L. Frank Baum - Oz 23

by Jack Pumpkinhead Of Oz

“But there’s Jack’s head!” cried Peter, picking himself up joyfully. The sudden arrival of Belfaygor immediately knocked him down again, but while the baron mumbled apologies, Peter sprang to his feet, and hurrying over to the corner of the cellar pounced upon Jack’s pumpkin.

  “Oh Jack, we’ve been so worried about you,” said the little boy, holding the head tightly in both arms, “but now we’ll soon fix you up and fly to the Emerald City, for Snif has grown big again and we’ve all escaped from the tower.”

  “So I see,” observed Jack as Peter held his head toward the others. “And I’m very glad they chopped off my head and not yours, Peter, for yours would not so easily be put back, and it’s lucky they did chop it off too, for otherwise I would never have learned of the forbidden flagon.”

  “Forbidden flagon!” exclaimed Peter, sitting down on an overturned keg and staring earnestly down at Jack’s head. “What has that to do with us?”

  “Everything,” confided Jack mysteriously. “Has Mogodore started for the Emerald City?” Peter nodded and Snif and Belfaygor both drew nearer, while the little boy explained how they had escaped and how they were now about to fly to the capitol to warn Ozma of Mogodore’s wicked intentions.

  “But we must not go without that flagon,” insisted’ Jack, after listening attentively to Peter’s recital. “Listen: as I was lying here a while ago, hoping that no rats would come to gnaw my fine features, or make a nest in my head, an armed guard came creeping up that ladder you see over in the darkest corner. As he did, another came sliding down from above, and stopping under the lantern they began to converse.

  “‘What a bitter waste of time it is, guarding this foolish flagon,’ fumed the guard who had climbed the ladder. ‘Who ever could find their way to the enchanted cavern through the lost labyrinth, anyway?’

  ‘Only one as knows the tricks,’ grinned the fellow who had come down to relieve him. ‘Left turn left, and always left, and as for the enchanted cavern itself. Bah, what a joke! But have you heard the latest news Doab? Mogodore has gone to capture the Emerald City and make himself a King.’

  “‘A King,’ roared the second, ‘Ha! Ha! ‘Tis well those foolish folk at the capitol know nothing of this flask. One tip of that forbidden flagon and-‘

  “What?” demanded Peter, who had been listening breathlessly to Jack’s story.

  “Well,” admitted the Pumpkinhead regretfully,” he didn’t say, “but from the nudge he gave his comrade, I imagine there’s something in that flask to destroy Mogodore’s power.

  “But we have the sack, and the Wizard and Ozma have plenty of magic,” objected Peter impatiently. “I don’t think we’d better stop to hunt for it, Jack. We had better go on to the Emerald City just as fast as we can.

  “We had the sack before and Mogodore captured us. Don’t forget that,” sighed the Pumpkinhead gloomily. “What’s happened before may easily happen again.”

  “It will not take longer than an hour to fly to the capitol, and Mogodore riding at his best speed cannot reach there until afternoon. Perhaps we had better find this flagon, Peter, and make sure of victory this time,” murmured Snif thoughtfully, and as Belfaygor sided with the Iffin, Peter rather reluctantly agreed to descend into the enchanted cavern.

  “We may lose our way in the labyrinth,” said Peter looking down the ladder without much enthusiasm.

  “Not while I have my whiskers,” smiled Belfaygor, stroking his famous beard,

  “We’ll let them grow along with us and then we’ll follow them back.”

  “If it weren’t for those whiskers We’d never be here! Hurrah for your beard!

  Three hurrahs and a cheer!” roared Snif, saluting the baron with his front paw. “Not so loud! Not so loud!” begged Belfaygor, looking around nervously. “Someone might hear you.

  “Do you want to come with us?” asked Peter, looking doubtfully at the Pumpkinhead.

  “Better leave me here,” advised Jack seriously. “You’ll need both hands to fight the guard. “Now don’t forget, when you are in the labyrinth turn left and keep turning left.”

  “And you’re sure you’ll be all right?” asked Peter, placing Jack’s head gently on the cellar floor.

  “I certainly cannot be all right if I’m left, but I’d rather be left than right this time,” muttered Jack to himself, as his three friends disappeared down the ladder into the labyrinth.

