“You are quite handsome,” she said; “but not as really beautiful as the Scarecrow.”
Jack turned, at this, to examine the Scarecrow critically, and his old friend slyly winked one painted eye at him.
“There is no accounting for tastes,” remarked the Pumpkinhead, with a sigh. “An old crow once told me I was very fascinating, but of course the bird might have been mistaken. Yet I have noticed that the crows usually avoid the Scarecrow, who is a very honest fellow, in his way, but stuffed. I am not stuffed, you will observe; my body is good solid hickory.”
“I adore stuffing,” said the Patchwork Girl.
“Well, as for that, my head is stuffed with pumpkin-seeds,” declared Jack. “I use them for brains, and when they are fresh I am intellectual. Just now, I regret to say, my seeds are rattling a bit, so I must soon get another head.”
“Oh; do you change your head?” asked Ojo.
“To be sure. Pumpkins are not permanent, more’s the pity, and in time they spoil. That is why I grow such a great field of pumpkins — that I may select a new head whenever necessary.”
“Who carves the faces on them?” inquired the boy.
“I do that myself. I lift off my old head, place it on a table before me, and use the face for a pattern to go by. Sometimes the faces I carve are better than others — more expressive and cheerful, you know — but I think they average very well.”
Before she had started on the journey Dorothy had packed a knapsack with the things she might need, and this knapsack the Scarecrow carried strapped to his back. The little girl wore a plain gingham dress and a checked sunbonnet, as she knew they were best fitted for travel. Ojo also had brought along his basket, to which Ozma had added a bottle of “Square Meal Tablets” and some fruit. But Jack Pumpkinhead grew a lot of things in his garden besides pumpkins, so he cooked for them a fine vegetable soup and gave Dorothy, Ojo and Toto, the only ones who found it necessary to eat, a pumpkin pie and some green cheese. For beds they must use the sweet dried grasses which Jack had strewn along one side of the room, but that satisfied Dorothy and Ojo very well. Toto, of course, slept beside his little mistress.
The Scarecrow, Scraps and the Pumpkinhead were tireless and had no need to sleep, so they sat up and talked together all night; but they stayed outside the house, under the bright stars, and talked in low tones so as not to disturb the sleepers. During the conversation the Scarecrow explained their quest for a dark well, and asked Jack’s advice where to find it.
The Pumpkinhead considered the matter gravely.
“That is going to be a difficult task,” said he, “and if I were you I’d take any ordinary well and enclose it, so as to make it dark.”
“I fear that wouldn’t do,” replied the Scarecrow. “The well must be naturally dark, and the water must never have seen the light of day, for otherwise the magic charm might not work at all.”
“How much of the water do you need?” asked Jack.
“A gill.”
“How much is a gill?”
“Why — a gill is a gill, of course,” answered the Scarecrow, who did not wish to display his ignorance.
“I know!” cried Scraps. “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch — ”
“No, no; that’s wrong,” interrupted the Scarecrow. “There are two kinds of gills, I think; one is a girl, and the other is — ”
“A gillyflower,” said Jack.
“No; a measure.”
“How big a measure?”
“Well, I’ll ask Dorothy.”
So next morning they asked Dorothy, and she said:
“I don’t just know how much a gill is, but I’ve brought along a gold flask that holds a pint. That’s more than a gill, I’m sure, and the Crooked Magician may measure it to suit himself. But the thing that’s bothering us most, Jack, is to find the well.”
Jack gazed around the landscape, for he was standing in the doorway of his house.
“This is a flat country, so you won’t find any dark wells here,” said he. “You must go into the mountains, where rocks and caverns are.”
“And where is that?” asked Ojo.
“In the Quadling Country, which lies south of here,” replied the Scarecrow. “I’ve known all along that we must go to the mountains.”
“So have I,” said Dorothy.
