L. Frank Baum - Oz 19

by The Lost King Of Oz

  “There’s some trick to it,” panted Dorothy, sitting up quickly. “Watch!”

  Several of the woodsmen began to move slowly toward her and, observing them closely, the little girl saw that they were, turned backward but really walking forward. “We have to go backward forward!” cried Dorothy. “Hurry up, before they catch us.”

  “This is worse than dying,” groaned Humpy. “How do you go backwards and forwards at the same time?”

  “Watch me,” said Dorothy, springing up determinedly. Turning her back to the woods, she started to run away from it, and Humpy, goaded into action by the threatening appearance of the terrible woodsmen, did the same. For every step they ran backward forward, they went forward backward two steps, bumping into trees, which had their roots waving muddily in the air and their leaves underground and crashing into bushes of the same curious character. Without stopping to examine the back scenery at all, they ran for their lives, reaching the edge of the woods just as the woodsmen caught up with them. The wicked fellows had really no intention of letting them go, and howled most awfully as Humpy and Dorothy made their escape. Several of the leaders started in pursuit, but each time they set foot out of their forest they were flung down by the invisible back wind and finally gave it up. Seeing that they were safe at last, Dorothy sank down under a tomato tree and fanned herself vigorously with her hat.

  “Do we do this often?” puffed the dummy, giving himself a shake. “I see this is going to be a funny picture.”

  “It’s not a picture at all,” answered the little girl a bit crossly. “It’s real. I told you we have lots of adventures in Oz. Well, this is a real adventure.”

  “Really!” smiled the dummy, straightening his crown. “Well, if we’re not in a picture we ought to be. I’ll bet we looked ridiculous running forward backward. I say, if it isn’t a funny reel it’s real funny and I hope you’ll admit that, Miss Dorothy.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing in your head but hair?” asked the little girl suspiciously. Humpy took off his crown and smoothed his silver wig solemnly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well,” Dorothy gave a little chuckle in spite of herself, “you just made a joke and you thought about writing back. You sound kinda smart to me.

  “You’re wrong, sighed Humpy, gravely replacing his crown. “I’m only a hair-brained dummy, but I like being alive and I like having you for my star and after this-” Humpy shook his fist angrily at the still muttering woodsmen-“after this I’ll take all the knocks and hard falls for you. Then maybe, if you tried hard, you might grow to like me a little?”

  “Why, I like you already, you dear, generous old thing. “ Jumping up, Dorothy gave Humpy an impulsive hug. Then, picking a large tomato, she ate it hungrily. It seemed a long time since she had breakfasted with the Forgetful Poet in Perhaps City.

  “We’d better start on now,” said the little girl, finishing off the tomato with a long sigh of satisfaction. “We’re in the Gillikin Country and if we walk fast we may reach the Emerald City before

  night comes.

  “All right, Miss Star.” Picking up a crooked branch to balance himself, Humpy stepped out cheerfully and, talking of one thing and another, they journeyed for more than an hour through the pleasant fields and lanes, causing no small wonder to the Gilliken farmers whom they passed on the way, for Dorothy in her torn stockings and frock and the dummy in his regal robes and crown made a strange pair, even for Oz.

  Without explaining themselves at all, the two hurried on, never stopping until they came to a broad purple river. Humpy looked inquiringly at Dorothy and Dorothy with a puzzled little sigh sat down upon the river bank.

  “I’m sure we ought to cross this river,” said Dorothy thoughtfully, “but how?”

  Humpy put one finger in the water. “Do you want me to fall in for you?” asked the dummy

  obligingly.

  “Well, I don’t see what good that would do,” frowned Dorothy. “Let me see!” Dorothy looked reflectively at her toes, so of course she saw nothing but her boots, but Humpy looked off across the river, and so it was Humpy who saw them first.

  “Oh, look!” stuttered the dummy, grasping Dorothy by the sleeve. “Here comes another adventure, Miss Star!”

  Jumping up in alarm, Dorothy saw a curious company scooting about upon the surface of the water. At the very same moment they saw Dorothy, and came skating and sliding across the river like a swarm of giant water bugs.

  “Now don’t tell me this is real,” grunted the dummy, sitting down with a thud. “I wouldn’t believe them, even in a picture.”

  “But they’re not in a picture,” wailed Dorothy. “They’re here, whether you believe them or not. Why they have sails! Oh Humpy, get up quick. Aren’t you going to help me?” With a mighty effort Humpy pulled himself together and arose.

  “Teg tuo! Teg tuo!” shrilled the dummy, lapsing in his fright and excitement into the terrible language of Back. “Og yawa! Og yawa! Kcab Sdoow!” And snatching off his crown, he hurled it violently at the heads of the approaching rivermen.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Playful Scooters

  THE first of the rivermen caught the dummy’s crown neatly and tossed it back. “Is it a game?” he called hoarsely. Dorothy had no time to dodge, so she quickly caught the crown, which came with

  such force that she sat down with a jolt.

  The dummy danced up and down and waved his arms threateningly.

  “Come on, Flub Blub. It’s a game,” called the first riverman to the man just behind him. “Two Scoots playing a game! Here,” he croaked in his deep, frog-like voice, “throw it to me!” He raised his sails coaxingly at Dorothy and, partly because she was afraid to have him come nearer and partly because she didn’t know what else to do, the little girl pitched back the crown with all her might. The one called Flub Blub caught it immediately. The next throw was to Humpy and backward and forward between the puzzled travellers on the bank and curious creatures on the water flew the dummy’s crown, and breathlessly between catches Dorothy examined these strange playfellows.

