L. Frank Baum - Oz 20

by The Hungry Tiger Of Oz

  “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 downhearted 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.

  “Tomorrow,” promised the Vegetable Man gaily, “We will find a way into the city and rescue our old friend.”

  “And tonight?” queried Betsy, uneasily. “Tonight 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.

  CHAPTER 13

  Beside the Wall

  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.

  “Tonight,” 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,” and 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 tomorrow 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?

  CHAPTER 14

  The Airman of Oz

  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 Jam, 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 tomorrow already!”

  “Tomorrow!” 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 if 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 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.