Mrs. Puff-Pudgy now pushed them both into a little room and shut them up, saying they must stay there until bedtime; and then she led Twinkle and Chubbins into the kitchen and showed them a pool of clear water, in a big clay basin, that had been caught during the last rain and saved for drinking purposes. The children drank of it, and found it cool and refreshing.
Then they saw the bedrooms, and learned that the beds of prairie-dogs were nothing more than round hollows made in heaps of clay. These animals always curl themselves up when they sleep, and the round hollows just fitted their bodies; so, no doubt, they found them very comfortable.
There were several bedrooms, for the Puff-Pudgy house was really very large. It was also very cool and pleasant, being all underground and not a bit damp.
After they had admired everything in a way that made Mrs. Puff-Pudgy very proud and happy, their hostess took one of the lighted candles from a bracket and said she would now escort them to the house of the Honorable Mr. Bowko, the Mayor.
Chapter VII. The Mayor Gives a Luncheon
“DON’T we have to go upstairs and out of doors?” asked Twinkle.
“Oh, no,” replied the prairie-dog, “we have halls connecting all the different houses of importance. Just follow me, and you can’t get lost.”
They might easily have been lost without their guide, the little girl thought, after they had gone through several winding passages. They turned this way and that, in quite a bewildering manner, and there were so many underground tunnels going in every direction that it was a wonder Mrs. Puff-Pudgy knew which way to go.
“You ought to have sign-posts,” said Chubbins, who had once been in a city.
“Why, as for that, every one in the town knows which way to go,” answered their guide; “and it isn’t often we have visitors. Last week a gray owl stopped with us for a couple of days, and we had a fine ball in her honor. But you are the first humans that have ever been entertained in our town, so it’s quite an event with us.” A few minutes later she said: “Here we are, at the Mayor’s house,” and as they passed under a broad archway she blew out her candle, because the Mayor’s house was so brilliantly lighted.
“Welcome!” said Mr. Bowko, greeting the children with polite bows. “You are just in time, for luncheon is about ready and my guests are waiting for you.”
He led them at once into a big dining-room that was so magnificently painted with colored clays that the walls were as bright as a June rainbow.
“How pretty!” cried Twinkle, clapping her hands together in delight.
“I’m glad you like it,” said the Mayor, much pleased. “Some people, who are lacking in good taste, think it’s a little overdone, but a Mayor’s house should be gorgeous, I think, so as to be a credit to the community. My grandfather, who designed and painted this house, was a very fine artist. But luncheon is ready, so pray be seated.”
They sat down on little clay chairs that were placed at the round table. The Mayor sat on one side of Twinkle and Mrs. Puff-Pudgy on the other, and Chubbins was between the skinny old magician and Mr. Sneezeley. Also, in other chairs sat Dr. Dosem, and Mrs. Chatterby, and Mrs. Fuzcum, and several others. It was a large company, indeed, which showed that the Mayor considered this a very important occasion.
They were waited upon by several sleek prairie-dog maids in white aprons and white caps, who looked neat and respectable, and were very graceful in their motions.
Neither Twinkle nor Chubbins was very hungry, but they were curious to know what kind of food the prairie-dogs ate, so they watched carefully when the different dishes were passed around. Only grains and vegetables were used, for prairie-dogs do not eat meat. There was a milk-weed soup at first; and then yellow corn, boiled and sliced thin. Afterward they had a salad of thistle leaves, and some bread made of barley. The dessert was a dish of the sweet, dark honey made by prairie-bees, and some cakes flavored with sweet and spicy roots that only prairie-dogs know how to find.
The children tasted of several dishes, just to show their politeness; but they couldn’t eat much. Chubbins spent most of his time watching Mr. Presto Digi, who ate up everything that was near him and seemed to be as hungry after the luncheon as he had been before.
Mrs. Puff-Pudgy talked so much about the social standing and dignity of the Puff-Pudgys that she couldn’t find time to eat much, although she asked for the recipe of the milk-weed soup. But most of the others present paid strict attention to the meal and ate with very good appetites.
Chapter VIII. On Top of the Earth Again
AFTERWARD they all went into the big drawing-room, where Mrs. Fuzcum sang a song for them in a very shrill voice, and Mr. Sneezeley and Mrs. Chatterby danced a graceful minuet that was much admired by all present.
“We ought to be going home,” said Twinkle, after this entertainment was over. “I’m afraid our folks will worry about us.”
“We regret to part with you,” replied the Mayor; “but, if you really think you ought to go, we will not be so impolite as to urge you to stay.”
“You’ll find we have excellent manners,” added Mrs. Puff-Pudgy.
“I want to get big again,” said Chubbins.
“Very well; please step this way,” said the Mayor.
So they all followed him through a long passage until they began to go upward, as if climbing a hill. And then a gleam of daylight showed just ahead of them, and a few more steps brought them to the hole in the middle of the mound.
The Mayor and Mrs. Puff-Pudgy jumped up first, and then they helped Twinkle and Chubbins to scramble out. The strong sunlight made them blink their eyes for a time, but when they were able to look around they found one or more heads of prairie-dogs sticking from every mound.
