“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 paws threateningly at the palace of I-wish-I-was.
CHAPTER 11 A Strange Fishing Party
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,” and 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 chocolate, 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 tomorrow-Even though you’re chocolate!’ 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 ref
use, 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 downhearted 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!
CHAPTER 12 Saved by a Flyaboutabus
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.
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.”
L. Frank Baum - Oz 17 Page 8