him move much more slowly than usual, it was hard for a boy
on foot to keep up with a horse. Fess’s feet and legs were beginning
to ache, and he could not help wishing that Prince Rules
had thought it proper for his page to be mounted. Nobody had
suggested such a thing-the Prince because it hadn’t occurred
to him, and Fess because he hadn’t quite liked to. He regretted
his delicacy now; still, he was a sturdy boy, and he plodded on,
uncomplaining.
It was nearly midnight when they reached the Crenelated Wall, passed through the great blue gateway, and entered the Unknown Land beyond. Fess did not permit himself to look back; but his first quick look ahead showed him that the road they had been following dwindled immediately into a footpath, which wound up a rocky, bramble-grown hillside and vanished among the boulders. It would be far better, Fess thought, to find out where it led tomorrow, in broad daylight. He caught up with Fred and suggested tactfully that the Prince might like to eat a sandwich and sleep a while before they went further.
“Oh, yes, let’s do,” Rules said with a yawn. “But where can we sleep, Fess? I see no castle anywhere.”
“You may not see one again until we’re back in Halidom.,” Fess said bluntly. It was time the Prince began to learn a few home truths about going on a journey. “We’ll probably have to sleep on the ground-tonight and every other night. And there won’t be any pillows.”
“Oh,” the Prince said, blinking. “Very well,” he said graciously
a moment later.
Fess smiled in the darkness, reflecting that however little the Prince might understand what lay ahead of him, at least he was a very good sport indeed. After a glance around the unfamiliar landscape, Fess said, “Come on, then-let’s try that little grove of trees.”
They found a grassy place under the trees, and a tiny stream, at which all four travelers drank gratefully. Prince Rules then sat down against a tree trunk and waited, as befitted a Prince, for dinner to appear. Fess sighed, but brought him a sandwich and a mulberry tart from the basket. Then he unsaddled Fred, who complained a little about the absence of oats and bran mash, but reluctantly agreed to graze on the thick grass instead.
“Flitter, can you find enough food for yourself?” Fess asked.
“Oh, yes, Fess dear, I’ve been eating gnats and things all along the way. But we’ve left my bed at home.”
“That’s easily remedied,” Fess said, taking off his cap and placing it on the ground beside Fred’s saddle. The Flittermouse crept under it at once, and Fess sat down nearby to eat his own sandwich, stretching his tired legs thankfully and hoping there were no bears or lioncels in the grove. Long before Fred had finished his dinner, the Prince had wrapped himself in his cloak and gone to sleep; but for some time Fess lay wakeful, listening for lioncels, but hearing only the Flittermouse’s small, drowsy songs coming out from under the cap, and the Steed’s teeth tearing
at the grass. Finally even these sounds ceased, and he, too, slept.
The first thing he saw next morning was the Unicorn, standing a shaft of sunlight and rubbing her mother-of-pearl horn gently against a tree.
“My bends and buckler!” exclaimed Fess, sitting up with a jerk. “Where did you come from?”
“Pax-on-Argent, of course,” the Unicorn said gently. “Tell me, have you noticed any trefoils growing hereabouts?”
“I told you left the gate open!” squeaked the Flittermouse, scrambling out from under Fess’s cap and hurtling to his shoulder in great excitement.
“You did-and I should have paid more attention,” Fess said ruefully. “Now what’s to be done? I suppose I’ll have to take her back!”
“I won’t go back,” the Unicorn informed him. “Not even for you, and I’m very fond of you. I’m not needed at all in Halidom at the present, and I don’t care for other people bringing my breakfast, and I want to go traveling.” She eyed Fess shyly a moment, then added, “I thought you might like to ride me. I’d be glad to make myself useful, at least in that way.
“Oh, what a good idea!” said Prince Rules, who had wakened and listened with interest to the conversation. “I’m sure we should get on faster, don’t you think so, Fess? And, now I think of it, it’s quite fitting that I should have the National Emblem traveling with me-to bring good luck. Besides, we’ll look
ever so much more elegant.” Rules smiled at the Unicorn and added, “Good morning Unicorn. You may accompany me.
