Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

“I’ve been considering that all night,” said Rinkitink, “and I believe the best plan will be for you to let down the bucket to me, and I’ll hold fast to it while you wind up the chain and so draw me to the top.”

  “I will try to do that,” replied Inga, and he let the bucket down very carefully until he heard the King call out:

  “I’ve got it! Now pull me up—slowly, my boy, slowly—so I won’t rub against the rough sides.”

  Inga began winding up the chain, but King Rinkitink was so fat that he was very heavy and by the time the boy had managed to pull him halfway up the well his strength was gone. He clung to the crank as long as possible, but suddenly it slipped from his grasp and the next minute he heard Rinkitink fall “plump!” into the water again.

  “That’s too bad!” called Inga, in real distress; “but you were so heavy I couldn’t help it.”

  “Dear me!” gasped the King, from the darkness below, as he spluttered and coughed to get the water out of his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to let go?”

  “I hadn’t time,” said Inga, sorrowfully.

  “Well, I’m not suffering from thirst,” declared the King, “for there’s enough water inside me to float all the boats of Regos and Coregos—or at least it feels that way. But never mind! So long as I’m not actually drowned, what does it matter?”

  “What shall we do next?” asked the boy anxiously.

  “Call someone to help you,” was the reply.

  “There is no one on the island but myself,” said the boy; “—excepting you,” he added, as an afterthought.

  “I’m not on it—more’s the pity!—but in it,” responded Rinkitink. “Are the warriors all gone?”

  “Yes,” said Inga, “and they have taken my father and mother, and all our people, to be their slaves,” he added, trying in vain to repress a sob.

  “So—so!” said Rinkitink softly; and then he paused a moment, as if in thought. Finally he said: “There are worse things than slavery, but I never imagined a well could be one of them. Tell me, Inga, could you let down some food to me? I’m nearly starved, and if you could manage to send me down some food I’d be well fed—hoo, hoo, heek, keek, eek!—well fed. Do you see the joke, Inga?”

  “Do not ask me to enjoy a joke just now, your Majesty,” begged Inga in a sad voice; “but if you will be patient I will try to find something for you to eat.”

  He ran back to the ruins of the palace and began searching for bits of food with which to satisfy the hunger of the King, when to his surprise he observed the goat, Bilbil, wandering among the marble blocks.

  “What!” cried Inga. “Didn’t the warriors get you, either?”

  “If they had,” calmly replied Bilbil, “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “But how did you escape?” asked the boy.

  “Easily enough. I kept my mouth shut and stayed away from the rascals,” said the goat. “I knew that the soldiers would not care for a skinny old beast like me, for to the eye of a stranger I seem good for nothing. Had they known I could talk, and that my head contained more wisdom than a hundred of their own noddles, I might not have escaped so easily.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” said the boy.

  “I suppose they got the old man?” carelessly remarked Bilbil.

  “What old man?”

  “Rinkitink.”

  “Oh, no! His Majesty is at the bottom of the well,” said Inga, “and I don’t know how to get him out again.”

  “Then let him stay there,” suggested the goat.

  “That would be cruel. I am sure, Bilbil, that you are fond of the good King, your master, and do not mean what you say. Together, let us find some way to save poor King Rinkitink. He is a very jolly companion, and has a heart exceedingly kind and gentle.”

  “Oh, well; the old boy isn’t so bad, taken altogether,” admitted Bilbil, speaking in a more friendly tone. “But his bad jokes and fat laughter tire me dreadfully, at times.”

  Prince Inga now ran back to the well, the goat following more leisurely.

  “Here’s Bilbil!” shouted the boy to the King. “The enemy didn’t get him, it seems.”

  “That’s lucky for the enemy,” said Rinkitink. “But it’s lucky for me, too, for perhaps the beast can assist me out of this hole. If you can let a rope down the well, I am sure that you and Bilbil, pulling together, will be able to drag me to the earth’s surface.”

