benny, i'm so hungry!"
"what's that?" inquired benny, in surprise.
"it's the way she's made," explained the scarecrow patiently, "and one of the inconveniences of being a real person. real people, my dear benny, must eat three times a day, at least. i'm glad i'm stuffed with straw and you may thank your hackers and hewers that you are made of stone!"
"but, what will she eat?" asked benny, staring at trot with a worried frown.
"oh, i'll find something," laughed trot, who was used to taking care of herself and picking up lunches in strange lands. running to the top of a small sand dune, she looked carefully all around and soon found a big clump of beach plums. a toast tree grew nearby and between the two, trot fared extremely well. the brisk breezes dried her clothes, while she ate and, feeling rested and refreshed, trot skipped back to her companions, thinking how astonished dorothy and betsy would be when she told them about cave city and the bird-man.
the scarecrow was telling benny something of life in the capital, and the more the public benefactor heard about this strange and marvelous city, the more anxious he was to be off. the scarecrow himself could now walk without collapsing, so as soon as trot appeared they both declared themselves ready to start.
"i know this country," declared the scarecrow with a knowing wink. "we have but to walk east until we come to jinjur's cottage, then proceed in a south westerly direction, till we reach the emerald city itself."
"who is jinjur?" inquired benny, tramping heavily through the tall grass.
"a young lady who gathered an army of girls and conquered the emerald city when i was emperor," answered the scarecrow, with a merry glance at trot.
"how unladylike!" mused the stone man. "are you not afraid she will conquer you again?"
"dear me, no!" laughed the scarecrow. "that's all over and done with and jinjur and i are the best of friends. i was tired of being emperor, anyway," he finished carelessly. "it's more fun being yourself."
"will i be myself when i'm a real man?" asked the statue soberly. "i'm beginning to feel happy the way i am."
"that's because you're helping everybody," exclaimed trot, giving him a little pat.
"is it?" stroking his chin thoughtfully, the stone man stopped. "i don't even mind losing my hat and umbrella," he finished in surprise.
"we'll soon find you new ones," promised the scarecrow. "as soon as we reach the emerald city, and when we've helped find this lost queen, you can settle down with us and be happy ever afterward."
"how long is that?" benny eyed the straw man with deep interest.
"for as long as you live," announced trot with a little skip.
"then i hope i live always," sighed benny. "i'd hate to stand still for fifty years like i did before. and if i'm ever called upon to be a statue again, i hope i'll be a sitting-down statue. you have no idea how tiresome it is standing up for yourself and somebody you have never seen, year after year."
the scarecrow nodded sympathetically and, talking of this and that, but especially of the ozure isles, the three travelers crossed several meadows and finally came to a narrow blue highway. it was so narrow they had to walk single file, but as the scarecrow declared that any road was better than none, they proceeded along the highway until the strawman, who was in the lead, came to a full stop.
"what's the matter?" demanded trot, who came next. the scarecrow squeezed aside so the others could see ahead and, peering anxiously over his shoulder, trot saw a curious blue turnstile.
"shall we go on?" asked the scarecrow uncertainly, "or shall we go back?"
standing on tip-toes, trot tried to see where the road beyond the turnstile went to.
"let's go on," decided trot, who could not help feeling curious. so the scarecrow stepped through the turnstile and the others quickly followed him.
round the first bend in the road hung a big circular sign.
"roundabout way"
"may-be the longest way 'round is the shortest way home," observed the scarecrow, "and now that we are on it we may as well discover where this road goes." but it was impossible to see far. bushy trees grew on each side of the blue pathway and it curved so that they could see only a few feet ahead.
"this makes me dizzy," confessed trot, after they had gone around dozens and dozens of curves. "do you suppose it leads anywhere at all?"
"well, here's a round house!" exclaimed the scarecrow. "shall we go in?"
coming 'round the last curve, trot and benny saw an enormous wooden dome, larger than ten circus tents rolled into one. there were round windows in the walls halfway up and in the side toward them a swiftly revolving door. before the others had quite decided what to do, the scarecrow stepped through the swinging door and disappeared.
"now we'll have to go in," decided trot, anxiously and, waiting her chance, she dashed after the scarecrow and benny stepped into the section immediately back of trot.
stepping into the revolving door was one thing, stepping out, another. it whirled and spun so rapidly that poor trot grew giddy and breathless, and when she did manage to escape she fell headlong. the scarecrow and benny, not being real persons, did not suffer from giddiness, but they too lost their balance when they stepped out and lay face down in the sawdust that covered the floor of the round house. the scarecrow was first up, also first down again, for no sooner did they rise and try to walk forward before they were violently flung on their noses.
"let's go back," said the scarecrow, after his sixth tumble. "i can't stand this."
"i can't stand at all," complained benny, rolling over and looking appealingly at trot.
"neither can i," confessed trot, trying to wiggle backwards without getting up. but this proved impossible and, finding they could not move backward or forward, the three travelers sat up and looked blankly at one another.
"why not try going 'round?" suggested a roguish voice in trot's ear and, turning with a start, the little girl saw a perfectly round young man, smiling amiably down upon her. his head was round and covered with red ringlets, his legs and arms were short and round and his hands and feet were regular tennis balls.
"see!" cried the little man, bouncing easily to one side, "we go 'round in rings here. won't you join our family circle?" he invited pleasantly.
for the first time trot became aware of a great clamor and confusion in the round house. a big ring of round-abouties was revolving merrily, twenty yards off. inside that, she could see still another circle moving in the opposite direction. the loud ringing voices of these pudgy little people made her ears ring and, while she was considering the round-abouty's invitation, his head began to spin merrily upon his peg neck.
"oh, look!" wailed trot, seizing the scarecrow's arm. "whatever shall we do? everything's going 'round, even their heads!"
"your head will soon turn as easily as mine," promised the round-abouty, leaning down to take trot's hand in his own. "come around this way please."
in a panic, trot pulled the scarecrow with her and he in turn took hold of benny. stepping rapidly to the right, they moved toward the first circle and were quickly drawn into the ring.
"did you once say you wanted to dance?" chuckled the scarecrow, looking up mischievously at benny. "well, now's your chance, old boulder, but don't step on my foot."
and dance they certainly did, 'round and 'round and 'round, till trot really began to suspect that her head was turning too.
"don't you ever stop?" panted the little girl, raising her voice above the shouts and yells of the round-abouties, who seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously.
"nope!" puffing out his cheeks, the little round-abouty beamed upon trot. "we never stop, we just keep on going 'round together. isn't it fun?"
trot shook her head violently and tried to break out of the circle, but the little fellows would not let go. after circling so many more times that she lost all count, a bell clanged out from the center of the ring. immediately trot and her friends were thrust into the second circle which began revolving in the opposite direction. the second circle was a singing circle and as each round-abouty was singing a different song you can imagine the awful discords. trot groaned and would have put her fingers in her ears, but her hands were held so tightly that this was impossible. after discovering that there were two more circles and a merry-go-round in the exact center, trot closed her eyes and skipped dizzily on.
"if anyone ever asks me to play a round game," reflected trot grimly, "i'll, i'll hit them--yes, i will."
benny and the scarecrow did not mind so much, but even they grew tired of the continuous turning and the spinning heads of their strange comrades.
"we're close to the center," called the scarecrow, as they were pushed into the third circle. "maybe when we reach the middle, something will happen. i wouldn't mind riding on the merry-go-round."
"well," rasped the stone man, skipping stiffly as he spoke. "i've never ridden on a merry-go-round yet, but if riding on one is part of being alive i suppose i shall have to try it."
"whoops! whoops! of course you will! wait till our ring leader sees you," chortled the round-abouty next to him. trot opened her eyes as they were propelled into the last circle. at any other time she might have enjoyed a merry-go-round ride, but as she went skipping giddily around the really splendid carrousel in the center of the round house, she wished herself safely outside or in any place where she could be still and quiet. when the bell sounded, the merry-go-round stopped. the round-abouties who had been on it sidled off and the round-abouties in trot's circle climbed on. pushed upward by two of the merry little men, trot found herself seated on a zebra before she could say a word. the scarecrow was already mounted on a tiger. it looked so much like the hungry tiger of oz it made him quite homesick. benny, after several unsuccessful attempts to mount a wooden elephant, stood stiffly beside trot's zebra.
the merry-go-round was so immense that the 'round and 'round motion grew less and less noticeable and presently trot, becoming less dizzy, began to be more interested in her surroundings. in the hollow center of the merry-go-round stood a large round table and seated about was a whole company of round-abouties. one had merry-go-round rings in both ears and one through his nose. he held a large silver bell and trot immediately decided that he must be the ring leader of the riotous band. his head turned more slowly than the heads of his subjects, and as trot passed, he smiled at her pleasantly. beside the round table, a round tower rose from the floor to the ceiling of the round house. trot glanced at it curiously each time she went by and finally made out a round door with a black ring in the center at the bottom of the tower. she had just made this interesting discovery when the ring leader rang his bell. taking benny's hand and motioning for the scarecrow to follow, trot jumped off on the inside of the merry-go-round and politely approached the ring leader.
"could you please show us the way out of your house?" asked trot, bowing nervously.
"we're on an important mission," put in the scarecrow, "and must reach the emerald city to-night."
"your mission from now on is to make me laugh," roared the ring leader, holding his head still with both hands so he could better observe the scarecrow. "ha, ha! you're enough to make a kookaroo laugh."
"i don't care a cat's whisker for your opinion," exclaimed the scarecrow indignantly, as all the other round-abouties began to roar with their little round ruler.
"shall i hit somebody?" asked benny, stepping close to the round table and bringing his fist down with a thump that shook the house.
"ring the bell! ring the bell!" cried the round-abouty next to the ring leader. "keep 'em going 'round, that's the way to keep them 'round here." as the leader lifted his arm to ring the silver bell, trot broke away and, being careful to run sideways, rushed toward the door in the round tower. seizing the ring, she jerked it open and plunged up the spiral stairway curling aloft. almost instantly there was a thump behind her, and turning about, she saw that benny and the scarecrow were right at her heels. 'round and 'round, up and up, tore trot, not daring to look back and growing more breathless at every step. she could hear the screams and shouts of the round-abouties down below and the thud of their rubber soles on the stair. frightened as she was and determined though she was to escape, at the one hundred and tenth step trot's breath failed her. sinking down, she covered her face with her hands and waited for the mischievous little men to seize her. instead, two hard arms caught her up and benny, who never grew tired nor lost his breath, pounded 'round and 'round, and up and up to the very top of the flight. butting a trap door in the center of the tower open with his head, he ran up the last three steps of the spiral stairway, leaned down, dragged the scarecrow through the opening, then slammed down the trap door and sat on it just as the first round-abouty reached the top.
"that!" declared the scarecrow solemnly, "was the funniest race i ever was in. and now that we're up here, how shall we get down?" the trap door was bumping up and down from the furious thumps of the round-abouties and even benny's great weight could not hold it down indefinitely.
"we'll have to slide to earth," muttered the scarecrow, after an earnest glance all around. "do you think you could stand sliding, my dear? i tell you!" as trot looked uncertainly down the curving surface of the huge wooden roof. "let me sit in benny's lap and you, trot, shall sit in mine, then altogether we'll slide. the splinters won't hurt benny."
"better hurry up," advised the stone man, blinking his round eyes furiously as the thumps on the trap door grew more and more determined. "hurry up!"
"you mean hurry down, don't you?" smiled the scarecrow, dropping into benny's lap. then trot sat carefully on top, benny clasped his arms around them both and shoved off. next instant they were tobogganing down the round house roof, faster and faster and faster! when they reached the edge they had gained such speed and momentum that they shot over an entire forest before they came to a stop. stunned by the terrific force of their landing, but thanks to the scarecrow, quite unhurt, trot sat up and looked inquiringly around.
"well, we're still in the munchkin country," panted the little girl, pointing to a blue farm house not far away.
"and we certainly covered a lot of ground, i mean air," coughed the scarecrow, making an unsuccessful effort to arise. "shake me up trot, i'm flat as a fritter. are you all right, benny, my boulder?"
"my coat tails are a bit chipped," answered the stone man calmly, "but that is a small price to pay for freedom. this is a curious country, my dear," he observed, turning to trot. "everyone wishes to make us into a being like himself."
"a fault you will find with people everywhere, even in your own world," puffed the scarecrow, as trot shook and pounded him into shape. "everybody thinks his way is the right way."
"let's take a straight road this time," interrupted trot, who disliked long arguments and, giving the scarecrow a final pat, pulled him expertly to his feet. "have we lost our way, scarecrow?" the straw man looked long and earnestly in every direction.
"there's a road," he called finally, waving toward the east, "and i'll wager it leads right to jinjur's door."
"come on then," rumbled benny impatiently. "i should like to meet the girl who conquered a city."
"conquering a city is not so much," observed the scarecrow, as they started across the blue field. "trot conquered an island in the sky and has a whole book of history written about her adventures there."
"did you really?" staring down at the little girl with wonder and admiration, benny begged her to tell the story. so, as they hurried on to the blue cottage, trot told how she and button bright and cap'n bill had flown on a magic umbrella to sky island, conquered the pinks and blues, and how she had been crowned queen of the island. she was trying to explain to benny why she preferred being a little girl in the emerald city to a queen in the sky, when the scarecrow gave a sharp cry of alarm and sprang back from the road.
thunderous hoof beats came pounding along the highway, and as trot and benny jumped out of the way a most astonishing steed galloped pell mell by them. it carried two riders, but as they were seated on a level with the tree tops they were almost invisible. about all trot and her companions could see were high boy's legs. for, of course, it was high boy, and never having seen a high horse in the whole course of their lives the three travelers pressed back against the low wall, at the side of the road.
"hey!" yelled the scarecrow, torn between fright and curiosity.
"where?" whinnied the high horse, stopping short and coming down so suddenly that phil and the medicine man were nearly jolted out of the saddle. "did you say hay?" he repeated gently, his head now on a level with the scarecrow. "ah!" leaning forward, he snatched several wisps out of the scarecrow's shirt front and munched them up with great relish.
"stop!" commanded trot sharply, as the scarecrow, clutching his shirt front together, began to climb over the wall. "you mustn't eat the scarecrow; he's alive!"
"oh, all right then!" sighed high boy, looking curiously down at trot, "but he started it, you know. i should never have lowered myself to speak to you at all if he had not hollered 'hay!'"
"what i really meant was 'how--!!'" stuttered the scarecrow, balancing himself on the top of the wall and ready to jump either way. "how do you do?" he finished, jerking off his hat nervously.
"as i'm told sometimes, and as i please, others," sniffed high boy, switching his tail impatiently. "but if it's how and not hay, i might as well get up and go on again."
"no, wait," directed philador, greatly interested in the appearance of the three travelers. the scarecrow he had recognized at once from a picture he had seen in a history at home. "this gentleman lives in the emerald city, high boy, and perhaps he will show us the way to the capital." at the little prince's words, the scarecrow quickly jumped down off the wall.
"we are going to the emerald city ourselves," he exclaimed in surprise. "it's in the opposite direction from the one you are taking."
"we're hunting a queen," explained benny, deciding it was about time he got into the conversation.
"why, so are we!" cried the medicine man, leaning so far out to the side that his chest flew open and spilled half its contents in the road. trot and the scarecrow were extremely shocked at this unexpected happening, but immediately went to herby's assistance and when the last pill box was in place, the medicine man slammed his chest and, with a wide wave of his arms, announced:
"this is prince philador of the ozure isles, on a quest to find his royal mother and save his father's kingdom. i am a medicine man and--"
"i am a high horse!" neighed high boy, pawing up the dust with his hoof and tossing back his mane. "the only high horse in oz!"
all of these announcements, as you can well imagine, filled trot and her companions with astonishment.
"why, we've just left the ozure isles," burst out trot breathlessly. "a bird-man carried us to quiberon's cave and--"
"let's all sit down," beamed the scarecrow, "and talk this over comfortably." before philador or herby could dismount, high boy dropped down upon his haunches and, putting one hoof behind his ear, begged the scarecrow to proceed with the story.
"why don't you tie yourself up?" he muttered impatiently to the medicine man, who in rolling off his back had again upset his medicine chest.
"i'll lend you my belt," volunteered trot, as phil, who had also fallen off high boy, picked himself up and sat down beside the straw man.
"now then!" exclaimed trot, after she had again restored the contents of herby's chest and fastened it securely with her belt, "tell us everything that has happened!"
"ladies first," murmured high boy, showing both rows of teeth. "you travel in strange company, my dear." his eyes rolled at benny and came to rest so hungrily on the scarecrow that that agitated gentleman began stuffing in his stray wisps of hay as fast as possible.
"trot out your tale, little girl," invited high boy, swallowing hard and removing his eyes from the scarecrow with evident effort. as philador added his entreaties to high boy's, trot began at once to recount their amazing experiences in quiberon's cave.
"why, it all fits together!" exclaimed the little prince, jumping up excitedly. "quiberon demands a mortal maiden or threatens to destroy our kingdom in three days. somehow or other someone or other flew off to the emerald city for you, though i cannot imagine my father allowing such a thing and there are no bird-men on the ozure isles."
"what is your name, child?" asked high boy, waving his hoof reprovingly at phil. "let the young lady finish her story, princeling." so philador sat down, and trot, after telling her name and explaining the strange coming to life of benny, went on with their further adventures, their meeting with orpah and their final escape by explosion to the mainland.
"orpah told us all about mombi's wickedness," finished trot, in an anxious voice, "and we were on our way to the emerald city to ask ozma to help your father when we bumped into you."
"and i shall carry you there," promised high boy with a little snort of pleasure. "a girl named trot can ride me any day. a fine, horsey sounding, name! do you care for riding, my dear?" trot nodded enthusiastically and smiled up at this most comical beast. then philador, stepping out into the center of the ring, told everything that had happened to him since the blue gull left him at the good witch's hut. trot and the scarecrow were both astonished and alarmed to learn of tattypoo's disappearance, and as interested in the medicine man as philador had been in benny. benny himself listened gravely to the whole recital and at the conclusion began rubbing his chin in deep perplexity.
"if mombi stole philador's mother when he was two years old," he muttered in a puzzled voice, "and mombi has not been witch of the north for twenty years, how is it that philador is not grown up?" they all laughed heartily at the stone man's question.
"because we stay one age as long as we wish, in oz," answered the little prince gaily. "i like being ten, so i've been ten for ever so long."
"so have i," declared trot. "nobody grows up here unless they want to, benny. isn't that fine?"
"fine, but funny," acknowledged the stone man, looking from one to the other.
"everything in oz is fine but funny," admitted the scarecrow, turning an exuberant somersault. "look at high boy and look at me!"
"you'd make a fine lunch," observed high boy, lifting his nose hungrily.
"don't you think we'd better start on?" asked trot, as the scarecrow, with an indignant glance at high boy, sprang behind a tree. "even though quiberon cannot get out to destroy the ozure isles, cheeriobed must be worried about philador and ozma ought to know about the good witch's disappearance right away."
"right you are!" pulling himself to his feet, high boy capered and pranced, first stretching his telescope legs up till his body was out of sight and then decreasing their length till his stomach rested on the ground.
"do you consider him safe?" whispered benny, observing high boy's antics with a worried frown. "had we not better walk?"
"far better," quavered the scarecrow, from behind his tree.
"oh come, get on!" coaxed high boy. "i was only teasing. i wouldn't harm a hay of your head," he promised merrily. "so long as trot likes you, i'll carry you anywhere."
"better get on while he's down," advised the medicine man, making ready to mount.
"he's a very fast runner," added philador, smiling at trot.
"and will save you breath, steps and time," whinnied high boy, shaking his mane impatiently. "up with you my brave kingdom savers!" realizing that they would reach the emerald city much faster on high boy, trot spoke a few words to the scarecrow and after a little coaxing he consented to come, climbing up after all the others so he would be as far from high boy's teeth as possible.
fortunately the high horse's back was long so that there was plenty of room for them all. first came the little prince of the ozure isles, then herby, then trot, then benny, and last of all the scarecrow.
"now hold tight," warned high boy, rolling his eyes back gleefully, "and all ready!" slapping the reins on his neck, philador ordered him to get up. whirling 'round in the direction indicated by the scarecrow, high boy not only got up but shot up so high they could see over the tree tops, and ran so fast that they clung breathlessly together.
"how's that?" inquired the king's steed, looking proudly around at trot.
"fu--fine!" stuttered the little girl, "but couldn't you trot a little slower, high boy?"
"i'll trot slower for trot, though i'd much rather not, i can pace, i can race and i canter, a lot!"
chortled high boy, snapping up his umbrella tail as he gave a sample of each gait.
"he's awfully smart," confided philador in a loud whisper. "and we ought to reach the emerald city to-night at the very latest." trot nodded enthusiastically and as she became more accustomed to the jerky gait of the high horse she found it strangely exhilarating.
imagine being able to look over the tree tops as you gallop along the road! every once in a while high boy would drop down to a lower level so his riders could see whether anyone was passing. while he was jogging along about five feet from the ground, a farmer turned into the lane. he was driving a huge herd of cattle and called loudly for high boy to get out of the way. instead, high boy merely turned sideways and shot upward, allowing the whole procession to pass under his body.
leaning over, trot and philador saw the farmer sitting in the middle of the road mopping his forehead, and they laughingly agreed that traveling on high boy was the most interesting experience they had yet had. the scarecrow was still uneasy about his stuffing, but even he was enjoying the ride, pointing out all the sights to benny and the medicine man, and explaining all the treats in store when they reached
"i cannot imagine who carried you to the ozure isles. are you sure it was not the blue gull?" questioned philador, as high boy jogged comfortably along the blue highway.
"no, it was a man with golden wings," insisted trot positively, "and he must have been terribly strong to have carried benny all that way."
as philador still puzzled over the strange bird-man, she called out suddenly: "why, we must have gone right by jinjur's house!"
"so we have!" muttered the scarecrow, looking back regretfully. "she'd have given you some fine ginger-bread, too."
"never mind," neighed high boy. "we'll be in the emerald city in time for tea and there's a village just ahead. maybe they'll have some fresh cake or buns." stretching up his long legs, high boy looked over the walls of the little town at the next turn of the road. it seemed entirely deserted and all the houses had shuttered windows and tightly locked doors. dropping down to regular horse size, high boy trotted up to the wooden door in the wall and butted his head three times against the panels.
for a moment there was absolute silence, and then a muffled voice called out crossly: "can't you read?"
"it says 'keep out!'" whispered trot, leaning over so she could read the sign nailed on the door.
"can't you let us in?" bellowed high boy, beginning to stamp with impatience at the delay. "we're in a hurry and have to go through this town. let us in, do you hear?"
"i hear!" shouted the voice defiantly, "but i'll not let you in. i'm the out keeper."
"hah, hah!" roared the scarecrow. "i've often heard of an inn keeper but never an out keeper. come out, keeper, and let's have a look at you!"
almost instantly the top section of the door flew open and the upper half and head of the out keeper appeared.
"help!" gasped trot, clutching the medicine man. and no wonder!
the face of the out keeper was entirely hidden behind blue shutters. they seemed to sprout out behind the ears on each side of his head and fasten securely in front with two bolts.
"i suppose he hears through the slats," said philador, leaning back to whisper this observation to the medicine man.
"perfectly!" answered the out keeper.
"can you see through the slats, too?" asked herby, quite interested in the fellow's singular appearance.
"no!" snapped the out keeper crossly. "but who wants to see? most people are not worth looking at. presently i shall shut my shutters tight and then i shall neither see you nor listen to you," he finished triumphantly.
"but we'll still be here!" whinnied high boy, with a mischievous prance. leaning forward he thrust his head through the opening, seized the out keeper by the seat of his pantaloons and, withdrawing his head, stretched up his telescope legs and stepped calmly over the wall. "that's the way to handle an o.k.," snickered high boy, dropping the out keeper carelessly in a clump of pickle bushes.
"i'm not an o.k.!" shrieked the out keeper, springing furiously out of the pickle bushes. "i'm a shutter face!" pulling back the bolts that fastened his shutters, he glared out at the travelers. the face back of the blue shutters was pale, flat and disagreeable. after a long, horrified, look at high boy and the others, the out keeper jumped a foot into the air and then ran screaming down the street, his shutters flapping and slamming against the sides of his head. "bandits! robbers! donkeys and thieves!" he cried shrilly. "here they come! shut the shutters! bolt the windows and lock the doors. shut up! shut up! everybody shut up!"
"shut up your ownself!" yelled the scarecrow gleefully, as high boy, letting himself down to a lower level, cantered mischievously after the frightened little man. although the whole town was shut up to begin with, at the gate keeper's loud cries the travelers could hear extra bolts being shot into place.
"what's the matter, tighty?" called a gruff voice. looking up in surprise, trot saw a huge shutter face, sitting cross legged on a tall chimney.
"bandits, your majesty!" panting with exhaustion, the out keeper looked imploringly up at the chimney.
"how did they get in?" asked the chimney squatter, opening the slats on one side so he could hear.
"stepped over the wall," choked tighty, looking apprehensively over his shoulder at high boy.
"ridiculous and impossible," sniffed his majesty, crossing his legs comfortably. "i neither saw nor heard anyone come over the wall."
"how do you expect to see or hear, hid behind those blue blinkers?" inquired the scarecrow, as high boy came to a stop in front of the chimney.
"fall down the chimney! fall down the chimney!" quavered the out keeper, dashing into a doorway. "and don't say i never warned you!" for a moment trot thought his majesty was going to follow tighty's advice, but thinking better of it, the king called pompously: "i refuse to hear, see or believe such nonsense!" shutting the slats in his shutters the king folded his arms and continued to sit defiantly on the chimney.
"shall i shove him down?" whispered high boy, looking around at philador. "if he cannot see or hear, perhaps he can feel."
"no!" laughed the little prince, "they've really done us no harm, so why should we hurt them? look! everything's shutting up, even the hedges!" the hedges surrounding the small, closely shuttered houses were real box hedges and as high boy clattered through the streets they began slamming their lids as fast as they could. even the flowers growing in the stiff little gardens, promptly shut up as the travelers passed and it was with real relief that they reached the other side of the town.
not a shutter face was in sight and the dingy houses, with their blue shuttered windows and doors, gave the town such a very gloomy appearance.
"the poor silly things look half starved!" exclaimed trot, glancing down and back at shutter town, as high boy, without bothering to shorten his legs, stepped over the wall and briskly down the road on the other side.
"they're worse than the round-abouties," decided benny, "and i suppose if we had stayed any longer they would have insisted upon us growing shutters, too!"
"not a bad idea, when you come to think of it," observed the scarecrow. "with shutters one need never be bored or shocked."
"shutters would be extremely becoming to you," chuckled high boy, with a vigorous shake of his umbrella tail.
"hush!" whispered trot, who did not like anyone to make fun of her old friend.
"you mean shut up, i suppose?" wheezed high boy. "but remember i'm not a shutter face, my girl."
"that's so," giggled trot. "if anyone tells them to shut up, they really can. i'm going to bring dorothy and betsy back here some day and see what they do to us."
"here's a river," announced philador, who was looking anxiously for the first signs of the emerald city. "and i have a magic jumping rope to help us cross." holding up the good witch's rope, the little prince quickly explained how it worked. high boy listened in silence, and when philador finished tossed his head impatiently.
"i've never jumped rope in my life," declared high boy stubbornly, "and i'm not going to begin now. besides it's not necessary. stay where you are! keep quiet and hold tight!"
rather worried and undecided whether to stay on or tumble off, the little company looked uncertainly at one another. but before they could dismount, high boy shot up two hundred feet and then carefully stepped down into the river. trot gasped and expected to find herself under water. but only the toes of her shoes touched the water, and when high boy, looking around, saw this, he raised himself higher still and, with his whole body out of the water and his feet on the river bed, carried them safely and slowly across.
"why, you're better than a bridge!" exclaimed philador, leaning forward to give him a good hug. "i wish i could keep you always."
"joe couldn't spare me," announced high boy, self consciously, "but i'll come to see you often, phil, when this adventure is over. hold on now, i'm going to step out."
the great length of high boy's legs made his body almost vertical, as he scrambled up the bank. but so tightly did his riders hold on to the saddle and to one another, nobody fell off. bringing his legs down with a few sharp clicks, high boy put up his umbrella tail and was about to start on when a series of splutters made him look back. the high horse had closed his umbrella tail when he stepped into the river, but in spite of this a lot of water had got in. therefore, when he snapped it up, a perfect deluge had come down on his luckless passengers.
"this is the third shower i've had to-day," coughed the scarecrow dolefully. benny didn't mind the water at all and herby, after peering into his medicine chest and discovering that none of the contents were wet, merely gave himself a good shake. as for philador and trot--what could they do but laughingly accept high boy's apologies? it was late afternoon by now, and the sun sinking lower and lower behind the hills. since their meeting on the blue highway, high boy had come many a long mile, and everyone but benny and the scarecrow began to feel tired as well as hungry.
"i'd give my gold tooth for a pail of yummy jummy," confessed high boy, as he slowly mounted a small hill. "i'm hungry enough to eat a--" he did not finish his sentence, but glanced longingly over his shoulder at the scarecrow, who immediately ducked behind benny and began feverishly stuffing in his stray wisps of straw.
"how about a sandwich?" suggested philador, pulling out the lunch basket queen hyacinth had filled so generously.
"a sandwich would be no more than a cracker crumb to me," exclaimed high boy disdainfully.
"well, what's yummy jummy?" asked trot, accepting with a smile the chicken sandwich the little prince held out to her.
"oats, hay, bran, brown sugar and grape juice," explained high boy, smacking his lips and closing his eyes. "do you think they'd mix me up a pail when we reach this emerald city of yours?"
