The giantess brought her lord a great bag to put the polar bears in, and he prepared to start.
“I leave you to amuse my wife during my absence,” he said to the Prince. “Pray make yourself entirely at home, and use my castle as you would your own house, and if I have good luck you shall eat a delicious polar-bear stew for your supper.”
Then he slung the sack across his back and went away, whistling merrily. And so great were his strides that in less than a minute he was out of sight.
“This is my busy day,” said the giantess to Fiddlecumdoo, “and I fear I shall not be able to entertain you in a proper manner, for I must hasten to the laundry to wash the clothes. However, if you care to accompany me, we may converse together while I am doing my work.”
“I shall take great pleasure in visiting your laundry,” he replied, “for never before have I been in such a place. And surely it will be more agreeable to watch you at your work than to spend the day alone in these great rooms.”
“Come along, then,” she said, and picking him up she placed him in the pocket of her apron, for she knew he would be unable to walk down the flight of stairs that led to the laundry. He was very comfortable in the pocket, which was just deep enough to allow his head and shoulders to project from the top. Therefore he was able to see all that was going on while the lady was at work. He watched her wash and rinse the clothes, and was greatly interested in the operation, as it was all new to him.
By and by the giantess brought an immense clothes-wringer from a shelf, and having fastened it to the side of the big wash tub began to wring out the clothes.
Prince Fiddlecumdoo had never seen a clothes-wringer before, and so pleased was he with the novelty of it that he leaned far out of the pocket to watch it work. But, unfortunately, he lost his balance, and before he knew what had happened to him had fallen from the pocket and lay sprawling on one of the giant’s shirts, which was just then passing through the wringer.
The woman did not notice his fall, and the next instant he was drawn between the two great rollers, and came out on the other side as thin and flat as a sheet of paper.
Then the giant’s wife saw what she had done, and realizing how serious was the Prince’s condition, the good lady was much grieved over the accident. She picked Fiddlecumdoo up and tried to stand him on his feet, but he was so thin that at the least draft he fluttered like a flag, while a puff of wind would blow him completely over.
“Dear me!” exclaimed the woman, sorrowfully, “whatever can we do with you in that shape?”
“I really do not know what will become of me,” replied the Prince. “I am certainly no good in this condition. I can not even walk across the room without toppling over. Can not you manage to push me together again?” The giantess tried to do this, but the Prince was so sharp that his edges hurt her hands, and all she could do was to fold him up and carry him into the drawing-room, where she laid him carefully on the center-table.
Just before sundown the giant returned from Alaska, bringing several fat polar-bears in his bag; and scarcely had he set foot within the house before he inquired after his guest, the Prince.
“You will find him on the drawing-room table,” said the giantess. “I accidently ran him through the clothes-wringer this afternoon, and the poor boy is as thin as a pie crust. So I folded him up and put him away until you returned.”
The giant immediately went to the table and unfolded Fiddlecumdoo, asking him how he felt.
“Very miserable,” answered the Prince, “for I can not move at all when I am folded up. Where is my bicycle?”
The giant searched all his pockets, but could not find it.
“I must have lost it on my journey to Alaska,” he said.
“Then how am I ever to get home again?” asked the Prince.
“That is a puzzle,” the giant responded, thoughtfully. “I do not see how you could ride on a bicycle even if you had one, and you certainly can not walk far in your present condition.”
“Not if the wind blows,” acknowledged the Prince.
“Couldn’t you go edgewise?” asked the giant after a moment’s reflection.
“I might try,” answered Fiddlecumdoo, hopefully.
So the giant stood him up, and he tried to walk edgewise. But whenever a breath of wind struck him he fell over at once, and several times he got badly crumpled up, so that the giant had to smooth him out again with his hands.
“This certainly will not do at all,” declared the giant; “for not only are you getting wrinkled, but you are liable to be blown away; altogether. I have just thought of a plan to get you back into the Valley of Mo again, and when you are in your own country your friends may get you out of the scrape the best way they can.”
Hartilaf then made the Prince into a neat roll and tied a string around the middle, to hold it in place. Then he tucked the roll under his arm and carried it to the top of the mountain that stood between the two valleys. Placing the Prince carefully on the ground he started him rolling, and in a short time he had rolled down the mountain side into the Valley of Mo.
At first the people were much frightened, not knowing what this strange thing could be that had come rolling into their midst. They stood around, curiously looking at the roll, but afraid to touch it, when suddenly Fiddlecumdoo began to cry out. And then, so fearful was the sound, they all ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Prince Thinkabit, however, being more courageous than the rest, at last ventured to approach and cut the string that fastened the roll. Instantly it opened, and to their amazement the people saw what it was.
“Upon my word, it is brother Fiddlecumdoo!” cried Prince Thinkabit. “The giant must have stepped on him.”
“No, indeed,” said poor Fiddlecumdoo, “I’ve been run through a clothes-wringer, which is much worse than being stepped on.”
With many expressions of pity the kind people stood the Prince up and helped him to the palace, where the King was greatly shocked at his sad plight. Fiddlecumdoo was so broad that the only thing he could sit down on was the sofa, and he was so thin that when Princess Pattycake sneezed he was blown half way across the room.
