Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  Inga opened the sack of food and while he and the King ate of it the boy said:

  “If I could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which have fallen in the banquet hall, I think I could find means for us to escape from this barren island.”

  “Then,” mumbled Rinkitink, with his mouth full, “let us move the blocks of marble.”

  “But how?” inquired Prince Inga. “They are very heavy.”

  “Ah, how, indeed?” returned the King, smacking his lips contentedly. “That is a serious question. But — I have it! Let us see what my famous parchment says about it.” He wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then, taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he unrolled it and read the following words: “‘Never step on another man’s toes.’“

  The goat gave a snort of contempt; Inga was silent; the King looked from one to the other inquiringly.

  “That’s the idea, exactly!” declared Rinkitink.

  “To be sure,” said Bilbil scornfully, “it tells us exactly how to move the blocks of marble.”

  “Oh, does it?” responded the King, and then for a moment he rubbed the top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. The next moment he burst into a peal of joyous laughter. The goat looked at Inga and sighed.

  “What did I tell you?” asked the creature. “Was I right, or was I wrong?”

  “This scroll,” said Rinkitink, “is indeed a masterpiece. Its advice is of tremendous value. ‘Never step on another man’s toes.’ Let us think this over. The inference is that we should step upon our own toes, which were given us for that purpose. Therefore, if I stepped upon another man’s toes, I would be the other man. Hoo, hoo, hoo! — the other man — hee, hee, heek-keek-eek! Funny, isn’t it?”

  “Didn’t I say — ” began Bilbil.

  “No matter what you said, my boy,” roared the King. “No fool could have figured that out as nicely as I did.”

  “We have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble,” suggested Inga anxiously.

  “Fasten a rope to them, and pull,” said Bilbil.

  “Don’t pay any more attention to Rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the man who wrote that brainless scroll. Just get the rope, and we’ll fasten Rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and I’ll help you pull.”

  “Thank you, Bilbil,” replied the boy. “I’ll get the rope at once.”

  Bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it makes the attempt, so Bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little Rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath.

  Inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then made a loop at the other end to go over Bilbil’s head. When all was ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place. Seeing this, King Rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where it had lain.

  But it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before undertaking the removal of the next block.

  “Admit, Bilbil,” said the King, “that I am of some use in the world.”

  “Your weight was of considerable help,” acknowledged the goat, “but if your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still easier.”

  When Inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the tile with the secret spring. So the three pulled with renewed energy and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving Inga free to remove the treasure when he pleased.

  But the boy had no intention of allowing Bilbil and the King to share the secret of the royal treasures of Pingaree; so, although both the goat and its master demanded to know why the marble blocks had been moved, and how it would benefit them, Inga begged them to wait until the next morning, when he hoped to be able to satisfy them that their hard work had not been in vain.

  Having little confidence in this promise of a mere boy, the goat grumbled and the King laughed; but Inga paid no heed to their ridicule and set himself to work rigging up a fishing rod, with line and hook. During the afternoon he waded out to some rocks near the shore and fished patiently until he had captured enough yellow perch for their supper and breakfast.

  “Ah,” said Rinkitink, looking at the fine catch when Inga returned to the shore; “these will taste delicious when they are cooked; but do you know how to cook them?”

  “No,” was the reply. “I have often caught fish, but never cooked them. Perhaps Your Majesty understands cooking.”

  “Cooking and majesty are two different things,” laughed the little King. “I could not cook a fish to save me from starvation.”

  “For my part,” said Bilbil, “I never eat fish, but I can tell you how to cook them, for I have often watched the palace cooks at their work.” And so, with the goat’s assistance, the boy and the King managed to prepare the fish and cook them, after which they were eaten with good appetite.

  That night, after Rinkitink and Bilbil were both fast asleep, Inga stole quietly through the moonlight to the desolate banquet hall. There, kneeling down, he touched the secret spring as his father had instructed him to do and to his joy the tile sank downward and disclosed the opening. You may imagine how the boy’s heart throbbed with excitement as he slowly thrust his hand into the cavity and felt around to see if the precious pearls were still there. In a moment his fingers touched the silken bag and, without pausing to close the recess, he pressed the treasure against his breast and ran out into the moonlight to examine it. When he reached a bright place he started to open the bag, but he observed Bilbil lying asleep upon the grass near by. So, trembling with the fear of discovery, he ran to another place, and when he paused he heard Rinkitink snoring lustily. Again he fled and made his way to the seashore, where he squatted under a bank and began to untie the cords that fastened the mouth of the bag. But now another fear assailed him.

  “If the pearls should slip from my hand,” he thought, “and roll into the water, they might be lost to me forever. I must find some safer place.”

  Here and there he wandered, still clasping the silken bag in both hands, and finally he went to the grove and climbed into the tall tree where he had made his platform and seat. But here it was pitch dark, so he found he must wait patiently until morning before he dared touch the pearls. During those hours of waiting he had time for reflection and reproached himself for being so frightened by the possession of his father’s treasures.

  “These pearls have belonged to our family for generations,” he mused, “yet no one has ever lost them. If I use ordinary care I am sure I need have no fears for their safety.”