"of course they will," promised trot, "but couldn't you stop and eat a little grass or tree leaves?"
"grass is too short, besides, i never eat grass or leaves at night," announced high boy, turning up his nose. "gives me grasstreetus." for a time the little company progressed in silence, herby, trot and philador contentedly munching the dainty sandwiches and benny enjoying the scenery. as it grew darker, an overpowering drowsiness stole over trot and philador. high boy, too, began to yawn so terrifically that his passengers were nearly thrown out of the saddle.
"if he does that again, i'll fall off," quavered the scarecrow, clasping his arms 'round benny's waist.
"wait," whispered herby, "i have a remedy." unbuckling trot's belt, herby opened his medicine chest and drew out a box of pills. "these are my famous 'keep awake' pills," he explained proudly, swallowing two, "and these others will prevent yawning."
"whoa!" gasped philador as high boy's last "hah, hoh, hum!" lifted them a foot into the air. "whoa!" the high horse was glad enough to whoa and, looking around with half closed eyes, inquired the reason for their stop.
"take these," directed philador, slipping two keep awake pills and three yawn lozenges down high boy's throat. sleepily high boy swallowed the dose. the effect was startling and instantaneous. his eyes opened wide, his teeth clicked together and next minute he was streaking down the road so fast that trot's hair blew straight out behind and the little prince's cloak snapped in the wind.
"better take some yourselves," advised herby holding out the boxes to trot. "for if you fall asleep you'll fall off and then where'll you be?"
a little nervously, trot swallowed the keep awake pills and yawn lozenges. philador then took two of each and immediately they both felt wide awake and full of energy.
"you are a real wizard, herby," admitted the scarecrow, noting admiringly the effect of the pills, "and ought to make a great hit at the capital."
"do you think so?" puffed herby breathlessly, as he bounced up and down. "are we almost there?" it was hard to see, for it was night and only a few stars twinkled in the sky. but presently trot gave a little shout of relief and satisfaction.
"see that green glow?" cried the little girl with an excited wave. "they're the tower lights of the castle. hurry up, high boy. we're almost there!" at trot's words, high boy gathered his long legs together and fairly flew over hills and across fields, so that in less than an hour they reached the emerald city itself. it was still fairly early, and the lovely capital of oz shimmered as only a jeweled city can.
on the same evening that trot and her companions were arriving at the emerald city, cheeriobed and his councilors sat talking in the great blue throne room of the palace. all day the king had watched for the coming of ozma and the return of philador, and as the hours dragged on he had become more and more restless and uneasy. shortly after lunch, as he was pacing anxiously up and down one of the garden paths, he was amazed to see orpah hobbling rapidly toward him.
it was nearly twenty years since the keeper of the king's sea horses had been carried off by quiberon, and cheeriobed had never expected to see his faithful servitor again. rubbing his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming, the astounded monarch rushed forward to greet the old mer-man. after a hearty embrace, which wet his majesty considerably, orpah having stepped directly out of the water, they sat down on a sapphire bench and the king begged orpah to tell him at once all that had happened.
brushing over his long weary imprisonment in cave city, orpah hurried on to the coming of trot and her strange friends. his lively description of their encounter with the cave men, the way they had outwitted and trapped quiberon in the narrow passageway, filled cheeriobed with wonder and relief. and when the mer-man went on to tell him of the explosion of the blue ray that had carried them across the bottom of the lake to the mainland, cheeriobed smiled for the first time since quiberon had threatened his kingdom.
"now," declared the good king, slapping his knee happily, "we have nothing to worry us. quiberon is a prisoner, the mortal child has escaped injury and akbad has saved my son and persuaded ozma to come here, save the kingdom, and restore the queen."
here he stopped to tell orpah how the court soothsayer had picked the golden pear and flown with philador to the capital, invoking ozma's aid and carrying the mortal maid to quiberon's cavern.
"i expect ozma any moment now," puffed cheeriobed, shading his eyes and looking out over the lake. at these words, akbad, who was hiding behind the king's bench, covered his ears and slunk miserably away. how could he ever explain the failure of ozma to appear, or account for the strange disappearance of the little prince? again and again he tried to fly away from the ozure isles, but the golden wings refused to carry him beyond the edge of the beach and when in despair he cast himself into the water, they kept him afloat, so that even drowning was denied the cowardly fellow. dragging his wings disconsolately behind him, he trailed about the palace, or perched forlornly in the tree tops, and when, in the late evening, cheeriobed summoned all of his advisors to the throne room, the soothsayer came slowly and unwillingly to the conference. orpah, with his tail in a bucket of salt water, sat on the king's right and toddledy, thumbing anxiously over an old book of maps, sat on the king's left. umtillio, nearby, strummed idly on a golden harp and akbad, after a longing glance at the chair set out for him, flew up on the chandelier where he would have plenty of place for his wings and where he could sit down with some comfort. ranged 'round the conference table were the officers of the guard and members of the king's household, and they all listened attentively as cheeriobed began his address.
"to-morrow is the day quiberon has threatened to destroy us," began his majesty gravely, "and as he may escape it were best to devise some means of defense."
they all nodded approvingly at these words but said nothing. "has anyone a suggestion to make?" asked cheeriobed, folding his hands on his stomach and looking inquiringly over his spectacles.
"i suggest that we all go to bed," yawned the captain of the guard. "then we'll be rested and ready for a battle, if a battle there is to be!"
"why bother to plan when quiberon is stuck fast in the cavern?" asked akbad impatiently.
"that's so," mused toddledy. "at least not before ozma arrives. when did her highness say she would come?" he asked, squinting up at the court soothsayer.
"just as soon as the wizard of oz returns from the blue forest," answered akbad sulkily.
"when trot and her friends reach the emerald city, they will persuade her to come right away," put in orpah, "and they promised to come back with her. you will be astonished at the stone man," finished orpah solemnly.
at orpah's casual remark, akbad could not restrain a groan. however would he explain to the little ruler of all oz his own foolish and deceitful conduct? dropping heavily from the chandelier he bade the company good-night and made for the door, his wings flapping and dragging behind him. as he put out his hand to turn the knob, the door flew violently open and jewlia burst into the room.
"a boat!" panted the little girl, throwing her apron over her head, "a boat is coming 'round opal point."
"it is ozma!" exclaimed his majesty, thumping the table with both fists. "where are my spectacles, hand me my crown, spread the red rug and call out the guard of honor!"
without waiting for any of these commands to be carried out, cheeriobed plunged from the palace through the gardens and down to the shore of lake orizon. orpah reached the beach almost as soon as his majesty, followed closely by toddledy and all the king's retainers. a little murmur of disappointment went up from the crowd as they stared in the direction indicated by jewlia. a boat was rounding the point, but only a fisherman's dory. opposite the man at the oars sat a closely wrapped figure and, as the boat came nearer, this figure arose, cast off the cloak and, standing erect, extended both arms.
"why!" panted jewlia, beginning to jump up and down, "it's the queen--queen orin, herself!"
"the queen! long live the queen!" roared the ozure islanders, wading out into the water in their surprise and excitement. standing up in the shabby row-boat, as lovely and radiant as on the day mombi had stolen her away, was the queen of the ozure isles. her jeweled crown glittered and flashed in the star light, her long fair hair tumbled in a bright shower of ringlets to her gold girdled waist. her soft blue dress, studded with sapphires and pearls, floated out like a filmy blue cloud in the evening wind. never had she appeared so young and beautiful. head over tail, orpah dove into the lake and began swimming out to the boat and only the strong arms of the guardsmen kept cheeriobed from diving after him.
"orin! orin!" cried the king in a tremulous voice, "where have you been?" almost ready to jump out of the boat herself, the queen raised her voice to answer, when a long tongue of flame shot across the sky and with a thunderous roar, quiberon rushed around the point and hurled himself at the tiny boat. so sudden and unexpected was the appearance of the monster, the ozure islanders fell back in dismay.
"save her! save her!" groaned the king, struggling to free himself from the guards, but no one made a move. akbad, stiff with fright and terror, saw the great body of quiberon poised over the small craft, and in that moment some of the spirit and courage that had distinguished him in his youth returned. with a hoarse scream, the soothsayer hurled himself into the air and, flying straight for quiberon, snatched the queen from the very jaws of death. the magic wings, which up to this time had refused to carry him beyond the islands, this time, because he now had no thought of himself, obeyed his command. circling high over the head of the enraged sea monster, akbad headed for the sapphire castle. with shouts and cheers the ozure islanders followed and, dashing into the castle after the soothsayer, barred the doors and slammed down the windows. before either the king or queen had time to thank akbad, the gigantic body of quiberon crashed through the garden and hurled itself over the castle wall.
"we are lost!" wailed the king, as the castle began to rock and tremble from the repeated blows of the furious monster. "nothing can save us now."
cowering in the throne room, the king and his little band of followers waited for the blow that would crush the castle and destroy them utterly. but, strangely enough, the noise and confusion and thuds upon the wall grew less and finally stopped altogether. "he's backing away for a last try," groaned toddledy, burying his head in his hands.
"never mind," sighed the queen, throwing her arms 'round cheeriobed's neck. "at least we shall perish together." at the queen's words there was a tremendous whack on the roof. a blue sapphire sky-light splintered to bits and a great head was thrust through the opening.
as high boy, neighing joyously, trotted down the main street of the emerald city, windows were thrown up and doors flung open and the inhabitants rushed out with torches to see who was passing. and when they saw trot and the scarecrow, mounted on so strange a steed, they promptly fell in, so that by the time high boy reached the castle a regular procession had formed behind them. standing up and balancing himself by holding on to benny, the scarecrow introduced the little prince of the ozure isles, the medicine man, the live statue and lastly high boy himself. then high boy, to the great delight of the multitude, stretched up and then down, switched his umbrella tail and bowed so often and vigorously that trot and the others had all they could do to keep their places. the wild cheers and shouts at high boy's performance brought the occupants of the castle running to the windows and doors to see what was the matter.
"why, trot!" cried dorothy, dashing down the golden steps. "we've been hunting you all day and were just going to look in the magic picture to see where you were."
"well, here we are, my dear," laughed the scarecrow, "and we bring strange news and four strangers to the castle. hello hokus! hello, jack! hi there tik tok! howdy, scraps!"
waving to the celebrities who crowded the open doorway, the scarecrow urged high boy to enter. mounting the steps carefully and being careful not to tread upon any toes, high boy stepped proudly into ozma's royal residence, dorothy dancing ahead to announce them to the little fairy. betsy, ozma, nick chopper and jellia jamb, a small maid-in-waiting, were playing pa'cheesi, but hastily pushed back the board, as high boy came cantering in.
"why here's the whole pack," cried the tin woodman, jumping up and waving the tin funnel he used for a hat--"the pack horse, too!" finished nick, eyeing the king's steed in some surprise.
"pack horse!" snorted high boy, stopping short and rolling his red eyes temperishly. "i'm a high horse, you odd looking junkman, and i'll have you know i stand very high in my own country." to prove his claim, high boy clicked his telescope legs up so fast that trot bumped her head on the ceiling and the scarecrow dove at once to the carpet.
"down! down!" whispered philador reprovingly. "and don't forget you are in the presence of royalty." lowering himself with one great jerk, high boy shortened his front legs and made a deep bow to the little ruler of oz, and trot and the others lost no time tumbling off.
"the prince of the ozure isles, your maj'sty!" puffed trot, as ozma gave high boy a bewildered smile. "the medicine man of oz and my friend benny, from boston."
"is he alive?" whispered betsy, putting out her hand to touch the stone man, who was bending stiffly before the throne.
"alive, but not a real person," sighed benny, fixing his stone eyes mournfully on betsy bobbin.
"he's much better than a real person," declared the scarecrow, rushing impetuously forward. "just wait till you hear how he jumped into the mouth of a monster."
"tell us! tell us!" begged betsy, clasping her hands.
"hast had an adventure, maiden?" pushing his way to the throne, sir hokus, the good knight of oz, took trot eagerly by the arm.
"dozens and dozens!" panted trot, sinking down on the carpeted steps leading to the throne. "so many i hardly know where to begin."
"why not begin with me?" suggested herby, throwing out his chest importantly. high boy groaned with impatience as the contents of herby's chest flew about the room, and the wizard of oz, who stood just behind ozma, clapped on an extra pair of spectacles and hurried forward to get a better view of the medicine man.
while trot and the scarecrow helped herby pick up his pill boxes, ozma, noticing the worried expression of prince philador, bade him come nearer and tell what was troubling him. philador, dropping on one knee before the throne, thought he had never seen a gentler little fairy than the queen of all oz. feeling a bit shy in the presence of so great and grand a company he arose and told the whole story of mombi's enchantments and quiberon's cruelty and of his flight on the blue gull to the hut of tattypoo.
ozma and her advisers were not only astonished at the little prince's troubles, but alarmed and distressed by the unexplainable disappearance of the good witch.
"as soon as philador tells us the rest of his story, we will look for tattypoo in the magic picture," murmured ozma, "and also for the queen of the ozure isles."
"i'd like a chance at that monster," blustered sir hokus, who was a famous dragon slayer, "and myself and sword are at your service, princeling!"
philador smiled gratefully at the good knight of oz and, helped out by trot and the scarecrow, told how he had released the medicine man from his bottle--of his visit to the king of the uplanders--his meeting with high boy--and their adventures with trot and her friends in shutter town. then trot told her story, about benny and his strange coming to life, his drop to oz and their frightful experiences in cave city. during the telling of both stories, the wizard of oz made hurried notes in his little black book and, as trot finished, he bounced out of his seat like a rubber ball.
"your highness," began the wizard, looking over his specs at the little fairy ruler, "i have jotted down for your convenience the problems to be solved and the mysteries to be accounted for. first, we must find the queen of the ozure isles and restore her to her subjects. secondly, we must undo as much of mombi's mischief as we can; destroy quiberon, punish the bird-man who carried trot to the monster's cave and restore the medicine man to himself."
at this herby shook his head violently. "i prefer to remain as i am," declared herby stoutly. "i am entirely satisfied with my medicine chest."
ozma smiled at herby's earnestness and the wizard drew his pencil through that entry.
"we must then find tattypoo," continued the little man seriously, "and change benny to a real person, as a reward for his services to philador and trot."
"how about a little yummy jummy?" wheezed high boy, who was sitting on his haunches with both ears cocked forward.
"why you're a fellow after my own heart," purred the hungry tiger, crawling out from under a huge green sofa. "this good beast is hungry. let's all have something to eat," he proposed, licking his chops and waving his tail gently from side to side.
"you may tell the royal cook to prepare a feast at once." nodding laughingly at the hungry tiger, the little sovereign rose and, stepping down from the throne, took philador's arm. "come!" said ozma. "we will look in the magic picture and see whether quiberon is still caught in the cavern and where mombi has hidden your royal mother."
as you may well imagine, philador needed no urging. even ozma forgot her dignity in the interest and excitement of the moment. hand in hand, they skipped up the golden stairway, followed by trot and all the other curious courtiers. hanging in ozma's sitting room is one of the most curious and powerful treasures in all oz. it is a magic picture. one has but to stand before this picture and ask to see a certain person. immediately he appears and in exactly the place where he happens to be at the moment the question is asked.
"we had better look at that monster first," said the wizard of oz, settling both pairs of specs and staring nervously over ozma's shoulder. "show us quiberon!" he commanded, before the little ruler or philador had a chance to speak. instantly the quiet country scene melted away and out flashed the terrible figure of mombi's monster, throwing himself again and again upon the sapphire castle of oz. high boy was so frightened that he shot up ten feet and bumped his head on the ceiling.
"have at you!" roared sir hokus, plunging forward and almost forgetting it was but the small picture of quiberon he was seeing. philador and trot clutched one another in horror and only ozma remained calm. clapping her hands for silence, she turned quickly to the wizard of oz.
"quick, wizard!" breathed the little fairy, "fetch your black bag of magic and transport us all to the ozure isles. take hold of hands!" commanded ozma, as the little wizard rushed from the room. philador immediately took trot's hand, trot took benny's, benny took herby's, herby took the tin woodman's, nick chopper took scraps', the patch work girl took the good knight's, he took betsy's, betsy seized dorothy, dorothy took the scarecrow, and high boy, not to be left out, jumped into the middle of the ring, as jellia and ozma completed the circle. then back skipped the wizard, and, wriggling between dorothy and the scarecrow, swallowed two of his famous wishing pills, smiling confidently.
"transport us at once to the sapphire city and castle of cheeriobed," commanded the wizard. now philador had never been transported in his whole life. gritting his teeth and closing his eyes he waited tensely for something to drag him through the air and wondering fearfully if they would be in time to save his father and the royal household.
feeling no motion or sensation of any kind he opened his eyes, thinking in great disappointment that the magic spell had failed. but so powerful are the wizard's wishing pills, they transport one in a twinkling and without ruffling so much as an eyebrow. so when the little prince opened his eyes, he was terrified to find quiberon in the center of their magic circle and the circle itself in the gardens of his father's blue palace. with part of his long body coiled up in a flower bed, and the other poised to strike another blow at the king's castle, the awful monster did not even seem aware of the people from the emerald city. trot hid her face on philador's shoulder, and philador, with a shudder, saw the good knight draw his sword. but before sir hokus could make a thrust, or quiberon could strike, the wizard of oz, blowing a black powder into the air, stamped three times with his left foot.
with a terrible bellow, the great fear-fish began to hurl himself at the castle, but froze in mid air, petrified by the wizard's black magic into a glittering dragon of silver and bronze.
"we'll move him later," observed the wizard calmly. "a shame to have a creature like that cluttering up so lovely a garden, but now let us go in to the king."
scarcely able to believe his eyes, and with many backward glances, the little prince tip-toed to the great jewel-trimmed door and knocked twice. but no one came. then sir hokus thumped loudly with his mailed fist and high boy, turning about, played a lively tatoo upon the panels with his heels.
"they still think it's quiberon," snorted high boy at last. "wait here, i'll look in and see whether everything's all right." stretching up till he was on a level with one of the sky lights, high boy butted out the sapphire pane and stuck his head through the opening.
"unlock your door," whinnied the high horse impatiently. "unlock the door, it's only us." cheeriobed, who expected to see the terrible face of quiberon, stared up in perfect amazement at the talking horse. it was not, you must admit, a very reassuring sight to see a horse's head coming through the roof, and for a few seconds he was too stunned to move or speak. but as high boy continued to call loudly for admittance and finally shouted that they were keeping ozma waiting in the garden, the good monarch sprang up and, unbolting the door, himself admitted the royal rescuers. you can well imagine the king's relief and astonishment when he saw the petrified figure of quiberon, rearing up over his castle.
"father! father!" cried the little prince, clasping him around the waist. "here's ozma and trot and the wizard of oz, and quiberon never can harm us again."
at the sound of philador's voice, queen orin rushed out to embrace her son and, after hasty introductions and greetings all 'round, the party from the emerald city filed into the castle. akbad slunk silently out of sight, as cheeriobed led ozma to the throne. seating queen orin beside the little ruler and calling for footmen to bring chairs for the other visitors, the excited king ran to and fro until everyone was seated.
"just think," puffed cheeriobed, sinking down at last beside philador, "we don't even know where your mother's been all these years nor how she escaped and came back to us. my! my! what a lot to be talked over!"
"talk! talk! and still no food," groaned high boy, flopping down beside the medicine man. "i'm hollower than an old soldier's wooden leg!"
"never mind," comforted herby, opening his medicine chest. "i have a cure for that too." taking out two pills and slipping them down high boy's throat, he winked knowingly. "they will dull the pangs of hunger," he assured him gravely. while high boy, with closed eyes waited for his pangs to be dulled, ozma looked happily around the friendly group of ozure islanders.
"if we just knew where tattypoo was," sighed the little fairy girl softly, "there would be nothing more to worry us."
"worry no longer, your highness!" turning to see where the whisper had come from, ozma saw queen orin arise from the throne.
"i am the good witch of the north," announced orin clearly.
"but i thought you were my mother," wailed the little prince, seizing her hand imploringly. at once the whole room was thrown into a state of utmost confusion, some saying this, some saying that, and all wondering aloud, so that it sounded like a session of congressmen.
"how can you be both a queen and a witch?" shouted the little wizard, standing on a chair so that orin could hear him.
"you'll have to admit she's a bewitching queen," neighed high boy, opening one eye and then the other and forgetting all about his hunger pangs. "why not let the lady speak for herself?" he called shrilly.
"sound horse sense," declared toddledy, nodding approvingly at high boy, and ozma, who was even more astonished than cheeriobed at orin's announcement, raised her scepter for silence.
"let queen orin tell her story," commanded ozma in her gentle voice. there was an instant silence and almost as one, the whole company turned to the lovely figure in blue, and waited expectantly for her to speak.
"twenty-five years ago," began the queen, tossing back her golden hair, "i was a princess of the north. to the mountain castle of my father, king gil of gilkenny, came cheeriobed, prince of the ozure isles, to ask for my hand in marriage. his father was king of the munchkins, a monarch of great wealth and power. as my father made no objection to the match and as i myself was quite willing--" here orin paused and smiled prettily at cheeriobed--"preparations were made at once for the wedding.
"at that time, as you all know, mombi was ruler of the north. passing gilkenny one late afternoon and seeing the footmen hanging lanterns in the garden, she stopped to inquire the reason for the festivities. cheeriobed, who was helping with the decorations, quickly explained that they were for our wedding, and mombi, in spite of her extreme age and ugliness, fell instantly and deeply in love with the prince. as i watched uneasily from a hidden arbor, i saw the old witch transform herself into a charming young maiden. following cheeriobed about, she explained that she was no longer an old and ugly witch, but a powerful princess, that if he would marry her they would have not only the gilliken country, but the munchkin country as well for their kingdom."
cheeriobed pursed up his lips and shook his head sadly at this part of the story, for he well remembered mombi's wicked proposals and her plan to destroy his father, the king of the munchkins.
"of course," proceeded orin demurely, "cheeriobed refused and mombi resuming her own shape rushed off in a fury, promising to make us all suffer. that very night word came by messenger that cheeriobed's father had disappeared. and," continued the queen somberly, "he has never been heard of since. distressed and unhappy though we were, cheeriobed and i were married at once and returned to the ozure isles, where he assumed the title of king and where we hoped to escape mombi and her mischievous magic. for three years we were safe and happy and thought she had forgotten all about us. but one day, when philador was about two years old, mombi suddenly appeared on the beach, where we were sitting together. she was riding on a huge black eagle and, bidding the eagle seize me in its talons, carried me off before i had time to cry out for help, and that," sighed orin, "was the last i saw of the ozure isles until to-night."
"but what happened?" gasped dorothy, leaning so far forward she nearly tumbled from her chair. "where did she take you?"
"to her hut in the mountains," answered the queen sadly. "there, shutting me up in a huge closet, she began an incantation to change me into a witch, old and ugly as she herself."
"i know what happened! i know what happened!" cried the little wizard, springing entirely out of his chair and spinning 'round three times. "you were too sweet and beautiful to turn into a bad witch and the worst she could do only changed you into a good one." orin blushed at the wizard's little speech.
"i don't know about that," she went on modestly, "but i do know that i became a witch, forgetting entirely my former life in gilkenny and on the ozure isles, and living for several months in the forest without home or shelter. coming one morning on mombi, at one of her wicked enchantments, i raised my staff and bade her stop. to my astonishment, i found i was a better witch than she. magic phrases and spells came easily to my lips, and without difficulty or trouble i drove her out of the forest and took possession of her hut. then, at the earnest request of the gillikens, i stayed in the north and ruled over that great country as tattypoo."
"ruled wisely and well," added ozma, giving orin an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
"but did you know then that mombi had changed you to a witch?" demanded trot, looking up at the queen with round eyes, "and how did you change back to yourself?" orin, with a rueful little laugh, shook her head at trot.
"i didn't realize, then, that mombi had changed me to a witch," she admitted frankly and went on to relate how agnes, the amiable dragon, had persuaded her to look in the witch's window. her first glance through the blue window pane had showed her cheeriobed and philador, just as they were when she had left the ozure isles. remembering at once who she really was, tattypoo had recklessly and joyfully jumped out the window, thus breaking the witch's spell and becoming her own true self again.
"what became of the dragon?" asked sir hokus, rattling his sword hopefully.
"why, agnes turned out to be my maid-in-waiting, who had been bewitched by mombi too, and when she jumped after me she also was restored to her own shape and immediately set off for my father's castle, to tell him the good news. i, myself, started at once for the ozure isles."
"i wish you had met us," whinnied high boy, who had taken a great fancy to the queen. "did you have to walk or swim, ma'm?"
"a basket bird carried me nearly all the way," explained orin. "the rest of the distance i walked and when i reached the shores of orizon an old fisherman agreed to row me across."
"he shall be well rewarded!" puffed cheeriobed. "did the fellow know nothing of quiberon?"
"i guess not," sighed the queen, "neither did i, for that matter, but here i am, and now tell me how you, dear ozma, and all of these brave people happened to be here just in time to save me?"
"it was akbad," the king informed her joyfully. "our brave soothsayer picked the golden pear, carried philador to the emerald city and begged ozma to come to our assistance. where is the fellow anyway? akbad! akbad! fetch the soothsayer, some of you!"
"akbad," murmured ozma half aloud and looking from one to the other in amazement. "why, i never heard of akbad!"
"akbad didn't carry me to the capital!" cried philador, jumping up indignantly. "the grand mogul took me to the good witch's hut and the rest of the way i went with herby and trot and benny and high boy."
cheeriobed was so stunned by this strange news he sank back on his throne in perfect astonishment and, at orin's earnest solicitation, phil and trot told their stories.
"akbad shall be punished well for this," promised cheeriobed. he was shocked at the dreadful dangers philador and trot had encountered, and the deceitfulness of his trusted soothsayer. while a dozen guards ran to fetch akbad, the queen put her hand gently on cheeriobed's arm.
"remember that he snatched me from the very jaws of quiberon," she reminded him softly. "perhaps he can explain." but the king kept muttering under his breath and when the guards returned, dragging akbad by the wings, his feelings overcame him and rushing forward he began to shake the old islander violently to and fro.
"let akbad speak, if he has anything to say," suggested ozma, as cheeriobed paused for breath. at once akbad flung himself on his knees and begged the good king's forgiveness.
"these heavy wings are punishment enough," groaned the soothsayer.
"stolen wings are never of use to the thief," said ozma, leaning forward gravely, "but since you have saved queen orin and suffered a little yourself, i hope cheeriobed will pardon you."
as trot and the queen added their pleas to ozma's, the king finally consented to pardon akbad, dismissing him from the court and giving him a small cottage at the end of the island to live in.
"and must i wear these wings forever?" asked akbad, turning sorrowfully toward the door.
"i believe i could remove them," whispered the wizard, and after a short conference the two sovereigns agreed to let the wizard remove the golden wings. it took about ten minutes and ten powders to accomplish this feat, but as they finally crumpled into gold dust, akbad sprang joyfully from the court room, so glad to be rid of the heavy pinions that he did not even mind his banishment.
"there!" sighed ozma, "that settles everything and now we can all be happy again."
"i can't be happy till i eat," moaned high boy in a weak voice, the effects of herby's pills having worn off long ago. "is there no food in this castle?" laughing heartily, cheeriobed sent toddledy to waken the cook and, though it was long past midnight, the whole company presently sat down to such a feast as had not been held in that kingdom for many a long year. high boy had his yummy jummy, and though the patch work girl, benny, the tin woodman and the scarecrow were not constructed to partake of refreshments, they enjoyed the party quite as much as the others.
and when at last the feast was over, and cheeriobed led his visitors to splendid apartments, these four celebrities sat talking in the throne room for the rest of the night, spending the hours most pleasantly while high boy snored comfortably on a great bearskin rug before the door.
and not till the silver bells in the castle tower tolled ten did anyone above stairs stir from his silken couch.
after a merry breakfast in the gardens, cheeriobed conducted the royal party over the entire sapphire city. high boy carried ozma, scraps, trot, betsy and dorothy, and they all agreed that, next to the capital, the sapphire city was the fairest city in oz. the sun shone with dazzling brightness on the glittering spires, the jeweled sands and rocks had never sparkled more beautifully. even the waters of orizon seemed bluer since the queen's return. everywhere the cheers and shouts of the delighted islanders greeted the visitors and lovely orin.
"if we just had our sea horses," mused cheeriobed, putting one arm around the queen and the other around philador, "everything would be as it was before." the old mer-man who stood close by the king looked so unhappy at this remark that ozma bade high boy stop, and jumping down hurried over to the wizard. after a whispered conference which nobody seemed to notice, ozma and the little man tip-toed off by themselves. and when next cheeriobed looked out over the lake, he gave a shout of delight and pleasure. in toward the shore, with flying manes and flashing tails, raced the whole herd of white sea horses, lively and lovely as they ever were.
"i wish joe king could see this," whinnied high boy, wading out to meet them and neighing a greeting in the high horse tongue. orpah was already in the water, caressing first one and then another of his former pets, while the little prince jumped in with all his clothes, to mount his own prancing sea charger.
"how did you do it?" begged cheeriobed, turning back to ozma, who stood smiling at him from her perch on an opal rock.
"ask the wizard," replied the little fairy mysteriously, but when they all crowded curiously around the wizard he merely shook his head and muttered that restoring a herd of sea horses from a pile of bones was quite easy--if you just knew how. and with this answer they were forced to be satisfied.
next the wizard, with another of his magic powders, moved the great figure of quiberon to the mouth of his cave, where it stands to this day for all to see.