“Now, Mr. Presto Digi,” said the Mayor, when all the party were standing on the ground, “please enlarge our friends to their natural sizes again.”
“That is very easy,” said the magician, with a sigh. “I really wish, Mr. Mayor, that you would find something for me to do that is difficult.”
“I will, some time,” promised the Mayor. “Just now, this is all I can require of you.”
So the magician waved his paw and gurgled, much in the same way he had done before, and Twinkle and Chubbins began to grow, and swell out until they were as large as ever, and the prairie- dogs again seemed very small beside them.
“Good-bye,” said the little girl, “and thank you all, very much, for your kindness to us.”
“Good-bye!” answered a chorus of small voices, and then all the prairie-dogs popped into their holes and quickly disappeared.
Twinkle and Chubbins found they were sitting on the green bank again, at the edge of Prairie- Dog Town.
“Do you think we’ve been asleep, Chub?” asked the girl.
“‘Course not,” replied Chubbins, with a big yawn. “It’s easy ‘nough to know that, Twink, ‘cause I’m sleepy now!”
THE END
PRINCE MUD-TURTLE
Chapter I. Twinkle Captures the Turtle
ONE hot summer day Twinkle went down into the meadow to where the brook ran tinkling over its stones or rushed and whirled around the curves of the banks or floated lazily through the more wide and shallow parts. It wasn’t much of a brook, to tell the facts, for there were many places where an active child could leap across it. But it was the only brook for miles around, and to Twinkle it was a never-ending source of delight. Nothing amused or refreshed the little girl more than to go wading on the pebbly bottom and let the little waves wash around her slim ankles.
There was one place, just below the pasture lot, where it was deeper; and here there were real fishes swimming about, such as “horned aces” and “chubs” and “shiners”; and once in a while you could catch a mud-turtle under the edges of the flat stones or in hollows beneath the banks. The deep part was not very big, being merely a pool, but Twinkle never waded in it, because the water would come quite up to her waist, and then she would be sure to get her skirts wet, which would mean a good
scolding from mamma.
To-day she climbed the fence in the lane, just where the rickety wooden bridge crossed the brook, and at once sat down upon the grassy bank and took off her shoes and stockings. Then, wearing her sun-bonnet to shield her face from the sun, she stepped softly into the brook and stood watching the cool water rush by her legs.
It was very nice and pleasant; but Twinkle never could stand still for very long, so she began to wade slowly down the stream, keeping in the middle of the brook, and being able to see through the clear water all the best places to put her feet.
Pretty soon she had to duck her head to pass under the fence that separated the meadow from the pasture lot; but she got through all right, and then kept on down the stream, until she came close to the deep pool. She couldn’t wade through this, as I have explained; so she got on dry land and crept on her hands and knees up to the edge of the bank, so as not to scare the fishes, if any were swimming in the pool.
By good luck there were several fishes in the pool to-day, and they didn’t seem to notice that Twinkle was looking at them, so quiet had she been. One little fellow shone like silver when the sunshine caught his glossy sides, and the little girl watched him wiggling here and there with much delight. There was also a big, mud-colored fish that lay a long time upon the bottom without moving anything except his fins and the tip of his tail, and Twinkle also discovered a group of several small fishes not over an inch long, that always swam together in a bunch, as if they belonged to one family.
The girl watched these little creatures long and earnestly. The pool was all of the world these simple fishes would ever know. They were born here, and would die here, without ever getting away from the place, or even knowing there was a much bigger world outside of it.
After a time the child noticed that the water had become a little muddy near the edge of the bank where she lay, and as it slowly grew clear again she saw a beautiful turtle lying just under her head and against the side of the bank. It was a little bigger around than a silver dollar, and instead of its shell being of a dull brown color, like that of all other mud-turtles she had seen, this one’s back was streaked with brilliant patches of yellow and red.
“I must get that lovely turtle!” thought Twinkle; and as the water was shallow where it lay she suddenly plunged in her hand, grabbed the turtle, and flung it out of the water on to the bank, where it fell upon its back, wiggling its four fat legs desperately in an attempt to turn over.
Chapter II. Twinkle Discovers the Turtle Can Talk
AT this sudden commotion in their water, the fishes darted away and disappeared in a flash. But Twinkle didn’t mind that, for all her interest was now centered in the struggling turtle.
She knelt upon the grass and bent over to watch it, and just then she thought she heard a small voice say:
“It’s no use; I can’t do it!” and then the turtle drew its head and legs between the shells and remained still.
“Good gracious!” said Twinkle, much astonished. Then, addressing the turtle, she asked:
“Did you say anything, a minute ago?”
There was no reply. The turtle lay as quiet as if it were dead. Twinkle thought she must have been mistaken; so she picked up the turtle and held it in the palm of her hand while she got into the water again and waded slowly back to where she had left her shoes and stockings.
When she got home she put the mud-turtle in a tub which her papa had made by sawing a barrel in two. Then she put a little water into the tub and blocked it up by putting a brick under one side, so that the turtle could either stay in the water or crawl up the inclined bottom of the tub to where it was dry, whichever he pleased. She did this because mamma said that turtles sometimes liked to stay in the water and sometimes on land, and Twinkle’s turtle could now take his choice. He couldn’t climb up the steep sides of the tub and so get away, and the little girl thoughtfully placed crumbs of bread and fine bits of meat, where the turtle could get them whenever he felt hungry.