The Unicorn, who was very reserved and shy with everybody but Fess, merely pawed delicately at the moss with a golden hoof, but Fess shook his head doubtfully.
“There may not be any trefoils growing in this land at all,” he warned her. “And I’m pretty heavy for you to carry.
“Oh, no. I may not be as large as a horse, but I’m quite as strong as one. Stronger, in fact, because I’m not an ordinary sort of animal. I’m unique. The fairy Lurline told me so. And I’ll gladly eat ordinary daisies or buttercups, if I can be with you.”
“Well, all right, then,” Fess said, privately very glad he would not have to walk all over Oz. Turning to the Steed, who had been watching rather anxiously, he added politely, “Federigo, have you ever met the Unicorn?”
“I believe so, in a Procession once. I was only a palfrey then,” he added hastily to the Unicorn. “I doubt if you remember. But I’m a Steed now, I’m His Highness’s own personal Steed, and I hope soon to become a Charger. I have a cousin who’s a Destrier.”
“Never mind, go get your breakfast,” Fess said, adding in an undertone, “You mustn’t brag so, Federigo, it’s not in good taste.
“Well, she outranks me,” Fred muttered nervously. “At least, I suppose she does, being an Emblem, and Unique, and all
that. How can one tell what rank she is, when she’s not even a horse.- It’s irritating. Besides, she’s very stuck-up. She looks down her nose at me, and I’m just as good as anybody. I come from a very aristocratic-”
“I know, I know,” Fess soothed him. “But you must be polite anyway, and she’s not really stuck-up, she’s only shy. Now go eat your grass so we can start.”
Half an hour later, smothering his doubts as to how the two animals were going to get along, Fess saddled Fred for the Prince, scrambled onto the Unicorn’s snowy back, and they were on their way, the Flittermouse fluttering ahead.
Having no idea what else to do, Fess had decided to follow the path over the hillside he had seen the night before. By daylight the scrubby bushes and tumbled boulders did not look menacing, but they made traveling difficult, and when the travelers reached the crest of the hill they were all glad to see a wooded valley spread out below. So far they had passed no villages, no houses, not even a squirrel or a woodcutter. A few brilliant blue birds flew southwards, far up in the cloudless sky, but there seemed to be no other inhabitants in this lonely country.
“If only there were somebody we could ask questions of Fess said, as they gained the valley and were once again in woods. “We don’t even know where we re heading. We can’t just wander.”
“Why not?” asked Prince Rules.
“Well, for one thing, we’re nearly out of sandwiches And for another, we’ll never find the Circlets unless we make some sort of plan about how to look for them.”
“But how can we do that if we don’t know where they are?”
“I don’t know,” Fess admitted gloomily. “But if there were any villages-or even any people-we could kind of ask around, at least. After all, there’s not going to be a sign beside the path, saying ‘This Way To Lost Circlets!’
“There’s a sign, though,” the Flittermouse said suddenly. “Right over there by that bush. See?”
It was a square blue sign on a short stake, with large white letters that read uncompromisingly, “KEEP OUT.” Since they were merely walking along a grassy path through scrubby and untended woods, this seemed an odd instruction.
“Keep ou
t of what.?” Fred said indignantly. “I don’t see anything to keep out of.”
“Neither do I. Let’s go on,” Fess said.
A few yards farther on, however, they saw another sign. This one said “NO TRESPASSING.” just beyond it was a third that read, “POST NO BILLS.”
“This is very queer,” Fess muttered. “We haven’t passed a fence all morning, yet we must be on somebody’s land.”
“Maybe we’ll come to the castle pretty soon,” Prince Rules said hopefully.
“Then you can ask questions!” chirped the Flittermouse,
bouncing happily on Fess’s shoulder and leaning far forward to peer into his face.
“I suppose so,” Fess said, though privately he wondered whether he’d get any answers if he did ask. So far, the signs appeared anything but friendly. At that moment, Fred, who was in the lead, emerged into a little clearing and whinnied,
“Here’s another sign!”
“Two more,” Prince Rules corrected him.
The Unicorn pressed up beside them, and Fess read out, “SILENCE!” and “QUIET, PLEASE.”