"the fire from his nostrils must have eaten away the sides of the passageway and enabled him to squeeze out," explained the wizard, who had been puzzling over this particular problem ever since his arrival. as this cleared up the last of the mysteries, ozma and her courtiers now made ready to depart. philador was so loath to say goodbye to trot that ozma persuaded the king, the queen and the little prince to return with them to the emerald city. so again a magic ring was formed, with high boy in the center, and again the wizard's wishing pills transported them over hills and valleys to the most splendid castle in oz.
it was noon time when they dropped down lightly in the gardens of ozma's castle. "let's dance!" proposed benny, blinking across the vistas of velvet lawns, flowering arches and sparkling fountains.
"why, benny!" exclaimed trot, "do you really feel like dancing?"
"don't you?" questioned the stone man, smiling down at the little girl with whom he had come through so many exciting adventures. trot nodded delightedly and, as the royal band grouped on the castle steps to welcome them home broke into a lively tune, the whole company, still in the ring they had formed in cheeriobed's garden, danced 'round and 'round and 'round, high boy cavorting hilariously in the center.
benny could have danced tirelessly on for hours, but cheeriobed and sir hokus were soon out of breath. so ozma clapped her hands and, bidding them form in a long line, placed herself at the head and marched merrily into the palace. there, drawn up to meet them were all the celebrities they had not already met. jack pumpkin head, stiffly extending his arms, tik tok, clicking off short sentences of pleasure, the soldier with the green whiskers, bowing almost to the ground, the cowardly lion and dorothy's small dog, toto, not to mention the famous saw horse and so many more i could not begin to name them all. philador kept close to trot, for he wanted to hear about each one and the scarecrow, taking benny and the medicine man under his wing, saw that they were everywhere introduced. ozma herself, with the king of the ozure isles on one arm and the queen on the other, led the way to the grand banquet hall. the hungry tiger, peering in from the castle kitchen, where he had been anxiously awaiting their return, sprang out joyously as they entered.
"this party's been ready since last night," he roared accusingly. "where have you been?" while high boy dropped down a few pegs to explain, the great company seated itself at the long green banquet table. soon dishes and silver began to clink merrily, footmen to rush to and fro with delicious trays of goodies, while the oz orchestra struck up that good old favorite, "oz and ozma, forever." benny, to his great satisfaction, sat next to the wizard of oz, and between courses the little man explained that he was a native of omaha and had first come to oz in a circus balloon. the inhabitants had immediately taken him for a wizard, so he had decided to stay and be a wizard. for many years he had ruled over oz, practicing the trick magic he had learned in the circus and superintending the building of the emerald city. later he returned to america and ozma, the rightful ruler of the fairy kingdom was disenchanted by glinda and placed upon the throne. when the wizard returned to oz, the little fairy made him royal wizard of the realm and by hard study and constant practice he had become the most famous magician in any country out of the world.
"so you think you can change me to a real man?" queried benny, looking admiringly at the famous wonder-worker.
"certainly," replied the wizard carelessly, tossing off a glass of emeralade. "whenever you wish!"
"think it over carefully," cautioned the scarecrow, who sat on the other side. "is it not better to be big and hard than small and weak, like most natural beings? you're a very famous person as you are," he finished, flatteringly, "but as a meat man you will be quite like everybody else. i was once a real person," he confided solemnly, "and did not care for it at all. take my advice and stay as you are, old boulder!"
"please do!" begged trot from her place across the table. "you're so strong and handsome and you can dance as well as anyone. you didn't tread on my toe even once," declared the little girl stoutly. benny would have blushed at trot's words, had such a thing been possible. as it was, he smiled so happily that he did not look like a public benefactor at all. the stone frown that was carved on benny's forehead had gradually melted away, and his expression was now so pleasant and jolly, i am sure none of the worthy fathers of boston would have recognized their former citizen.
"it shall be as trot wishes," said benny, with a fond glance across the table, and amid the cheers and claps of the celebrities, he agreed to stay as he was.
"and live at our capital always," invited ozma, from the head of the table. "and herby, too. he shall be our court physician," declared ozma, and coming 'round to where they sat, she touched them both on the shoulder with her emerald scepter, to show they now belonged to her court. benny was too overcome to say a word, but herby, with a great jingling of pill boxes, arose and, with one hand on his medicine chest, made a lengthy speech of thanks.
"every time he comes near, you can hear his pills rattle," observed high boy in a low voice to the saw horse. one end of the table had been reserved for the palace pets and high boy had the seat of honor at the head. next to him stood the saw horse, ozma's little wooden, gold-shod steed, taking in everything but the refreshments and making short sharp answers to high boy's remarks. high boy secretly thought him a poor looking creature, but as he wisely kept this thought to himself they got along famously.
the hungry tiger's appetite amazed high boy. after several bowls of horse-radish, two bales of hay and a pail of yummy jummy, high boy himself could not eat another morsel. but the tiger kept sleepily and competently on cleaning his plate. as soon as it was empty it was hastily replenished with rare roasts and undone steak and mutton. the hungry tiger, as many of you know, has lived in the emerald city for many years and is great company for the cowardly lion, who came to the capital with dorothy on her very first visit. this big beast, with long sighs, and with tears in his voice, explained how dreadfully cowardly he was and high boy, to see if this really were so, trumpeted suddenly in the cowardly lion's ear.
with a terrible squeal, the cowardly lion slid under the table and they were just pulling him out, when the tin woodman arose and rapped loudly for order. the wizard had left the banquet hall a few minutes before and, now returning, whispered a few words to ozma. at once the little fairy stood up and, facing the king and queen of the ozure isles, began to speak.
"our wizard," explained ozma in her gentle voice, "has been trying to discover the whereabouts of cheeriobed's father. but all of his questions have brought no change in the magic picture, showing that mombi has utterly destroyed the good king of the munchkins. as mombi is no longer here to remedy what has been done and we ourselves are powerless to remedy it either, i now pronounce you, cheeriobed, and you, orin, king and queen of the east, and rulers of all of the munchkins and the sapphire city of oz shall be your capital."
the applause brought forth by this announcement was simply deafening. when it had subsided somewhat, the scarecrow, jumping up, held out his hand to orin and then the king.
"may i be the first to congratulate your majesties?" cried the straw man, impulsively. "i, myself, am a munchkin and hereafter please consider me a loyal friend and subject."
the king and queen both assured him that they would be pleased to do so and in a short address cheeriobed promised to rule to the best of his ability the great empire of the east. trot and philador, who sat side by side, heard ozma's proclamation with great pleasure and satisfaction.
"i hope you'll visit us often," whispered philador. "you can ride on my sea horse and wear my crown, and i'm going to ask my father to make you a princess, trot." at this, cheeriobed, who had overheard philador's remark, jumped up and announced that his first act as king of the east would be to create trot a princess of the ozure isles with the privilege of living in the sapphire city at any time and for as long as she wanted.
"that makes trot twice a princess," chuckled the scarecrow to benny, as the little girl slipped the sapphire ring cheeriobed held out to her in place of a crown (which he promised to give her later) on her middle finger.
"hi! hi! three cheers for princess trot!" whinnied high boy above all the noise and clapping. when ozma could make herself heard, she again called for silence. wondering what surprising announcement would come next the company turned eagerly to their little ruler.
"as orin is no longer good witch of the north and the gillikens are without a sovereign, i have decided to make joe and hyacinth rulers of the north!" declared ozma imperiously--"and--"
"we accept with pleasure!" interrupted high boy, not only rising to his feet but stretching up till he towered over them all. "we accept this high honor your majesty has conferred upon us, and if you will just excuse me, i'll dash off and tell the good news to joe." holding his head so high that he bumped it on the top of the door, high boy clattered from the banquet hall to the great astonishment and amusement of all. that is all except trot and philador. rushing after the high horse, they called loudly for him to stop. and when he saw the little girl and boy waving from the top steps of the castle he did come and, stretching up, let each of them embrace him heartily.
"i'm coming again to visit you," promised high boy with a slight choke, for he hated to say goodbye to his little friends. "i'll see you have high positions at our court, too." then shaking his head and stretching up a bit higher he cantered off, neighing tremendously as he went.
"hi! hi! everybody hi! i am the highest horse in oz! high horse to their majesties, king and queen of the north." arm in arm philador and trot returned to the banquet hall and, after the last speech had been made and they had all drunk the health of the new sovereigns in pale pink lemonade, the party broke up and they all went out into the garden to play blind-man's buff.
as the royal family from the ozure isles did not return to their capital for ten days, they had plenty of time to see all the wonderful sights in the emerald city and to grow as fond of dear little ozma and her gay court and courtiers as we are, ourselves!
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75720.txt
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Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz
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the rain beat heavily on the roof, swirled down the side walks and made tumbling torrents of the gutters. turning from the window in disgust, peter dropped his baseball mitt on the library sofa and started glumly toward the stair. no practice to-day, doggone it! why couldn't it rain on mondays and be clear on saturdays for a change? how was he to have the team in trim for the big match if this sort of thing kept up?
kicking crossly at each step, peter progressed toward the attic. not to waste the day, he resolved to have a look at his fishing tackle. the thought of the fishing trip he was soon to take with his grandfather cheered him considerably and by the time he had switched on the attic light and dragged out the old chest where he kept his treasures, he was whistling softly to himself. on top of the chest lay two coarse sacks. they were neatly folded in half and as peter lifted them off he gave an amused little chuckle.
"i wonder what's happened in oz lately," mused peter, sitting down in front of the chest with the sacks on his lap. "i wonder whether ozma knows what i did with the pirate's gold pieces and whether the gnome king has got into any more mischief." and thinking of that enchanting and enchanted kingdom, peter forgot all about his fishing tackle.
now many of you may have read or heard of the marvelous land of oz, but peter had really been there; had met the scarecrow and the wonderful wizard; had kept the gnome king from conquering the emerald city and even discovered a pirate ship full of treasure. the pirate who owned the ship had once been a real pirate, so when ozma, the little girl ruler of oz, transported peter and the treasure back to philadelphia, two of the bags of gold had been real gold and these bags had come with him. these very sacks that peter held across his knees had once bulged with gold pieces. and those of peter's friends and relations who had sniffed at the story of his amazing journey to oz never had been able to explain them away.
peter's grandfather, with whom the little boy lived, had not tried to explain them, for peter's grandfather was old enough to believe almost anything. so he and peter had spent one bag of gold very gaily on a trip to the coast, on motorcycles for peter and his best friends, on a club house for the team, on canoes and some more things, too. the other bag they had changed into united states dollars and put into the bank, so that peter might go to college and other important places when he was grown. and now, with the rain drumming steadily on the roof, peter fell to dreaming again of oz, of its curious kings and castles, its wizards and witches and magic transformations. could it have been two years ago that he and the gnome king escaped from runaway island?
"i wish," sighed peter, giving the top sack a little shake, "i wish i could go back to oz sometime. hello! what's this?" in the corner of the top sack he felt something hard and round and thrusting in his hand drew out a thin shiny piece of gold. "why, here's one we didn't find," chuckled peter, holding it up to the light. "it's not so large as the others. i believe i'll keep it for a lucky piece." resting his head against a small trunk, peter sank back and was soon lost in pleasant reveries. "gee-whiz!" he breathed at last, flipping the pirate's coin into the air. "it certainly would be great to go to oz again. i wish i were there right now!" as the gold piece dropped into peter's palm, peter himself dropped out of sight. at least, he was no longer in the attic, or in philadelphia either, for that matter. he was, to be perfectly truthful, standing before a small yellow cottage in the middle of a pumpkin field, and the whole trip, reflected peter, staring around a bit wildly, had taken no longer than one puff and swallow. a drop such as this was enough to make a body puff and swallow several times, so he did. then, having regained a little of his composure, he looked uncertainly at the yellow house.
it was shaped like an enormous hollowed out pumpkin, but had several windows and a front door, so peter walked boldly up the steps and knocked twice. he could hear footsteps running about inside and presently a head was thrust out the second story window.
"who's there?" asked the owner of the house, staring down curiously.
"it's me, er--er it's i!" peter, remembering his grammar corrected himself quickly.
at this, the owner of the house, in order to have a better look at his visitor, leaned so far out the window that peter gave a sharp cry.
"oh look out!" he called warningly, for the man's head seemed ready to fall off, was falling off, in fact.
"i am looking out," it called cheerfully, as it turned over and over in the air. "that's just the trouble! catch my head will you?" and next minute peter found himself clasping a large pumpkin head in both arms.
"did you say your name was cy?" asked the head, staring up inquiringly. "well carry me indoors, cy. you'll find my body around somewheres."
"this must be oz," choked peter, with an excited little gasp and, kicking open the door, he hurried into the cottage. a tall awkward body sprawled on the floor and there was certainly something familiar about the hollow eyes staring so pleasantly into his own.
"my body has fallen down the stairs," observed the pumpkin head calmly. "it should have waited for me, for nobody should be without a head." peter agreed heartily with this last statement and, setting the head on the table, he pulled the awkward figure to its feet and then, standing on a chair, pressed the head carefully on the wooden peg that served for a neck.
"why it's jack pumpkinhead!" he cried delightedly. "didn't i meet you in ozma's palace two years ago? don't you remember me?"
jack looked doubtfully down at the little boy. "i'm afraid that i don't," he answered seriously. "you see, i have had several new heads since then, and am not very good at remembering."
"never mind. i remember you!" peter smiled kindly at the awkward fellow and, squeezing his wooden fingers, went on. "my name is peter and--"
"i thought you said your name was cy," objected jack in a puzzled voice.
"oh no i didn't," explained peter, a little vexed at the pumpkin head's stupidity. "i said it's i at the door."
"cy at the door and peter in the house. how dreadfully confusing," mumbled jack, putting one hand to his head to see if it was on straight. "have you a different name for every place you go?"
"oh call me peter!" exclaimed the little boy impatiently, "and if you'll just tell me the way to the emerald city i'll not bother you any more. i'm anxious to see ozma and dorothy again."
"are you a friend of ozma's?" interrupted jack in high excitement. "well, i'll do anything for a friend of ozma's. ozma is my father!" running to the door jack clattered down the steps, beckoning for peter to follow him.
"father!" cried peter, with a little burst of laughter, and then realizing one could not expect too much sense from a pumpkin head, he hurried out of the cottage. the pirate's sack still hung over his arm and, tossing it gaily over one shoulder, peter stepped quickly after jack, and clapped him on his shoulder.
"by the way, how did you reach oz?" picking his way carefully between the rows of pumpkins, jack paused and turned his head with both hands so he could look back at peter. briefly peter told him of finding the last coin in the pirate's sack, how he had wished to be in oz and suddenly found himself standing before the yellow cottage. "it must have been a magic coin," muttered jack pumpkinhead, starting on again. "i tell you," he gave an excited skip, "that gold coin was a piece of change. you wished to come to oz for a change and here you are!"
"yes," agreed peter slowly. "but where is the gold piece?"
"you can't have the change and the gold piece too," reproved jack, wagging his wooden finger, "and you'd rather have the change, now wouldn't you?" peter nodded and glanced sharply at jack. his head seemed to be working better. jack returned peter's look with a long, steady stare. "do you know," he said, stepping deliberately over a high fence onto a gold paved highway, "you remind me more and more of my dear father."
"your dear father," exploded peter, sitting down on the top rail of the fence. "i thought a while ago you told me that princess ozma was your father."
"she is," answered jack, marching calmly along the highway.
"but ozma's a girl," shouted peter indignantly, catching up with jack. "how could a girl be your father and how could i remind you of ozma?"
"ozma was not always a girl," explained jack mysteriously. "once ozma was a boy like you. i see you have never heard my strange story," finished jack in a hurt voice--looking reproachfully down at peter. though peter had met jack pumpkinhead at ozma's palace he had to admit that he knew nothing of his interesting history. so, as they sauntered slowly along the highway, jack told how ozma, as a baby had been stolen by mombi, the witch, and transformed into a boy named tip. for nearly nine years, tip had lived in mombi's hut, entirely ignorant of the fact that he was the real ruler of oz. it was to scare mombi that tip had first manufactured the pumpkinhead man. jack's wooden arms and legs had been skillfully carved from strong saplings. his body, made of a tough piece of bark, was pinned together with wooden pegs. a larger peg served jack for a neck and a carved pumpkin made his head. with some old clothes he found in mombi's attic, tip had dressed the queer figure and stood him in the bend of the road to scare the old witch on her return from a visit to the crooked wizard's.
"well, was mombi scared?" inquired peter, looking admiringly at jack's jointed wrists and ankles and thinking what a smart boy ozma must have been.
"at first," admitted jack slowly. "at first! then, wishing to try out some of the magic she had traded with the wizard she sprinkled me with the powder of life and immediately i came to life and have been alive ever since," he finished modestly.
"but what happened to tip?" begged peter, for he felt that the most exciting part of the story was to come.
"well," continued jack with a solemn shake of his head, "as mombi threatened to turn tip to a marble statue, we both ran away that night, taking the powder of life with us. next morning tip found a saw-horse standing in a wood and, sprinkling it with some of the powder, brought it to life as mombi had done me. on this strange steed we reached the emerald city and helped the scarecrow, who was then emperor, escape from jinjur's army of girls, who had captured the capitol. after many curious adventures we reached the palace of glinda, the good sorceress of the south. we begged her to help us restore the scarecrow to his throne, but glinda, by referring to her magic records, discovered that ozma was the rightful ruler of the kingdom. returning to the emerald city, glinda forced mombi to disenchant tip, tip became ozma and ozma, as you well know, has been our gracious little sovereign ever since."
"what a shame," breathed peter kicking at a stone, "i should think she'd much rather have stayed a boy."
"so should i," agreed jack, "but as i am only a pumpkin head my opinion is probably of no value. i certainly have no reason to complain," he went on cheerfully. "ozma gave me the fine cottage which you saw this morning and i spend all my time growing new heads. before one pumpkin spoils, i quickly carve myself another and have had dozens of heads in my day, which makes me a personage, even in oz. this head i'm now wearing will last quite a long time for it's still a bit green."
"well, it looks all right," said peter, smiling up at jack.
"do you think so?" jack's carved grin seemed to grow even broader at peter's polite remark. "if it were not for my joints, i'd be as good as anyone," he confided, tapping his chest proudly. "but walking wears out my joints so i never walk far at a time."
"is it far to the emerald city?" shading his eyes peter blinked down the gay gold highway and then turned rather anxiously to his cheerful companion. he certainly did not want good natured jack to wear out any joints on his account.
"no distance at all," retorted jack, with a stiff wave ahead. "around that bend the houses and trees will be green, for we will be on the outskirts of the capitol, and from there it is but a step to the palace." at jack's word peter gave a satisfied little sigh. it was all coming back--his geozify. oz! how well he remembered that great oblong kingdom, divided into four smaller kingdoms, with the emerald city in the exact center. in the eastern winkie country of oz, the houses, fences, fruit and flowers were all yellow; in the southern quadling country they were red. in the northlands of the gillikens they were purple and in the western kingdom of the munchkins they were blue. from the daffodils in all the fields and the round yellow farm houses, peter knew they were in the winkie country, but at the next turning they should find the green trees and parks surrounding the loveliest city in oz.
thinking of this enchanting spot, its gay and jolly inhabitants and the welcome he was sure to find in the palace, peter quickened his steps, reaching the bend of the road far ahead of jack. but instead of flowering gardens and green parkways the highway ended abruptly in a high red brick wall. there was a small black door in the wall. in red letters on this door were two words--"enter here." peter was staring uncertainly at these directions when jack caught up with him.
"well cy! what now?" he demanded merrily. "see, i remembered you were cy, at the door. ha, ha! ho, ho, ho!"
"oh do try to be sensible," begged peter in an annoyed voice. "can't you see that this wall is red? we must be in the quadling country, jack. you've come the wrong way and we're lost! now, the question is whether to go back the way we came or go through this door and try to find a short cut to the emerald city."
"i was afraid this head was not quite ripe enough," mumbled jack in a worried voice. "perhaps if we go through this door and turn straight north we'll find the emerald city just as quickly as if we turn back."
"perhaps," echoed peter doubtfully. then, as he was beginning to feel an overpowering curiosity as to what might be on the other side of the wall, he opened the black door and stepped through.
"now i'm santy claus," mumbled jack, feeling around for his head. both he and peter had stepped off into space and tumbled together down a long dark passageway. "we've fallen down a chimney," continued jack, finding his head and settling it firmly on his shoulders. "i must say this is a great way to enter a city."
"it is a grate," said peter, with a little groan, for he was sitting astride a pair of iron fire dogs, "but how do you know it's a city?" fortunately there was no fire burning in the grate and, picking up the pirate's sack, peter stepped out into a large red square. jack had to bend almost double to get out at all and as he straightened up a sign hanging on the outside of the chimney caught his attention.
"please shut the grate after you," directed the sign. being an obliging fellow, jack pulled the handle at the right and a sliding black screen completely closed off the opening. dusting the soot from his frayed coat, jack joined peter.
"nothing but chimneys," marvelled the little boy with a low whistle. "i've often seen houses without chimneys but never chimneys without houses." the square was simply bristling with chimneys, all red and of every shape, size and description. they seemed to sprout like queer flowers from the red flags that paved the square. chimneys! chimneys! chimneys! so close together there was scarcely space to walk. "who could possibly live here?" said peter, with a scornful sniff.
"whee! whee--ee! we do!" a hundred high voices answered his question. they seemed to issue from the chimneys themselves, and as jack and peter peered anxiously upward strange smoky figures began to spiral out of the chimney tops and float in a dark mass over their heads. they looked like evil genii or goblins who had long been imprisoned in magic bottles. their shapes and faces changed constantly and as a whole horde of them dropped downward, peter stepped closer to jack. "they're only smoke," he explained reassuringly.
"yes, dear peter," quavered jack, "but smoke is most injurious to pumpkins! oh my head! my poor poor head!" peter had no time to sympathize with jack, for at that moment a crowd of smokies surrounded them. their eyes were spite-red sparks and, snatching at peter and jack with their long shadowy arms, they began to hiss and puff threateningly.
"can you curl?" demanded one, snapping his eyes close to peter. "can you curl, and do a double spiral? can you make soot and smoulder?"
"no! no! no!" coughed peter, snatching out his handkerchief and waving it wildly about his head. "go away! go away. you're making me all black."
"ha, ha, ha!" shrieked a great smoky giant. "that's the color you should be. this is chimneyville, but wait till you see our soot sooty down below. come to our sooty and see how black and beautiful you will become."
"we won't," cried jack pumpkinhead defiantly, "we won't come or become. if this is chimneyville, then you are chimney-villains. go away you black monsters. we refuse to visit your old sooty. go away, go away. you're smoking my beautiful head." trying to cover his head with his arms, jack backed against a chimney, but his words only seemed to infuriate the smokies. swelling with rage, they surged forward.
"smoke 'em up! smoke 'em out! throw 'em down the chimneys!" they sputtered. "now then, boys, all together!" while peter and jack struck out left and right, the grim gray specters tried to lift them into the air. but there was no strength in their vapory arms and with little shrieks and hisses they pressed closer and closer.
"run!" panted peter, who was almost suffocated. the smoke did not affect jack and, taking peter's hand, he tried to pull the little boy along. but the air was now so thick with their pursuers they could hardly see at all and bumped and crashed into chimneys at every turn. the last bump flung them headlong, and for a moment they lay perfectly still, while the chimney-villains swept screaming overhead. it was dark as midnight, for the smokies had all run together into a great suffocating cloud. even the tiny sparks that were their eyes had gone out, and in utter and awful darkness peter finally stumbled to his feet. coughing and sputtering and with tears pouring down both cheeks, he felt in his pocket for another handkerchief, and as he did his fingers closed over a small candle end. immediately a bright idea struck peter, and with a gasp he felt around for jack's head. pulling the stout stem in the top he lifted out the piece jack had cut when he hollowed out the pumpkin. striking a match he lit the candle end, spilled in a few drops of candle grease and set the candle erect. then replacing the top of jack's head he jerked him to his feet.
"what have you done?" faltered the pumpkinhead in a faint voice. "my head feels very light, dear peter, but i seem to see much better."
"so do i," choked the little boy, muffling his nose in his coat sleeve, "we can both see better. come on, you're lit up and my jack o' lantern now!" the bobbing light in the pumpkin's head seemed to puzzle their enemies, but peter, guided by the cheery glow, pushed bravely through the clouds and crowds of them. the smoke still stung his eyes and throat, but he kept dodging chimney after chimney, and finally pausing to rest against an especially broad one, discovered a slide like the one they had come thru in the first place. jerking it open peter pulled jack into the grate and closed the slide. there was another slide at the back of the chimney place and as the smokies poured against the first slide peter opened the second and stepped out into a quiet little wood.
"a great way in and a great way out," observed jack, following peter quickly and slamming the slide after him.
"and a great way from everywhere," puffed peter, dropping down on the nearest tree stump and staring resentfully up at the red wall. it looked the same from this side as from the other. not a chimney showed, nor one puff of smoke, to warn luckless travellers of the disagreeable citizens of soot city. it was so great a relief to breathe pure air again and find himself in real daylight that peter sat for several minutes drinking in the fresh forest breezes and freeing his lungs from the bitter smoke. then, standing up on the stump, he called jack and blew out the candle in his pumpkin head. "you certainly saved my life that time," said peter feelingly. "if you had not lighted me out of there i'd have been a smoked herring by this time. how do you feel yourself, dear jack?"
"a little light headed," confessed jack earnestly, "but on the whole, i rather liked it. it seems to me i felt brighter."
"you mean you could think better?" asked peter, staring hard at jack, and trying not to laugh.
"yes," jack nodded gravely, "so please light me up again dear peter."
"it might not be good for you," said the little boy doubtfully. "it might make you light headed and giddy. besides, pumpkins are only lit at night or in the dark and it's quite light out here."
"oh are they?" jack looked terribly disappointed. "well any time you need a lantern, just light me up. shall we go on to the emerald city now?"
"well, we might try to," answered peter looking around with lively interest. "can you walk a little farther? do your joints feel all right?" although jack was much taller than he, peter felt somehow responsible for the flimsy fellow. it rather flattered him to have jack so obedient to his wishes and so dependent upon his advice. after examining his joints carefully, jack decided he might go a bit further, so peter washed his face in a little stream and at the same time removed the soot from jack's, and they prepared to continue their journey to the capitol. taking his direction from the sun, peter started north through the little wood. from the cardinals and robins, from the red beech and holly trees, he knew he must still be in the quadling country and when he saw a small red cottage in a clearing just ahead, he was sure of it.
goody shop, announced a sign, swinging from the crooked roof. "hurrah!" shouted peter, breaking into a run. "maybe i can buy something to eat here. it must be nearly lunch time and i'm starved."
"oh do be careful," warned jack, holding on to his head with both hands as he dashed hurriedly after peter, "they may not be the kind of goodies you expect." the shop was dim and dark and behind the red counter sat a prim little old lady in a ruffled gown.
"good morning!" puffed peter with a polite bow.
"our good morning is all gone," said the old lady, rising stiffly from her tall stool, "but we have a very good afternoon, would you care for that?" she squinted anxiously at peter. "and will you take it with you or have it sent?"
"have it sent," advised jack in a hollow voice for he did not relish the old lady's expression.
"i wanted to buy something good," explained peter hastily.
"well why didn't you say so in the beginning," snapped the shop keeper testily. "one minute it's good morning and now it's goodbye. what kind of a goodbye do you want, long, short, fond or sorrowful?" at this strange question, jack turned his head with both hands and simply stared at the old lady, and peter himself began to feel terribly confused.
"what kind of goods do you sell here?" he demanded anxiously.
"all the goods," answered the old lady proudly, "but dry goods mostly. waving toward the shelves, she folded her arms and looked suspiciously at her two customers, while jack and peter curiously surveyed her wares.
"good news! good advice! good intentions! good days! good night! good excuses! good riddance!" cried peter, reading out the labels on the bottles and boxes. "how odd! good ideas! good tempers! good notions! good times!"
"come, come," muttered the old lady, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor, "make up your minds. you may each choose one," she decided finally, as neither peter nor jack seemed able to decide. "why don't you take a good excuse?" she suggested, turning to peter. "boys are always needing good excuses, and a fresh batch has just come in--good ones too!"
"i think i'll take some good advice," announced jack in a timid voice. "i'm not very bright and it might be useful."
"but haven't you anything good to eat?" sighed peter. "a good lunch or dinner, even a breakfast would do." with an impatient flounce the old lady reached up on a top shelf and handed peter a small red box. then giving jack a red envelope, she shooed them out of her goody shop.
"i wish i'd taken some good excuses," murmured peter, as they walked slowly down the crooked path. "this box is too small to hold a good meal of any kind."
"what does it say?" asked jack inquisitively.
"a good breakfast," answered peter reading the red label. "well, even if it's only a biscuit or just one sausage, i'll eat it." eagerly peter raised the lid. "why it's bird seed," he exclaimed angrily, flinging the box with all his force into a red-berry bush. "what a cheat! i've a good notion to go right back and tell her what i think of her."
"but she didn't charge you anything," observed jack mildly, "and you'll have to admit it is a good breakfast!"
"a good breakfast," roared peter, glaring indignantly at his loose-jointed companion.
"well, it is a good breakfast," finished jack pumpkinhead apologetically, "for a bird." peter looked closely at jack to see whether he was poking fun at him, but quite soberly, jack was opening his good advice.
"what does yours say?" crowding closer, peter read the words on the thin slip of paper and then began to hop up and down with glee.
"keep your mouth shut," advised the red paper briefly.
"call that good advice?" sputtered jack pumpkinhead, tearing the paper into tiny pieces. "how can i keep my mouth shut when it's carved open? of all the silly nonsense!"