“But — goodness me! — the Quadling Country is full of dangers,” declared Jack. “I’ve never been there myself, but — ”
“I have,” said the Scarecrow. “I’ve faced the dreadful Hammerheads, which have no arms and butt you like a goat; and I’ve faced the Fighting Trees, which bend down their branches to pound and whip you, and had many other adventures there.”
“It’s a wild country,” remarked Dorothy, soberly, “and if we go there we’re sure to have troubles of our own. But I guess we’ll have to go, if we want that gill of water from the dark well.”
So they said good-bye to the Pumpkinhead and resumed their travels, heading now directly toward the South Country, where mountains and rocks and caverns and forests of great trees abounded. This part of the Land of Oz, while it belonged to Ozma and owed her allegiance, was so wild and secluded that many queer peoples hid in its jungles and lived in their own way, without even a knowledge that they had a Ruler in the Emerald City. If they were left alone, these creatures never troubled the inhabitants of the rest of Oz, but those who invaded their domains encountered many dangers from them.
It was a two days’ journey from Jack Pumpkinhead’s house to the edge of the Quadling Country, for neither Dorothy nor Ojo could walk very fast and they often stopped by the wayside to rest. The first night they slept on the broad fields,242 among the buttercups and daisies, and the Scarecrow covered the children with a gauze blanket taken from his knapsack, so they would not be chilled by the night air. Toward evening of the second day they reached a sandy plain where walking was difficult; but some distance before them they saw a group of palm trees, with many curious black dots under them; so they trudged bravely on to reach that place by dark and spend the night under the shelter of the trees.
The black dots grew larger as they advanced and although the light was dim Dorothy thought they looked like big kettles turned upside down. Just beyond this place a jumble of huge, jagged rocks lay scattered, rising to the mountains behind them.
Our travelers preferred to attempt to climb these rocks by daylight, and they realized that for a time this would be their last night on the plains.
Twilight had fallen by the time they came to the trees, beneath which were the black, circular objects they had marked from a distance. Dozens of them were scattered around and Dorothy bent near to one, which was about as tall as she was, to examine it more closely. As she did so the top flew open and out popped a small creature, rising its length into the air and then plumping down upon the ground just beside the little girl. Another and another popped out of the circular, pot-like dwelling, while from all the other black objects came popping more creatures — very like jumping-jacks when their boxes are unhooked — until fully a hundred stood gathered around our little group of travelers.
By this time Dorothy had discovered they were people, tiny and curiously formed, but still people. Their hair stood straight up, like wires, and was brilliant scarlet in color. Their bodies were bare except for skins fastened around their waists and they wore bracelets on their ankles and wrists, and necklaces, and great pendant earrings.
Toto crouched beside his mistress and wailed as if he did not like these strange creatures a bit. Scraps began to mutter something about “hoppity, poppity, jumpity, dump!” but no one paid any attention to her. Ojo kept close to the Scarecrow and the Scarecrow kept close to Dorothy; but the little girl turned to the queer creatures and asked:
“Who are you?”
They answered this question all together, in a sort of chanting chorus, the words being as follows:
“We’re the jolly Tottenhots; We do not like the day, But in the night ‘tis ou
r delight To gambol, skip and play.
“We hate the sun and from it run, The moon is cool and clear,245 So on this spot each Tottenhot Waits for it to appear.
“We’re ev’ry one chock full of fun, And full of mischief, too; But if you’re gay and with us play We’ll do no harm to you.”
“Glad to meet you, Tottenhots,” said the Scarecrow solemnly. “But you mustn’t expect us to play with you all night, for we’ve traveled all day and some of us are tired.”
“And we never gamble,” added the Patchwork Girl. “It’s against the Law.”
These remarks were greeted with shouts of laughter by the impish creatures and one seized the Scarecrow’s arm and was astonished to find the straw man whirl around so easily. So the Tottenhot raised the Scarecrow high in the air and tossed him over the heads of the crowd. Some one caught him and tossed him back, and so with shouts of glee they continued throwing the Scarecrow here and there, as if he had been a basket-ball.