At dinner he could eat nothing that was not sliced as thin as a shaving, and so sad was his predicament that the King determined to ask the Wise Donkey what could be done to relieve his unfortunate son.
After hearing all the particulars of the accident, the Donkey said: “Blow him up.”
“I did blow him up, for being so careless,” replied the King; “but it didn’t make him any thicker.”
“What I mean,” explained the Donkey, “is to bore a hole in the top of his head, and blow air into him until he resumes his natural shape. Then, if he takes care of himself, he soon will be all right again.”
So the King returned to the palace and bored a hole in Fiddlecumdoo’s head, and then pumped him full of air with a bicycle pump. When he had filled out into his natural shape they put a plug in the hole, and stopped it up; and after that Fiddlecumdoo could walk around as well as before his accident.
His only danger now was that he might get punctured; and, indeed, his friends found him one day lying in the garden, all flattened out again, the Prince having pricked his finger on a rose-bush and thereby allowed his air to escape. But they inflated him once again, and afterward he was more careful of himself.
Fiddlecumdoo had such a horror of being flat that, if his father ever wished to make him behave, he threatened to stick a pin into him, and that always had the desired effect.
After several years, the Prince, being a hearty eater, filled up with solid flesh, and had no further use for the air-pump; but his experience had made him so nervous that he never again visited the giant Hartilaf, for fear of encountering another accident.
THE TWELFTH SURPRISE: THE LAND OF THE CIVILIZED MONKEYS
I MUST now tell you of a very strange adventure that befell Prince Zingle, which, had it not turned out exactly as it did, might have resulted in making hi
m a captive for life in a remarkable country.
By consulting Smith’s History of Prince Zingle you will notice that from boyhood he had a great passion for flying kites, and unlike other boys, he always undertook to make each kite larger than the last one. Therefore his kites grew in size, and became larger and larger, until at length the Prince made one twice as tall as himself.
When it was finished he was very proud of this great kite, and took it out to a level place to see how well it would fly, being accompanied by many of the people of Mo, who took considerable interest in the Prince’s amusement.
There happened to be a strong south wind blowing and, fearing the kite might get away from him, Zingle tied the string around his waist. It flew beautifully at first, but pulled so hard the Prince could scarcely hold it.
At last, when the string was all let out, there came a sudden gust of wind, and in an instant poor Zingle was drawn into the air as easily as an ordinary kite draws its tail. Up and up he soared, and the kite followed the wind and carried him over many countries until the strength died out of the air, when the kite slowly settled toward the earth and landed the Prince in the top of a tall tree.
He now untied the string from his waist and fastened it to a branch of the tree, as he did not wish to lose the kite after all his bother in making it.
Then he began to climb down to the ground, but on reaching the lower branches he was arrested by a most curious sight.
Standing on the ground, and gazing up at him, were a dozen monkeys, all very neatly dressed and all evidently filled with surprise at the Prince’s sudden appearance in the tree.
“What a very queer animal!” exclaimed an old monkey, who wore a tall silk hat and had white kid gloves on his hands. Gold spectacles rested on his nose, and he pointed toward the Prince with a gold-headed cane. By his side was a little girl-monkey, dressed in pink skirts and a blue bonnet; and when she saw Zingle she clung to the old monkey’s hand and seemed frightened.
“Oh, grandpapa!” she cried; “take me back to mamma; I’m afraid the strange beast will bite me.”
Just then a big monkey, wearing a blue coat with brass buttons and swinging a short club in his hand, strutted up to them and said:
“Don’t be afraid, little one. The beast can’t hurt you while I’m around!” And then he tipped his cap over his left ear and shook his club at the Prince, as if he did not know what fear meant.
Two monkeys, who were dressed in red jackets and carried muskets in their hands, now came running up, and, having looked at Zingle with much interest, they called for some one to bring them a strong rope.
“We will capture the brute and put him in the Zoo,” said one of the soldier-monkeys.
“What kind of animal is it?” asked the other.
“I do not know. But some of our college professors can doubtless tell, and even if they can’t they will give it some scientific name that will satisfy the people just as well.”
All this time Prince Zingle remained clinging to the branches of the tree. He could not understand a word of the monkey language, and therefore had no idea what they were talking about; but he judged from their actions that the monkeys were not friendly. When they brought a long and stout rope, and prepared to throw one end of it over his head, in order to capture him, he became angry and called out to them:
“Stop — I command you! What is the meaning of this strange conduct? I am Prince Zingle, eldest son of the Monarch of Mo, and, since I have been blown into your country through an accident, I certainly deserve kind treatment at your hands.”
But this speech had no meaning in the ears of the monkeys, who said to each other:
“Hear him bark! He jabbers away almost as if he could talk!”
By this time a large crowd of monkeys had surrounded the tree, some being barefooted boy-monkeys, and some lady-monkeys dressed in silken gowns and gorgeous raiment of the latest mode, and others men-monkeys of all sorts and conditions. There were dandified monkeys and sober-looking business monkeys, as well as several who appeared to be politicians and officials of high degree.