"but you'll have to admit that keeping your mouth shut is good advice," teased peter, completely restored to good humor by this joke on jack.
"then why don't you take it?" asked jack stalking stiffly ahead. "take it and welcome!" smothering another chuckle, peter hurried after jack, reflecting to himself that this pumpkinhead man was not nearly so foolish as he appeared to be.
"won't dorothy and ozma be surprised when we turn up at the palace?" taking a running jump, peter cleared a tree and then hurried back to help jack pumpkinhead across.
"i'll be surprised myself," said jack, stepping solemnly over the log. "here we are at the end of this wood and no signs of the emerald city at all. do you see anything green, peter?" peter shook his head, for as far as the eye could reach there was nothing but rocks and sand, tinged with the rusty red of the quadling country.
"i see red, nothing but red," sighed the little boy in a depressed voice. "wait, there's one green tree, though--a fir tree. why, it's running straight for us. hey! look what you're doing! get off my foot!" giving the tree a quick shove, peter sprang backward. but the tree leaned a little further over, and resting its lower branches on his shoulders began to sob heavily.
"i'm very tired," it panted in a weak whisper, "very tired!" it spoke through a hollow in the center of its trunk and its knot eyes stared mournfully into peter's own.
"well, you can't lean on me," exclaimed peter crossly, giving it another push. "i'm tired too! why i never heard of such a thing," he continued in an indignant voice. "what are you doing, where are you going, why don't you act like a regular tree?" wrenching the branches from his shoulders, peter stepped off and eyed it angrily.
"you don't belong in this country anyway," put in jack accusingly. "you're green and you know it!"
"hush," muttered the tree, putting a lower branch over its mouth. "i'm a christmas tree, looking for last year's ornaments." there were a few gay colored balls still clinging to the top and as peter, too astonished to make any reply continued to stare, the tree drew closer.
"are you a christmas present?" it asked hoarsely. "are you an ornament?"
"oh go away!" laughed the little boy, giving it another shove. "do i look like a christmas present? and can't you see we're not ornaments?" with a little chuckle, he waved at his companion.
"i could use his head," murmured the tree, squinting through its branches at jack. "it's not at all pretty, but it would light up and look real merry. here you!" with a sudden pounce the tree made for jack. "give me your pumpkin head and no nonsense either!" as jack and peter both jumped back together, a simply astonishing thing happened. from the end of each branch on the christmas tree a hand shot out, and with each hand extended it dashed after them.
"see! i trim myself!" it yelled, snapping its fingers hilariously. "come here you provoking boy. i'll wager you have plenty of stuff in your pockets i could use for presents. have you a watch or a gold pen knife?" at each question, it made greedy snatches at peter. "let me pick your pockets! give me your head you great jumping-jack!" ten of its hands just grazed jack's coat-tails.
at first peter had been rather amused by the christmas tree, but now, thoroughly alarmed, he clutched jack's hand and ran so fast that jack had all he could do to hold on to his head and keep from stumbling. as they continued to elude it, the determined little tree grew very angry. hopping up and down its roots, it seized the ornaments from its top branches and hurled them one after another at the fleeing pair. three balls and a candy cane crashed to bits on peter's head, and as he dodged in between two big boulders a silver dinner bell tied with red ribbon hit him sharply between the eyes.
"gee-whiz!" spluttered the little boy, clapping his hand to his forehead, "this is no fun!" pulling jack after him, he squeezed into a narrow crevice between the rocks, but before he did jack leaned down, picked up the bell and slipped it into his pocket. as the christmas tree attempted to push its way between the rocks, peter and jack pressed against a rough wall at the back. now it happened that in this wall there was a swinging rock door, and as they both leaned hard against it, the door swung inward and spilled them abruptly into a narrow stone corridor. next instant the door slammed to, leaving them sitting in surprise and consternation on the rocky floor. they could hear the tree pounding with all its fists against the panels, but a bolt had dropped into place as the door closed, so there seemed little danger of further pursuit.
"i wish we'd stop this falling about," complained peter, picking himself up a bit wearily. "we're always doing something we don't expect."
"that's because we're in oz," answered jack cheerfully, "and at any rate, we have saved my head from the christmas tree."
peter felt inclined to remark that saving jack's head was not so very important, but thinking better of it, he went on in an exasperated tone: "christmas trees in our country don't chase people nor throw things at them. they stay where they're put."
"yes," said jack pumpkinhead blandly, "i suppose they do, but oz christmas trees are more progressive, more up-and-coming." taking out the silver bell the christmas tree had thrown at peter, jack held it close to his ear and then swung it slowly to and fro. at its first silver ring peter, thinking it would rouse the owner of the cave, rushed over to stop jack, only to collide violently with a tiny black slave who had apparently sprung up from nowhere. he wore a simply enormous turban and carried an immense silver tray. regaining his balance with great composure, the little black slave set the tray on the floor, folded his arms and with a deep bow melted into thin air.
"it's a dinner!" shouted peter, dropping on the floor and hungrily snatching off the white napkin that covered the tray. "well, of all things!"
"unexpected things, you mean," corrected jack slyly, "and i notice you don't object to this one."
"let me see that bell," puffed peter, reaching across the tray. it was not very light in the cavern, but even so he could read the inscription on the shining silver surface. "the red djinn's dinner bell," said the carved letters mysteriously. "a magic dinner bell," exclaimed peter delightedly. "this certainly makes up for the bird seed. and did you see that boy dissolve into nothing right before our eyes?" jack nodded.
"better eat that dinner before it does the same thing," he advised calmly. as this seemed not at all improbable, peter made short work of the roast duck, mashed potatoes, hot rolls and apple sauce. he had just finished the last roll, when tray, dishes and silverware vanished suddenly.
"shall i ring the bell again?" inquired jack, as peter stared dazedly at the spot where the tray had been. although jack was not constructed for eating, he had thoroughly enjoyed watching peter.
"no," decided the little boy with a satisfied nod, "i've had enough, and it was good. but i wonder how that christmas tree got hold of the red djinn's dinner bell?"
"stole it probably," answered jack, rubbing the bell on his sleeve. "maybe the old djinn didn't run fast enough. anyway it's a regular christmas present for you, peter. whenever you're hungry we'll just ring it." with a pleased chuckle, jack slipped the bell back into his pocket.
"it certainly will be useful," sighed peter, patting his stomach with a contented little sigh. now that his hunger was satisfied, he felt quite cheerful and adventurous again. "let's see where this passageway leads," he added, peering round the dark corner at the end of the little corridor.
"why don't you throw that old sack away?" inquired jack pumpkinhead, as they walked slowly along the strange hallway. "what good is it?"
"i don't know," answered peter, swinging the pirate's sack carelessly to and fro. "i had it when i landed here and it might come in handy to carry things in."
"what kind of things?" asked jack stupidly. peter did not bother to answer for they had come suddenly upon a great scowling goblin-head lantern. under the lantern hung a flashing red sign.
"t--remble!"--directed the sign in big red letters.
"i don't see why we should tremble," said peter, squinting defiantly up at the goblin lantern. at peter's words the lantern went out, and whistling through the dark windy corridor came such a succession of wails, sighs and horrid screeches that peter's heart stood still.
"are you trembling?" quavered jack, as the hair raising noise died away. "not exactly," stuttered peter, leaning against the wall to steady himself. as the lantern flashed on again, he peered anxiously all around. but there was no one in sight, so putting back his shoulders and taking a deep breath peter marched bravely forward. "there's nothing to be frightened about," he called reassuringly over his shoulder.
"well, nothing certainly made enough noise," murmured jack, straightening his head which had spun round and round at the horrible outcrys. "i wish we were safely out of this, dear peter." peter did not say so, but he heartily echoed jack's wish. as they progressed along the strange corridor the goblin lanterns became more numerous and ugly, and the last turn brought them to a high, red, spiked gate. on every spike there was a frowning scare head, and as the two travellers paused uncertainly, each head stuck out its tongue.
"boo--oo!" shrieked the heads all together, so loud and so shrilly that peter almost took to his heels and jack, without meaning to at all, sat down. as the little boy hurriedly tugged him to his feet, the red gates swung open.
"welcome to scare city!" boomed a horrid voice. "quake! shake! pale and tremble!"
on the other side of the spiked gate rose a curious cliff city. there was a great court in the center surrounded by a mass of jagged rocks and from the rocks narrow cliff dwellings had been crudely hewn and cut. crooked, carved steps led down into the courtyard and every rock and inch of wall space was covered with roughly drawn heads and frowning faces, while set on stone poles at regular intervals were hundreds of goblin lanterns. a bluish green smoke hung in the air and every minute or so it would rise and form into the words "scare city! scare city! scare city!" so that altogether the whole effect was exceedingly grim and unpleasant. so much so, in fact that peter and jack turned to flee. but the arm that had pulled them through the gate, held them fast.
"pause!" commanded a harsh voice. "pause! pale and behold the chief scarer!" swallowing hard, peter took an unwilling look at the gate keeper. he was about six feet tall and his head seemed to be face all round, with eyes on every side and noses that stuck out like spikes in every direction. as peter, with a little shiver, turned away, he began to speak again. "you!" rumbled the chief scarer, pointing a skinny finger at jack, "are a perfect fright! but you," contemptuously he looked peter up and down, "you would not even scare a baby. how dare you come here with that soft white pudding face?" now peter, as you can well imagine was thoroughly frightened, but the words of the gate keeper made him angry and anger made him bold. stamping his foot and drawing his face into a terrible scowl, peter stuck out his tongue.
"is this better?" he demanded furiously.
"a little! a little!" sighed the chief scarer, leaning thoughtfully on his staff. "could you cross your eyes?"
"don't you do it peter!" begged jack. "they might stay that way."
"well, suit yourself," yawned the scarer indifferently. "i doubt whether either of you will pass the tests anyway, and if you don't you'll be turned into fraid cats, or scared stiff. you're supposed to tremble in the presence of the king, you know, and if you run you'll turn to fraid cats and if you scream you'll be scared stiff. remember, now, i warned you." lifting a red whistle to his lips, the chief scarer blew three sharp blasts and then stepped back into his niche in the rocks.
"who's afraid?" muttered peter in a defiant voice. "they can't scare us, can they jack?" before jack could answer, a perfect horde of scares rushed out of the rock dwellings and began to tumble and leap down the steps into the court. halfway down, they paused and one with a particularly frightful face bawled impressively; "tuh-remble, for you are in the presence of the king!" jack and peter had no trouble at all in trembling. jack's knees knocked together so hard that one of the pegs fell out of his joints and his pumpkin head bounced up and down upon its peg. peter twisted his hands behind him and gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. he felt exactly as he had when he was a small boy and a rough crowd of hallow'een ghosts and goblins pounced suddenly upon him in his own front yard.
"they're no worse than masqueraders," said peter pluckily. "don't run! don't scream, jack, no matter what happens."
"what i don't see, won't frighten me," answered jack, and reaching up with both hands he turned his head so that the back was toward the scares. each scare was different but each one was dreadful. some had blue faces, some red faces and others green faces but they all had dozens of noses and the result was more than terrifying. scurrying here and there in between the feet of the scares, were the fraid cats meouwing piteously when anyone trod on them. instead of tails these singular beasts had two heads, one at each end so that it was impossible to tell whether they were coming or going. swallowing nervously, peter resolved that whatever happened he would not run and turn into one of these two-headed tom cats. when the scares almost reached the spot where the two travellers stood trembling, the one they called king stepped out on a high flat rock. he had a horn for a nose, a lion's mane, pig eyes, donkey ears and billy goat whiskers.
"three groans for harum scarum the seventh," shouted his subjects and proceeded to groan most lustily, while harum scarum, waving both arms, addressed peter and jack in words so long and frightening that the air fairly quivered, and bits of rock, loosened from the walls, rattled down like hail stones.
"what is he saying?" panted jack, who still had his head turned.
"they're trying to scare us with big words," shouted peter above the awful din. "don't move, jack; whatever you do, don't move."
"but suppose they run over us?" wailed jack pumpkinhead dolefully. peter had thought of this himself and as the scares, evidently disappointed at not making them run, stopped shouting and prepared to attack, he seized jack's hand and whispered frantically. "here they come! here they come! what shall we do? what shall we do?" how jack, with only a pumpkin head, ever thought of the magic dinner bell peter often wondered afterward. but he did think of it, and before the scares had advanced a foot he snatched out the bell and shook it furiously. instantly the little slave appeared, set a tray before peter and vanished. and peter, without delay, seized the silver dishes full of food and hurled them at the oncoming foe.
the astonishment of harum scarum and his band was comical to behold. hit by flying forks, spoons, tumblers, bowls of chicken and mashed potatoes and finally by the silver tray itself, they paused in utmost confusion. before they could pick up the flying missiles they had disappeared and when, with yells and shouts they started forward again, jack rang the jinn's bell a second time and a third time and a fourth time and with never a pause peter flung dinners and dishes at their heads. but when jack rang the bell a fifth time, the little slave appeared and, looking reproachfully at peter, set down only one small bowl of soup. five dinners in less than five minutes was too much for even a magic dinner bell.
with a gasp of dismay, peter flung the bowl at harum scarum and then snatching the pirate sack from his shoulder swung it defiantly round his head. nothing could save them now, but at least, decided peter, he would go down fighting. jack, too, seemed to realize the hopelessness of their situation and, turning his head, boldly confronted the scares, doubling up his wooden fists, prepared to struggle till he fell. with noodle soup in his goat's beard and fury in his pig eyes, harum scarum rushed at peter. as he did, the pirate sack jerked out of the little boy's hand. the strings had been loosened by peter's wild swings and now the mouth was open wide. sailing through the air like a small zeppelin, it scooped up harum scarum, then the ten scares behind him, then the ten scares behind them, snapping and swallowing, snapping and swallowing till not a scare nor a fraid cat remained in the courtyard. then swiftly the sack returned to peter and quietly collapsed at his feet. there was not a sound in that whole strange city, nor a single scare in the sack.
"why didn't you tell me you had a grab bag?" stuttered jack. "tie it up quick; do you want it to grab us?" with trembling hands and stiff fingers peter pulled the cords in the top of the sack, and sinking down in a tired heap leaned his head against the stones. the battle with the scares and the strange behaviour of the pirate's sack had almost been too much for him. where in pete had the scares gone and how could the sack be empty? jack equally agitated took several jerky steps up and down and then paused in front of peter.
"what now?" asked jack pumpkinhead inquiringly. "what now?"
"let's get out of here!" exclaimed peter, and taking a long breath he jumped to his feet.
"are we going to take that?" fearfully jack pointed to the pirate's sack.
"of course!" said peter, trying to speak in a matter of fact voice. "it might help us out again."
"do you wish to be helped out of sight?" wheezed jack sarcastically. "why it may swallow us any minute that our backs are turned."
"not if we keep it tied," answered peter with more confidence than he felt. "we really ought to take it to the emerald city to show the wizard. i don't believe even the wizard has seen a sack like this. it's a trained sack, i suppose. that pirate taught it to swallow his enemies and now it will swallow ours."
"all right, bring it if you must, but don't swing it near me." straightening his head resignedly, jack began looking around for the peg that had fallen out of his knee joint. when peter had found and replaced the little wooden piece, they hurried quickly to the entrance of the city. the gate keeper had been swallowed with the rest of the scares and though jack and peter pulled and pushed and tugged they could not budge the iron bolts.
"maybe there's another way," puffed peter, finally giving up the attempt. turning from the entrance, they walked round and round the courtyard and climbed wearily up and down the rocks, but could find no break in the wall, nor any way out of the grim city.
the dead silence, now that the scares were gone, was dreadfully depressing. thoroughly discouraged, peter and jack sat down on a block of granite. leaning his head against a red pillar, peter took a last despairing look around. as his eye travelled slowly over the court, a red stone griffin, or what peter had supposed to be a red stone griffin, rose majestically from the base of a pillar. with a terrific stretch and yawn it opened its eyes, blinked in surprise at peter and jack, then raising one claw called gently, "who?" what? whither? why?"
"boy! pumpkin! emerald city! because!" answered jack who was extremely literal. "if everyone would answer me as sensibly as he does," said the griffin, "i'd talk all day. so you say you're leaving this place because----"
"because we hate it," said peter, looking steadily at the strange speaker. so many things had happened in the last hour that peter felt only a slight twinge of surprise at the creature's curious appearance and conversation. "are you a griffin?" peter asked, rubbing his forehead wearily. it looked not unlike pictures he had seen of this rare and fabulous monster--being sandy red in color, with a huge lion's body and dragon's claws. its head, instead of being the usual eagle head, was of rather a doggish nature with a stand-up mane and inquisitive, pointed ears.
"you must be a griffin," repeated peter, noting the powerful wings starting from the monster's shoulders.
"i am a griffin without the gr--rr," answered the animal, sitting dolefully back on its haunches. "i used to be a real griffin, but since my capture and imprisonment here i've completely lost my gr--rr, which makes me by the process of simple subtraction an iffin. to while away the hours of my captivity," it went on patiently, "i acquired the habit of thought. i thought and i thought and thinking brought on iffing. i began to if about this and that till i became a philosopher.
"what is a philosopher?" asked jack suspiciously.
"a philosopher is an iffin too," rumbled the singular beast, scratching his ear reflectively. "he thinks practically all the time and he says to himself:
"if this and that are really so, then so are that and this; that being so, 'tis best to go so far, then one can't miss!
"everything hinges on the if," he finished brightly. "see?"
"i'm afraid i don't," said jack, shaking his head stupidly. "do you, peter?"
"well, i understand about the if," answered the little boy, who could not help grinning at jack's puzzled expression. "if the iffin will just show us the way out of scare city, we'll go and not miss a single thing."
"if it were not for the scares, i would," wheezed the big beast, peering nervously up at the rocks. "but it's no use; they'll only turn you to fraid cats or statues. besides i'm chained." he lifted one paw to which a heavy chain and padlock were attached. the other end of the chain was fastened to the base of the pillar.
"say, you must be a sound sleeper," marvelled jack. "didn't you hear the big battle? this boy and i have conquered the whole city and harum scarum and the scares are gone--vanished, done for."
"gone!" cried the iffin, lashing its tail in astonishment. "how? when? where?" jack pointed silently to the sack which peter still had over one shoulder, and peter quickly told of their exciting encounter with the citizens of scare city, of the great usefulness of the red jinn's dinner bell and the way the pirate sack had finally swallowed down the whole company of horrors. at peter's recital, the iffin's eyes grew rounder and rounder and as he finished it put up both wings and with short agitated jumps shrieked:
"the scares are gone, then what scare we! the scares are gone, we're free, we're free!
"loose this chain," it panted, tugging impatiently away from the post. as peter, now as excited as the iffin, looked hurriedly around for a bar or stone to break the padlock, jack stepped forward and warningly held up his hand.
"just what do you eat?" asked jack pumpkinhead in an anxious voice. "are you carniverous?"
"if an iffin were carniverous, would he relish red geraniums? i live on flowers, solely, so please get that through your craniums.
"what did you think i ate, little boys?" finished the iffin sulkily.
"well, you never can tell," murmured jack, with a worried glance at peter. "i just wanted to be sure." peter chuckled to himself, and while looking for a spike discovered a gold key suspended from a nail on one of the red pillars. taking the key, he fitted it into the rusty padlock and after several unsuccessful attempts it turned and the heavy chain fell with a loud clank to the red paving stones.
"do you really eat geraniums?" asked peter, as the iffin sprang away from the post and rushed in crazy circles around the court yard.
"of course," it snorted boisterously. "of course!" then spreading its wide red wings it soared majestically into the air--up, up and out of sight.
"why it's gone!" shouted jack pumpkinhead indignantly. "there's gratitude for you! gone and left us without even a claw shake or thank you."
"maybe it will come back." kicking aside the chain, peter strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying monster, but not one speck showed in the murky sky overhead. if jack and peter had been blue before, they were navy blue now. with their only means of escape removed they looked blankly at one another, while the goblin lanterns glowed and smoked and the sulphurous air of the cliff city grew more dry and unbearable.
"if i'd only made it promise to help us before i turned the key," sighed peter regretfully.
"hah! so you're an iffin, too." peering around a pillar, the bright red eyes of the sandy colored beast winked merrily into peter's. "just trying out my wings," it explained gruffly, "and they're wonderful!
"if you don't think so, listen to them swirl and whirl and swish; climb on my back, i'll carry you to any place you wish."
"will you really," cried peter, falling joyfully on the iffin's neck. "can you take us to the emerald city?"
"if you want me to," answered the iffin, wagging its tail bashfully.
"have you a name," inquired jack pumpkinhead, getting stiffly off the granite block.
"well," said the iffin slowly, "i've been here so long i forgot my real name but the scares called me snif. i'm not sure i know the way to the emerald city, but i will fly over the wall into the land of the barons and there we can surely find some one to direct us. since you have freed me from my captors i will serve you faithfully for seven years."
"hurrah!" shouted peter, hugging jack. "i'm not sure i can stay in oz that long, but i'm certainly glad we fell into this city. meeting you was worth all the trouble.
"in reply the iffin chortled:
"if you hadn't come, i'd be here yet, so i'm glad as a gluckbird that we met."
"what's a gluckbird?" asked jack, straightening his head and looking rather severely at the irrepressible monster.
"if i knew i'd tell you," confided the iffin, coming close to whisper in jack's ear. "let's make ourselves scarce around here," he called boisterously in the next breath.
"oh let's," agreed peter, swinging up the pirate's sack. "you mount first jack and be sure to hold fast to your head."
"and be sure that bag's shut," added the iffin, wiggling his nose rapidly. "i've never travelled with a magic sack and though i fly i'm no swallow!"
"is the dinner bell all right?" asked peter, tightening the cord of the pirate's sack and helping jack climb on snif's back. there was just room for the pumpkinhead to sit astride in front of the iffin's wings and peter settled himself comfortably back of jack between the mighty pinions. with one last scornful look at the red city, the iffin rose into air, mounting higher till the goblin lights of scare city were no larger than fire flys twinkling below.
"were you a prisoner long?" asked peter, as snif flew swiftly over a bright red forest.
"five years," bellowed the big beast, looking over its shoulder. flying seemed no effort at all and it talked quite easily as it flew. "the first year," it explained sadly, "i struggled and growled so hard in my efforts to escape that i completely lost my gu-r-r-r. see!" clearing its throat, the iffin attempted a growl but succeeded in producing only a faint squeak. "after i lost my gu--rr," it went on in a melancholy voice, "i amused myself making up iffish verses, a habit i fear i shall never recover from."
"i like it," said peter after a short pause. "it reminds me of scraps. she's a live patchwork girl who lives in the emerald city. scraps talks in verses all the time.
"if the patchwork girl can talk in rhyme she must be most as smart as i'm."
smiled snif, with a wink at jack pumpkinhead.
"she is," laughed peter with a reminiscent chuckle. "i say, there must have been a lot of travellers from the number of fraid cats in scare city. why did they have two heads?"
"so they'd be forced to look at scares which ever way they turned," sighed the iffin. "every scare had his cave full of statues of people who had come to scare city by mistake and been frightened stiff. you were lucky to escape."
"well," admitted peter with pardonable pride, "it's pretty hard to scare the captain of a baseball team and jack is not easily frightened either."
"so i see, er--saw," observed the iffin politely.
"when we reach the emerald city, ozma will find a way to release all of these prisoners wherever they are," said peter confidently. "but how did they capture you?"
"i dropped into the city at night," said the iffin, "and before i saw how bad it was they overpowered and chained me up. they wanted me to stay and devour all travellers and even when i refused they kept me as a curiosity. and that's all i'll be from now on," it wheezed heavily. "i'll never get the taste of sulphur out of my throat, the picture of the scares out of my mind or be able to growl again. i'm quite all wrong."
"you seem all right to me," said peter, with a little sigh of content. "wait till you see the emerald city. you'll forget all about the scares and never ever want to leave again, will he jack?"
"never," answered jack, with a solemn nod.
"i have heard the capitol is very lovely," mused the iffin, "but my home is beautiful, too."
"where do you live?" inquired peter. jack was too busy holding on his head to join in the conversation.
"in the land of the barons, among these hills." pausing in mid air, the iffin pointed with its claw to the rolling hillside below. here and there above the trees and on the hill tops lordly castles reared their round, red towers. flags fluttered from every turret and peter had to admit that the land of the barons looked extremely interesting and gay.
"are these barons pleasant fellows?" he asked, putting a steadying arm around jack pumpkinhead. the iffin answered in verse:
"if they're good, they're good as pie, but some are bad and make things fly--even me."
"you mean there are all kinds," mused peter.
"yes," said the iffin. "and they're always fighting, but i don't mind battles. i just fly around till they're over and they're quite interesting to watch."
"i hope we don't land in the middle of a battle," sighed peter. "and i hope the first baron we meet is a good fellow and knows the way to the emerald city."
"if he is, and if he does, we'll be as gay as never was; and if he's not and if he don't, we'll find a way, swumped if we won't!"
"you use such funny words," sniffed peter, as the monster circled lower and lower. but the iffin made no answer this time, for he was looking for a good place to land. presently he found one, and next instant they dropped gently down into a peaceful valley. as peter and jack tumbled off in great excitement, snif folded his wings and blinking self-consciously murmured, "well, here we are. do you like it?"
after scare city almost any place would have looked beautiful to jack and peter, and this quiet valley overgrown with vines and sweet smelling flowers, seemed lovely indeed.
"you're a whiz, snif," exclaimed the little boy, looking around appreciatively. "why, you travel faster than an aeroplane. you're even better than one, for you can walk and talk as well as fly."
"swim, too," grunted the iffin, panting a little from the exertion of the journey. "now if you'll excuse me, i think i'll run along and find some geraniums. they grow wild around here and i'm wild about 'em."
"don't get lost," begged jack pumpkinhead, for this accommodating new steed seemed almost too precious to let out of their sight. "shall i go with him?" he whispered hurriedly to peter.
"it might hurt his feelings," said peter, dropping luxuriously into the long fine grass. "let's rest till he comes back and then we can hunt up one of these barons and inquire the way to the emerald city."
rolling over on his back and looking up at the drifting summer clouds, peter gave a long sigh of content. "why, this is almost as interesting as my last trip to oz, jack--travelling around with you this way and meeting an iffin, and everything. no matter what happens we're not so badly off for we have a sack to swallow our enemies, a magic dinner bell to supply us with food and an enchanted steed to carry us wherever we wish to go. gee, i wish some of the fellows were along! i wish my grandfather had been with us in scare city. you were great, jack, to think of that dinner bell!"
"was i?" leaning against a tall young beech, jack beamed down at peter. "you were great, too," he insisted generously. "i never saw anyone throw so straight and so hard."
"playing baseball does that," explained peter, clasping his arms behind his head. "we'll have to have a game when we reach the capitol. say look! here are some wild strawberries." scooping them up by the handful, peter began to eat hungrily. "did you ever see such large ones?"
"the quadling country is noted for its red fruits," answered jack proudly, "its strawberries, apples, cherries and red bananas. sometimes i wish i were made to enjoy eating," he finished, looking rather wistfully at peter.
"you do miss a lot," agreed the little boy sympathetically, "but then on the other hand, you never suffer from hunger and could never starve to death. but here comes snif." swallowing the last of the strawberries peter ran to meet the iffin. several geraniums still drooped from the corners of his mouth and he was loping along humming cheerfully to himself.
"all aboard for the emerald city," he called merrily, as he came closer. "that ought to please your long legged friend, there. he's all board from his neck down, anyway." smiling at snif's little joke, peter picked up the pirate's sack, helped jack to mount and sprang nimbly up behind him.
"are we going to fly or walk," he asked curiously.
"waddle," puffed the iffin with a droll wink. "i'm so full of geraniums i'd simply sink if i tried to fly, so if you're all ready we'll waddle along."
"i'm afraid waddling won't be at all good for my head," objected jack, as the iffin started off with swinging, uneven strides. peter laughed as jack continued to protest against waddling, but the iffin was too busy practising gu--rrs to pay any attention to the pumpkinhead.
"it's funny," it muttered between its teeth. "i can say gu-rr but i can't growl it, and until i can growl, i'm no griffin."
"oh, what do you care," said peter. "any old grouch can growl, but not many can fly, swim, waddle and make verses like you do. i'd rather be an iffin than a griffin, any day."
"that's because you never were either," sighed the big monster with a little shake of his head, and quickening his pace he galloped along so swiftly that peter and jack had all they could do to hang on. once out of the valley, the country spread before them, like a gay and enchanting map. little patches of shadow lay on the velvety hills, small wooded parks dotted the hollows and many castles were visible in the distance. beyond, a huge range of red mountains lifted their craggy heads to the sky.
"we'll stop at the first castle," decided the iffin, jumping without effort a tall timber fence that enclosed one of the parks. red deer scattered right and left, as the huge monster rushed by and they were progressing finely when, from the center of the park where the trees were thickest, came a sharp, shrill wail. "perhaps we'd better try the second castle," panted the iffin, flattening back his ears:
"if that looks like it sounds, i prefer not to look; it's either a snort or a sort of gazook."
before jack could inquire what a snort or gazook might be, before the iffin could even turn, steps came pattering toward them, and out through the trees rushed a tall, trembling old man in a red cloak.
"i am a mess! i am a mess! i am a mess!" he croaked, flinging out both arms desperately.
"tut! tut!" reproved the iffin, putting up his ears. "if you don't shout it so loud, maybe no one will find you out. keep it quiet, i beg of you."
"i am a mess, i am a mess, a mis-erable mesmerizer," insisted the old man, drawing his hand wearily across his brow and leaning heavily against a tree.
"it's against the law to mes, to mes--i mean to mesmerize," said jack, staring severely at the strange apparition. "ozma has forbidden the practise of magic in oz. don't you know that?"
