L. Frank Baum - Oz 17

by The Cowardly Lion Of Oz

  “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 lighthearted 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.

  CHAPTER 19 In the Emerald City

  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 Comforotable 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 naturally bright because 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.