  “Be patient and we will make the attempt,” replied Inga encouragingly, and he ran to search the ruins for a rope. Presently he found one that had been used by the warriors in toppling over the towers, which in their haste they had neglected to remove, and with some difficulty he untied the knots and carried the rope to the mouth of the well.

  Bilbil had lain down to sleep and the refrain of a merry song came in muffled tones from the well, proving that Rinkitink was making a patient endeavor to amuse himself.

  “I’ve found a rope!” Inga called down to him; and then the boy proceeded to make a loop in one end of the rope, for the King to put his arms through, and the other end he placed over the drum of the windlass. He now aroused Bilbil and fastened the rope firmly around the goat’s shoulders.

  “Are you ready?” asked the boy, leaning over the well.

  “I am,” replied the King.

  “And I am not,” growled the goat, “for I have not yet had my nap out. Old Rinki will be safe enough in the well until I’ve slept an hour or two longer.”

  “But it is damp in the well,” protested the boy, “and King Rinkitink may catch the rheumatism, so that he will have to ride upon your back wherever he goes.”

  Hearing this, Bilbil jumped up at once.

  “Let’s get him out,” he said earnestly.

  “Hold fast!” shouted Inga to the King. Then he seized the rope and helped Bilbil to pull. They soon found the task more difficult than they had supposed. Once or twice the King’s weight threatened to drag both the boy and the goat into the well, to keep Rinkitink company. But they pulled sturdily, being aware of this danger, and at last the King popped out of the hole and fell sprawling full length upon the ground.

  For a time he lay panting and breathing hard to get his breath back, while Inga and Bilbil were likewise worn out from their long strain at the rope; so the three rested quietly upon the grass and looked at one another in silence.

  Finally Bilbil said to the King:

  “I’m surprised at you. Why were you so foolish as to fall down that well? Don’t you know it’s a dangerous thing to do? You might have broken your neck in the fall, or been drowned in the water.”

  “Bilbil,” replied the King solemnly, “you’re a goat. Do you imagine I fell down the well on purpose?”

  “I imagine nothing,” retorted Bilbil. “I only know you were there.”

  “There? Heh-heh-heek-keek-eek! To be sure I was there,” laughed Rinkitink. “There in a dark hole, where there was no light; there in a watery well, where the wetness soaked me through and through—keek-eek-eek-eek!—through and through!”

  “How did it happen?” inquired Inga.

  “I was running away from the enemy,” explained the King, “and I was carelessly looking over my shoulder at the same time, to see if they were chasing me. So I did not see the well, but stepped into it and found myself tumbling down to the bottom. I struck the water very neatly and began struggling to keep myself from drowning, but presently I found that when I stood upon my feet on the bottom of the well, that my chin was just above the water. So I stood still and yelled for help; but no one heard me.”

  “If the warriors had heard you,” said Bilbil, “they would have pulled you out and carried you away to be a slave. Then you would have been obliged to work for a living, and that would be a new experience.”

  “Work!” exclaimed Rinkitink. “Me work? Hoo, hoo, heek-keek-eek! How absurd! I’m so stout—not to say chubby—not to say fat—that I can hardly walk, and I couldn’t earn my salt at hard work. So I’m glad the enemy did not find m
e, Bilbil. How many others escaped?”

  “That I do not know,” replied the boy, “for I have not yet had time to visit the other parts of the island. When you have rested and satisfied your royal hunger, it might be well for us to look around and see what the thieving warriors of Regos and Coregos have left us.”

  “An excellent idea,” declared Rinkitink. “I am somewhat feeble from my long confinement in the well, but I can ride upon Bilbil’s back and we may as well start at once.”

  Hearing this, Bilbil cast a surly glance at his master but said nothing, since it was really the goat’s business to carry King Rinkitink wherever he desired to go.