"i know no law but the law of belfaygor of bourne," said the old man haughtily.
"and who is belfaygor," inquired peter, standing up on the iffin's back to get a better view of this curious person.
"lord of these lands, and my illustrious master. alas! alas! what have i done! unhappy him! unhappy i! unhappy us. i am a mess! i am a mess! a most mis-erable mesmerizer." burying his face in his hands, the old man rushed blindly past them, and long after he had gone his piercing groans came echoing back to them.
"now what do you suppose he did do?" asked peter, settling himself thoughtfully between the iffin's wings.
"belfaygor, belfaygor," mused snif, repeating the name over several times. "i remember now--he's one of the good barons. let's go on to his castle and see what has happened to him." but they did not have to wait till they reached the castle to find out, for halfway through the park, they came upon the baron himself. his ruby crown, magnificent red boots, richly embroidered cape, proclaimed his rank at once, but it was his beard that peter saw first and never forgot afterward--a red beard that flashed and flowed down his breast and swirled around his feet in an angry red tide. with his head thrown back, a pair of shears in each hand, belfaygor was clipping desperately at the shining waves that seemed to pour in a steady torrent from his chin. at each clip he groaned and at each groan he clipped.
"my beard!" choked the baron. "my bride and my beard!" and so engrossed and distressed was the unhappy gentleman that he neither saw nor heard the iffin's approach.
"so this is what comes of mesmerizing," snorted snif, stopping so suddenly he almost unseated his riders. "his beard is running away with him. what can we do about it?"
"can we be of any help?" called peter, more practically. "is there anything we can do mr. baron?" at peter's question, belfaygor gave a great start; then blinking up half seeingly at the strange company, gloomily shook his head.
"nothing can help me," moaned the baron, clipping furiously, "for nothing can stop this beard from growing. and that's not the worst, mogodore the mighty has stolen the princess i was to marry and each time i try to run to rescue her my beard trips me up. woe, woe, woe! was ever a man so unhappy--so unlucky as i?"
"where are your men," asked snif, wrinkling up his nose anxiously.
"gone," said the baron dully. "frightened off by my beard, they have deserted me down to the smallest train bearer."
"you don't need a train bearer. what you need is a beard bearer," puffed jack pumpkinhead, dismounting stiffly and stepping as close as he dared to the baron. "if you throw your beard over your shoulder, it will grow the other way," he suggested amiably. for a moment belfaygor stared slowly at jack, then flinging the red beard over one shoulder he extended both arms.
"that's the only sensible thing i've heard since i was mesmerized," he shouted hoarsely. "i hereby appoint you royal bearer of the beard."
"thanks," murmured jack, looking doubtfully at peter.
"who are you?" demanded the baron in growing excitement and appreciation. "this griffin i have seen before, but you, my good fellow are most odd and curious."
"he is a pumpkinhead, magically brought to life," volunteered peter "and some pumpkins," he finished, with a wink at the iffin.
"no, only one," corrected jack modestly. "i am a subject of ozma of oz and this boy is from america. as we are all on our way to the emerald city, i cannot bear your beard."
"neither can i," mourned the baron, dropping his arms wearily. "oh! oh! who will save poor little shirley sunshine?" the baron looked so tired and dejected that peter felt sorry for him.
"is shirley sunshine the princess you are to marry?" he asked curiously. "who is this mogodore? why not tell us the whole story, maybe we can help you?"
"if wings will help and a magic sack, you'll soon have your little princess back,"
promised the iffin, sitting on his haunches beside peter. "speak," he urged, raising his claw imperiously. "speak, for we are all attention."
with a gusty sigh, the red baron looked from one to another and then, fixing his eyes sadly on peter, he began to speak. since the extremely sensible suggestion of jack pumpkinhead, his beard no longer poured round his ankles but, sweeping over his shoulder, disappeared in a red streak between the trees. every little while he would cut it off, and the steady snip-snip of the shears ran like a sharp punctuation all through the strange story of his misfortune.
"this morning," confided belfaygor in a mournful voice, "this morning i was the happiest lord in the land, for my marriage with shirley sunshine, whose father lives on the next hillside, had been satisfactorily arranged. my palace had been redecorated to please the princess and all my retainers newly outfitted for the wedding. everything, in fact, was in readiness to receive her, and i myself was about to start for her father's castle, when i became suddenly dissatisfied with my appearance." overcome by his feelings the baron paused for a full moment, and peter stood up on snif's back to see how far the red beard had grown since the last clip. with a little gasp he saw it shoot through the branches of a tall tulip tree, and as he sat down belfaygor tearfully continued his recital.
"so i sent for my chief mesmerizer," he said sorrowfully, "a good old man and exceedingly well versed in necromancy. i asked him if it would be possible to grow a beard, as i felt that a fine long beard would greatly improve my appearance. there was not time to grow one naturally, so this mesmerizer----"
"this miserable mesmerizer," corrected the iffin, switching his tail furiously.
"miserable mesmerizer," repeated the baron dully, "caused a long red beard to grow upon my chin." snipping off a silky length of the offending whiskers, he tossed the ends over one shoulder and with a deep sigh proceeded. "when the beard had grown to my waist i bade the mesmerizer stop it, but in spite of all his incantations and magic powders, it continued to grow. it grew and grew till it filled the throne room, ran down the stairs into the pantry, shot up the stairs into the bed rooms and finally filled every room in the palace. in real danger of suffocation, my knights and servants took to their heels, and my mesmerizer, after forcing these shears upon me and bidding me cut for dear life, ran off and left me, also."
"then how did you get out of the castle," asked peter, lurching forward, while jack leaned over so far his head fell off and had to be replaced by the iffin.
"jumped out a window," explained the baron with a little shudder. "the beard kept me from breaking any bones. cutting myself loose from the terrible tangle, i ran into the middle of the road and called loudly for help. as i did, a commotion on the next hillside attracted my attention. a band of armed riders were galloping toward me. as they drew nearer, i recognized the plumed hats and golden spears of mogodore's retainers, and as they came nearer still i saw that mogodore himself was carrying off my bride, who lay unconscious across his saddle bow. i tried to scream, but the red beard enveloped me. i tried to run; it tripped me at every step. without even seeing me, the cavalcade thundered by. as they disappeared, i heard two of the riders boasting that mogodore would marry shirley sunshine to-morrow morning."
"when was that? where did he take her?" gasped peter. "how long ago was it?"
"this morning," choked belfaygor. "he has carried her to his castle in baffleburg."
"you mean to say all of your men ran off and never came back?" exclaimed peter, springing up indignantly. "well, don't you care. we're here now and i'm sure ozma would want us to help you. we'll just fly on snif's back to baffleburg and snatch her away from this bandit."
"i'm afraid you have never heard of mogodore," interrupted the baron, shaking his head despairingly. "no one has ever entered the city of baffleburg or returned alive from mogodore's mountain."
"if that is so, we'll be the first; to tame this wretch or know the worst,"
roared the iffin, coming to his feet with a bound.
"i guess you never heard of peter," said jack pumpkinhead, rising with great dignity. "this boy"--he waved impressively in peter's direction--"has just conquered the entire city of scares and the last time he was in oz he saved the emerald city from the gnome king."
while belfaygor looked incredulously at the little boy, jack told of their morning's experiences in chimneyville and scare city.
"have you still got the pirate's sack?" asked belfaygor, forgetting to clip his beard in his extreme interest and astonishment. "that magic dinner bell--what is it? do you suppose you could carry us all to baffleburg?" eagerly he turned to snif. the iffin raised both of his powerful wings and shook his head confidently, while jack held up the dinner bell and peter showed the famous sack.
"we'll be there in no time," cried peter, "and with all this magic i don't see how mogodore can conquer us, do you?"
belfaygor was so cheered and encouraged by this little speech that he dropped both pairs of shears and embraced peter upon the spot.
"you shall be knighted for this, my boy," he promised. "you, too," he added, pressing jack's wooden fingers earnestly.
"what about me?" inquired snif, raising a claw solemnly.
"if this keeps up we'll all be knighted; sir jack! sir pete, why am i slighted?"
"you're not," promised belfaygor, quickly picking up his shears and beginning to snip furiously. "you'll be knighted, too."
"well, if you insist," murmured the iffin in a mollified tone, "but i won't wear armor. come on knights," he called gaily, "for night is coming on and if we're to reach baffleburg before dark we'd better start now."
the very name of baffleburg gave peter a thrill. more interested and excited than he had been since his arrival in oz, he helped jack to mount the iffin's back and hurriedly seated himself behind him. belfaygor came next with his back to peter, so his beard would not blow in the little boy's face, and after a glance back to see that his riders were safe and comfortable, snif spread his great wings and soared aloft, flying straight toward the red mountains peter had seen in the distance. as they rose higher and higher belfaygor found it no longer necessary to ply his shears, and his bright red beard streamed like a waving banner behind them. the poor baron was glad indeed for this rest, for he had been clipping steadily since early morning and already had blisters on both thumbs. now and then, when his beard seemed in danger of catching in a tree or winding about a castle tower, he would snip it off short again and peter and jack would watch it float away, like some strange red cloud.
flying was such an exhilarating experience that peter forgot all about the dangerous adventure that lay ahead and the forbidding aspect of mogodore's mountain did not trouble him at all. as they drew closer, he could see the city of baffleburg, its turreted forts, and its castle and strong houses seeming to spring from the rock itself. stretching round the mountain there was a yawning chasm and at the foot was a towered fortress and drawbridge over which mogodore and his men crossed the chasm when they made war on the barons below. red capped warriors stood in each embrasure of the fort and guards marched stiffly to and fro upon the city walls. the grim red castle clung to the rocks, halfway up the mountain and gave mogodore a splendid view of the whole valley beneath.
"if i fly too near, a golden spear may interrupt our flight; so let's descend and mix a little stratagem with might."
muttered the iffin, coasting cautiously downward.
"stratagem's a big word," sighed jack pumpkinhead. "what does it mean?"
"a plan to confuse the enemy," explained peter as the iffin's feet touched the rocky ground on the other side of the chasm. "we must find the best place to drop into the city, the best way to use the pirate's sack and the quickest plan for finding the princess."
belfaygor was the first to dismount. throwing his beard impatiently over his shoulder, he frowned gloomily up at mogodore's mountain. now that they were really before the city of baffleburg, the cheerful plans and hopes of peter and the iffin seemed wild and impractical. the longer he looked the more impossible they seemed, and resting his hand heavily on peter's shoulder he begged the little boy to continue his journey to the emerald city and leave him to deal with the wicked mountain chief.
"the iffin can carry me into the city," sighed belfaygor, "but i cannot let you share in the awful perils of this undertaking." if peter had not been in oz, or addressing a baron, he might have answered, "applesauce." but feeling that such a word would only puzzle this dignified nobleman, he seated himself on the nearest rock and looked curiously across the chasm.
"i should think," mused peter, "that the best plan would be to fly into the city under cover of darkness and drop into the castle courtyard. once inside, i will open the pirate's sack and when it has swallowed mogodore and all the fighting men we can safely search for the princess and escape."
"how do you know the sack won't swallow her too?" questioned belfaygor uneasily.
"because," said peter looking up at the tallest tower in the castle, "i believe she's locked up there. they always lock the princess up in the tower," he finished confidently.
"you think of everything." jack pumpkinhead stared down at the little boy admiringly and snif, who had been scouting around for a stray geranium, waved an approving claw at peter.
"if that's the plan, let's have a bite; and quietly stay here till night!"
"but what shall we eat?" said belfaygor, clipping at his whiskers despondently. jack chuckled at this, and drawing out the red jinn's bell rang it imperiously. at once the little black slave, bearing his silver tray, appeared before them. placing the tray on peter's knees he faded out of sight so suddenly that belfaygor dropped his shears with a clatter. though he had heard about the magic dinner bell the unexpected appearance of the dinner quite upset him.
"you take this one," said peter generously, "and if you sit with your back to the chasm and throw your beard over your shoulder it will grow down into the opening and let you eat in peace."
"how can i ever thank you?" exclaimed the baron, seating himself as the little boy suggested. "odds pasties, this looks most tempting!" with a long, tremulous sigh, belfaygor fell upon the appetizing repast of roast beef and plum pudding. then jack rang the bell again and the slave appeared with a tray for peter. he was about to ring up another dinner for snif but the iffin shook his head.
"i've had enough for one day," he told them firmly, "and if peter will give me that bunch of violets, everything will be perfectly perk!" as an extra touch a small bunch of violets had been placed beside peter's dinner plate. tossing them gaily to the iffin and thinking as he did so how curious it was for so huge a beast to dine upon flowers, peter started in on his own dinner. with both hands clasped behind him, jack watched the sun sink down behind the grim red mountain, and peter and belfaygor were so hungry that neither spoke till all the plates on their trays were empty. then, with a satisfied sigh, peter stood up and as the trays disappeared began looking around for snif. but there was no sign of the iffin anywhere!
"oh!" gasped peter anxiously, forgetting for the moment that snif could fly, "he must have fallen into the chasm." calling to jack and the baron, he started to run along the edge of the ravine, striking impatiently at a small creature that kept beating its wings in his face. he thought he had brushed it aside when, with an angry screech, it fastened its claws in his shoulder.
"if you hit me again, i'll bite your ear; attention! pause! stop! look and hear!"
at the familiar verses, peter did stop, and glancing down he saw a creature no bigger than a squirrel perched on his shoulder.
"it's me," wailed a desperate voice, as the tiny beast leaned over and rubbed its head against his cheek.
"those violets," it choked bitterly, "those violets were shrinking violets, peter. look at me! i've shrunk! i might just as well throw myself away."
"don't," gulped peter, as the iffin started to hurl itself from his shoulder. "i like you little."
"well i like him big," announced jack unfeelingly. "and who's to carry us over the chasm now, may i ask?"
"oh!" groaned belfaygor, tripping over his whiskers after one horrified look at the little monster, "everything is over! everything is over now!"
"so's your old beard," mumbled jack in an annoyed voice. picking up the shears belfaygor had dropped he cut length after length from the enchanted red beard, while the baron continued to wring his hands and groan and peter tried in vain to comfort the iffin.
"i'll wager that old jinn did this on purpose," declared jack indignantly. "i'll ring that dumb-bell again and the boy's neck, too!"
"it wasn't his fault," put in peter, lifting snif from his shoulder and thoughtfully stroking the small red head. "i don't suppose those violets were meant to be eaten."
"if i only hadn't eaten them," wailed the iffin, as two tears rolled down his cheeks. "you've no idea how it feels to shrink, boys.
"why did i eat those violets? i feel so sil and small! i'm just an elf, i'm not myself, i'm just no one at all!"
"oh, yes you are," peter reassured him hastily. "why look, you'll fit right in my pocket and i'll carry you for a change and when we reach the emerald city the wizard of oz will soon make you large again."
"are we to reach the emerald city?" inquired jack, looking up from snipping belfaygor's beard. "and how do you know you won't shrink yourself?"
peter turned a little pale at jack's question.
"the baron and i didn't eat any violets," he answered, swallowing hastily.
"yes, but how are we to cross the chasm?" belfaygor, taking the shears from jack, rolled his eyes sadly at peter.
"we'll just have to think of some other way," said peter, staring off at mogodore's mountain. "let's all think."
"i can only think of poor little shirley sunshine, locked up in that dismal tower," retorted belfaygor despondently.
"i can only think how far it must be to the bottom of this crevice," muttered jack, looking sadly down into the ravine.
"it looks to me as if we'd have to do all the thinking for this party," murmured snif, flying up on peter's shoulder. "never mind, i still can think, even if i am little.
"if i do a little thinking and i think a little bit, if there's any way to cross it, why i'll surely think of it!"
"i'm glad you can still make verses," said peter with a sigh. "it helps, and makes things seem a little less awful."
"yes," said the iffin, resting his cheek against peter's. the sun had dropped down behind the red castle and in the gray light of early evening the grim city on the rocks looked more forbidding than ever. great black crows circled about the towers and turrets and their hoarse crys drifted like threatening jeers across the chasm.
"if we had an ax," said peter gloomily, "we might chop down a tree on the edge of the chasm so it would fall across." he was just wondering whether the ravine was narrow enough to jump at any point, when snif gave a little bounce and, flying off his shoulder, announced shrilly: "i have thought of a way! we'll cross on the baron's beard!"
"you mean grow across?" asked jack pumpkinhead doubtfully.
"impossible!" roared belfaygor, throwing up his shears and hands indignantly. "wouldst jerk out my whiskers? besides they grow down and not up."
"pause!" holding up one claw, the iffin looked solemnly from one to the other. "first," explained snif quietly, "belfaygor must walk three times around a tree. that will make his beard fast and keep it from pulling. then i will take the end of the beard in my claws, fly across the chasm and fasten it to a tree on the other side. then when peter and jack have crossed, the baron can snip off the beard close to his chin and cross himself in safety. what think you of that, my brave comrades?"
"why, that's a perfectly splendid idea!" cried peter, jumping up enthusiastically. "how ever did you think of it?"
"well," snif reminded him gaily, "for five years i did nothing but think--so thinking comes easy to me. how about it baron, will you lend us your beard?"
"yes," answered belfaygor readily enough, now that he had heard the iffin's plan, "even if it hurts i will do it. i'll do anything to save shirley sunshine from that villainous bandit."
"then everything's settled!" cried peter, who hated delay or inactivity of any kind. "let's start!"
"not now," said the iffin, shaking his little head seriously. "we must wait till morning peter. as i cannot carry you all up to the castle itself, you will have to climb over the rocks and cliffs to the city gates. this will be bad enough by daylight, but impossible at night."
"that's so," agreed peter regretfully.
"and what's to become of us when we reach the city gates?" quavered jack in a hollow voice. "will not these baffleburghers impale us upon their spears?"
"oh, i hope not," muttered the iffin, settling down on peter's shoulder, "but we'll have to take a chance on it. my guess is that the guards will seize and carry you to mogodore. once in mogodore's presence, peter can open the sack, and after the sack swallows everyone, we'll find the princess and return to the capitol on foot."
"what about my beard?" asked belfaygor nervously. "if they make us prisoners and take away my shears, we'll all be smothered."
"well, so will they," snif reminded him philosophically, "and that will be some comfort." already snif seemed to have forgotten his dreadful mishap and to have recovered his former good spirits, and under the influence of the merry little monster the whole party grew quite cheerful and gay.
"come along," he called, flying on ahead. "let's find some place to sleep. is that a cave i see over there?"
back among the rocks at the foot of a tall cliff there was a cave, sure enough, and peter, after a little exploring, decided it would be just the place in which to spend the night. lengths cut from belfaygor's beard and piled on the floor made splendid mattresses and, as jack pumpkinhead required no rest, he offered to stand guard at the entrance. the baron himself lay with his head just outside the cave, and the obliging pumpkinhead promised to cut his beard from time to time and see that it did not choke up the opening, nor suffocate the sleepers. so much had happened since peter fell into the pumpkin field, he was weary as a walrus and glad enough to rest. by the time the moon had climbed to the top of mogodore's mountain, he was fast asleep, the iffin curled cozily in the bend of his arm, and soon only the snores of belfaygor and the snip of jack's shears broke the deep dark silence of the night.
while peter and his friends rested in their hidden cave, the lights in the castle across the chasm burned far into the night, as the baron of baffleburg sat in converse with wagarag, his chief steward and major domo. biggen and little, the baron's body guards, dozed stiffly at their posts behind his chair, while the huge hunting dogs snored upon the hearthstones. flaring torches, set in stone holders in the wall, flung a flickering light into the dim corners of the great stone hall. bear rugs were strewn about the flagged floor; swords, daggers and glittering armor hung upon the walls and the furniture, the carved chests, tables and chairs were big and clumsy, like the owner of the castle himself.
with his chin resting in the palm of his hand, mogodore stared moodily into the fire, but wagarag, a thin anxious little baffleburgher, moved about restlessly, straightening a tapestry here, a table cover there, and never still for a moment.
"if i only knew what was in that miserable flagon," muttered the baron for about the fiftieth time. "if i only knew! why must it be hidden? why is it forbidden? what would happen if i broke the seal?"
"buttered billygoats," spluttered wagarag impatiently. "on the very eve of your wedding must you still worry about that wretched flask? can you think of nothing but that miserable flagon?"
flicking at a bit of gold dust on the mantel, wagarag paused in exasperation before his master.
"if your father and grandfather before you were able to guard and keep it safely why cannot you let it rest where no one will discover its secret? is it not written in the book of baffleburg that if aught disturbs the seal on the forbidden flagon, or one drop of the contents spills, a dreadful disaster will befall? are you not mogodore the mighty, slayer of an hundred bears, subduer of an hundred barons and lord of this mountain? have you not stolen for your bride the loveliest princess in the valley? pray dismiss this mischievous flagon from your mind. think of something else," begged wagarag earnestly.
"something pleasant, this princess for instance."
wagarag clasped his hands and rolled his eyes upward. "a beauteous damsel, if i may be permitted to say so!"
"but she refuses to marry me," growled mogodore, crossing his legs irritably.
"what difference does that make," sniffed wagarag, poking the fire energetically. "your word is law in baffleburg. marry her anyway!"
"but i can't understand it," breathed mogodore, taking up a mirror that lay on the arm of his chair and surveying himself long and earnestly. the reflection in the mirror stared as earnestly back, but mogodore could see nothing amiss with the red face, bristling black whiskers and hair, small blue eyes, great nose and crooked mouth that confronted him. "no, it cannot be my looks," grunted the baron, setting down the mirror. "what does this precious princess want?" he demanded fretfully.
"why not ask her?" suggested wagarag, prodding biggen and little vigorously in the ribs. "here, you lazy rogues, fetch down the princess from the tower!"
"mayhap the princess sleepeth," mumbled biggen, rubbing his eyes and yawning terrifically.
"then wakeneth her and bringeneth her thither," commanded wagarag, giving biggen a push and little a poke.
but the princess, as you may well imagine, was far from sleeping. pacing restlessly up and down the small tower room, she was trying to think of some way to escape, and when biggen and little thumped on the door and explained that her presence was desired below, she went readily enough, hoping it might give her another chance to plead with the baron for her liberty, or wheedle the guards into releasing her. but biggen and little paid small attention to her entreaties. roughly thrusting back the ruby necklace she offered if they would help her slip out of the castle, they picked her up bodily and carried her down to their master.
"well!" exclaimed mogodore, as shirley sunshine drew herself up proudly against one of the great stone pillars, "do you still refuse to marry me?"
"of course," answered the little princess haughtily. "release me at once or my father and belfaygor will come and destroy you utterly."
"destroy me!" roared the baron, with an evil wink at wagarag. "do you not know that i am mogodore the mighty, boldest of all the barons and lord of this mountain?"
"only one mountain," said the princess shaking back her long brown curls scornfully. "if you are as mighty as you pretend, i should think you'd conquer several."
"there are no more mountains worth conquering," stormed mogodore, thumping the arm of his chair with his fist, "and you know that well enough."
"yes, but there are other countries," said the princess haughtily. seeing the baron give a surprised start, and realizing that he was as vain as he was cruel, shirley decided to flatter her villainous conqueror and delay the wedding by any trick or plan she could manage. "if i had your strength and fighting ability, i'd conquer and keep on conquering until i was a king," said the princess, with an imperious gesture.
"would you like me better if i were a king?" asked mogodore, leaning forward eagerly. the princess nodded so emphatically that her curls danced briskly to and fro and with a cry that shook the very rafters mogodore leaped out of his chair.
"then i'll be a king!" he shouted exuberantly. "i'll march across the red mountains, capture the emerald city, depose this foolish little fairy ozma and proclaim myself king of oz."
"better let well enough alone," cautioned wagarag, running anxiously after his master, who was striding excitedly up and down the hearth. "there is a wizard in the emerald city who is exceedingly powerful and ozma herself is a practiced magician."
"puff on their magic," cried mogodore, snapping his fingers contemptuously. "how can ozma, who is small and weak, overcome a big fellow like me? nay--argue not. i'll conquer the emerald city and be a king, king mogodore the first of oz. i wonder i never thought of it myself. you're going to be a great help to me, my dear!"
pausing before the princess, mogodore patted her clumsily on the head. "and what's more, you shall accompany me to the capitol, see this capturing done, be married in the emerald city and crowned with ozma's crown," he promised recklessly. "but now you must have some rest, for we'll start to-morrow morning.
"see that i'm called early," he blustered, shaking his finger at wagarag. "see that my fighting men are roused at daybreak," he roared, knocking the heads of biggen and little smartly together. "when i'm king of oz i can open that forbidden flagon," he confided hoarsely, leaning down to whisper in wagarag's ear.
"no more of this wretched wondering. what will baffleburg matter when i'm king of the realm? i'll put an end to this unbearable mystery. this princess has brought me luck. come, kiss me little one!"
but shirley sunshine, with a horrified glance at the boisterous baron, picked up her skirts and fled from the room.
"see that she does not escape," rumbled mogodore indulgently, and biggen and little, clattering after the princess, locked her securely in the tower. alone in the comfortless room, the captive princess leaned against the barred windows and, fixing her eyes upon one steadfast star, wondered how long it would be before belfaygor or her father came to rescue her. her heart sank at the thought of this cruel baron marching upon the emerald city, laying waste its parks and palaces and enslaving all of its gay and gentle inhabitants. terrified by the frightful forces she had set in motion, the tired little princess threw herself upon the hard bed and cried herself to sleep.
below in the castle hall, wagarag endeavored to turn the baron from his audacious purpose. "listen not to this mischievous maiden," begged the steward. "stay here where you are known and powerful. it is better to be a ruler among fools than a fool among rulers. many have attempted to conquer the kingdom of oz--not one has succeeded."
"then i will be the first," boasted mogodore and, snatching a broad sword from the wall, he swung it expertly round his head. "shine up your shin guards, waggy old lad, for you're going with me and i hereby appoint you royal chancellor of oz! keeper of the king's custard and imperial purveyor of puddings!"
laughing uproariously, mogodore brought the flat of his sword down with a resounding thwack upon the thin shoulders of his disapproving steward.
"come to bed, dunce!" he cried good naturedly. "you mean well, but know nothing."
"at least i know my place," muttered wagarag, shaking his head gloomily. "we both belong on this mountain and no good will come of this expedition."
"you forget the flagon," exulted mogodore. "i shall at last know the secret of the forbidden flagon."
"have it your own way," sighed wagarag, with a resigned shrug. "but don't blame me if we're all turned to sticks by the wizard of oz and thrown into the fire."
"ha! ha!" shouted mogodore, more amused than frightened by this terrible threat. "you'll make a splendid stick, old fellow." laughing noisily, the bad, bold baron tramped cheerfully off to bed.
a strange, shrill squeaking wakened peter next morning, and starting up he saw that it was the iffin. sitting on a flat stone, the tiny monster was practising his gr--rrs. "if only i could growl again, i wouldn't mind my size," mourned snif, looking sadly up at peter. "can't fight! can't growl! a fine fix for a fabulous monster!"
"but you can think," answered peter cheerfully. "and you're free. just wait till we've conquered this silly old baron and come to the emerald city. you'll be a sure-enough griffin then. but i kinda like you little," he added loyally, "and i should think it would be rather an interesting experience."
"well," acknowledged the iffin, scratching his ear reflectively with his third hind claw, "at least it will be something to tell my grandchildren, if i ever have any grandchildren." raising his voice to a tiny roar he rushed to the front of the cave calling loudly, "what ho without!"
"i do not see a hoe of any kind," answered jack pumpkinhead blandly. "but the sun is up and the wind is changing and unless we move away from here we'll be buried in whiskers."
stepping outside peter saw a red mound as huge as ten hay stacks rolled into one. all night jack had faithfully cut belfaygor's beard and raked the cut lengths neatly together, but now the wind was whirling the top off the stack and filling the air with a blinding tangle of red strands. hastily waking the baron, the four adventurers hurried to the other side of the cliff and watched the great red cloud sweep into the chasm.
"and now to beard this baron in his den," proposed snif, swinging himself gaily back and forward on the branches of a small tree.
"yes, let us be off at once," sighed belfaygor, taking the shears from jack and starting in on his weary work of clipping.
"let's have breakfast," suggested peter, who was always hungriest in the morning. "ring the old bell jack."
"then goodbye," quavered snif, flying into the air. "i'll be back when those trays have disappeared and not before. no more magic repasts for me!"
while peter and belfaygor breakfasted royally on beef steak and fried potatoes, snif nibbled daintily at the red honeysuckle that clung to the rocks and muttered little iffish verses to himself.
"have you ever been to baffleburg," asked peter, after the trays had vanished and snif came back to perch upon his shoulder. "is it so very dangerous?"
"i have flown over mogodore's mountain many times," said snif thoughtfully, "and from what i have seen, it must be pretty bad.
"but if we stick together and most bravely persevere, this mountain's dangers we'll surmount and tweak yon bandit's ears!"
"no tweaking," advised jack pumpkinhead nervously. "let us just sack the city and leave."
"all right," agreed snif good naturedly, "but we can't leave till we start, so let's get started." he looked inquiringly at belfaygor and belfaygor, after a nervous glance across the chasm, stepped to a tree on the edge of the ravine and walked solemnly three times round, till his beard was securely fastened. now that the time for action had come, the adventurers said little. belfaygor stood proudly erect, waiting for his beard to grow long enough to stretch across the chasm and soon it did, and snif, taking the ends in his claws, flew over the deep ravine and fastened the beard tightly to a tree on the other side. now, all was ready and peter, dropping boldly over the edge, swung himself skillfully across on the swinging red cable. he dared not look down and once safely over watched uneasily while jack pulled himself across.