  CHAPTER 13 The Enchanted Cavern

  THIS is about as exciting as rice pudding without any raisins,” said Peter, treading closely after Snif. For five minutes they had been trudging solemnly through the labyrinth at the foot of the ladder. Every few rods the chilly tunnel would branch off into three or more tunnels, but Belfaygor, always taking the left turn, marched hopefully onward, his red beard trailing like a long and lively vine behind him.

  “Are you sure we’ve been turning left all the time,” asked Peter, after five more minutes of this weary winding. “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere at all.” Belfaygor nodded emphatically and taking another left turn, gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and dismay. Coming quickly around the bend, Peter and Snif saw that they had reached the enchanted cavern itself.

  “Horrors!” shuddered Peter, catching hold of Snifs mane. “You’re right,” wheezed the Iffin, rearing up on his hind legs. “Open the sack! Open the sack! These are worse than Scares!” The enchanted cavern was small and dim and lit only by a flickering red light, but ranged around the walls was such a company of Ugly Muglies that Peter’s fingers, fumbling with the strings of the pirate’s sack, shook so he could hardly untie the knots.

  He finally did get the cord unfastened and opening the sack he advanced a step into the cave. As he did, the Ugly Muglies advanced a step toward him and in a panic Peter realized that the sack was not going to swallow them. Belfaygor turning to run, tripped over his whiskers and fell flat. Peter looked round desperately for a rock or stone to fight with, but Snif, muttering dreadful denunciations in the Grif language, hurled himself bodily at the enemy. There was a dull thud as Snif met the enemy, and next instant he lay stretched on the floor. Peter was almost afraid to look, but forced himself to move forward.

  “Come away, begged the little boy in a hoarse whisper, trying at the same time to tug the Iffin to his feet. “Hurry Hurry! Here they come again.

  “Again,” moaned Snif, opening one eye, “they were never there at all.” “But I see them,” insisted Peter. “What knocked you down?” Instead of answering, Snif lurched to his feet.

  “Myself,” panted the Iffin, planting his claw in the middle of a red monster’s nose. “The walls of this cave are mirrors, boy, magic mirrors. They multiplied us fifty times and in fifty frightful ways. There’s nobody here but us.” Rubbing his eyes, Peter looked again, then, tiptoeing forward, touched the walls of the cavern. Just as Snif said, they were mirrors, and remembering how he had often laughed at his distorted reflection in the mirror maze at Willow Grove, Peter began to laugh now.

  “No wonder the sack wouldn’t work,” said Peter, jerking the cords tight and tossing the sack over his shoulder. “But it’s a pretty good trick at that. Look at me. I’m enough to frighten my own grandfather.”

  “Oh, come on, grumbled Belfaygor, who was vexed to think he had been so easily scared. “Let’s find this miserable flagon and begone. It’s stifling in here.”

  The scowling reflections cast by the mirrors were so confusing, they had to go slowly and carefully, but after circling the cavern several times, they discovered an opening into a still smaller cave. Peter went first, and poking his head under the arch between the caves saw the guard Jack had mentioned, asleep beside a fountain of fire.

  The fire fountain jetted up from the center of a deep green grotto and in the middle of the fountain, Peter could just make out a small black flagon. With a little cry of triumph he darted into the rocky room.

  “You’ll burn yourself,” puffed Belfaygor, as Peter leaned forward to snatch the flagon from the flames. At his cry of w
arning, the guard awakened and with spear upraised sprang to his feet. But Belfaygor was ready for him. Seizing his spear, Belfaygor ran ‘round the startled soldier, till he was wound up like a mummy in the baron’s red beard. Calmly cutting off his end of the whiskers, Belfaygor dragged the helpless guard out of the way. “Let us get this flagon and depart,” cried the baron.

  “Maybe this fire isn’t real,” suggested Peter. “Maybe it’s a trick like the mirrors.” Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, Peter tossed it into the fountain. But it caught fire at once and burned up with such a snap and crackle the three friends jumped back in a hurry.

  “I don’t mind singeing a few feathers for the cause,” said Snif, as Peter and Belfaygor looked longingly at the strange black flask.