Presently another imp seized Scraps and began to throw her about, in the same way. They found her a little heavier than the Scarecrow but still light enough to be tossed like a sofa-cushion, and they were enjoying the sport immensely when Dorothy, angry and indignant at the treatment her friends were receiving, rushed among the Tottenhots and began slapping and pushing them, until she had rescued the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl and held them close on either side of her. Perhaps she would not have accomplished this victory so easily had not Toto helped her, barking and snapping at the bare legs of the imps until they were glad to flee from his attack. As for Ojo, some of the creatures had attempted to toss him, also, but finding his body too heavy they threw him to the ground and a row of the imps sat on him and held him from assisting Dorothy in her battle.
The little folks were much surprised at being attacked by the girl and the dog, and one or two who had been slapped hardest began to cry. Then suddenly they gave a shout, all together, and disappeared in a flash into their various houses, the tops of which closed with a series of pops that sounded like a bunch of firecrackers being exploded.
The adventurers now found themselves alone, and Dorothy asked anxiously:
“Is anybody hurt?”
“Not me,” answered the Scarecrow. “They have given my straw a good shaking up and taken all the lumps out of it. I am now in splendid condition and am really obliged to the Tottenhots for their kind treatment.”
“I feel much the same way,” said Scraps. “My cotton stuffing had sagged a good deal with the day’s walking and they’ve loosened it up until I feel as plump as a sausage. But the play was a little rough and I’d had quite enough of it when you interfered.”247
“Six of them sat on me,” said Ojo, “but as they are so little they didn’t hurt me much.”
Just then the roof of the house in front of them opened and a Tottenhot stuck his head out, very cautiously, and looked at the strangers.
“Can’t you take a joke?” he asked, reproachfully; “haven’t you any fun in you at all?”
“If I had such a quality,” replied the Scarecrow, “your people would have knocked it out of me. But I don’t bear grudges. I forgive you.”
“So do I,” added Scraps. “That is, if you behave yourselves after this.”
“It was just a little rough-house, that’s all,” said the Tottenhot. “But the question is not if we will behave, but if you will behave? We can’t be shut up here all night, because this is our time to play; nor do we care to come out and be chewed up by a savage beast or slapped by an angry girl. That slapping hurts like sixty; some of my folks are crying about it. So here’s the proposition: you let us alone and we’ll let you alone.”
“You began it,” declared Dorothy.
“Well, you ended it, so we won’t argue the matter. May we come out again? Or are you still cruel and slappy?”
“Tell you what we’ll do,” said Dorothy. “We’re all tired and want to sleep until morning. If you’ll let us get into your house, and stay there until daylight, you can play outside all you want to.”
“That’s a bargain!” cried the Tottenhot eagerly, and he gave a queer whistle that brought his people popping out of their houses on all sides. When the house before them was vacant, Dorothy and Ojo leaned over the hole and looked in, but could see nothing because it was so dark. But if the Tottenhots slept there all day the children thought they could sleep there at night, so Ojo lowered himself down and found it was not very deep.
“There’s a soft cushion all over,” said he. “Come on in.”
Dorothy handed Toto to the boy and then climbed in herself. After her came Scraps and the Scarecrow, who did not wish to sleep but preferred to keep out of the way of the mischievous Tottenhots.
There seemed no furniture in the round den, but soft cushions were strewn about the floor and these they found made very comfortable beds. They did not close the hole in the roof but left it open to admit air. It also admitted the shouts and ceaseless laughter of the impish Tottenhots as they played outside, but Dorothy and Ojo, being weary from their journey, were soon fast asleep.
Toto kept an eye open, however, and uttered low, threatening growls whenever the racket made by the creatures outside became too boisterous; and the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl sat leaning against the wall and talked in whispers all night long. No one disturbed the travelers until daylight, when in popped the Tottenhot who owned the place and invited them to vacate his premises.
20 The Captive Yoop
AS they were preparing to leave, Dorothy asked: “Can you tell us where there is a dark well?”