"whatever you do, don't lose your head," breathed peter, leaning forward nervously. halfway over, jack's wooden fingers almost lost their hold, and his pumpkin head spun about upon its peg, but snif, flying valiantly to the rescue, held it in place and, when at last jack came near enough for peter to reach, he clutched both wooden arms and dragged jack thankfully to safety. belfaygor now clipped off his beard close to the chin and crossed himself without mishap or difficulty.
the first step of the dangerous undertaking had been made in safety but straight ahead was a steep wall of rock. if it had not been for belfaygor's beard they would never have been able to scale this dreadful precipice. but snif, taking the beard in his claws, flew up till he found a boulder or sturdy sapling. then, winding the beard several times round, he would signal to belfaygor who would immediately snip off his end of the beard and climb expertly up the swinging rope. peter, hoisting himself up after him, could not help but think what a splendid alpine guide the baron would make. but jack, tremblingly following peter, resolved that if ever he reached the emerald city again he would stay peaceably at home for the rest of his unnatural life.
in this interesting but perilous fashion they finally reached the top of the cliff, only to find the gates of the city still farther up. a rocky opening into a narrow tunnel apparently led directly to baffleburg and, with many misgivings, the travellers entered the tunnel. although it was dark and clammy inside and exceedingly rough underfoot, they reached the end without trouble. in the dim murky light peter saw a wooden door with an iron ring in the center. he was about to grasp the ring, when the tunnel, without any warning, tipped downward and shot them headlong from the opening. snatching at a tree just in time, peter saved himself from pitching over the precipice. belfaygor's beard, catching on a jagged rock, saved him and fortunately the baron had hold of jack. his head did bounce off, but by some miracle rolled into a hollow in the rocks. snif went over the edge of the cliff, but spreading his wings flew back to safety.
"something else to tell my grandchildren," grumbled the iffin, shaking himself angrily, while peter hastily recovered jack's pumpkin head and put it back where it belonged. "i'll pay him up for that slide. come on boys, let's try it again. can a trick tunnel hold us back now?"
peter looked inquiringly at belfaygor and belfaygor clipping a length from his beard looked doubtfully at peter but jack, holding his head with both hands, expressed in no uncertain terms his complete unwillingness to ever enter the treacherous tunnel again.
"but we must go on," said snif stubbornly:
"if we will just consider, we'll find some simple way to tread this tipsy tunnel, and we'll try it, come what may!"
"well i'm not may, and i think the way we came was simple enough," complained jack. "i never felt more simple in my life, and look at the dent in my head!"
"maybe if we run through as fast as we can and get hold of the iron ring in the door before the tunnel tilts we won't spill out," suggested peter, examining a long scratch on his knee. "i'll go first," he volunteered gamely, "and all of you can hold on to me." snif and belfaygor immediately approved of this plan and jack finally, not desiring to be left, consented to go. first peter put snif in his pocket, then belfaygor caught hold of peter's coat-tails and jack caught hold of belfaygor's. taking a long breath, peter dashed into the tunnel and never, even when he was making a home run, had he sprinted along any faster, jack and the baron clattering along as best they could behind him.
just as peter reached the tunnel end and grasped the iron ring, the tunnel tipped a second time. but peter hung on to the ring and the others hung on to peter. several coat seams ripped, but when the tunnel finally righted itself they were still inside. before it could tilt again, peter turned the ring, opened the wooden door and stepped into a large cobble-stone courtyard.
straight ahead rose the grim gray walls and buttressed towers of baffleburg. as they tip-toed nearer, they could hear the sharp ring of horses' hoofs on the other side of the wall.
"shall i fly over and see what's going on?" asked snif, fluttering excitedly out of peter's pocket.
"no! no!" begged the little boy hurriedly. "let's all stay together. i'll ring that bell over the city gates and when the guards carry us to mogodore we'll open the sack as we planned!" running forward, peter seized the chain attached to a huge bell over the gates and gave it a tremendous pull. it was impossible to see into baffleburg, as the gates were backed with panels of wood and the walls themselves were high as sky scrapers. as the wild clanging of the bell died away, the four adventurers drew closer together. but nothing at all happened. again peter jerked the iron chain but still no one came to open the gates.
"they refuse to admit us," puffed belfaygor, with a furious clip at his whiskers. "what now?" before they had time to decide upon any plan, four towers rising from the city's walls suddenly tilted downward, and shooting from their tops came a perfect shower of golden spears. throwing themselves flat upon the cobbles, peter and his companions managed to escape injury. time and again the tilting towers rose and fell, spraying the courtyard with spears. by crawling close to the walls and lying perfectly flat, the four adventurers were able to keep out of their way, but as peter reflected gloomily, they could not lie under the wall forever. he was considering whether or not to open the pirate's sack and see if it would swallow the spears, when belfaygor touched him on the shoulder.
"when the tower nearest me tilts again, i shall jump in the window," whispered the baron. "you and jack must follow. by keeping directly under the tower you will avoid the spears."
"wait!" gasped peter, horrified at belfaygor's daring scheme. but belfaygor, shaking his head determinedly, leaped to his feet, and as the tower came tilting down he plunged headfirst into the window nearest to the ground.
"hooka-ma-roosters!" choked the iffin. "how did he do that?"
"how are we to do it?" panted peter, as all four towers shot up into place again. motionless and terrified they waited for them to descend, but the baffleburghers, evidently deciding that their visitors were utterly routed, had turned off the machinery and all four towers stopped tilting. there was no possible way into the city now, and completely baffled peter stared angrily up at the thick gray walls.
"now i'll have to fly over," muttered snif nervously. "maybe i can open the gates."
"a signal!" called jack suddenly. "a signal! squash and turnip tops! it's belfaygor's beard!" looking where jack pointed, peter and the iffin saw belfaygor himself outlined in the window of the nearest tower. and pouring over the sill and growing steadily downward were the wonderful and ever dependable red whiskers.
"we can climb his beard," cried peter excitedly. "come on, it's almost long enough!" this was evidently what belfaygor intended, for when they looked again, they could see him twining his beard round a huge spike on the sill. then he waved his hand, and peter, tightening his belt, climbed boldly aloft, looking back now and then to call encouragement to jack pumpkinhead. in less than a minute they were all safely inside the tower, for the iffin had flown up with no trouble at all. the tower room was cheerless and without furniture. a spiral stairway in the center led downward. at the thought of conquering another city, peter's impatience and excitement grew. if only some of the boys could be along, or his grandfather! he tried to picture belfaygor's amazement when the pirate's sack should come into action, and seizing the baron's arm fairly dragged him to the stair.
"i suppose if we go down these steps we'll come out in the courtyard, for this certainly is the fort," puffed peter, clattering ahead.
"all we do is climb up and down," groaned jack pumpkinhead. "i'll bet it's a million steps to the bottom.
"oh, not that many," grinned peter, looking down at snif, who was comfortably seated on his shoulder. quietly cutting his beard belfaygor stepped after peter and jack resignedly brought up at the end of the procession.
"now to get ourselves captured," whispered peter eagerly, as they finally reached the bottom of the stair.
"it should not be difficult," answered snif, who had flown ahead and now come back to rest on peter's shoulder. "behold! be bold! look! gaze and tremble!" stepping out of the dim tower into the courtyard of the fort, peter gave a little whistle of consternation and surprise. drawn up in glittering rows were a thousand mounted men in armor, each holding a golden spear.
"something's afoot here," muttered belfaygor behind his waving whiskers.
"you mean ahorse, don't you?" corrected jack, straightening his head and dusting a cobweb off his chin. "is that sack quite ready peter?" peter nodded and as one of the armored riders caught sight of the intruders and galloped furiously forward, he called boldly, "conduct us to your chief. we have important tidings to impart."
"impart them to me," ordered the horseman, lifting his visor and frowning down at the little boy. "impart them to me, or i'll prick ye over yon wall."
"if you so much as raise your spear. i'll bite your nose, i'll chew your ear! you'll vanish, melt and disappear. we're all magicians, do you hear?"
shrieked the iffin, flying in dizzy circles about the rider's head.
"avaunt varlet," rasped belfaygor, tossing his beard over his shoulder with a lordly gesture, "our business is with your master!" the circling little iffin, the strange appearance of jack pumpkinhead and the wildly waving whiskers of belfaygor all tended to bewilder the horseman. for a moment he hesitated, then galloping back, conferred anxiously with one of his companions. after much head shaking and arm waving, they both rode forward, and beckoning for the travellers to follow them, trotted briskly under a stone archway that led up to the town itself.
"that was easy," chuckled peter, trudging gaily after the mailed riders. "they think we're magicians, snif."
"we'll have to be to get out of here," muttered the little monster uneasily. "be careful, boy, be carefuller than careful!"
"every step brings us nearer to the princess," said belfaygor, tripping over his beard and fixing his eyes hopefully on the castle tower. but it was many weary steps to the palace, and the one cobbled street of baffleburg was both steep and narrow. red stone cottages perched on the cliffs at either side, and now and then a curious head was stuck out, as the little procession went pounding by. but at last they came to the red gates of the castle itself, and after a short parley with the guards were admitted. leaving their horses in the courtyard, the two warriors hustled their charges into the baronial hall of the mountain chief. looking around the great hall, peter decided that it was just the kind of castle he had always dreamed of owning. his eyes shone as they rested on the jewelled swords and armor that decorated the walls. but he was quickly brought back to the dangerous business in hand by the stern voice of their guide.
"magicians with an important message to impart," announced the first man, dipping his spear in a salute to mogodore. in full fighting regalia, the baron of baffleburg sat at a long table in the center of the hall, poring over an old map of oz and trying to decide at what point to attack the capitol. back of him stood wagarag, in a hastily assembled armor of iron pots and sauce pans. next to wagarag lounged bragga, captain of the guard and smerker, chief scorner of the realm.
"magicians!" rumbled mogodore looking up impatiently. "that accounts for them getting into the city. magicians, eh! well they look like a pack of peddlars. scorn them," he ordered, contemptuously jerking his thumb at smerker. now peter had never been scorned in his life and wanted to see how it was done. so instead of immediately opening the pirate's sack he stood staring curiously at smerker. leaning forward, the chief scorner seized a key-like handle that seemed to be attached to his nose and turned it straight upward. at the same time he curled back his lips in a truly astonishing manner.
"ho! ha! ha!" roared snif, holding on to peter with both claws:
"if this be scorning, we are scorned! with what a nose he is adorned."
peter felt like laughing himself, but the chief scorner, paying no attention at all to the iffin, now snatched a sauce box from his sleeve and opening it with a quick jerk, held it out toward the travellers. immediately the sauce box began to scold and berate them in the most harsh and abusive terms making more noise than a dozen radios and filling the air with such a horrid racket that peter covered his ears and the others, without meaning to, backed toward the door. satisfied that his chief scorner had subdued the intruders, mogodore motioned for smerker to close the sauce box.
"now throw them out," he barked with a wave at bragga. "i've wasted too much time already." but as bragga stepped forward to obey this command, belfaygor, snipping a long piece from his beard stepped boldly up to the baron and thumping his fist on the table demanded in a loud voice, "what have you done with my princess? where is shirley sunshine?"
boldened by this spirited action, jack pumpkinhead stepped up beside him. "release this maiden at once, you rude, rash robber, you--you princess snapper," he cried.
"have the sack ready, quick," whispered snif to peter, as mogodore stared angrily at the strange pair.
"so that's it," grunted the baron of baffleburg. "i see now that you are belfaygor of bourne, hiding like a coward behind false whiskers. well, you shall not marry this princess, for she is to marry me--mogodore the mighty!"
"mighty what?" inquired jack pumpkinhead curiously.
"mighty mighty, you impertinent fool, mighty important you ridiculous pumpkin head. smite him," bellowed the baron with a wrathful wave at jack. "remove this whiskered pest," he roared in the next breath with another wave at belfaygor.
"so you're mogodore the smite-y. well don't you dare smite me," challenged jack, shaking his wooden fist under mogodore's nose. "there stands peter, the pitcher from philadelphia. on his shoulder sits a fabulous monster who may devour you any minute."
as mogodore, rather startled by this long rigamarole, half rose in his chair, jack vigorously rang the red jinn's bell and down upon the table flashed the little black slave, set down his tray and vanished. mogodore's retainers screamed with fright, and the baron himself blinked with astonishment, but when jack rang the bell a second time, biggen and little sprang forward and seized the little slave by the wrists. in a twinkling the slave disappeared. biggen and little, also disappeared.
"you see," quavered jack in a slightly unsteady voice, "i am a great magician!"
"then bring back my guards," yelled mogodore, stamping his foot furiously.
"give back my princess," retorted belfaygor just as furiously. thinking it about time to put an end to this dangerous discussion, peter pulled the pirate's sack from his shoulders and was about to unfasten the cord, when he was seized suddenly from behind and both arms pinioned closely to his sides.
"this pitcher's trying some more magic tricks," panted the spearman indignantly. he had crept up quietly behind peter, and in spite of the little boy's struggles, mogodore's big soldier held him fast.
"we hang pitchers on the wall here!" boomed mogodore, glaring fiercely at peter. (i regret to say the big baron did not know the difference between picture and pitcher.) "hold that pitcher--seize that whiskered rascal and behead that pumpkinheaded dunce! enough of this nonsense. when i return from the emerald city i'll make them produce biggen and little and behead them all!" promised mogodore, striding up and down with a great clash and clatter of armor. "is princess shirley ready? i wait for no man and precious few women!"
"i will see, your highness!" touching the iron pot he was wearing for a helmet, wagarag hurried from the hall and while peter in helpless rage looked on, bragga seized belfaygor, the other spearman caught jack and flung him across the center table and unfeelingly struck off his head. such was the force of the blow, jack's pumpkin bounced to the floor, rolled through a tapestry-curtained door and disappeared. at this dreadful turn of affairs, peter gave a groan and snif almost succeeded in growling, but being unable to open the pirate's sack they were completely at the mercy of mogodore and his men.
"lock them up on the north tower till my return, and know that i will return a king," boasted mogodore, placing his hand proudly upon the hilt of his sword. "we march upon the emerald city this very morning, i'll marry shirley sunshine in the capitol and be crowned king of oz before night fall."
"what!" gasped peter, scarcely believing his ears.
"you'll be sorry for this," bawled belfaygor, slashing with his shears at the captain of the guard. poor jack said nothing, for without a head what could he say? threatening and struggling, peter and belfaygor were dragged off to the dungeons in the north tower, snif doing what he could to release them by biting and scratching the hands and faces of the guards, but he was too little to help much and both were securely locked up. in his struggle with the spearman, peter had dropped the pirate sack, and exhausted and discouraged he sank down on the stone bench in his dark little dungeon. the window was high above his head and let in only a feeble ray of light and the stone cell so small he could touch both sides by extending his arms. snif had come with him, but belfaygor had been locked in a dungeon higher up in the tower. things certainly had not gone as planned--in fact they were in worse plight than anyone could have imagined.
"isn't this doggone?" groaned peter glumly. "jack's lost his head, i've lost the sack and belfaygor will probably smother in whiskers! if someone doesn't warn ozma, the emerald city will be taken in no time. there's only one knight and one soldier in the palace and the soldier can't fight at all. if ozma doesn't know mogodore is coming, so that she and the wizard can start up their magic, they'll all be captured and the whole city destroyed. i wonder whatever put the notion of conquering oz in mogodore's head? darn! doggone! i wish i could get out of here!" doubling up his fists, peter pounded on the dungeon door.
"maybe i can squeeze through the bars and fly off to warn ozma of this villain's coming," said the iffin, but the bars were so close together that even snif could not slip through and in great discouragement the two prisoners sat side by side on the hard stone bench. presently ten shrill blasts from the bugles and the clatter of hoofs on the cobbles below told that mogodore had really started for the emerald city.
"now i'll never have any grandchildren," choked the iffin, a tear trickling off the end of his nose.
"and i'll never get back to philadelphia, or be an air mail pilot," sighed peter, clasping his hands behind his head and staring gloomily at the wall.
and i am sure each of you would have felt gloomy, if you had been in peter's plight.
as the rattle of hoofs and sound of bugles died away, peter, looking down at snif noticed that his eyes were growing larger and larger.
"stop!" breathed peter, nervously edging away and brushing his hand cross his forehead.
"stop what?" grunted the iffin crossly. "i'm not doing anything."
"but your eyes," screamed peter, edging still further away, "and your ears! why your ears are as big as you are. help! help! look out. are you going to explode?"
before snif could touch his ear with his claw or wonder what peter was yelling about, he expanded like a balloon, filling the entire dungeon and squeezing peter flat against the wall. the effect of the shrinking violets had worn off at last, and with the iffin rapidly reaching his former size and strength, there was not room in the box-like cell. to keep from crushing peter, he pressed against the bars of the dungeon. the force with which he shot up to his full and former size, tore the door from its hinges and bent out the bars like wax. while snif stood terrified and trembling with surprise, peter, with great presence of mind, pressed past him, slipped through the bent bars and unlocked the dungeon door.
"we're free," gasped the little boy, as snif tumbled head first from their cell. "we're free and you're big and strong again. we can fly to the emerald city right away and save ozma and everybody."
"if--i--ever--get--my--breath, you mean," wheezed snif, leaning against the wall and puffing like a porpoise. "wh--ew! growing up is almost as bad as shrinking down."
"did it hurt," asked peter, eyeing his friend with lively curiosity.
"well, not exactly," explained the iffin, raising first one foot and then the other, "but i've had lots more pleasant experiences. did i hurt you?"
"not much," said peter, feeling a bruise on his elbow where he had been pressed against the wall. "say, it's great to have you a monster again. don't ever eat another violet as long as you live."
"i never will," shuddered the iffin, shaking his head solemnly. "out of my way, lump!" pushing over a startled jailer who had run out to see what was the matter, snif rushed along the corridor.
"first we'll find belfaygor, then we'll hunt jack's head and the pirate's sack and next we'll fly to the capitol and put an end to mogodore's mischief. i can out-fly a thousand horses without even trying," boasted snif, pushing over another guard who darted out to intercept them.
"if i'd only opened that pirate's sack right away," puffed peter running to catch up with snif, "if i only had, all this would never have happened. goodness, what's this?"
"good news to me," chuckled snif galloping along gaily. "it is belfaygor's beard and will lead us straight to his dungeon." snif was right. trailing the flowing red whiskers of the baron, they came to the topmost cell in the tower. out from the dungeon bars poured the enchanted beard of belfaygor. belfaygor, himself was leaning against the door, too discouraged and unhappy to even clip them once. but when peter called him by name, and he saw snif grown to full size and power again, he snapped his shears joyfully and in a trembling voice demanded to know how they had come there.
"we burst our bars," cried peter exuberantly. "at least snif did." while the iffin brushed the torrent of whiskers aside, the little boy unlocked the dungeon door, and after a hearty embrace told the baron all that had happened. overjoyed at his release, belfaygor followed them down the grim tower corridors. each jailer who appeared was scornfully pushed aside by snif, and when they came to the bottom belfaygor and peter seated themselves on his back and snif rushed into the great stone hall of the castle. the few guards who had been left behind took to their heels as the iffin flew screaming over their heads, and with no one to bother them the three began a systematic search for jack's head. jack's body still sprawled over the center table. the top of his peg neck had been chopped off with his head, but whittling another point on the end, peter gently dragged the headless figure to a chair and sat him down. snif soon found the famous sack behind a screen, and remembering jack's pumpkin had rolled through the door, peter pushed aside the hanging and tip-toed into a long dim entry. it slanted slightly and peter hurried along looking anxiously to the right and left, but the pumpkin head was nowhere to be seen. the hallway was growing narrower every minute, curving round and round like a spiral slideway and leading continuously downward. peter was about to go back and call the others, when the moist nose of snif appeared round one of the curves back of him.
"what's this?" demanded the iffin. "and whither doth it lead?"
"i don't know," said peter, "but jack's head must have rolled down here and be lying somewhere at the bottom."
"then let us join it by all means," chuckled the iffin sitting down and sliding calmly after peter. "look out, here i come, and take this pirate's sack will you? it makes me positively shudder." peter reached back and relieved snif of the sack. above they could hear belfaygor treading cautiously down the hallway, but the curved passage soon grew so steep, peter and snif began to slip, roll and finally coast like children on a playground slide. "now you've done it," coughed the iffin as they finally somersaulted into a dark cellarway, lit by one feeble lantern. "out of one dungeon into another!"
"but there's jack's head!" cried peter, picking himself up joyfully. the sudden arrival of belfaygor immediately knocked him down again, but while the baron mumbled apologies, peter sprang to his feet, and hurrying over to the corner of the cellar pounced upon jack's pumpkin.
"oh jack, we've been so worried about you," said the little boy, holding the head tightly in both arms, "but now we'll soon fix you up and fly to the emerald city, for snif has grown big again and we've all escaped from the tower."
"so i see," observed jack as peter held his head toward the others. "and i'm very glad they chopped off my head and not yours, peter, for yours would not so easily be put back, and it's lucky they did chop it off too, for otherwise i would never have learned of the forbidden flagon."
"forbidden flagon!" exclaimed peter, sitting down on an overturned keg and staring earnestly down at jack's head. "what has that to do with us?"
"everything," confided jack mysteriously. "has mogodore started for the emerald city?" peter nodded and snif and belfaygor both drew nearer, while the little boy explained how they had escaped and how they were now about to fly to the capitol to warn ozma of mogodore's wicked intentions.
"but we must not go without that flagon," insisted jack, after listening attentively to peter's recital. "listen: as i was lying here a while ago, hoping that no rats would come to gnaw my fine features, or make a nest in my head, an armed guard came creeping up that ladder you see over in the darkest corner. as he did, another came sliding down from above, and stopping under the lantern they began to converse.
"'what a bitter waste of time it is, guarding this foolish flagon,' fumed the guard who had climbed the ladder. 'who ever could find their way to the enchanted cavern through the lost labyrinth, anyway?'
"'only one as knows the tricks,' grinned the fellow who had come down to relieve him. 'left turn left, and always left, and as for the enchanted cavern itself, bah, what a joke! but have you heard the latest news do-ab? mogodore has gone to capture the emerald city and make himself a king.'
"'a king,' roared the second, 'ha! ha! 'tis well those foolish folk at the capitol know nothing of this flask. one tip of that forbidden flagon and--'"
"what?" demanded peter, who had been listening breathlessly to jack's story.
"well," admitted the pumpkinhead regretfully, "he didn't say, but from the nudge he gave his comrade, i imagine there's something in that flask to destroy mogodore's power."
"but we have the sack, and the wizard and ozma have plenty of magic," objected peter impatiently. "i don't think we'd better stop to hunt for it, jack. we had better go on to the emerald city just as fast as we can."
"we had the sack before and mogodore captured us. don't forget that," sighed the pumpkinhead gloomily. "what's happened before may easily happen again."
"it will not take longer than an hour to fly to the capitol, and mogodore riding at his best speed cannot reach there until afternoon. perhaps we had better find this flagon, peter, and make sure of victory this time," murmured snif thoughtfully, and as belfaygor sided with the iffin, peter rather reluctantly agreed to descend into the enchanted cavern.
"we may lose our way in the labyrinth," said peter looking down the ladder without much enthusiasm.
"not while i have my whiskers," smiled belfaygor, stroking his famous beard, "we'll let them grow along with us and then we'll follow them back."
"if it weren't for those whiskers we'd never be here! hurrah for your beard! three hurrahs and a cheer!"
roared snif, saluting the baron with his front paw.
"not so loud! not so loud!" begged belfaygor, looking around nervously. "someone might hear you."
"do you want to come with us?" asked peter, looking doubtfully at the pumpkinhead.
"better leave me here," advised jack seriously. "you'll need both hands to fight the guard. now don't forget, when you are in the labyrinth turn left and keep turning left."
"and you're sure you'll be all right?" asked peter, placing jack's head gently on the cellar floor.
"i certainly cannot be all right if i'm left, but i'd rather be left than right this time," muttered jack to himself, as his three friends disappeared down the ladder into the labyrinth.
"this is about as exciting as rice pudding without any raisins," said peter, treading closely after snif. for five minutes they had been trudging solemnly through the labyrinth at the foot of the ladder. every few rods the chilly tunnel would branch off into three or more tunnels, but belfaygor, always taking the left turn, marched hopefully onward, his red beard trailing like a long and lively vine behind him.
"are you sure we've been turning left all the time," asked peter, after five more minutes of this weary winding. "we don't seem to be getting anywhere at all." belfaygor nodded emphatically and taking another left turn, gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and dismay. coming quickly around the bend, peter and snif saw that they had reached the enchanted cavern itself.
"horrors!" shuddered peter, catching hold of snif's mane.
"you're right," wheezed the iffin, rearing up on his hind legs. "open the sack! open the sack! these are worse than scares!" the enchanted cavern was small and dim and lit only by a flickering red light, but ranged around the walls was such a company of ugly muglies that peter's fingers, fumbling with the strings of the pirate's sack, shook so he could hardly untie the knots. he finally did get the cord unfastened and opening the sack he advanced a step into the cave. as he did, the ugly muglies advanced a step toward him and in a panic peter realized that the sack was not going to swallow them. belfaygor turning to run, tripped over his whiskers and fell flat. peter looked round desperately for a rock or stone to fight with, but snif, muttering dreadful denunciations in the grif language, hurled himself bodily at the enemy. there was a dull thud as snif met the enemy, and next instant he lay stretched on the floor. peter was almost afraid to look, but forced himself to move forward.
"come away," begged the little boy in a hoarse whisper, trying at the same time to tug the iffin to his feet. "hurry! hurry! here they come again."
"again," moaned snif, opening one eye, "they were never there at all."
"but i see them," insisted peter. "what knocked you down?"
instead of answering, snif lurched to his feet.
"myself," panted the iffin, planting his claw in the middle of a red monster's nose. "the walls of this cave are mirrors, boy, magic mirrors. they multiplied us fifty times and in fifty frightful ways. there's nobody here but us." rubbing his eyes, peter looked again, then, tip-toeing forward, touched the walls of the cavern. just as snif said, they were mirrors, and remembering how he had often laughed at his distorted reflection in the mirror maze at willow grove, peter began to laugh now.
"no wonder the sack wouldn't work," said peter, jerking the cords tight and tossing the sack over his shoulder. "but it's a pretty good trick at that. look at me. i'm enough to frighten my own grandfather."
"oh, come on," grumbled belfaygor, who was vexed to think he had been so easily scared. "let's find this miserable flagon and begone. it's stifling in here."
the scowling reflections cast by the mirrors were so confusing, they had to go slowly and carefully, but after circling the cavern several times, they discovered an opening into a still smaller cave. peter went first, and poking his head under the arch between the caves saw the guard jack had mentioned, asleep beside a fountain of fire. the fire fountain jetted up from the center of a deep green grotto and in the middle of the fountain, peter could just make out a small black flagon. with a little cry of triumph he darted into the rocky room.
"you'll burn yourself," puffed belfaygor, as peter leaned forward to snatch the flagon from the flames. at his cry of warning, the guard awakened and with spear upraised sprang to his feet. but belfaygor was ready for him. seizing his spear, belfaygor ran 'round and 'round the startled soldier, till he was wound up like a mummy in the baron's red beard. calmly cutting off his end of the whiskers, belfaygor dragged the helpless guard out of the way. "let us get this flagon and depart," cried the baron.
"maybe this fire isn't real," suggested peter. "maybe it's a trick like the mirrors." taking a piece of paper from his pocket, peter tossed it into the fountain. but it caught fire at once and burned up with such a snap and crackle the three friends jumped back in a hurry.
"i don't mind singeing a few feathers for the cause," said snif, as peter and belfaygor looked longingly at the strange black flask.
"no you don't," said peter firmly. "you've done your share." with a little smile he touched the lump snif had raised on his head when he ran into the walls of the cave. "you discovered the mirrors, belfaygor captured the guard. now it's my turn." while snif grumbled his disapproval and the baron stroked his beard uneasily, peter gazed into the sparkling fountain of fire. then with a sudden snap of his fingers, he seized belfaygor's shears, and clipped a long piece from the baron's red and ever ready whiskers. "now," said peter, "you take one end, and i'll take the other." looking much mystified, belfaygor did as he was told. they were standing back of the fire fountain and one on each side. at a signal from peter both rushed forward. the baron's beard, passing through the flames, knocked the flagon from its stand, before it went up in smoke and the flagon itself rolled into a dark corner of the green grotto. "wait till it cools off," warned peter as snif made a pounce at the flask.
"gee, i do wonder what's in it and why it's hidden down here?" impatiently they looked down at the smoking black bottle and after what seemed to be hours, peter, covering his hand with his handkerchief, ventured to pick it up. it was still smoking hot, but by changing hands frequently, peter managed to hold it and read aloud the curious legend on the red label.
to be guarded by each successive baron of baffleburg. who breaks the seal upon this flask or spills its contents red, brings woe to baffleburg and dire disaster on his head."
"now that's nice," said the iffin, wiggling his nose very fast. "we break the flask to subdue mogodore and bring a disaster on our own heads. don't drop it lad, whatever you do, don't drop it. i'd like to have a few more geraniums and see a few more sunsets before a disaster hits me."
"it is my place to break the seal," announced belfaygor in a determined voice. "give me the flagon. what care i for disaster if shirley sunshine is saved?"
peter was really alarmed at the threatening tone of the red verses. "not now, belfaygor, wait till we reach the emerald city and then maybe we won't have to break it at all."
