“Across the plain!” shouted Sir Hokus.
“I am the Cowardly Lion of Oz!” roared the lion.
The Pokes were so taken aback at the horrid sounds that they ran scurrying right and left. In another minute the three were out of the castle and singing their way through the gloomy garden. Dorothy stuck to the Three Blind Mice. Sir Hokus sang verse after verse of an old English ballad, and the Cowardly Lion roared and gurgled a song of his own making, which, considering it was a first attempt, was not so bad:
I am the Cowardly Lion of Oz!
Be good! Begone! Beware! Becoz
When I am scared full fierce I be;
Br — rah — grr — ruff, look out for me!
The Pokes stumbled this way and that, and all went well until they rushed into a company of Pokes who were playing croquet. The slowness with which they raised their mallets fascinated Dorothy, and she stopped to watch them in spite of herself.
“Don’t stop! Sing!” growled the Cowardly Lion in the middle of a line. To make up for lost time, Dorothy closed her eyes and sang harder than ever, but alas! next instant she fell over a wicket, which so deprived her of breath that she could barely scramble up, let alone sing. As soon as she stopped singing, the Pokes paused in their flight, and as soon as they paused Dorothy began to gape. Singing for dear life, Sir Hokus jerked Dorothy by the arm, and the Cowardly Lion roared so loud that the Pokes covered their ears and began backing away.
“There was a Knight! Come on, come on!” sang Sir Hokus, and Dorothy came, and in a few minutes was able to take up the “Three Blind Mice” again. But running and singing at the same time is not an easy task. And running through Pokes is like trying to run through water. (You know how hard that is?)
“Three Blind Mice — uh — hah — Three Blind — Mice — uh-hah — I can’t sing another note! Thu — ree — !” gasped poor Dorothy, stumbling along, while the Cowardly Lion was puffing like an engine. The Pokes in the garden had recovered from their first alarm and were following at a safe distance. The gates of the city were only a short distance off, but it seemed to Dorothy that she could not go another step.
A large group of Pokes had gathered at the gates, and unless they could sing their way through, they would fall asleep and be carried ignominiously back to the castle.
“Now!” wheezed Sir Hokus, “Remember, it is for the Scarecrow!” All of them swallowed, took a deep breath, and put their last remaining strength into their voices. But a wily Poke who had stuffed some cotton in his ears now approached pushing a little cart.
“Take — !” he drawled, and before Dorothy realized what she was doing, she had accepted a cone from the Poke.
“Hah, hoh, hum! Why, it’s hokey pokey!” spluttered Dorothy, and with a deep sigh of delight she took a large bite of the pink ice cream. How cool it felt on her dry throat! She opened her mouth for a second taste, yawned terrifically, and fell with a thud to the stone pavement.
“Dorothy!” wailed Sir Hokus, stopping short in his song and bending over the little girl. The poor Cowardly Lion gave a gulp of despair and began running around the two, roaring and singing in a choked voice. The Pokes nodded to each other in a pleased fashion, and the Chief Poker started cautiously toward them with a long, thick rope. The Cowardly Lion redoubled his efforts. Then, seeing Sir Hokus about to fall, he jumped on the Knight with all his strength. Down crashed Sir Hokus, his armor clanging against the stones that paved the gateway.
“Sing!” roared the Cowardly Lion, glaring at him fiercely. The fall wakened the poor Knight, but he had not the strength to rise. Sitting on the hard stones and looking reproachfully at the Cowardly Lion, he began his ballad in a half-hearted fashion. The Cowardly Lion’s heart was like to burst between lack of breath and fear, but making one last tremendous effort and still roaring his song, he bounded at the Chief Poker, seized the rope, and was back before the stupid creature had time to yawn.
“Tie it around your waist; take Dorothy in your arms!” gasped the Cowardly Lion out of the corner of his mouth. Sir Hokus, though completely dazed, had just enough presence of mind to obey, and the next minute the Cowardly Lion, growling between his teeth like a good fellow, was dashing through the group of Pokes, the other end of the rope in his mouth.
