L. Frank Baum - Oz 20
Page 5
“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 Vi-zier, 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.”
CHAPTER 7
Escape from Rash
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 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.
CHAPTER 8
In Down Town
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 Carte?, 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 little 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?”
“The Scarlet Prince, the Son of Asha, Prince Evered of Rash, the Pasha!”
Droned the sad singer with a deep salaam toward the youthful huler.
“All that?” gasped the flungry 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?”