  They first searched the ruins of the palace, and where the kitchen had once been they found a small quantity of food that had been half hidden by a block of marble. This they carefully placed in a sack to preserve it for future use, the little fat King having first eaten as much as he cared for. This consumed some time, for Rinkitink had been exceedingly hungry and liked to eat in a leisurely manner. When he had finished the meal he straddled Bilbil’s back and set out to explore the island, Prince Inga walking by his side.

  They found on every hand ruin and desolation. The houses of the people had been pilfered of all valuables and then torn down or burned. Not a boat had been left upon the shore, nor was there a single person, man or woman or child, remaining upon the island, save themselves. The only inhabitants of Pingaree now consisted of a fat little King, a boy and a goat.

  Even Rinkitink, merry hearted as he was, found it hard to laugh in the face of this mighty disaster. Even the goat, contrary to its usual habit, refrained from saying anything disagreeable. As for the poor boy whose home was now a wilderness, the tears came often to his eyes as he marked the ruin of his dearly loved island.

  When, at nightfall, they reached the lower end of Pingaree and found it swept as bare as the rest, Inga’s grief was almost more than he could bear. Everything had been swept from him—parents, home and country—in so brief a time that his bewilderment was equal to his sorrow.

  Since no house remained standing, in which they might sleep, the three wanderers crept beneath the overhanging branches of a cassa tree and curled themselves up as comfortably as possible. So tired and exhausted were they by the day’s anxieties and griefs that their troubles soon faded into the mists of dreamland. Beast and King and boy slumbered peacefully together until wakened by the singing of the birds which greeted the dawn of a new day.

  Chapter 5

  The THREE PEARLS

  hen King Rinkitink and Prince Inga had bathed themselves in the sea and eaten a simple breakfast, they began wondering what they could do to improve their condition.

  “The poor people of Gilgad,” said Rinkitink cheerfully, “are little likely ever again to behold their King in the flesh, for my boat and my rowers are gone with everything else. Let us face the fact that we are imprisoned for life upon this island, and that our lives will be short unless we can secure more to eat than is in this small sack.”

  “I’ll not starve, for I can eat grass,” remarked the goat in a pleasant tone—or a tone as pleasant as Bilbil could assume.

  “True, quite true,” said the King. Then he seemed thoughtful for a moment and turning to Inga he asked: “Do you think, Prince, that if the worst comes, we could eat Bilbil?”

  The goat gave a groan and cast a reproachful look at his master as he said:

  “Monster! Would you, indeed, eat your old friend and servant?”

  “Not if I can help it, Bilbil,” answered the King pleasantly. “You would make a remarkably tough morsel, and my teeth are not as good as they once were.”

  While this talk was in progress Inga suddenly remembered the three pearls which his father had hidden under the tiled floor of the banquet hall. Without doubt King Kitticut had been so suddenly surprised by the invaders that he had found no opportunity to get the pearls, for otherwise the fierce warriors would have been defeated and driven out of Pingaree. So they must still be in their hiding place, and Inga believed they would prove of great assistance to him and his comrades in this hour of need. But the palace was a mass of ruins; perhaps he would be unable now to find the place where the pearls were hidden.

  He said nothing of this to Rinkitink, remembering that his father had charged him to preserve the secret of the pearls and of their magic powers. Nevertheless, the thought of securing the wonderful treasures of his ancestors gave the boy new hope.

  He stood up and said to the King:

  “Let us return to the other end of Pingaree. It is more pleasant than here in spite of the desolation of my father’s palace. And there, if anywhere, we shall discover a way out of our difficulties.”

  This suggestion met with Rinkitink’s approval and the little party at once started upon the return journey. As there was no occasion to delay upon the way, they reached the big end of the island about the middle of the day and at once began searching the ruins of the palace.

  They found, to their satisfaction, that one room at the bottom of a tower was still habitable, although the roof was broken in and the place was somewhat littered with stones. The King was, as he said, too fat to do any hard work, so he sat down on a block of marble and watched Inga clear the room of its rubbish. This done, the boy hunted through the ruins until he discovered a stool and an armchair that had not been broken beyond use. Some bedding and a mattress were also found, so that by nightfall the little room had been made quite comfortable.