Bumpety bump — bump — bump! Bangety-bang-bang! went Sir Hokus over the cobbles, holding his helmet with one hand and Dorothy fast in the other arm. The Pokes fell this way and that, and such was the determination of the Cowardly Lion that he never stopped till he was out of the gate and halfway up the rough road they had so recently traveled. Then with a mighty sigh, he dropped the rope, rolled over and over down the hill, and lay panting with exhaustion at the bottom.
The bumping over the cobbles had wakened Sir Hokus thoroughly. Indeed, the poor Knight was black and blue, and his armor dented and scraped frightfully in important places.
Dorothy, considerably shaken, opened her eyes and began feebly singing “Three Blind Mice.”
“No need,” puffed Sir Hokus, lifting her off his lap and rising stiffly.
“Yon noble beast has rescued us.”
“Won’t the Pokes come up here?” asked Dorothy, staring around a bit dizzily.
“They cannot live out of the kingdom,” said the Knight, and Dorothy drew a big sigh of relief. Sir Hokus, however, was looking very grave.
“I have failed on my first adventure. Had it not been for the Cowardly Lion, we would now be prisoners in Pokes,” he murmured sadly. Then he unfastened the plume from his helmet. “It beseemeth me not to wear it,” sighed the Knight mournfully, and though Dorothy tried her best to comfort him, he refused to put it back. Finally, she fastened the plume to her dress, and they went down to the Cowardly Lion.
There was a little spring nearby, and after they had poured six helmets of water over his head, the lion opened his eyes. “Been in a good many fights,” gasped the lion, “but I never fought one like this. Singing, bah!”
“Noble Sir, how can I ever repay you?” faltered the Knight. “Alas, that I have failed in the hour of trial!”
“Why, it wasn’t a question of courage at all,” rumbled the Cowardly Lion, greatly embarrassed. “I had the loudest voice and the most breath, that’s all! You got the rough end of it.” Sir Hokus looked ruefully at his armor. The back was entirely squashed.
“Never mind!” said the Knight bravely. “It is the front one presents to the foe.”
“Now you’re talking like a real Knight,” said Dorothy. “A while ago you said, ‘Yon’ and ‘beseemeth,’ and first thing you know the talk will all come back to you.” Sir Hokus’ honest face shone with pleasure.
“Odds bludgeons and truncheons! The little maid is right!” he exclaimed, striking an attitude. “And once it does, the rest will be easy.”
“Don’t say rest to me,” begged the Cowardly Lion, getting slowly to his feet. “Hah, hoh, hum! Just to think of it makes me yawn. Now don’t you think we had better start off?”
“If you’re rested,” began Dorothy. The Cowardly Lion put his paw over his ear and looked so comical that both Dorothy and Sir Hokus laughed heartily.
“If you’re ready,” amended Dorothy, and the three adventurers started up the steep road. “The first thing to do,” said the little girl, “is to get back to the Emerald City as quickly as we can.”
At this very minute Glinda, the Good Sorceress of Oz, in her palace in the Quadling Country, was puzzling over an entry in the Magic Record Book. This book tells everything that is happening in the world and out, and while it does not give details, it is a very useful possession.
“The Emperor of the Silver Islands,” read Glinda, “has returned to his people.”
“Now who is the Emperor of the Silver Islands?” she asked herself. She puzzled about it for a long while, and then, deciding that it had nothing to do with the Fairy Kingdom of Oz, she closed the book and went for a walk in the palace garden.
Dorothy and Sir Hokus and the Cowardly Lion had meanwhile reached the
first sign in the dim forest, the sign directing travelers to Pokes. Two roads branched out through the forest, and after much debating they took the wider.
“Do you ‘spose this leads to the Emerald City?” asked Cowardly Lion dubiously.
“Time will tell, time will tell,” said Sir Hokus cheerfully.
“Yes,” murmured the Cowardly Lion, “time will tell. But what?”
CHAPTER 7
THE SCARECROW IS HAILED AS EMPEROR!
Leaning forward on the great throne, the Scarecrow waited impatiently for the ancient gentleman to speak. The gray-skinned courtiers were eyeing him expectantly, and just as the suspense became almost unendurable, the old man threw up his arms and cried sharply:
“The prophecy of the magic beanstalk has been fulfilled. In this radiant and sublime Scarecrowcus, the spirit of Chang Wang Woe, the mighty, has returned. And I, the Grand Chew Chew of the realm, prostrate myself before this wonderful Scarecrowcus, Emperor of the Silver Islands.” So, likewise, did all the company present, and the Scarecrow, taken unawares, flew up several feet and landed in a heap on the steps leading to the throne. He climbed back hurriedly, picking up the fan and parasol that he had plucked from the beanstalk.