“Of all the nerve!” Fred exclaimed, loudly and huffily. “Who do they think they’re ordering around, anyhow? Your Highness, I believe you should make yourself known to these peasants, whoever they are, and-
He broke off with a startled snort, and the others gasped. Before their eyes, the letters of the second sign had changed from “QUIET PLEASE,” to “SHUT UP!” As the whole party stared at it in disbelief, it changed again, to “SPEAK SIGN LANGUAGE ONLY.”
“But how do we do that, Fess dear?.” the Flittermouse whispered, very softly, in Fess’s ear.
At the same moment. the Unicorn took a nervous step backwards, then pointed with her horn toward the patch of sky visible above the clearing. Against the cloudless blue, huge vapor letters were forming in the air, as if an unseen, giant hand were writing them. Slowly they spelled out, “PRIVATE PROPERTY.
FOLLOW DOTTED LINE.”
“What dotted line.?” the Prince whispered, glancing in bewilderment at Fess.
Fess shook his head, then peering beyond Fred, suddenly pointed. On the other side of the clearing, the path became a line of round white stones that led off through the bushes and into a thicket of scrubby trees. The travelers glanced at each other, then, somewhat apprehensively, crossed the clearing and began to follow the dotted line.
Chapter 7
BY EVENING of his second day with the Fox-Hunters, Robin wanted nothing so much as to escape. He had learned a good deal about life in View-Halloo by now, and he found it not only exhausting but shatteringly monotonous.
Every day, apparently, was exactly like every other. The Huntsmen were up and into the saddle at daybreak, shouting heartily to each other almost before their eyes were open, and they never quit shouting heartily - and exercising vigorously-until they went to bed at night. They dismounted only for meals, all three of which were Hunt Breakfasts, with an unvarying menu of creamed kidneys, scrambled eggs, and a bitter hot drink called Stirrup-Cup. As soon as the first of these meals was over, half the hounds and Huntsmen sallied forth, amid loud blasts on the horn,
to streak madly over the fields and hedgerows after a fox, while the other half stayed in View-Halloo enthusiastically training horses or practicing jumps. At noon the First Hunt noisily returned, and after another breakfast they plunged in their turn into training and jumping-practice, while the Second Hunt rode out.
The hounds lived in a long, pink building, which was called The Kennels, but seemed to Robin more like a clubhouse. The foxes had their own quarters, or Earths, as they jocularly called them, on the other side of Yoick’s red brick mansion. The foxes were every bit as fond of foxhunting as the Huntsmen, hounds and horses, and carefully trained their cubs-or kits-in the profession, teaching them old family tricks of evasion and escape. After a day in the field they came back to View-Halloo and sat around the Kennels discussing with the hounds the finer technical points of the day’s sport, in the most companionable way possible, while the horses talked shop in the stables, and the Huntsmen in the Hunt Club Rooms of the red brick mansion.
As far as Robin could find out, Merry had not yet been ridden in a hunt, or even allowed outside of View-Halloo. Her training had been begun promptly, however. From the chance glimpses he caught of her as she was hurried from stables to paddock and back again, he could guess that she was learning far more than she really wanted to know about jumping, chasing, turning short, obeying commands, and half a dozen other things.
He himself was kept just as busy learning to be a kennel-Boy. His teacher, Spots, had turned out to be a large, elderly, and
very experienced black and white hound, who knew everything there was to know, he assured Robin, about training boys and puppies.
“Just keep your ears up, mind the cope, and don’t throw your tongue unless you’re barked at, and you’ll learn the work soon enough,” he told Robin casually, looking him over with a lazy eye.
This Robin translated, after some thought, into “pay attention, do what you’re told, and don’t speak until you’re spoken to,” which sounded familiar enough.
“Yes sir,” Robin sighed. “What will the work be? Carrying food for the dogs?”
“For the Hounds. Yes, and drawing water. Your paws are better adapted than ours for that kind of menial task. However, you’ll have assistants-babblers, skirters, rioters and so on, who haven’t made the pack. Your main work will be-”
“Excuse me, Robin said. He was able to guess that “making the pack” was something like “making the team, but he was baffled and faintly alarmed by the sound of the other terms. did you say would be my assistants?”