"that's the talk," said snif, waving his tail gently to and fro. "come, let's start back."
peter tucked the flagon into his pocket. "we'll go right away," he said. leaving the guard still swathed in whiskers, the three friends stepped from the small cavern into the large cavern and from the large cavern into the labyrinth.
going back they turned right and kept turning right, but it was slow and tedious and seemed much longer than before. at last, dusty and weary, they came to the end and climbed the ladder into the cellarway.
"thank the stars, you're here!" cried jack's pumpkinhead.
"not the stars," wheezed snif, heaving himself up the ladder and dropping heavily on the cellar floor, "not stars, whiskers!"
"they lead us down, they lead us back; they tied the guard up fast; they pulled the flagon from the flames, long may they wave and last!"
"they have been pretty useful," admitted belfaygor, giving his beard a thoughtful stroke before he cut it off short.
"useful," rumbled the iffin, raising one claw. "they're wonderful. i'm positively attached to them."
"not half so much as i am," smiled the baron, with another quick clip.
"so you found the flagon," said jack, as peter picked up his head and started up the long steep slideway. peter nodded and with what breath he had left told jack all about the enchanted cavern and the inscription on the magic flask. there was a rail beside the slide and by holding on to this they managed to pull themselves up without slipping backward. but they were now so impatient to be off that the slide seemed simply endless. finally they reached the top and hurried down the hallway leading into mogodore's room of state.
"here's somebody you'll be glad to see," chuckled peter, pointing to the stiff figure seated in the chair.
"some body!" exclaimed jack's head as peter held it up. "why it's mine. reunite us at once, my boy. oh, how i have missed me!" it was the matter of but a moment to place the pumpkin head back on its peg. at once jack arose to his feet and executed a lively jig, in which the iffin, with more gusto than grace joined him, while peter and the baron looked amusedly on. the search for the flagon had taken just an hour, and feeling well repaid for their trouble the four valorous rescuers prepared to leave the palace. jack took out the famous dinner bell to see that it was safe, belfaygor gave his beard a last cheerful clip, snif ate the tops of a pot of geraniums and peter, putting the flagon in his pocket and tightening his hold on the pirate's sack felt ready for any adventure. but as he prepared to jump upon snif's back, there came a sudden splutter screech and roar.
"stop!" screamed a threatening voice. "stop! or you shall be boiled like eggs, stewed like prunes, fried like fish." snif swallowed a geranium whole, jack's knees knocked together and bent outward, and in spite of himself, peter clutched at a chair for support.
"who speaks?" boomed belfaygor, snatching a sword from the wall and swinging about like a tee-too-tum.
"die!" thundered the voice again. "die you knaves!"
trembling a little, peter looked all around but could see no one. as the dreadful threats kept up, belfaygor went to look behind a screen. but one of mogodore's hunting dogs, rising from its place by the fire, moved majestically across the floor, picked up a small red box in its teeth, and with an impatient grunt dropped it at peter's feet. then with a satisfied yawn, the great dog rubbed against his knee and returning to its post immediately dozed off again.
"it's the sauce box," cried peter with a gasp of relief. closing the lid, he smiled cheerfully at the iffin.
"i'd like to smash its lid," grunted snif vindictively. "i nearly choked on that geranium."
"don't do that," advised jack, leaning down to straighten his knee joints. "take it along. what frightened us may easily frighten others."
"that's so," laughed peter, helping jack to mount snif's back. "well, we surely have enough magic now. a dinner bell, a forbidden flagon, a magic sack and a sauce box."
"don't forget belfaygor's beard," said snif slyly, as peter climbed up behind jack.
"i wish i could forget it," sighed the baron, seating himself next to peter.
"oh, well," peter reminded him cheerfully, "it won't be very long now, belfaygor!"
"no, not if he keeps cutting it," said jack calmly.
"i mean it won't be long before we reach the emerald city," laughed peter, as the iffin raised his mighty wings and swooped out the wide open castle doors. "here we go!"
"as soon as we see mogodore, i'll open the pirate's sack, no fooling!" declared peter, looking down at the whirling red landscape. like tiny toys under a christmas tree, the villages and towns spread out below, and some country people dancing about a may pole looked no larger than dolls.
"swallowing's too good for him," objected belfaygor, stroking the sword he had taken from the castle hall. "let me have one good swing at him--one good thrust, before you open that sack!"
"if we trust to a thrust, we may all be undone, 'tis better to sack him than whack him, my son!"
called snif, looking over his shoulder to wink at peter.
"much better," approved jack pumpkinhead. "let us open the sack, break the forbidden flagon and throw the sauce box at his head."
"yes, and bring a dire disaster on our own," said peter, remembering the warning on the magic flask. "we'll give the flagon to ozma and let the wizard of oz decide what is to be done with it."
"well, i hope he can do something with my beard," groaned belfaygor, looking ruefully at the blisters on his thumbs. "i cannot keep on cutting it forever. besides it will frighten the princess."
"he'll fix it," promised peter confidently. "the wizard of oz can fix anything. oh boy, i can hardly wait to see them all again. is scraps as funny as ever and has kuma party visited the emerald city since i left?"
"he lent ozma a hand just the other day," said jack, throwing both arms around snif's neck, as he made a sudden dive through a cloud. "she was having trouble with the hammerheads and needed a strong hand to subdue them." peter had met kuma party on his first journey to oz. this singular gentleman can really send his hands, feet, head or body wheresoever he wishes. belfaygor listened politely, as peter told how kuma's hand had guided him to the kingdom of patch, helped him escape, and how it had afterward arrived at the emerald city in time to catch the gnome king.
"if we had it now, we could send it down for some apples," sighed the little boy, peering hungrily over the iffin's wing. snif was flying low, to be sure not to miss mogodore, and the orchards, laden with rosy red fruit, looked tempting indeed.
"why not order lunch," asked jack, as peter continued to gaze longingly at the apples. "eat as you fly!"
"why not?" chuckled belfaygor, slipping his shears into the pocket of his coat. "i could make some food fly right now." as peter was wondering just how they would manage the trays, jack rang and up beside the iffin flashed the faithful slave of the bell. but he did not carry the tray this time. it was borne by biggen, mogodore's bodyguard, and the great fellow trod clumsily through the air, his eyes rolling with fright and fury. at a haughty gesture from the slave, he set the tray on peter's lap. then raising his fist, he was about to pound peter on the head, when the little black seized him by the coat-tails and both disappeared.
"wh--ew," whistled peter ducking his head, "what do you think of that? look out, here comes the other one!" as jack rang the bell again, little, just as angry as biggen, came hurling toward them with the baron's dinner. the slave winked mischievously at peter as the enraged bodyguard placed the tray on belfaygor's knees; then catching the surly fellow by the ear, he vanished before little could do any harm.
"good enough," roared snif, who had witnessed the whole proceeding over his shoulder. "what sweet little sprites they do make.
"if mogodore could see them skipping lightly through the sky, he'd shiver in his great red boots, and shake like custard pie."
"that's what we have for dessert," said peter, lifting the cover off his tray. "say, it's too bad you don't eat pie, snif."
"or roast guinea," murmured belfaygor, between rapturous bites. "i'll give you three horses and a couple of hunting dogs for that bell, peter."
peter smiled to himself, for he could not help thinking how crowded three horses and a dog would make the small back yard at home. but he tactfully said nothing, for he had decided to present the magic dinner bell to ozma. enjoying the red jinn's delicious dinner, looking dreamily down at the lovely mountain scenery beneath, peter concluded that this was even more exciting and interesting than eating on the train.
"i shall think nothing of airplane trips after this," mused the little boy, sipping his chocolate complacently. "i don't believe anything could ever surprise or frighten me again; not even a highwayman." finishing off his pie, peter closed his eyes and was fighting an imaginary duel with a mexican bandit, when he was suddenly seized by the shoulders, jerked from the iffin's back and hurled like a ball through the air. his first thought was that biggen, returning for the magic tray, had taken this means of revenge, but there was no sign of either bodyguard. in spite of his recent boast, peter's heart beat with dreadful thumps as he turned over and over in the air. but just as he gave himself up for lost, he was skillfully caught by the ankles.
"howde-do!" called a pleasant voice, and looking up peter saw a jolly fellow in silk tights swinging by his heels from a high trapeze. he wore a crown, which was held in place by ribbons tied beneath his chin. now hanging head down, if you are not accustomed to it, is terribly upsetting and peter was too upset to say a word. "welcome to swing city," said this strange sovereign in his high, jolly voice. "i am the king and the highest swinger here. in fact, hi-swinger's my name," he coughed self-consciously. "but you must meet the queen, tip toppsy the tenth!" as he said "meet the queen," hi-swinger flung peter carelessly downward. any desire peter had ever had to do circus stunts, he lost in that second dizzy drop through space. fortunately, he did meet the queen, somewhere in mid air. like the king she was hanging head down from another swing, and grasping both of peter's wrists swung him gently to and fro.
"isn't he perfectly precious," cooed her highness, smiling amiably down at the little boy. "i hope he'll stay with us always. what lovely hair! what sweet red cheeks. he'll make a perfectly splendid swinger, highty." now if there was one thing peter detested it was being fussed over, and the queen's speech made him squirm with embarrassment and rage. but before he could do more than mutter, tip toppsy swung him back to her husband. "shall we dress him in pink or blue?" she called anxiously.
"blue," answered the king, catching peter and drawing him up close so he could look into his eyes. "but, my dear, see what's coming now. who is this pomiferous person?" throwing peter carelessly aside, the king caught jack pumpkinhead, who had just been tossed up by someone below. peter himself was seized by a smiling trapezist, some twenty feet beneath. before the fellow could throw him further, peter pulled himself desperately up on the trapeze, and holding tight to the side rope stared dizzily around. over his head, and under his feet, pink and blue clad figures swooped and darted like birds. with lightning speed they shot from swing to swing, skipped recklessly across spidery ropes and balanced perilously on swaying cords.
"trapleased to meet you," murmured the owner of the trapeze, swinging up beside peter. "hang around a while. you'll like it. 'tis an easy life we lead--trapeasy," he added with a sly wink. "have you met the queen?"
"yes! yes!" shuddered peter, moving as far from the tumbler as he could. "i'm looking for my friends."
"is that one of them?" inquired the acrobat, pointing off toward the left. "ha! ha! ha! the tight rope walkers will never let that fellow go. they are great cut-ups, you know, great cut-ups. why, look at his beard! it's growing longer every minute. they can cut rope after tight rope from it. ha! ha! ha! rope after rope!"
"no they can't," shouted peter angrily, "and you'd better be careful. we're wizards, and will destroy you like that." letting go of the side rope with one hand, peter snapped his fingers sharply.
"will you?" said the trapezist in an interested voice. "then that means a battle, an acrobattle. hello! it's begun already. look at that old nibblywog down there. come on, we're missing all the fun!"
jerking peter from the swing, the acrobat hurled him to the next trapeze and the next and the next, until everything turned topsy-turvy. peter could no more have opened the pirate's sack than he could have counted the somersaults he took in the air. jack had long since lost his head, and peter could see the acrobats tossing it about like a ball. below that a troupe of tight-rope walkers were dancing merrily on belfaygor's beard, which had been stretched between two swings. the baron himself was held fast by a dozen swing citizens and snif, trying to help first peter then belfaygor, was buffetted and banged with the hard fists of the aerialists.
"how dare you hold us up in this high handed manner," roared the iffin, nearly beside himself with rage and indignation. there is no telling how long peter and his friends would have been tossed about had not a sudden shake dislodged mogodore's sauce box from the little boy's pocket. opening as it fell it immediately filled the air with such a thunder of screams, threats and brazen screeches, several swing citizens lost their hold upon the swings and fell trembling through space.
"magic," squealed hi-swinger, clutching his crown with both hands. "drop them! drop them at once!" so peter and his companions were dropped as suddenly as they had been taken up by these fickle folk of the air, and with sickening speed went whizzing downward. peter was too dizzy to realize he was falling again, and snif, trying to catch all of them at once succeeded only in rescuing jack's head as it whirled past. but he need not have worried, for under this strange city a great net was suspended and into this net they all landed with a bounce that promptly sent them skyward again.
"score one for the sauce box," panted peter as he fell back. "gee-whiz--i never want to see another swing as long as i live!"
"neither do i," muttered belfaygor, unwinding himself from his long red whiskers and feeling for his shears. snif said nothing, for he was trying to hold jack's body steady and place his pumpkin back on its peg. peter hastened to assist him and soon jack was himself again.
"ups and downs," he mused sadly. "nothing but ups and downs! and how are we to get out of this net, may i ask?"
"i'll cut a hole in the net and we'll drop through," said belfaygor promptly. "it's not far to the ground!"
"another fall," groaned jack, holding his head with both hands. "oh, think of something else!"
"if we stay here," said the iffin, "the swingers will probably come back and if we don't hurry, we'll miss that rascally baron and he'll capture the emerald city before we catch him."
"i'll fall," quavered jack, crawling toward the opening belfaygor was cutting in the net. "i'll do anything for ozma!"
"we've certainly done a lot of falling for her so far," sighed peter, scrambling after jack. "let me fall first and then i can help you." holding for a moment to the edge of the opening, peter dropped lightly to the ground. then reaching up he caught jack under the arms and carefully eased him down. belfaygor quickly followed jack and snif bounced through in short order.
"well, we've lost the sauce box and a lot of time but we've met a new and curious kind of people," said peter, pulling down his jacket.
"and so did they," smiled the iffin, giving himself a shake and examining two places where he had lost some fur. a hurried search proved that the magic bell, the sack and flagon were still in their possession. jack was no worse for his swinging and though snif, peter and belfaygor still felt dizzy and shaken by their unexpected experiences in swing city, they decided not to stop and rest but to push straight on for the capitol.
"from now on," said snif gravely, "we must keep a sharp look out for trouble."
"i'll watch the air," said jack, seating himself quickly.
"i'll watch the ground," promised peter, springing up briskly behind him.
"and i'll see that we're not followed," said belfaygor, climbing on last of all.
"then off we go," rumbled snif. "what a lot i shall have to tell my grandchildren, if i ever have any grandchildren. i hope they'll be just like you, peter," he added with an affectionate glance over his shoulder. peter smiled faintly to himself, for he did not see how this could be but he was too polite to argue the question, and fixing his eyes upon the road below looked eagerly for some sign of mogodore and his men.
"what a curious existence," mused belfaygor, as snif came to the end of swing city's net and soared joyfully into the air. "well, everybody has his own idea of comfort, but as for me, i prefer a castle with someone to serve the soup and bring on the venison." snipping off his beard, the baron gave a homesick sigh and looked glumly at the tiny farms and villages below.
"a place where a fellow can keep his feet on the ground and his head on his shoulders suits me," declared jack in a weary voice. "i've never lost my head so often as on this trip. did you see those savages using it for a ball?"
"they used my beard for a tight rope," said belfaygor in an exasperated voice, "so what could you expect?"
"and they called snif a nibblywog," laughed peter, "and threw me around like an old shoe. all they need to make them monkeys is tails!"
"don't insult a monkey," said snif, looking reprovingly over his wing. "i've known some polite monkeys in my day. but those highwaymen!" snif gave a disgusted grunt. "i've a notion to fly back and settle with them after this other affair is all over."
"i hope we didn't miss mogodore while we were being held up there," worried peter. "it must be nearly four o'clock now and we certainly ought to overtake him soon. are you sure we are flying in the right direction, snif?"
"yes," said the iffin expertly circling a dark cloud. "why there he is now!" flapping both wings violently together, snif pointed with his claw. "there, coming out of that forest--mogodore and all his men! see the sun shining on their spears." with a swoop that nearly unseated his riders, the iffin hurled himself over the wood and the next instant they were hanging motionless over a tossing sea of spears.
"the princess," cried belfaygor, leaning far over. "there's shirley sunshine riding out ahead. fly lower, snif, fly lower and we'll snatch her up and be off!"
"no we won't," muttered the iffin grimly. "we'll open the sack and catch this kingdom stealer, first. open the sack, peter! open the sack, there's no one to stop you now." so intent upon their purpose were the warriors below, they never saw the red monster above their heads. now peter had untied the pirate sack. now it was ready to open. seizing snif's wing to balance himself, peter stood up in order to hold the sack directly over the enemy. as he did a great gust of wind, tore the sack from his hands, filled it full of air and sent it spinning up like a balloon high above their heads.
"oh," choked the little boy, nearly losing his hold on snif, "nothing ever happens right. doggone that sack anyway!"
"the flagon," screamed jack. "throw the flagon. quick before he gets away!"
"i'll do it," whispered belfaygor eagerly. "give it to me, peter. quick!" tugging the forbidden flagon from his pocket, peter was about to pass it to the baron, when a hoarse scream from the iffin, made him pause.
"the sack," panted the red monster, flapping his wings desperately. "it's coming straight for us! look! look! look out! look up! hold on!
"if that comes nearer, we are gone!" jack took one startled glance upward, and then instead of holding on, snatched the flagon from peter's hand and dove recklessly to earth. as he did, and as the last of mogodore's army galloped out of danger's way, the wretched sack, its mouth wide open came hurling down upon the rescuers. jack had been wise to jump. before peter or the baron could follow him, they were snapped up, i mean down. an ear-splitting growl came to jack as he turned over and over in the air. the fright of vanishing had restored snif's gu--rrr! and it was a real griffin, not an iffin who disappeared into the fathomless depths of the pirate's grab bag. then floating calmly to the ground, the terrible sack settled calmly against a pink hay stack and was still. not far away, jack lay face down on another soft mound of pink hay. so tightly had he held to his head and the flagon, he lost neither during the fall and the hay had saved both from smashing, but when jack rolled over and started to rise, he found that his left leg had bent under and broken off at the knee. being of wood, jack suffered no pain, but it was frightfully inconvenient, and it was now impossible for him to walk, or even hobble. shaking his fists as the last of mogodore's riders disappeared in a cloud of dust, jack sank dejectedly against the hay mound and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. his purpose in plunging from the iffin's back, had been to break the flagon over mogodore's head and save the emerald city at any cost, even if he himself were destroyed. but now it was too late! mogodore was gone, peter, snif and belfaygor had vanished and he himself, was a broken man. the wicked baron of baffleburg, with none to stop him, would march boldly to the capitol, fall upon its unsuspecting inhabitants, enslave them all and seize the magic treasures for himself. this dark picture fairly made jack groan and when he spied the magic sack resting against the next hay stack he positively shuddered.
"all that is left of three faithful friends," mourned jack. "i hope there's room for belfaygor's beard in that bag or they'll all be smothered. i hope they're not mixed with scares. i must get that sack. whatever happens i must get that sack and take it to the wizard of oz." at thought of touching the enchanted bag, jack shook like a tree in a hail storm, but controlling his fear and distaste, he dragged himself to the haystack. first he pulled the cords that closed the top, then hanging it carefully over one shoulder, dragged himself back. his broken leg and the forbidden flagon lay side by side in the straw, and raising his voice jack shouted loudly for help. but the pink hay field was a long way from the farm house and no one heard him except a few curious crows who answered his cries with dismal screeches. finally jack grew so hoarse he could shout no more and, holding his head in both hands, he tried to think of some way to reach the emerald city.
"if the scarecrow were only here," sighed jack dolefully, "he would be sure to hit upon some clever plan, but i am only a poor stupid pumpkin head with only a few dried seeds for brains." realizing that the whole fate of the kingdom of oz depended upon him, poor jack pressed his head with his wooden hands and thought so hard that the seeds inside skipped about like corn in a corn popper. and one must have been a seed of thought, for presently jack gave a little bounce and feeling in his pocket drew out the red jinn's bell. "i'll make that slave help me," muttered jack determinedly. just how the slave could help him jack did not stop to figure out, but anything was better than sitting foolishly on a haystack while little ozma was facing capture and possible banishment. so jack tucked his broken leg under one arm, tightened his hold on the pirate's sack, put the precious flagon in his coat pocket and boldly rang the silver bell.
"i hope he does not bring those meddlesome bodyguards," muttered jack leaning forward anxiously. the slave of the ball appeared so promptly this time that his tray almost hit jack in the nose. placing the tray on jack's lap the little fellow backed away and was preparing to vanish when jack sprang to his feet, and scattering dishes in every direction seized the small servitor by the arm.
"stop," cried jack pumpkinhead desperately. "stop! you must help me." but jack might as well have tried to stop the wind. with a shrill cry, the red jinn's slave vanished. jack also vanished. now, there was no one in the pink hay field at all. only a pink rabbit, who wiggled his nose anxiously and then began nibbling at a stalk of celery that had fallen from the magic tray.
in about three whirls and one spiral jack found himself on the steps of a glittering red glass palace. it stood on the edge of a green glass sea, whose waves broke with a melodious tinkle and crash on the beach below. the beach itself was a gleaming stretch of glass splinters, most dangerous to the tread of unwary travellers. jack was so confounded by his sudden arrival in this strange place that for several moments he was scarcely aware that the slave of the bell was addressing him.
"be pleased to enter the castle of the red jinn," murmured the little black boy politely, repeating the words till jack at last did hear him.
"is the owner of this palace also the owner of the magic dinner bell?" asked jack uneasily. the slave nodded brightly and after an inquisitive glance at jack's broken leg which he still carried under his arm, he offered his shoulder to jack. with his assistance, jack began hopping doubtfully upward. there were nearly a hundred steps, and moving up and down was a vast and colorful company of turbaned gentlemen, who might have stepped directly from the arabian nights. as each one passed he took off his slipper and tapped jack smartly on the head.
"what, what have i done?" stuttered jack, trying to protect his head with his arm. "why do they strike me and why do they smile as they do it?"
"it is the custom in this country to take off the right shoe and tap a visitor upon the head as a polite method of salutation and greeting," explained the slave calmly.
"greeting," groaned jack, ducking back to avoid another slipper waver, "well, if we meet many more of your countrymen my head will be a squash instead of a pumpkin. why can't they shake hands, like we do in oz?"
"every country has its own customs," answered the slave stiffly. "why do you wear such a soft head, pray?"
"because i'm accustomed to it," replied jack a little sulkily. "it's the kind of head that goes with my kind of person."
"a turban would help," observed the slave as another citizen greeted jack boisterously with his slipper.
"i don't need a turban," said jack, hopping desperately up the last step. "but i do need help. my friends have disappeared into an enchanted sack and my country is in danger of destruction. i must have help. do you think your master is powerful enough to help me?"
"it depends on how you strike him," murmured the slave indifferently. "there he is now. you might ask him." the glass doors of the palace were wide open, and jack looked anxiously into the great red glass throne room. the doorways and arches were hung with strands of strung glass triangles and the musical tinkle of these strange curtains was both pleasant and delicate. all of the furnishings were of sparkling red glass and a double line of tall vases led directly to the throne. a strange drowsy incense rose in pink clouds to the ceiling. at first jack thought the jinn was merely another vase, but as with the black boy's aid he hopped nearer, he saw that the vase-like figure on the throne had legs crossed on the spun glass cushions and hands clasped round his fat and shiny middle. no head was visible; nothing but a lid with a round knob on the top. a sleepy black wielded a great fan drowsily over this portly person, and jack after pausing uncertainly took the leg he still carried under his arm and tapped the jinn sharply on the lid. instantly it raised up and from the vase-like interior of this strange sovereign rose an enormous red head with an exceedingly pleasant, round face. he blinked curiously at jack and then turning to the slave wheezed good naturedly, "well, well! ginger, my boy, what have you brought me this time? i am delighted that our bell was stolen. it keeps us in touch with the outside world and has already got us two extra slaves. but this one is the best yet." he looked jack up and then down. "i haven't been so amused in a thousand years."
"don't you want the bell back?" asked jack, holding it out uneasily. he had expected the jinn to be very angry at the holder of his magic treasure.
"no! no! keep it and welcome! just to look at you is worth a hundred dinner bells," said the jinn, smothering a chuckle behind his fat hand. "an odd enough appearing gentleman, ginger, is he not? and so polite! where we but remove the slipper he has taken off the entire leg to do us honor. tell me, who and what are you, most curious sir?"
"you struck him exactly right," whispered the slave encouragingly. "speak up and he may help you."
"i am jack pumpkinhead, your majesty," said jack, balancing himself with great difficulty, "and a simple citizen of oz."
"i believe you," puffed the jinn and forthwith broke into such a series of strange sounds that jack drew back in dismay.
"what language is that?" he asked in a faint voice. "i do not seem to understand your majesty's remarks." the red jinn's lid, which he wore quite jauntily for a hat, was still quivering, but controlling himself with a great effort he wiped his face on a red silk hanky.
"'tis the laugh language, jack," he confided with a wink at the little slave. "the ha, ha, and ho, ho, of great merriment. do you not speak this language in your country, fellow? the guffaw and the snicker, the giggle and roar of pure hilarity! ho! ho! you are doing me good, great good! come join me in a little roar and we'll speak the laugh language in all its branches."
"but i do not feel like laughing," said jack wearily. "i have lost my best friends and will lose my country too, if your highness does not help me. are you very powerful? are you important enough to help me?"
"terribly important," answered the jinn, pursing up his lips. "at least to myself." he nudged the slave of the bell, who nodded delightedly, and jack, without further parley, held up the pirate's sack.
"in this bag," said jack solemnly, "are a little boy, a baron and a flying red monster."
"no?" murmured the jinn leaning forward incredulously. "how did they get in the bag? how will they get out again and if they stay in an age will they become baggage? ha! ha! ho! ho!" the red jinn's mirth was extremely distressing to poor jack, but feeling that everything depended upon the wizard's help, he smothered his resentment and patiently told the whole story of his adventures since peter's arrival in oz. as he proceeded the jinn's expression grew more sober and at the conclusion of the story he clapped his hands sharply. immediately jack's broken leg snapped back into place, and with a surprised skip, jack began marching up and down.
"that is the first step toward helping you," smiled the jinn, holding up his hand to silence jack's outburst of gratitude. "now we must find a way to send you to oz, release the prisoners from the sack and break the forbidden flagon without disaster to yourself. my magic looking-glass would show us where your friends are but not how to rescue them, my magic umbrella would carry you to oz, but i need that myself. let me think! let me think!" wrinkling his brows, the red jinn retired into himself and shut the lid.
"will he come out again?" asked jack, turning nervously to the little slave. the slave nodded impressively. so jack, fixing his eyes earnestly on the jinn's red lid, waited for him to reappear. and presently his head popped up and with snapping eyes he leaned forward. first he whispered nine words in jack's carved ear and next, eight more. then, leaning back, he regarded jack with a pleased and satisfied smile.
"now all we have to do is to arrange for your journey to oz," said the jinn, tapping his fingers upon the arm of his glass throne. "i believe i'll send you off in my jinrickasha. would you like that?"
"why he's gone," shouted ginger, leaping into the air. "gone! vanished! departed!"
"so he has," spluttered the jinn, lurching forward and rubbing his eyes with astonishment.
"was it by your majesty's magic?" queried the slave of the bell breathlessly.
"not by my majesty's magic, but some other meddlesome magic. hash and horseradish! now i shall never hear the end of the story!" pulling in his head so suddenly that the lid came down with a crash, the red jinn dropped back on his cushions, and the little slave, having experienced the extreme of his master's temper when disappointed, tip-toed hurriedly from the royal presence. what had become of our hero? who had spirited jack pumpkinhead away from the palace of the red jinn?
in that delightful hour before dinner, when it is too early to go in and light the lamps and too late to go for another picnic or swim, it is a pleasant custom in ozma's palace to gather in the garden for games. almost any fine evening at dusk, if you were to peep over the wall of the green castle, you would see all the celebrities and most of the courtiers playing hop scotch or prisoner's base. the ruler of oz, as most of you know, is a little girl fairy and ozma is quite as fond of fun and good times as you are. dorothy, betsy and trot, ozma's best friends and advisers are little girls too, so that life in the emerald city is bound to be interesting and gay. and how could it be otherwise, with so many unusual and amusing people living in the palace?
the scarecrow spends most of his time there, though he has a splendid residence of his own, and for fun and good comradeship there is no one like this jolly straw-stuffed gentleman. he was lifted from a pole and brought to the emerald city by dorothy on her first journey to oz. dorothy, herself, was blown to oz in a cyclone and has had so much fun and so many adventures that she would not think of living anywhere else. betsy and trot are from the united states, too, but prefer life in the emerald city to life in america, as indeed i should myself. almost everybody has heard of tik tok, the copper man. tik tok is not alive, but very lively and when properly wound can walk, talk and run as well as anybody.
justly famous, is the tin woodman. whole books have been written about him, for nick chopper is emperor of the winkies and almost any child in oz can tell you the strange story of nick and the enchanted ax that chopped off his arms and legs, severed his trunk and finally chopped off his head. after each accident, nick had himself repaired by a tin smith, till he was entirely a man of tin, and like the scarecrow he spends more than half his time in the capitol. then we must not forget sir hokus, a real knight, who was rescued after seven centuries of imprisonment in pokes. now where, but in oz, could a knight last for seven centuries, and be so spry, so bold and so full of interesting stories? where, but in oz, could one find a wizard able to whisk one about with magic wishing pills and conjure up ozcream and pop-overs by a mere puff of magic powder?
another prime favorite in the palace is scraps. made from an old patchwork quilt and magically brought to life, scraps adds a touch of fun and gaiety to all the palace parties, for scraps is wholly without dignity and can think up verses faster than little boys can think up excuses. the soldier with the green whiskers is a fine fellow, too. he is the whole grand army of oz, and though not very brave has such a splendid uniform and long shining green beard, just to look at him gives one pleasure and satisfaction. recently a live statue and a medicine man have come to ozma's court. the medicine man's chest is a real medicine chest, full of helpful remedies and although no one in the emerald city ever falls ill ozma has graciously conferred upon herby the title of court doctor. add to all of these famous characters the cowardly lion, the hungry tiger and a dozen other strange pets, fifty or more splendid courtiers and servants and you will have a fair idea of the merry company romping in the garden on this early evening in may.
dorothy had just won an exciting foot race and sinking into a green hammock called gaily to the scarecrow, "let's play blind-man's buff and blind-fold everyone but betsy bobbin. then we'll all try to find her and first one who does shall have three pieces of strawberry short cake!"