  When the dawn came and he could see plainly, Inga opened the bag and took out the Blue Pearl. There was no possibility of his being observed by others, so he took time to examine it wonderingly, saying to himself: “This will give me strength.”

  Taking off his right shoe he placed the Blue Pearl within it, far up in the pointed toe. Then he tore a piece from his handkerchief and stuffed it into the shoe to hold the pearl in place. Inga’s shoes were long and pointed, as were all the shoes worn in Pingaree, and the points curled upward, so that there was quite a vacant space beyond the place where the boy’s toes reached when the shoe was upon his foot.

  After he had put on the shoe and laced it up he opened the bag and took out the Pink Pearl. “This will protect me from danger,” said Inga, and removing the shoe from his left foot he carefully placed the pearl in the hollow toe. This, also, he secured in place by means of a strip torn from his handkerchief.

  Having put on the second shoe and laced it up, the boy drew from the silken bag the third pearl — that which was pure white — and holding it to his ear he asked:

  “Will you advise me what to do, in this my hour of misfortune?”

  Clearly the sma
ll voice of the pearl made answer:

  “I advise you to go to the Islands of Regos and Coregos, where you may liberate your parents from slavery.”

  “How could I do that?” exclaimed Prince Inga, amazed at receiving such advice.

  “To-night,” spoke the voice of the pearl, “there will be a storm, and in the morning a boat will strand upon the shore. Take this boat and row to Regos and Coregos.”

  “How can I, a weak boy, pull the boat so far?” he inquired, doubting the possibility.

  “The Blue Pearl will give you strength,” was the reply.

  “But I may be shipwrecked and drowned, before ever I reach Regos and Coregos,” protested the boy.

  “The Pink Pearl will protect you from harm,” murmured the voice, soft and low but very distinct.

  “Then I shall act as you advise me,” declared Inga, speaking firmly because this promise gave him courage, and as he removed the pearl from his ear it whispered:

  “The wise and fearless are sure to win success.”

  Restoring the White Pearl to the depths of the silken bag, Inga fastened it securely around his neck and buttoned his waist above it to hide the treasure from all prying eyes. Then he slowly climbed down from the tree and returned to the room where King Rinkitink still slept.

  The goat was browsing upon the grass but looked cross and surly. When the boy said good morning as he passed, Bilbil made no response whatever. As Inga entered the room the King awoke and asked:

  “What is that mysterious secret of yours? I’ve been dreaming about it, and I haven’t got my breath yet from tugging at those heavy blocks. Tell me the secret.”

  “A secret told is no longer a secret,” replied Inga, with a laugh. “Besides, this is a family secret, which it is proper I should keep to myself. But I may tell you one thing, at least: We are going to leave this island to-morrow morning.”

  The King seemed puzzled by this statement.

  “I’m not much of a swimmer,” said he, “and, though I’m fat enough to float upon the surface of the water, I’d only bob around and get nowhere at all.”

  “We shall not swim, but ride comfortably in a boat,” promised Inga.

  “There isn’t a boat on this island!” declared Rinkitink, looking upon the boy with wonder.

  “True,” said Inga. “But one will come to us in the morning.” He spoke positively, for he had perfect faith in the promise of the White Pearl; but Rinkitink, knowing nothing of the three marvelous jewels, began to fear that the little Prince had lost his mind through grief and misfortune.

  For this reason the King did not question the boy further but tried to cheer him by telling him witty stories. He laughed at all the stories himself, in his merry, rollicking way, and Inga joined freely in the laughter because his heart had been lightened by the prospect of rescuing his dear parents. Not since the fierce warriors had descended upon Pingaree had the boy been so hopeful and happy.

  With Rinkitink riding upon Bilbil’s back, the three made a tour of the island and found in the central part some bushes and trees bearing ripe fruit. They gathered this freely, for — aside from the fish which Inga caught — it was the only food they now had, and the less they had, the bigger Rinkitink’s appetite seemed to grow.

  “I am never more happy,” said he with a sigh, “than when I am eating.”

  Toward evening the sky became overcast and soon a great storm began to rage. Prince Inga and King Rinkitink took refuge within the shelter of the room they had fitted up and there Bilbil joined them. The goat and the King were somewhat disturbed by the violence of the storm, but Inga did not mind it, being pleased at this evidence that the White Pearl might be relied upon.

  All night the wind shrieked around the island; thunder rolled, lightning flashed and rain came down in torrents. But with morning the storm abated and when the sun arose no sign of the tempest remained save a few fallen trees.

  The Magic Boat

  CHAPTER 6

  Prince Inga was up with the sun and, accompanied by Bilbil, began walking along the shore in search of the boat which the White Pearl had promised him. Never for an instant did he doubt that he would find it and before he had walked any great distance a dark object at the water’s edge caught his eye.

  “It is the boat, Bilbil!” he cried joyfully, and running down to it he found it was, indeed, a large and roomy boat. Although stranded upon the beach, it was in perfect order and had suffered in no way from the storm.