“Stand back, all of you!” shouted one of the soldiers. “We’re going to capture this remarkable beast for the royal menagerie, and unless you stand out of the way he may show fight and bite some one.”
So they moved back to a safe distance, and the soldier-monkey prepared to throw a rope.
“Stop!” cried Zingle, again; “do you take me for a thief, that you try to bind me? I am a prince of the royal blood, and unless you treat me respectfully I shall have my father, the King, march his army on you and destroy your whole country.”
“He barks louder,” said the soldier. “Look out for him; he may be dangerous.” The next moment he threw the rope and caught poor Zingle around his arms and body, so that he was helpless. Then the soldier-monkey pulled hard on the rope, and Prince Zingle fell out of the tree to the ground.
At first the monkeys all pressed backward, as if frightened, but their soldiers cried out:
“We’ve got him; he can’t bite now.”
Then one of them approached the Prince and punched him with a stick, saying, “Stand up!”
Zingle did not understand the words, but he resented being prodded with the stick, so he sprang up and rushed on the soldier, kicking the stick from his hands, his own arms being bound by the rope.
The monkeys screamed and rushed in every direction, but the other soldier came behind the Prince and knocked him down with the butt of his gun. Then he tied his legs with another rope, and, seeing him thus bound, the crowd of monkeys, which had scattered and fallen over one another in their efforts to escape, came creeping timidly back, and looked on him with fear and trembling.
“We’ve subdued him at last,” remarked the soldier who had been kicked. “But he’s a very fierce animal, and I shall take him to the Zoo and lock him in one of the strongest cages.”
So they led poor Zingle away to where the Royal Zoological Gardens were located, and there they put him into a big cage with iron bars, the door being fastened with two great padlocks.
Before very long every monkey in the country learned that a strange beast had been captured and brought to the Zoo; and soon a large crowd had gathered before Zingle’s cage to examine him.
“Isn’t he sweet!” said a lady-monkey who held a green parasol over her head and wore a purple veil on her face.
“Sweet!” grunted a man-monkey standing beside her, “he’s the ugliest looking brute I ever saw! Scarcely has any hair on him at all, and no tail, and very little chin. I wonder where on earth the creature came from?”
“It may be one of those beings from whom our race is descended,” said another onlooker. “The professors say we evolved from some primitive creature of this sort.”
“Heaven forbid!” cried a dandy-monkey, whose collar was so high that it kept tipping his hat over his eyes. “If I thought such a creature as that was one of my forefathers, I should commit suicide at once.”
Zingle had been sitting on the floor of his cage and wondering what was to become of him in this strange country of monkeys, and now, to show his authority, one of the keepers took a long stick and began to poke the Prince to make him stand up.
“Stop that!” shouted the angry captive, and catching hold of the stick he jerked it from the keeper’s hand and struck him a sharp blow on the head with it.
All the lady-monkeys screamed at this, and the men-monkeys exclaimed:
“What an ugly disposition the beast has!”
The children-monkeys began to throw peanuts between the bars of the cage, and Zingle, who had now become very hungry, picked them up and ate them. This act so pleased the little monkeys that they shouted with laughter.
At last two solemn-looking monkeys with gray hair, and wearing long black coats and white neckties, came up to the cage, where they were greeted with much respect by the other monkeys.
“So this is the strange animal,” said one of the new-comers, putting on his spectacl
es and looking sharply at the captive; “do you recognize the species, Professor?”
The other aged monkey also regarded the Prince critically before he answered:
“I can not say I have ever seen a specimen of this genus before. But one of our text-books mentions an obscure animal called Homo Peculiaris, and I have no doubt this is one of that family. I shall write an article on the creature and claim he is a Homo, and without doubt the paper will create quite a stir in the scientific world.”
“See here,” suddenly demanded Prince Zingle, standing up and shaking the bars of his cage, “are you going to give me anything to eat? Or do you expect me to live on peanuts forever?”
Not knowing what he said, none of the monkeys paid any attention to this question. But one of the professor-monkeys appeared to listen attentively, and remarked to friend: “There seems to be a smoothness and variety of sound in his speech that indicates that he possesses some sort of language. Had I time to study this brute, I might learn his method of communicating with his fellows. Indeed, there is a possibility that he may turn out to be the missing link.”
However, the professor not yet having learned his language, Prince Zingle was obliged to remain hungry. The monkeys threw several cocoanuts into the cage, but the prisoner did not know what kind of fruit these were; so, after several attempts to bite the hard shell, he decided they were not good to eat.
Day after day now passed away, and, although crowds of monkeys came to examine Zingle in his cage, the poor Prince grew very pale and thin for lack of proper food, while the continuance of his unhappy imprisonment made him sad and melancholy.
“Could I but escape and find my way back to my father’s valley,” he moaned, wearily, “I should be willing to fly small kites forever afterward.”
Often he begged them to let him go, but the monkeys gruffly commanded him to “stop his jabbering,” and poked him with long sticks having sharp points; so that the Prince’s life became one of great misery.
At the end of about two weeks a happy relief came to Zingle, for then a baby hippopotamus was captured and brought to the Royal Zoo, and after this the monkeys left the Prince’s cage and crowded around that of the new arrival.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 220