  The following morning, while Rinkitink was still sound asleep and Bilbil was busily cropping the dewy grass that edged the shore, Prince Inga began to search the tumbled heaps of marble for the place where the royal banquet hall had been. After climbing over the ruins for a time he reached a flat place which he recognized, by means of the tiled flooring and the broken furniture scattered about, to be the great hall he was seeking. But in the center of the floor, directly over the spot where the pearls were hidden, lay several large and heavy blocks of marble, which had been torn from the dismantled walls.

  This unfortunate discovery for a time discouraged the boy, who realized how helpless he was to remove such vast obstacles; but it was so important to secure the pearls that he dared not give way to despair until every human effort had been made, so he sat him down to think over the matter with great care.

  Meantime Rinkitink had risen from his bed and walked out upon the lawn, where he found Bilbil reclining at ease upon the greensward.

  “Where is Inga?” asked Rinkitink, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles because their vision was blurred with too much sleep.

  “Don’t ask me,” said the goat, chewing with much satisfaction a cud of sweet grasses.

  “Bilbil,” said the King, squatting down beside the goat and resting his fat chin upon his hands and his elbows on his knees, “allow me to confide to you the fact that I am bored, and need amusement. My good friend Kitticut has been kidnapped by the barbarians and taken from me, so there is no one to converse with me intelligently. I am the King and you are the goat. Suppose you tell me a story.

  “Suppose I don’t,” said Bilbil, with a scowl, for a goat’s face is very expressive.

  “If you refuse, I shall be more unhappy than ever, and I know your disposition is too sweet to permit that. Tell me a story, Bilbil.”

  The goat looked at him with an expression of scorn. Said he:

  “One would think you are but four years old, Rinkitink! But there—I will do as you command. Listen carefully, and the story may do you some good—although I doubt if you understand the moral.”

  “I am sure the story will do me good,” declared the King, whose eyes were twinkling.

  “Once on a time,” began the goat.

  “When was that, Bilbil?” asked the King gently.

  “Don’t interrupt; it is impolite. Once on a time there was a King with a hollow inside his head, where most people have their brains, and—”

  “Is this a true story, Bilbil?”

  “And the
King with a hollow head could chatter words, which had no sense, and laugh in a brainless manner at senseless things. That part of the story is true enough, Rinkitink.”

  “Then proceed with the tale, sweet Bilbil. Yet it is hard to believe that any King could be brainless—unless, indeed, he proved it by owning a talking goat.”

  Bilbil glared at him a full minute in silence. Then he resumed his story:

  “This empty-headed man was a King by accident, having been born to that high station. Also the King was empty-headed by the same chance, being born without brains.”

  “Poor fellow!” quoth the King. “Did he own a talking goat?”

  “He did,” answered Bilbil.

  “Then he was wrong to have been born at all. Cheek-eek-eek-eek, oo, hoo!” chuckled Rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. “But it’s hard to prevent oneself from being born; there’s no chance for protest, eh, Bilbil?”

  “Who is telling this story, I’d like to know,” demanded the goat, with anger.

  “Ask someone with brains, my boy; I’m sure I can’t tell,” replied the King, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter.

  Bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving Rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal’s face.

  “Oh, Bilbil, you’ll be the death of me, some day—I’m sure you will!” gasped the King, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes; for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came.

  Bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his master. To escape from Rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the palace, where he came upon Prince Inga.

  “Good morning, Bilbil,” said the boy. “I was just going to find you, that I might consult you upon an important matter. If you will kindly turn back with me I am sure your good judgment will be of great assistance.”

  The angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he was addressed, but he immediately asked:

  “Are you also going to consult that empty-headed King over yonder?”

  “I am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way,” said the boy gravely. “All men are deserving of respect, being the highest of living creatures, and Kings deserve respect more than others, for they are set to rule over many people.”