“I wish Professor Wogglebug could hear this,” said the Scarecrow, settling himself complacently. “But I must watch out, and remember to hold on.”
The Grand Chew Chew was the first to rise, and folding his arms, he asked solemnly:
“What are your commands, Ancient and Honorable Scarecrowcus?”
“If you’d just omit the Cus,” begged the Scarecrow in an embarrassed voice, “I believe I could think better. Am I in China, or where? Are you Chinamen, or what?”
“We are Silvermen,” said the Grand Chew Chew impressively, “and a much older race than our Chinese cousins. They are people of the sun. We are people of the stars. Has your Highness so soon forgotten?”
“I am afraid,” said the Scarecrow, rubbing his chin reflectively, “that I have.” He gazed slowly around the great throne room. Ozma’s palace itself was not more dazzling. The floor of dull silver blocks was covered with rich blue rugs. Furniture, chairs, screens and everything were made of silver inlaid with precious stones. Filigreed silver lanterns hung from the high ceilings, and tall silver vases filled with pink and blue blossoms filled the rooms with their perfume. Blue flags embroidered with silver stars fluttered from the walls and the tips of the pikebearers’ spears, and silver seemed to be so plentiful that even shoes were fashioned of it. Faintly through the windows came the sweet tones of a hundred silver chimes, and altogether the Scarecrow was quite dazed by his apparent good fortune. Surely they had called him Emperor, but how could that be? He turned to address the Grand Chew Chew; then as he saw out of the corner of his eye that the assemblage were making ready to fall upon their faces, he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper:
“May I speak to you alone?” The Grand Chew Chew waved his hand imperiously, and the courtiers with a great crackling of silver brocade backed from the hall.
“Very kind of them to bow, but I wish they wouldn’t,” sighed the Scarecrow, sinking back on the great throne. “It blows one about so. I declare, if another person falls at my feet, I’ll have nervous prostration.”
Again he took a long survey of the hall, then turned to the Grand Chew Chew. “Would you mind,” he asked simply, “telling me again who I am and how?”
“Who and how? Who — You are, illustrious Sir, the Emperor Chang Wang Woe, or to be more exact, his spirit!”
“I have always been a spirited person,” observed the Scarecrow dubiously, “but never a spirit without a person. I must insist on being a person.”
“How?” the Grand Chew Chew proceeded without noticing the Scarecrow’s remarks. “Fifty years ago — after your Extreme Highness had defeated in battle the King of the Golden Islands — a magician entered the realm. This magician, in the employ of this wicked king, entered a room in the palace where your Highness lay sleeping and by an act of necromancy changed you to a crocus!”
“Ouch!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, shuddering involuntarily.
“And had it not been for the Empress, your faithful wife, you would have been lost forever to the Empire.”
“Wife?” gasped the Scarecrow faintly. “Have I a wife?”
“If your Highness will permit me to finish,” begged the Grand Chew Chew with great dignity. The Scarecrow nodded. “Your wife, Tsing Tsing, the beautiful, took the crocus, which was fading rapidly, and planted it in a silver bowl in the center of this very hall and for three days kept it fresh with her tears. Waking on the third morning, the Empress was amazed to see in place of the crocus a giant bean pole that extended to the roof of the palace and disappeared among the clouds.”
“Ah!” murmured the Scarecrow, looking up, “My family tree!”
“Beside the bean pole lay a crumpled parchment.” The Grand Chew Chew felt in the sleeve of his kimono and brought out a bit of crumpled silver paper, and adjusting his horn spectacles, read slowly.
“Into the first being who touches this magic pole — on the other side of the world — the spirit of Emperor Chang Wang Woe will enter. And fifty years from this day, he will return — to save his people.”
The Grand Chew Chew took off his specs and folded up the paper. “The day has come! You have come down the bean pole, and are undoubtedly that being who has gone from Emperor to crocus to Scarecrowcus. I have ruled the Islands these fifty years; have seen to the education of your sons and grandsons. And now, gracious and exalted Master, as I am an old man I ask you to relieve me from the cares of state.”