After that, Twinkle often sat for hours watching the turtle, which would crawl around the bottom of the tub, and swim in the little pool of water and eat the food placed before him in an eager and amusing way.
At times she took him in her hand and examined him closely, and then the mud-turtle would put out its little head and look at her with its bright eyes as curiously as the girl looked at him.
She had owned her turtle just a week, when she came to the tub one afternoon and held him in her hand, intending to feed her pet some scraps of meat she had brought with her. But as soon as the turtle put out its head it said to her, in a small but distinct voice:
“Good morning, Twinkle.”
She was so surprised that the meat dropped from her hand, and she nearly dropped the turtle, too. But she managed to control her astonishment, and asked, in a voice that trembled a little:
“Can you talk?”
“To be sure,” replied the turtle; “but only on every seventh day — which of course is every Saturday. On other days I cannot talk at all.”
“Then I really must have heard you speak when I caught you; didn’t I?”
“I believe you did. I was so startled at being captured that I spoke before I thought, which is a bad habit to get into. But afterward I resolved not to answer when you questioned me, for I didn’t know you then, and feared it would be unwise to trust you with my secret. Even now I must ask you not to tell any one that you have a turtle that knows how to talk.”
Chapter III. The Turtle Tells of the Corrugated Giant
“WHY, it’s wonderful!” said Twinkle, who had listened eagerly to the turtle’s speech.
“It would be wonderful, indeed, if I were but a simple turtle,” was the reply.
“But aren’t you a turtle?”
“Of course, so far as my outward appearance goes, I’m a common little mud-turtle,” it answered; “and I think you will agree with me that it was rather clever in the Corrugated Giant to transform me into such a creature.”
“What’s a Corrulated Giant?” asked Twinkle, with breathless interest.
“The Corrugated Giant is a monster that is full of deep wrinkles, because he has no bones inside him to hold his flesh up properly,” said the turtle. “I hated this giant, who is both wicked and cruel, I assure you; and this giant hated me in return. So, when one day I tried to destroy him, the monster transformed me into the helpless little being you see before you.”
“But who were you before you were transformed?” asked the girl.
“A fairy prince named Melga, the seventh son of the fairy Queen Flutterlight, who rules all the fairies in the north part of this land.”
“And how long have you been a turtle?”
“Fourteen years,” replied the creature, with a deep sigh. “At least, I think it is fourteen years; but of course when one is swimming around in brooks and grubbing in the mud for food, one is apt to lose all track of time.”
“I should think so, indeed,” said Twinkle. “But, according to that, you’re older than I am.”
“Much older,” declared the turtle. “I had lived about four hundred years before the Corrugated Giant turned me into a turtle.”
“Was your head gray?” she asked; “and did you have white whiskers?”
“No, indeed!” said the turtle. “Fairies are always young and beautiful in appearance, no matter how many years they have lived. And, as they never die, they’re bound to get pretty old sometimes, as a matter of course.”
“Of course!” agreed Twinkle. “Mama has told me about the fairies. But must you always be a mud-turtle?”
“That will depend on whether you are willing to help me or not,” was the answer.
“Why, it sounds just like a fairy tale in a book!” cried the little girl.
“Yes,” replied the turtle, “these things have been happening ever since there were fairies, and you might expect some of our adventures would get into books. But are you willing to help me? That is the important thing just now
.”
“I’ll do anything I can,” said Twinkle.
“Then,” said the turtle, “I may expect to get back to my own form again in a reasonably short time. But you must be brave, and not shrink from such a little thing as danger.”
That made Twinkle look solemn.
“Of course I don’t want to get hurt,” she said. “My mama and papa would go distructed if anything happened to me.”
“Something will happen, sure,” declared the turtle; “but nothing that happens will hurt you in the least if you do exactly as I tell you.”
“I won’t have to fight that Carbolated Giant, will I?” Twinkle asked doubtfully.
“He isn’t carbolated; he’s corrugated. No, you won’t have to fight at all. When the proper time comes I’ll do the fighting myself. But you may have to come with me to the Black Mountains, in order to set me free.”
“Is it far?” she asked.
“Yes; but it won’t take us long to go there,” answered the turtle. “Now, I’ll tell you what to do and, if you follow my advice no one will ever know you’re been mixed up with fairies and strange adventures.”
“And Collerated Giants,” she added.
“Corrugated,” he corrected. “It is too late, this Saturday, to start upon our journey, so we must wait another week. But next Saturday morning do you come to me bright and early, as soon as you’ve had breakfast, and then I’ll tell you what to do.”
“All right,” said Twinkle; “I won’t forget.”
“In the mean time, do give me a little clean water now and then. I’m a mud-turtle, sure enough; but I’m also a fairy prince, and I must say I prefer clean water.”
“I’ll attend to it,” promised the girl.
“Now put me down and run away,” continued the turtle. “It will take me all the week to think over my plans, and decide exactly what we are to do.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 369