  “No you don’t,” said Peter firmly. “You’ve done your share.” With a little smile he touched the lump Snif had raised on his head when he ran into the walls of the cave.

  “You discovered the mirrors, Belfaygor captured the guard. Now it’s my turn.” While Snif grumbled his disapproval and the baron stroked his beard uneasily, Peter gazed into the sparkling fountain of fire. Then with a sudden snap of his fingers, he seized Belfaygor’s shears, and clipped a long piece from the Baron’s red and ever ready whiskers. “Now,” said Peter, “you take one end, and I’ll take the other.” Looking much mystified, Belfaygor did as he was told. They were standing in back of the fire fountain and one on each side. At a signal from Peter both rushed forward. The baron’s beard, passing through the flames, knocked the flagon from its stand, before it went up in smoke and the flagon itself rolled into a dark corner of the green grotto. “Wait till it cools off,” warned Peter as Snif made a pounce at the flask.

  “Gee, I do wonder what’s in it and why it’s hidden down here?” Impatiently they looked down at the smoking black bottle and after what seemed to be hours, Peter, covering his hand with his handkerchief, ventured to pick it up. It was still smoking hot, but by changing hands frequently, Peter managed to hold it and read aloud the curious legend on the red label.

  “The Forbidden Flagon, To be guarded by each successive Baron of Baffleburg. Who breaks the seal upon this flask Or spills its contents red, Brings woe to Baffleburg and dire Disaster on his head.”

  “Now that’s nice,” said the Iffin, wiggling his nose very fast. “We break the flask to subdue Mogodore and bring a disaster on our heads. Don’t drop it lad, whatever you do, don’t drop it. I’d like to have a few more geraniums and see a few more sunsets before a disaster hits me.”

  “It is my place to break the seal,” announced Belfaygor in a determined voice.

  “Give me the flagon. What care I for disaster if Shirley Sunshine is saved?” Peter was really alarmed at the threatening tone of the red verses. “Not now, Belfaygor, wait till we reach the Emerald City and then maybe we won’t have to break it at all.”

  “That’s the talk,” said Snif, waving his tail gently to and fro. “Come, let’s start back.” Peter tucked the flagon into his pocket. “We’ll go right away,” he said. Leaving the guard still swathed in whiskers, the three friends stepped from the small cavern into the large cavern and from the large cavern into the labyrinth.

  Going back they turned right and kept turning right, but it was slow and tedious and seemed much longer than before. At last, dusty and weary, they came to the end and climbed the ladder into the cellarway.

  “Thank the stars, you’re here!” cried Jack’s Pumpkin head.

  “Not the stars,” wheezed Snif, heaving himself up the ladder and dropping heavily on the cellar floor, “not stars, whiskers!”

  “They lead us down, they lead us back; They tied the guard up fast; They pulled the flagon from the flames, Long may they wave and last!”

  “They have been pretty useful,” admitted Belfaygor, giving his beard a thoughtful stroke before he cut it off short.

  “Useful,” rumbled the Iffin, raising one claw. “They’re wonderful. I’m positively attached to them.”

  “Not half so much as I am,” smiled the baron, with another quick clip.

  “So you found the flagon,” said Jack, as Peter picked up his head and started up the long steep slideway.

  Peter nodded and with what breath he had left told Jack all about the enchanted cavern and the inscription on the magic flask. There was a rail beside the slide and by holding on to this they managed to pull themselves up without slipping backward. But they were now so impatient to be off that the slide seemed simply endless. Finally they reached the top and hurried down the hallway leading into Mogodore’s room of state.

  “Here’s somebody you’ll be glad to see, chuckled Peter, pointing to the stiff figure seated in the chair.

  “Some body!” exclaimed Jack’s head as Peter held it up. “Why it’s mine. Reunite us at once, my boy. Oh, how I have missed me!” It was the matter of but a moment to place the pumpkin head back on its peg. At once Jack arose to his feet and executed a lively jig, in which the Iffin, with more gusto than grace joined him, while Peter and the baron looked amusedly on. The search for the flagon had taken just an hour, and feeling well repaid for their trouble the four valorous rescuers prepared to leave the palace. Jack took out the famous dinner bell to see that it was safe, Belfaygor gave his beard a last cheerful clip, Snif ate the tops of a pot of geraniums and Peter, putting the flagon in his pocket and tightening his hold on the pirate’s sack felt ready for any adventure. But as he prepared to jump upon Snif’s back, there came a sudden splutter, screech and roar.