  Inga stood for some moments gazing upon the handsome craft and wondering where it could have come from. Certainly it was unlike any boat he had ever seen. On the outside it was painted a lustrous black, without any other color to relieve it; but all the inside of the boat was lined with pure silver, polished so highly that the surface resembled a mirror and glinted brilliantly in the rays of the sun. The seats had white velvet cushions upon them and the cushions were splendidly embroidered with threads of gold. At one end, beneath the broad seat, was a small barrel with silver hoops, which the boy found was filled with fresh, sweet water. A great chest of sandalwood, bound and ornamented with silver, stood in the other end of the boat. Inga raised the lid and discovered the chest filled with sea-biscuits, cakes, tinned meats and ripe, juicy melons; enough good and wholesome food to last the party a long time.

  Lying upon the bottom of the boat were two shining oars, and overhead, but rolled back now, was a canopy of silver cloth to ward off the heat of the sun.

  It is no wonder the boy was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful boat; but on reflection he feared it was too large for him to row any great distance. Unless, indeed, the Blue Pearl gave him unusual strength.

  While he was considering this matter, King Rinkitink came waddling up to him and said:

  “Well, well, well, my Prince, your words have come true! Here is the boat, for a certainty, yet how it came here — and how you knew it would come to us — are puzzles that mystify me. I do not question our good fortune, however, and my heart is bubbling with joy, for in this boat I will return at once to my City of Gilgad, from which I have remained absent altogether too long a time.”

  “I do not wish to go to Gilgad,” said Inga.

  “That is too bad, my friend, for you would be very welcome. But you may remain upon this island, if you wish,” continued Rinkitink, “and when I get home I will send some of my people to rescue you.”

  “It is my boat, Your Majesty,” said Inga quietly.

  “May be, may be,” was the careless answer, “but I am King of a great country, while you are a boy Prince without any kingdom to speak of. Therefore, being of greater importance than you, it is just and right that I take your boat and return to my own country in it.”

  “I am sorry to differ from Your Majesty’s views,” said Inga, “but instead of going to Gilgad I consider it of greater importance that we go to the islands of Regos and Coregos.”

  “Hey? What!” cried the astounded King. “To Regos and Coregos! To become slaves of the barbarians, like the King, your father? No, no, my boy! Your Uncle Rinki may have an empty noddle, as Bilbil claims, but he is far too wise to put his head in the lion’s mouth. It’s no fun to be a slave.”

  “The people of Regos and Coregos will not enslave us,” declared Inga. “On the contrary, it is my intention to set free my dear parents, as well as all my people, and to bring them back again to Pingaree.”

  “Cheek-eek-eek-eek-eek! How funny!” chuckled Rinkitink, winking at the goat, which scowled in return. “Your audacity takes my breath away, Inga, but the adventure has its charm, I must confess. Were I not so fat, I’d agree to your plan at once, and could probably conquer that horde of fierce warriors without any assistance at all — any at all — eh, Bilbil? But I grieve to say that I am fat, and not in good fighting trim. As for your determination to do what I admit I can’t do, Inga, I fear you forget that you are only a boy, and rather small at that.”

  “No, I do not forget that,” was Inga’s reply.

  �
�Then please consider that you and I and Bilbil are not strong enough, as an army, to conquer a powerful nation of skilled warriors. We could attempt it, of course, but you are too young to die, while I am too old. Come with me to my City of Gilgad, where you will be greatly honored. I’ll have my professors teach you how to be good. Eh? What do you say?”

  Inga was a little embarrassed how to reply to these arguments, which he knew King Rinkitink considered were wise; so, after a period of thought, he said:

  “I will make a bargain with Your Majesty, for I do not wish to fail in respect to so worthy a man and so great a King as yourself. This boat is mine, as I have said, and in my father’s absence you have become my guest; therefore I claim that I am entitled to some consideration, as well as you.”

  “No doubt of it,” agreed Rinkitink. “What is the bargain you propose, Inga?”

  “Let us both get into the boat, and you shall first try to row us to Gilgad. If you succeed, I will accompany you right willingly; but should you fail, I will then row the boat to Regos, and you must come with me without further protest.”

  “A fair and just bargain!” cried the King, highly pleased. “Yet, although I am a man of mighty deeds, I do not relish the prospect of rowing so big a boat all the way to Gilgad. But I will do my best and abide by the result.”

  The matter being thus peaceably settled, they prepared to embark. A further supply of fruits was placed in the boat and Inga also raked up a quantity of the delicious oysters that abounded on the coast of Pingaree but which he had before been unable to reach for lack of a boat. This was done at the suggestion of the ever-hungry Rinkitink, and when the oysters had been stowed in their shells behind the water barrel and a plentiful supply of grass brought aboard for Bilbil, they decided they were ready to start on their voyage.

  It proved no easy task to get Bilbil into the boat, for he was a remarkably clumsy goat and once, when Rinkitink gave him a push, he tumbled into the water and nearly drowned before they could get him out again. But there was no thought of leaving the quaint animal behind. His power of speech made him seem almost human in the eyes of the boy, and the fat King was so accustomed to his surly companion that nothing could have induced him to part with him. Finally Bilbil fell sprawling into the bottom of the boat, and Inga helped him to get to the front end, where there was enough space for him to lie down.