"a lot of good that will do me," sighed the scarecrow, patting his straw stuffed stomach, "but if i win, you shall have my cake, dorothy."
"you'll never win," teased betsy, beginning to hop up and down with impatience. "none of you will. remember now, wizard, no fair using magic to find me."
"haven't a bit of magic with me. my black bag's inside," laughed the little wizard of oz, fitting a big green handkerchief around his head. in less than a minute, ozma and everyone in the garden was blind-folded. even the cowardly lion had dorothy's hair ribbon tied securely over his eyes.
"all ready," called betsy, and tip-toeing over to an enormous butterfly bush, she climbed into the center and sat still as a mouse. but the others were very far from still. with shouts, screams and little roars of merriment they ran to and fro, bumping into each other and throwing their arms around trees and statues and making so much noise that they never heard the tramp of feet on the other side of the wall. for mogodore had at last arrived in the emerald city, and with a rush and without opposition, captured the famous fairy capitol. at sight of his spearmen, the peaceful inhabitants fled into their houses and slammed windows and doors. unk nunkie, a brave old munchkin who had started on a run to warn the people in the palace, was caught by bragga, tied up securely and carelessly tossed into a greenberry bush. shirley sunshine, who had leaped from her horse for the very same reason, was overtaken and put under guard.
"a fine way to help," muttered mogodore, shaking his finger at her accusingly. "what were you about princess?"
"i was anxious to see the castle," stuttered poor shirley, twisting her handkerchief miserably.
"you'll see it soon enough," promised mogodore. "just wait till i've conquered this silly little fairy." about forty paces from the castle itself mogodore dismounted and called a council of war. leaving five hundred men to hold the city he took five hundred with him to storm the palace and overcome the famous celebrities whom he had read about so often. shirley sunshine was left behind until the fighting should be over. mogodore and his five hundred picked soldiers marched boldly upon the castle.
"high time for a new king here," sniffed mogodore scornfully. "a city without defenses! no army! no guards! what can they expect but capture?"
"there may be an army inside the castle walls," warned wagarag, jogging wearily along at the baron's elbow. "before we rush the gates we had better look about a bit and see that everything is safe."
"very good," grunted mogodore, taking a pinch of snuff. "you and i will go forward. the others may remain here. my spear tossed into the air will be the signal for them to advance." it was a short walk to the walls of the palace, and hoisting himself with great gasps and puffs the baron of baffleburg raised his head cautiously over the top of the wall and looked down into the royal gardens. what he saw astonished him exceedingly, and with a soundless chuckle he dropped to the ground. "the silly dunces are playing a game," whispered mogodore to his trembling steward. "they're blind-folded and all we have to do is to jump over the wall and seize them."
tossing his spear into the air, mogodore waited impatiently for his men and when they came hurrying forward, he raised his hand for silence. "drop over the wall, one at a time, join in this game of blind-man's buff. each man take one prisoner and tie him to the nearest tree. when all are taken, i will march into the palace, seize the crown jewels and magic belt and proclaim myself king of oz. all ready." with only a slight scraping of boots on the stones, mogodore and his men slipped over the wall and into the garden. betsy bobbin, sitting breathlessly in the center of the butterfly bush, became suddenly aware of a change in the gay uproar around her. the joyous shouts and good natured exclamations turned to frightened screams and indignant protests and finally to loud shouts for help.
"what can have happened?" gasped betsy, poking her head out of the bush. what she saw, as you can well imagine, made her sink back in a faint heap. the garden was swarming with armed warriors and ozma and all of her friends and courtiers were tied to the trees with gold chains and struggling in vain to free themselves.
"i am the only one left," panted betsy. "i must try to slip out unnoticed and get the magic belt!" in this famous belt, as most of you know, there is such power that the wearer can transform anyone to any shape at all. "i'll turn them to old shoes and door knobs," sobbed betsy, with another frightened peek out of the bush. the chances of her reaching the palace were slim indeed and finally she gave up all hope, but she could not help feeling proud of the way ozma of oz was conducting herself.
"what does this mean?" demanded the little fairy, tearing the bandage from her eyes and stamping her foot as well as she could with so many chains around her ankles. "who are you and what do you want? release us at once, or my wizard and my army will destroy you!"
"ho! ho! ho!" roared mogodore, looking cheerfully down at the furious princess. "hand over the keys of the castle my dear, for you are completely conquered and absolutely captured. i, mogodore the mighty and baron of baffleburg, am the future king of oz!"
"i'll crown you with my fist," sputtered sir hokus, tugging at his chains till the tree he was tied to rocked as if by a tempest. "i'll thump thee on the bean." (sir hokus has picked up a lot of slang from trot and betsy bobbin and mixes it fluently with his knightly conversation).
"we'll change you to a fritter, we'll fry you in a pan, you rude uncultured critter----, do you call yourself a man?"
yelled scraps defiantly, and all the other celebrities joined their voices to hers, till the din was so dreadful that even betsy had to cover her ears. but it had no effect upon mogodore. quite calmly he continued to gaze down at ozma and the longer he looked the broader grew his ugly grin.
"a little beauty," he mumbled half to himself, "prettier far than this shirley sunshine. i shall marry princess ozma," he shouted, suddenly clapping wagarag so heartily upon the back that the poor steward's iron pot helmet fell over one eye. "into the palace, fellow, and prepare a feast for the wedding! farewell for the moment, slaves!"
shaking his spear at the furiously struggling ozites, mogodore tramped off to the palace, followed by two hundred and fifty of his men. the others he left to watch the prisoners, and betsy continued to crouch uncomfortably in the butterfly bush. as the baron of baffleburg strode into the castle, ozma began to speak quietly and comfortingly to her people.
"for the moment," sighed the little sovereign sadly, "we are overpowered and at the mercy of these rude ruffians. but let us be patient and brave and surely some help will come to us."
"i hope there will be no shooting," quavered the soldier with the green whiskers, trembling so his chains rattled dismally.
"if i only had my black bag," fumed the wizard, trying desperately to free himself. from the screams and crashes indoors, the anxious company in the garden knew that the servants were being overpowered. presently a long file of them came out between two lines of mogodore's men, who marched them to a small summer house and carefully locked them in.
"i hope they don't find the magic belt," breathed dorothy, wriggling into a more comfortable position and trying to smile reassuringly at the scarecrow who was tied to the next tree. but even while dorothy was hoping, out dashed mogodore waving the belt. his helmet had been removed and ozma's small emerald crown perched ridiculously upon the top of his head.
"i beg that your majesty will be careful," cried wagarag, running anxiously after the excited baron. "remember that belt is very powerful, very dangerous. have a care."
"i haven't a care in the world," shouted mogodore, fastening the belt round his arm, for it would not begin to go 'round his waist. "am i not a king and about to marry a fairy? go play marbles, waggy, and let me alone! i am a king and if i choose can destroy this entire country." and then as wagarag continued to plead and beg him to be cautious he yelled angrily, "go, attend to the feast, you meddlesome weasel and leave this magic to me. i shall test the powers of this belt at once. do you know that i can transform anyone here to anything i wish? begone, before i turn you to a bone and throw you to the dogs." now indeed did the helpless oz folk tremble, and as wagarag, shaking his head sadly, backed away from his foolish master, mogodore began to look around the garden for someone to transform. perhaps, because the patchwork girl was the oddest and most amazing person he had ever seen, his eye rested longest upon her.
"i command this ridiculous maiden to become a bird," called mogodore in a loud voice. and instantly, scraps was a bird, an exceedingly scrappy bird, too. wildly flapping her patchwork wings she quickly disengaged herself from the gold chains that bound her to the tree. then swooping down upon mogodore, she snatched ozma's crown from his head and hurled herself into the air.
"quick! quick! change her back! i knew you'd do something silly," groaned wagarag, as mogodore stared dumbly upward. "now she'll fly off and spread the alarm!"
"you bet i will," screeched the patchwork bird, and with an ear-splitting screech she soared over the castle and disappeared.
"i told you something would happen," whispered ozma, smiling quietly at dorothy. now if mogodore had been more practiced in magic, he would instantly have changed scraps into a stone and she would have dropped heavily and helplessly to earth. but utterly confused and mortified by the unfortunate outcome of his first transformation, the baron pushed his steward furiously aside, rushed into the castle and slammed both gold doors.
soon the fragrance of an appetizing repast began to float out to the unhappy prisoners in the garden. dusk turned to darkness, lights shone from every room in the palace, and in dreadful suspense and discomfort they waited for mogodore's next move.
"that robber baron really means to marry you," groaned trot, who was tied to a tree near ozma, and as if to confirm her words two spearmen came marching determinedly toward them.
"her majesty, queen ozma is wanted within," bawled the first man, looking around. "ozma of oz, this way please." immediately the little fairy was released from her chains.
"never mind," she whispered as trot burst into tears, "remember, scraps is free and will find a way to help us."
"she'd better hurry," shivered dorothy, and with sinking hearts they all saw their little leader marched away between the guards. well-filled plates were being brought out to the soldiers in the garden, but no refreshment of any kind was offered to the prisoners, nor did betsy bobbin, crouched in the center of the butterfly bush, find any opportunity to escape from her hiding place. inside a great feast was laid in the banquet hall and the rude warriors were already seated and banging on the table with their gold forks and knives. wagarag, an apron tied hastily over his armor, was supervising the festivities and mogodore, seated at the head of the table, without even rising waved ozma to a place beside him. with a little sigh of despair, ozma slipped into the green throne chair.
"your future lady in waiting," grunted mogodore, pointing rudely to shirley sunshine, who sat on his other side. "i did truly intend to marry this princess, but find you so much more charming i have chosen you instead."
"hurrah for the queen of oz and baffleburg!" yelled the spearmen boisterously. shirley, under cover of the rattling knives and forks tried to whisper her story to ozma, but mogodore's loud roars for food soon put an end to that and, pale with distaste and fright, the two little princesses sat silent, scarcely touching a mouthful of the food that was unceremoniously dumped upon their plates. with a shudder, ozma looked around her tidy castle. mud had been tracked over all the velvet rugs, pictures hung sideways and the floor was strewn with broken vases and plates that spearmen playfully hurled at one another between courses. if scraps succeeded in reaching the castle of glinda, the good sorceress who ruled over the south, ozma knew this powerful ally would immediately fly to her assistance. with agonized ears, she listened for the wings of glinda's swan chariot. but time went on and no one came. now that the hunger of the rough company was appeased, they grew more noisy than ever.
"call this a battle," wheezed bragga to mogodore, "are there to be no hangings, no bon fires, no killings of any kind? you promised us a real war. this is as tame as a taffy pull." tugging discontentedly at his long mustache, the captain of the guard looked sulkily at his chief.
"after the wedding you may kill whom you please," promised mogodore indifferently, "but now i'm going to have another try at that magic belt."
"take care! take care!" bleated wagarag, from the other end of the banquet hall. "i'll wager you're thinking of that forbidden flagon again."
"right," boomed the baron, sweeping a dozen plates to the floor with his arm. "and right now, i'm going to transport that flagon to this castle and find out what is in it and why it is forbidden. what will happen if the seal is broken? it cannot harm me now. i am no longer baron of baffleburg, but king of oz--king by right of seizure and conquest."
"you'll not be the lawful king till you marry this princess," quavered wagarag, raising a trembling finger and pointing to ozma.
"the old bone is right," grumbled bragga. "why not marry her now and be done with it?"
"marry her now," echoed all the spearmen, "and let us get on with the killing." pushing back her chair, ozma jumped up and glanced desperately around the table. would no one save her from this robber baron and his band? mogodore, too, rose to his feet.
"i'm king now, i tell you," he insisted stubbornly, "and i'll marry when i'm ready, but now i am going to end the miserable mystery of the forbidden flagon. i command the forbidden flagon and its guard to appear before me," bellowed mogodore, staring around defiantly. scarcely had the sound of his voice died away before there came a crash and splinter of glass and in through a window back of the baron burst a strange flying figure. it was jack pumpkinhead, clasping the precious flagon in one hand and holding to his head with the other; brought all the way from the red jinn's palace by the mysterious power of the magic belt. with a hysterical little cry, ozma rushed forward.
"jack! jack!" panted ozma, "have you come to save us?" solemnly jack nodded and before a man at the table could move, he whisked off his head, set it on a chair and then and not till then did he hurl the forbidden flagon straight at the baron of baffleburg. how he ever managed to aim so true without his head to help him i have no idea, but with a resounding crack the flagon splintered to bits on mogodore's nose and a thin red liquid began to pour down his cheeks and drop off his chin.
no longer need mogodore wonder what would happen, when the seal on the forbidden flask was broken! for what would happen, had happened! stars! yes!
the great banquet hall seemed suddenly deserted, and except for faint squeaks and muffled screams quite silent. shirley sunshine, hurrying around the table, clasped ozma's hands and both girls stared in stunned silence at jack, who was calmly replacing his head.
"why, where have they gone?" cried ozma. then all at once she saw, for tumbling from the chairs, scurrying under tables and vainly trying to hide themselves, was a host of men no bigger than brownies.
"they're shrunk," shouted jack delightedly. "ha there, mogodore the mighty, mighty little you are now!" fuming and raging, the midget baron tried to quiet his frightened retainers, but when toto, dorothy's little dog, came bounding through the doorway, he fled ignominiously and hid behind the hearth broom.
"good dog toto, drive them in the corner," approved jack and toto, much as a shepherd dog chases sheep, drove the terrified horde of invaders into a corner and gravely sat down to watch them, snapping at any who tried to escape and snuffing at one and then another most curiously.
"it was the forbidden flagon," explained jack, as ozma dropped into a chair and looked in complete bewilderment at the brownie baron and his band. "is anyone hurt? did i come in time?"
"yes! yes!" sighed ozma, pushing back her tumbled curls. "but how did you know? where have you been, jack dear?"
"where haven't i been," puffed jack pumpkinhead, striding excitedly up and down. "say, what's that noise? where is everybody?"
"oh!" cried ozma, jumping up hurriedly. "the others are in the garden. we must free them at once." but before shirley sunshine, ozma or jack were halfway to the door it burst open, and the whole company of courtiers and celebrities came charging into the banquet hall.
"surrender, villains," bellowed sir hokus, glaring around furiously. "where is that braggart baron!"
"we'll pull his nose! we'll tweak his ears! glinda the good has come, she's here!"
exulted scraps, shaking her cotton fists joyfully, for she had been immediately restored to her own cheerful self by the good sorceress of the south. glinda, in her lovely red robes and head-dress, peered sternly over scraps' shoulder, ready to bring her strongest magic into play. seeing no one in the room but ozma, jack and shirley sunshine, they all stopped short; then catching sight of mogodore and his midgets, cowering in the corner, they surged forward in still greater astonishment.
"what happened?" demanded dorothy, seizing ozma's hands. "the spearmen in the garden suddenly disappeared. scraps reached glinda's castle and glinda came and released us. but whatever happened in here? how did that monster grow so tiny?"
"perhaps jack can tell you," sighed ozma, who was as puzzled as anyone over the curious occurrences of the last few minutes.
"i can," announced jack, stepping forward importantly, "but it is a long, long story."
"then do let's sit down," groaned trot, for she was mortally tired from the long stand in the garden.
"are we saved?" quavered the cowardly lion, as the stiff and weary company fell into the chairs so recently vacated by the conquerors of oz. jack nodded emphatically.
"then i will attend to the prisoners," boomed the soldier with the green whiskers, springing out from behind a pillar, and very brave since the enemy had been reduced. striding over to the corner, he stood over the disconsolate warriors, his gun sternly pointed downward. now betsy picked up the magic belt from the floor, where it had fallen when mogodore shrunk, and fastened it thankfully round ozma's waist. scraps set the emerald crown upon her curly head, and with great gentleness and ceremony the scarecrow and tin woodman conducted the little ruler to her rightful place at the head of the table. then the scarecrow ran out to release the servants, who were locked up in the summer house, the wizard ran to see if his black bag was safe, trot wound up tik tok, who was completely run down by his terrible experiences, and everybody settled back expectantly to hear what jack pumpkinhead had to say.
"now tell us exactly what happened," begged betsy bobbin, as the scarecrow and all the servants came marching into the dining hall and the wizard, tightly clutching his black bag, slipped into a seat beside dorothy.
"well," said jack, with a dignified little cough, "before i begin to tell you that, there is something i must do and three brave comrades to be released from an enchantment. the advice of my friend, the red jinn, worked once and i shall therefore try it again."
"before he speaks he must act," chuckled the scarecrow, who had completely recovered his good humor. "well, my boy, actions speak louder than words." leaning on both elbows, the scarecrow looked on with great interest as jack snatched the pirate sack from his shoulder, turned it inside out and gave it three quick shakes.
"is it a nightmare?" shivered betsy, clutching trot's arm, "or a hallowe'en party? am i really here, and are they?" and well might she ask, for the last shake of the pirate's sack had filled the room with fraid cats and scares. screaming, groaning snatching at one another and the oz folk, the scares swarmed this way and that, until the confusion was terrible.
"actions speak louder than words," mumbled the scarecrow. "well, i do not like their actions at all. call these comrades, friend jack? help! begone! away with you!" jumping up the scarecrow waved his napkin wildly around his head, and all the others, hastily pushing back their chairs, rushed to the assistance of ozma, who was completely surrounded by the ugly intruders. jack pumpkinhead was so stunned and startled by this unexpected happening that he stood perfectly still. then, resolved to go through with the matter, he shook the sack three times more and this time with the desired result.
"why it's peter!" roared sir hokus, disentangling himself from ten scares and hurrying over to the little boy who had just tumbled out of the sack. "peter, the pitcher--and--" thumping scares both left and right, the good knight looked doubtfully at the iffin and belfaygor, who had rolled out of the bag after peter himself. "who are these?" muttered sir hokus, making ready to whack the great red monster if it showed signs of attack.
"don't mind us," begged the iffin, glaring around the banquet hall. "keep working! keep working. i'll help you!" and help he did, with teeth, tail and claw.
"where am i? how did i get here? how did they get here?" muttered peter, rubbing his eyes dizzily and trying to collect himself, for he remembered nothing since he had been swallowed by the sack. but he soon recovered, and fighting his way through the frenzied crowd till he reached ozma's side, cried excitedly. "they're scares, your highness. quick! send them back to scare city, before they break everything to pieces!" glinda and the wizard had already started an incantation to rid the castle of the horrible horde, but before it was half spoken, ozma, without waiting for peter to explain, arose and in a slightly trembling voice called, "i command these people and creatures to return to scare city at once." and at once, and all together they did. and now straightening their collars and settling their ties, for the encounter had been rough and furious, the oz folk gazed at peter and his comrades as curiously as they had gazed upon their pigmy conquerors and the unlovely citizens of scare city.
"if someone will just explain," said ozma. "everything's so terribly mixed up."
"if someone doesn't explain, i shall burst," declared betsy bobbin, bouncing out of her chair. "have you come back to stay, peter dear, and who are these others?" peter was a bit breathless and confused himself and looked anxiously around for the baron. but belfaygor had slipped off unnoticed with shirley sunshine.
"well this," began peter, placing his hand on the red monster's head, "this is snif, an iffin, i mean a griffin."
"if snif's an iffin or a griffin, i s'pose at us he'll soon be sniffin!"
ventured scraps, putting her finger in the corner of her mouth.
"if i should snif at folks so kind, i'd be most rude and unrefined."
replied the iffin, with a wink at the patchwork girl, and this little exchange of verses relieved the strain that the whole company had been under.
"shall i tell the story, or will you?" whispered jack pumpkinhead, stepping closer to peter.
"you," begged peter, staring with round eyes at mogodore and his little men.
"they've been eating shrinking violets," muttered the iffin, rubbing his eyes with one paw and staring even harder than peter.
"no, it was the flagon," explained jack, "the forbidden flagon reduced them to midgets. but what became of belfaygor's beard!"
"it disappeared into the magic sack," grinned belfaygor, coming into the room at that moment with the little princess on his arm. "and glad i am that it's gone. i'll never wear another beard as long as i live."
"beard," put in the soldier with the green whiskers eagerly, "did you have a beard as long and splendid as mine?"
"did i!" groaned the baron, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "ask peter!" taking another look at the soldier with green whiskers, he shuddered and turned away. "you remind me of something i'm trying to forget," said belfaygor.
now all of this only served to increase the interest and curiosity of the already curious company. "tell us! tell us!" cried dorothy impatiently. so, after belfaygor and shirley sunshine had been properly introduced, jack pumpkinhead began the strange story of their journey from scare city to baffleburg and from baffleburg to swing city and his own transportation to the capitol. and while he spoke, the footmen and other servants moved quietly about, sweeping up broken glass, clearing away the table and removing all traces of the rude baron's short reign in the palace. guarded over by toto and the soldier with green whiskers, mogodore and his men crouched miserably together, wondering what would become of them. being merciless themselves, they expected no mercy from their captors. in small hoarse voices, they berated mogodore for meddling with the forbidden flagon and bitterly denounced him for the terrible misfortune that had overtaken them. the rest of the midgets had been discovered and marched in from the garden and soon after word had been sent out through the city that the baron was captured, unc nunkie and his nephew ojo arrived, driving the rest of the baron's tiny warriors and horses before them, so that the entire army were now rounded up in the corner of the banquet hall. but so intent was the company upon jack's amazing story they scarcely heard the grumbling and complaining of the little men or the frightened neighs of the toy-size steeds.
in the kitchen another banquet was soon under way, more and more candles were lighted and soon the castle began to reflect its old time cheer and friendliness. little gasps and exclamations of astonishment punctuated jack's recital and he had to tell over and over how they had escaped from baffleburg, how snif had dwindled down when he ate the shrinking violet; how belfaygor's enchanted beard had helped them out of difficulty and how the mischievous pirate sack had swallowed three of the company, when they were needed most of all. peter, belfaygor and snif were as interested as the others in jack's visit to the red jinn and in the advice that jolly wizard had given.
"you remember the label on the forbidden flagon said that whoever broke the seal would bring a disaster upon his own head?" said jack, turning to his comrades. peter and the baron both nodded and snif waved his tail to show he remembered, too.
"well," smiled jack, "the red jinn told me to remove my head before throwing the flagon and thus avoid the disaster."
"so that's why you took off your pumpkin," murmured ozma, who had been puzzled by this strange action of jack's.
"and he also told me that to release the prisoners from the pirate sack, i must turn it inside out and shake it three times," went on jack impressively. "so when mogodore transported me suddenly to the palace, i did both of these things."
"you certainly did," agreed the scarecrow, shaking his finger at jack pumpkinhead, "and brought a horde of horrors about our ears."
"i forgot about the scares," admitted jack apologetically, "but they're back where they belong, now, and everything has turned out for the best."
"it certainly has," exclaimed ozma, jumping up impulsively. "you and peter, snif and this brave baron have saved the kingdom of oz!" jack was so overcome by these words that he lost his balance and sat down. but he was quickly pulled to his feet, and next instant the rafters rang with rousing cheers for the four valiant rescuers.
"i wish my grandchildren could hear this," sighed the iffin, resting his chin on one claw.
"oh! have you grandchildren?" asked ozma, leaning forward politely.
"no," murmured the iffin in an embarrassed voice, "but i may have. and they'll be interested to hear about this."
"take my advice and never have any grandchildren," whispered the scarecrow confidentially. "i'm a grandfather, and i know." before he had time to explain what he meant, two footmen came grandly forward to announce that dinner was ready, and no one, i assure you, was sorry for that.
"i know what to do," cried dorothy as the green coated servitors began marching in with trays of savory meats and vegetables. "let this be a wedding feast for belfaygor and shirley sunshine."
"hurrah for a wedding feast," shouted the iffin. "grr--rah!" forgetting he had recovered his growl, the red monster let out such a terrific roar that the cowardly lion swooned away and had to be revived with a jug of cider. but he soon recovered and a wedding feast it was and fit for a royal bride, i do assure you. snif had eight geranium plants and an easter lily and was happier than he had ever been in his whole fabulous existence. never in the history of oz was there a merrier banquet nor a happier crowd. delighted to have peter with them again, the oz folk forgot their recent capture and had such a time as only those dear and delightful folk can have. jack pumpkinhead insisted upon being lit up for the celebration, so he was. snif and scraps kept the company in gales of laughter with their rollicking rhymes and when the wedding was solemnized by the highest judge in ozma's court, belfaygor and his bride were toasted in tall tumblers of ozade and simply showered with emeralds and quickly gathered gifts of every sort and description.
"what did it feel like to disappear into that sack?" asked trot, in a little pause following the wedding.
"well, once," said peter, fixing his eyes thoughtfully on the iffin, "once i had a tooth pulled and took gas. it was like that, trot. i just went out, that's all." at once the others began to recall their own experiences with vanishings and disappearances and not till daybreak did any one think of retiring. then the baron of baffleburg and his grumbling little army were locked up in the pantry for safety and peter, snuggling down in his emerald studded bed, decided that this adventure was even more exciting than the last one.
"i wish i could take snif back to philadelphia with me," sighed the little boy as he finally dozed off to sleep.
next day the festivities continued, and all day long peter's old chums and acquaintances were calling at the palace, while the celebrities outdid one another to make things pleasant for belfaygor and his bride. at noon they rode off on the saw horse, for the baron was anxious to return to his castle. peter bade the baron goodbye and promised to pay him a long visit on his next trip to oz, to ride the horse belfaygor agreed to keep for him and even wear the armor the baron had promised him as a reward for rescuing the princess.
snif spent a happy morning in the royal stable with the famous beasts of oz and they listened so politely to his experiences he decided to stay on indefinitely at the capitol. the pirate's sack was locked up in the wizard's strong box and the magic dinner bell stored with the other treasures of the realm, for as ozma remarked to dorothy it would be mighty handy for picnics and unexpected visitors. the fraid cats and statues in scare city were released from their enchantment by the wizard's long distance magic and peter and snif, looking in the magic picture, had the satisfaction of watching them return to their various homes.
"the only thing that still puzzles me," sighed ozma as they all sat cozily under the trees in the garden late that afternoon, "the only thing that puzzles me is the forbidden flagon. what strange spell could have reduced mogodore and his followers to midgets?"
"i think i can explain that," answered glinda, setting her tea cup down on a small green table. "when scraps flew to my castle yesterday and told of the capture of the emerald city, i at once turned to my magic record book to discover something about this baron of baffleburg. you are all, i am sure, familiar with brownies?" dorothy and betsy bobbin nodded sagely, and all the others quickly inclined their heads. "well," said glinda with a wave toward the south, "in the red mountains of oz there are large bands of reddies, who are quite similar to brownies, except for the color of their coats, which are red. to one of these tribes mogodore and his men really belong. but mogodore's great grandfather, jair, was a brave and determined little reddy, whose good deeds and brave actions greatly exceeded his size and strength. so, long ago, a neighboring wizard, whom jair had done a great service, rewarded jair by making him and his followers as large in size as they were in deeds and in action. but the enchantment only held so long as the mysterious red liquid remained in the forbidden flagon. mogodore's father and grandfather guarded the flagon well, but mogodore knew nothing of its secret power nor of his own ancestry or origin. being by nature, discontented and greedy he was always puzzling about the strange black flask and at the first opportunity he satisfied his curiosity."
"well, it's a good thing he did," said peter, looking thoughtfully at the little band of captives who were being marched up and down one of the garden paths by the soldier with green whiskers. "now the other barons will have a little peace."
"let's keep them for toys," proposed scraps, who was never weary of watching the tiny army.
"no," said ozma, shaking her head at the patchwork girl, "that would be cruel. has their city grown small too, glinda?" the sorceress smiled and nodded.
"then i shall send them back to baffleburg," declared ozma, "for they are now too small to harm anyone and there they will be safe and comfortable." as everyone heartily approved of this plan, ozma touched her magic belt, spoke the few words necessary, and away whisked the bad little baron and his band, to their tiny red city on the rocks.
"just the same, i wish we could have kept him," sighed scraps to dorothy. "he looks so funny when he's mad."
"hush!" whispered dorothy, for peter had risen and in an embarrassed voice was asking ozma to send him back to philadelphia.
"still like baseball better than oz?" rumbled sir hokus, shaking a teasing finger at peter.
"well," admitted the little boy, blushing a bit at the question, "the fellows sorta depend on me, hokus, and then you know there's my grandfather."
"of course," smiled ozma, "of course there is. goodbye, dear peter, come back soon and as often as you will."
"goodbye," sobbed the iffin, overcome at the thought of losing his chum. "if you were my own grandchild, i couldn't love you any better."
"goodbye!" called jack pumpkinhead and scraps and all the others and before their gay voices had quite died away, peter was standing in the dim library of his own house.
"oh grandfather," cried peter, "i've been to oz again and flying is grand, grandfather!"
"then we must try it some time," observed the old gentleman calmly, and saying nothing at all about peter's strange absence.
"oh, may we?" peter dropped on the arm of the big chair. "may we, really?"
"well, why not?" demanded grandfather, glancing around the room belligerently and letting his specs fall the full length of the black cord. "why not? 'tis a free country and flying's no crime."
"hurrah!" shouted peter, bouncing off the chair arm and right that instant he decided that even in oz there was no better chum nor braver adventurer than this grandfather of his so straightway he told him all that had happened in baffleburg and other places--indeed all of this story that i have just told to you.
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