  “Stop!” screamed a threatening voice. “Stop! Or you shall be boiled like eggs, stewed like prunes, fried like fish.” Snif swallowed a geranium whole, Jack’s knees knocked together and bent outward, and in spite of himself, Peter clutched at a chair for support.

  “Who speaks?” boomed Belfaygor, snatching a sword from the wall and swinging about like a tee-too-tum.

  “Die!” thundered the voice again. “Die, you knaves!” Trembling a little, Peter looked all around but could see no one. As the dreadful threats kept up, Belfaygor went to look behind a screen. but one of Mogodore’s hunting dogs, rising from its place by the fire, moved majestically across the floor, picked up a small red box in its teeth, and with an impatient grunt dropped it at Peter’s feet. Then with a satisfied yawn, the great dog rubbed against his knee and returning to its post immediately dozed off again.

  “It’s the sauce box,” cried Peter with a gasp of relief. Closing the lid, he smiled cheerfully at the Iffin.

  “I’d like to smash its lid,” grunted Snif vindictively. “I nearly choked on that geranium.

  “Don’t do that,” advised Jack, leaning down to straighten his knee joints. “Take it along. What frightened us may easily frighten others.”

  “That’s so,” laughed Peter, helping Jack to mount Snifs back. “Well, we surely have enough magic now. A dinner bell, a forbidden flagon, a magic sack and sauce box.”

  “Don’t forget Belfaygor’s beard,” said Snif slyly, as Peter climbed up behind Jack. “I wish I could forget it,” sighed the baron, seating himself next to Peter. “Oh, well,” Peter reminded him cheerfully, “it won’t be very long now, Belfaygor!” “No, not if he keeps cutting it,” said Jack calmly. “I mean it won’t be long before we reach the Emerald City,” laughed Peter, as the Iffin raised his mighty wings and swooped out the wide open castle doors. “Here we go!”

  CHAPTER 14 High Times in Swing City

  “AS SOON as we see Mogodore, I’ll open the pirate’s sack, no fooling!” declared Peter, looking down at the whirling red landscape. Like tiny toys under a Christmas tree, the villages and towns spread out below, and some country people dancing about a May pole looked no larger than dolls.

  “Swallowing’s too good for him,” objected Belfaygor, stroking the sword he had taken from the castle hall. “Let me have one good swing at him one good thrust, before you open that sack!”

  “If we trust to a thrust, we may all be undone, ‘Tis better to sack him than whac
k him, my Son!” called Snif, looking over his shoulder to wink at Peter.

  “Much better,” approved Jack Pumpkinhead. “Let us open the sack, break the forbidden flagon and throw the sauce box at his head.”

  “Yes, and bring a dire disaster on our own, said Peter, remembering the warning on the magic flask. “We’ll give the flagon to Ozma and let the Wizard of Oz decide what is to be done with it.”

  “Well, I hope he can do something with my beard,” groaned Belfaygor, looking ruefully at the blisters on his thumbs. “I cannot keep on cutting it forever. Besides it will frighten the Princess.”

  “He’ll fix it,” promised Peter confidently. “The Wizard of Oz can fix anything. Oh boy, I can hardly wait to see them all again. Is Scraps as funny as ever and has Kuma Party visited the Emerald City since I left?”

  “He lent Ozma a hand just the other day,” said Jack, throwing both arms around Snifs neck, as he made a sudden dive through a cloud. “She was having trouble with the Hammerheads and needed a strong hand to subdue them.” Peter had met Kuma Party on his first journey to Oz. This singular gentleman can really send his hands, feet, head or body wheresoever he wishes. Belfaygor listened politely, as Peter told how Kuma’s hand had guided him to the Kingdom of Patch, helped him escape, and how it had afterward arrived at the Emerald City in time to catch the Gnome King.

  “If we had it now, we could send it down for some apples,” sighed the little boy, peering hungrily over the Iffin’s wing. Snif was flying low, to be sure not to miss Mogodore, and the orchards, laden with rosy red fruit, looked tempting indeed.