“Sons! Grandsons!” choked the Scarecrow, beginning to feel very much alarmed indeed. “How old am I?”
“Your Highness,” said the Grand Chew Chew with a deep salaam, “is as old as I. In other words, you are in the ripe and glorious eighty-fifth year of your Majesty’s illustrious and useful age.”
“Eighty five!” gasped the Scarecrow, staring in dismay at the gray, wrinkled face of the old Silverman. “Now see here, Chew Chew, are you sure of that?”
“Quite sure, Immortal and Honored Master!”
The Scarecrow could not help but be convinced of the truth of the Grand Chew Chew’s story. The pole in the Munchkin farmer’s cornfield was none other than the magic beanstalk, and he, thrust on the pole by the farmer to scare away the crows, had received the spirit of the Emperor Chang Wang Woe. “Which accounts for my cleverness,” he thought gloomily. Now, surely he should have been pleased, for he had come in search of a family, but the acquisition of an empire, sons and grandsons, and old age, all in a trice, fairly took his breath away.
“Does the prophecy say anything about restoring my imperial person?” he asked anxiously, for the thought of looking like Chew Chew was not a cheerful one.
“Alas, no!” sighed the Grand Chew Chew sorrowfully. “But we have very clever wizards on the Island, and I shall set them at work on the problem at once.”
“Now don’t be in such a rush,” begged the Scarecrow, secretly determined to lock up the wizards at the first opportunity. “I’m rather fond of this shape. You see, it requires no food and never grows tired — or old!”
“The royal robes will in a measure conceal it,” murmured the Grand Chew Chew politely, and clapped his hands. A little servitor bounced into the hall.
“A royal robe, Quick Silver, for his Radiant Highness,” snapped the Grand Chew Chew. In a moment Quick Silver had returned with a magnificent purple satin robe embroidered in silver threads and heavy with jewels, and a hat of silver cloth with upturned brim. The Scarecrow wrapped himself in the purple robe, took off his old Munchkin hat, and substituted the Imperial headpiece.
“How do I look, Chew?” he asked anxiously.
“Quite like your old Imperial Self, except — ” The old Prime Minister ran unsteadily out of the room. There was a muffled scream from the hall, and the next instant he returned with a long, shiny, silver queue which he had evidently clip
ped from the head of one of the servants. Removing the Scarecrow’s hat, he pinned the queue to the back, set it on the Scarecrow’s head, and stood regarding him with great satisfaction. “Ah, if the Empress could only see you!” he murmured rapturously.
“Where — where is she?” asked the Scarecrow, looking around nervously. His long, care-free life in Oz had somewhat unfitted him, he reflected, for family life.
“Alas!” sighed the Grand Chew Chew, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his kimono, “She has returned to her silver ancestors.”
“Then show me her picture,” commanded the Scarecrow, visibly affected. The Grand Chew Chew stepped to a side wall, and pulling on a silken cord, disclosed the picture of a large, gray lady with curiously small eyes and a curiously large nose.
“Is she not beautiful?” asked the Grand Chew Chew, bowing his head.
“Beautiful — er — er, beautiful!” gulped the Scarecrow. He thought of lovely little Ozma and dear little Dorothy, and all at once felt terribly upset and homesick. He had no recollection of the Silver Island or his life here whatever. Who was he, anyway — the Scarecrow of Oz or Emperor Chang Wang Woe? He couldn’t be both.
“Ah!” whispered the Grand Chew Chew, seeing his agitation. “You remember her?” The Scarecrow shook his head, with an inward shudder.
“Now show me myself, Chew,” he asked curiously. Pulling the cord of a portrait beside the Empress, Chew Chew revealed the picture of Chang Wang Woe as he had been fifty years ago. His face was bland and jolly, and to be perfectly truthful, quite like the Scarecrow’s in shape and expression. “I am beside myself,” murmured the Scarecrow dazedly — which in truth he was.
“You were — er — are a very royal and handsome person,” stammered the Grand Chew Chew.
The Scarecrow, stepping off the throne to examine himself more closely, dropped the little fan and parasol. He had really not had time to examine them since they snapped off the beanstalk, and now, looking at them carefully, he found them extremely pretty.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 203