“Never heard of such a thing,” said the Tottenhot. “We live our lives in the dark, mostly, and sleep in the daytime; but we’ve never seen a dark well, or anything like one.”
“Does anyone live on those mountains beyond here?” asked the Scarecrow.
“Lots of people. But you’d better not visit them. We never go there.” was the reply.
“What are the people like?” Dorothy inquired.
“Can’t say. We’ve been told to keep away from the mountain paths, and so we obey. This sandy desert is good enough for us, and we’re not disturbed here,” declared the Tottenhot.
So they left the man snuggling down to sleep in his dusky dwelling, and went out into the sunshine, taking the path that led toward the rocky places. They soon found it hard climbing, for the rocks were uneven and full of sharp points and edges, and now there was no path at all. Clambering here and there among the boulders they kept steadily on, gradually rising higher and higher until finally they came to a great rift in a part of the mountain, where the rock seemed to have split in two and left high walls on either side.
“S’pose we go this way,” suggested Dorothy; “it’s much easier walking than to climb over the hills.”
“How about that sign?” asked Ojo.
“What sign?” she inquired.
The Munchkin boy pointed to some words painted on the wall of rock beside them, which Dorothy had not noticed. The words read:
“LOOK OUT FOR YOOP.”
The girl eyed this sign a moment and then turned to the Scarecrow, asking:
“Who is Yoop; or what is Yoop?”
The straw man shook his head. Then she looked at Toto and the dog said “Woof!”
“Only way to find out is to go on,” said Scraps.
This being quite true, they went on. As they proceeded, the walls of rock on either side grew higher and higher. Presently they came upon another sign which read:
“BEWARE THE CAPTIVE YOOP.”
“Why, as for that,” remarked Dorothy, “if Yoop is a captive there’s no need to beware of him. Whatever Yoop happens to be, I’d much rather have him a captive than running around loose.”
“So had I,” agreed the Scarecrow, with a nod of his painted head.
“Still,” said Scraps, reflectively:
“Yoop-te-hoop-te-loop-te-goop! Who put noodles in the soup? We may beware but we don’t care, And dare go whe
re we scare the Yoop.”
“Dear me! Aren’t you feeling a little queer, just now?” Dorothy asked the Patchwork Girl.
“Not queer, but crazy,” said Ojo. “When she says those things I’m sure her brains get mixed somehow and work the wrong way.”
“I don’t see why we are told to beware the Yoop unless he is dangerous,” observed the Scarecrow in a puzzled tone.
“Never mind; we’ll find out all about him when we get to where he is,” replied the little girl.
The narrow canyon turned and twisted this way and that, and the rift was so small that they were able to touch both walls at the same time by stretching out their arms. Toto had run on ahead, frisking playfully, when suddenly he uttered a sharp bark of fear and came running back to them with his tail between his legs, as dogs do when they are frightened.
“Ah,” said the Scarecrow, who was leading the way, “we must be near Yoop.”
Just then, as he rounded a sharp turn, the straw man stopped so suddenly that all the others bumped against him.
“What is it?” asked Dorothy, standing on tip-toes to look over his shoulder. But then she saw what it was and cried “Oh!” in a tone of astonishment.
In one of the rock walls — that at their left — was hollowed a great cavern, in front of which was a row of thick iron bars, the tops and bottoms being firmly fixed in the solid rock. Over this cavern was a big sign, which Dorothy read with much curiosity, speaking the words aloud that all might know what they said:
“MISTER YOOP — HIS CAVE
The Largest Untamed Giant in Captivity.
Height, 21 Feet. — (And yet he has but 2 feet.)
Weight, 1640 Pounds. — (But he waits all the time.)
Age, 400 Years ‘and Up’ (as they say in the Department Store advertisements.).
Temper, Fierce and Ferocious. — (Except when asleep.)
Appetite, Ravenous. — (Prefers Meat People and Orange Marmalade.)
Strangers Approaching this Cave do so at Their
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 95