“Babblers, skitters, and rioters,” repeated Spots. When Robin continued to look puzzled, the old hound heaved a martyred sigh and closed his eves for a moment. “I see we shall have to start at the very beginning. Tell me what you know-if anything-about foxhunting.”
Well,” Robin began, thinking hard. “A hunt is … well, a
whole lot of men and horses go out in the country with a bunch of
dogs-”
”A field of huntsmen. and hunters ride out with a pack of hounds,” Spots corrected him.
“Oh. well then, a field of huntsmen and hunters ride out with a pack of hounds, and the hounds sniff around looking for a fox, and pretty soon they smell his scent-”
“The hounds feather as they draw”, and pretty soon they make a hit. Try to get things right!”
”Yes, sir. well, then they run along where the fox has been, barking and making a big racket as long as they can still smell
him-”
“The hounds are off, in full cry, throwing their tongues as long as they own the scent,” Spots yapped rapidly, closing his eyes again.
Robin sighed. “And then finally one of the men-huntsmen-sees the fox and yells to the others-.” “Gives the Halloo.”
”Gives the Halloo,” said Robin as fast as he could. ”And everybody chases and chases and finally they run him into a corner somewhere, or into a hole, and the dogs-I mean hounds-stop and bark -I mean throw their tongues and finally the men-huntsmen-come up and kill him, and that’s the end.”
He finished with a sigh of relief, only to find that his teacher’s eyes had flown upon and were fixed upon him with an expression of outrage.
“Kill him?” Spots barked. “What in the name of Yoicks makes you think any hound or huntsman in the whole County would so much as dream of killing a fox?”
Robin blinked. “Well,” he faltered. “They do at home. I mean, in places where they have foxhunts. I’m sure they do.”
For a long moment Spots merely looked at him, levelly, coldly, and in complete disgust. “I perceive,” he said at last, “that you are not only ignorant, but a barbarian.”
“I’m not!” Robin retorted hotly. “I never said I’d kill one! Why, I wouldn’t kill anything, except maybe a fly or a mosquito. And what’s more-”
“Ver
y well, very well, I won’t rate you this time,” Spots said, flapping a paw at him wearily. In the County, he told Robin, no fox was ever harmed in any way-they were merely tagged, or touched, when they were caught.
”Oh, I see! Like touch-football!” Robin said.
“Possibly. I am not acquainted with touch-football,” Spots said austerely. He gazed at Robin and shook his head. “You have a great deal to learn before your first Examinations. Why, you’re not even ready for Lesson One yet! Come on into my office, we’d better have vocabulary drill the rest of the day.”
Robin followed him, still smarting from what he considered an unjust scolding (”I suppose I’ll have to call it rating!” he thought) and trying to catch a glimpse of Merry as he went. He found it utterly exasperating that, having landed dramatically in a strange
and magic country, and having just barely begun to own his very first horse, he should have stumbled into a sort of boring language class that was even worse than ordinary school. “I’ll find Merry tonight,” he thought, “and we’ll run away.”
But he was not even allowed out of Spot’s quarters that night. The evening Hunt Breakfast was brought to them on a tray, and afterwards Spots sent him to bed on a pile of hay in the next room, and locked the door behind him.
The next morning, after more creamed kidneys and Stirrup Cup, the old hound fixed his pupil with a stern amber eye, and said, ”Lesson One: the foxes are our constant companions, our worthy opponents, and our friends. Repeat that after me.”
Somewhat sulkily, Robin repeated it after him.
“Lesson Two: the first and best quality in a hound is courage. The second is a Superior Nose. ‘A hound cannot go faster than his nose.’ Memorize that. Lesson Three the first concern of a kennel boy is the care of the hound’s feet. Be ready to recite all that to me by tomorrow. Now huic-huic to me-that means come along. You’d better meet some of the Pack.”
Glad to get out of the stuffy office, Robin followed him toward the kennel yard. Several hounds were strolling aimlessly in the same direction, pausing now and then to stretch in the sunshine
L. Frank Baum - Oz 40 Page 6