  They were tall and angular and so sunburned that they almost appeared to be Indians. They were clad in shiny water proof hats and slickers. On their long, thin feet, shaped somewhat like skis and somewhat like narrow boats, they slid over the water as surely and carelessly as we skate about on ice. Extending from the ankle to the finger tips, and as much a part of the wearer as wings are part of a bird, were bright yellow sails. When their arms were down at their sides, the sails were folded in and almost unnoticeable, but with arms outstretched the rivermen had two wide-spread sails to help them scoot over the water. By lowering the right arm or the left, they could turn, tack and get about faster than any sailing boat you have ever seen. Their faces, under the broad souwesters, were child-like and pleasant and, finding them more interesting than dangerous, Dorothy motioned for Humpy to hold the crown, which had landed for about the tenth time with a resounding thwack against his chest.

  “But I was just getting good,” objected the dummy, placing the crown regretfully on his head. “What now?” Humpy had become so engrossed in catching the crown that he had quite forgotten his fright and, as the leader came in close to the shore, he looked at him with frank curiosity.

  “Well, Scoots,” bubbled the one called Flub Blub, rocking gently backward and forward on the water, “who won?”

  “I think it was a tie,” answered Dorothy politely, “but why do you call us Scoots?”

  “Because your sails haven’t grown, gurgled the riverman, taking a white bubble pipe from his mouth and smiling broadly at the little girl. “But don’t mind, my dear. We must all be Scoots before we’re Scooters. Just stick in the mud a little longer and your sails will grow as large as mine.”

  “Dorothy’s not a Scoot, she’s a star,” protested Humpy, “and I’m her double and do all the hard falling. Don’t you know’ a star when you see one?”

  The Scooter turned h
is pale blue eyes curiously on Humpy. “You look about as much like her as a pumpkin looks like a peach,” he observed mildly. “Why do you call yourself her double? And if she’s a star what’s she doing out now? It’s only ten o’clock.” At this all the other Scooters removed their pipes and nodded gravely.

  “Is she an out-and-out star, or a down-and-out star?” inquired Flub Biub, blowing a whole flock of soap bubbles from his pipe and watching them float lazily up the river.

  “I’m a Princess,” put in Dorothy, seeing that everything was becoming hopelessly confused, “and we’re on our way to the Emerald City.”

  “A Princess!” exclaimed the Scooter in amazement. He took off his souwester and scratched

  his head in a puzzled way. Dorothy was so astonished to find that his hair was moss that she said nothing at all for a whole minute.

  “If you’re a Princess, why are you so shabby?” choked a Scooter named Mouldy.

  “Don’t mind him, he has a bad cold,” apologized Flub, putting his hat on again. “He would go a picking daisies on the shore yesterday and got his feet dry. Now look at him!”

  The Scooter coughed miserably. “That’s right,” he wheezed, dabbing at his eyes with his right sail. “Never get your feet dry little Scoot, it’s turrible!”

  At this Dorothy giggled in spite of herself. Then seeing the poor fellow was offended she asked quickly, “Is there any way we could cross this river, Mr. Mouldy?”

  “There’s a bridge a bit further on,” sniffed the Scooter, waving his sail sulkily. Following the direction, Dorothy saw what at first looked like a silver bridge. But on closer inspection it proved to be a great torrent of water spouting across the river like the stream from a giant hose.

  “But it’s water!” gasped the little girl in dismay.

  “Of course it’s water. What should a bridge be but water?” demanded the leader of the Scooters impatiently. “Just stand on one side and it will shoot you across.

  “How dreadfully wet,” sighed the dummy dolefully, “but I’ll cross if you will Dorothy.”

  “That’s right,” said Flub Blub approvingly, “and here’s the way to do it.” Followed by the others, the Scooter sailed up the river and leaped lightly on the gleaming arch of water. Dorothy, watching them shoot across with sails outspread, thought she had never seen a more interesting sight. Just before they reached the opposite bank, they jumped into the water and in less than a minute they all were back.

  “See,” smiled the leader cheerfully, “it’s as easy as sailing, Miss Star or Princess or whatever else you call yourself.”

  “Just a little girl, thank you,” smiled Dorothy, looking very doubtfully at the water bridge.

  “Is he a little girl too?” asked the riverman, eyeing Humpy attentively. At this the poor dummy looked so indignant that Dorothy quickly told about her fall into America, her meeting with Humpy and the strange manner in which he had been wished to life. But as the Scooters had never heard of America, nor of a moving picture dummy, her story was not at all clear to them. And when she went on to explain that crossing the river on the water bridge and getting her feet wet would give her a cold, they were more astonished than ever.

  “Couldn’t you carry her across?” asked Humpy, as they stood arguing excitedly together. “I don’t mind the water myself and am quite used to floating and falling, but Dorothy

  “Ever try a water fall?” interrupted Mouldy inquisitively.

  “Let’s take her across, boys!” called Flub Blub before Humpy had a chance to answer. “Come along Princess Little Girl and Mr. Dummy!” With hoarse shouts the Scooters stretched their long arms. A dozen seized upon Humpy and, holding him awkwardly between them, started scooting across the river.

  Dorothy, standing precariously on Flub Blub’s right foot and balanced by Mouldy’s left arm, fairly raced over the waters between the two rivermen. Their sails flapped merrily in the wind and the spray from their long ski-like feet spread out like white wings behind.

  “Won’t Ozma and Betsy be surprised when I tell them about this!” thought Dorothy as they neared the opposite bank. Little did Dorothy guess of the strange happenings Ozma and the others would soon have to relate to her!

  “Better stay with us and learn to scoot,” advised Flub Blub, seeing the smile on Dorothy’s face.

  “Ah what is more brave

  than a life on the wave!

  No care and no trouble,

  life goes like a bubble!”

  The Scooter waved his arm jovially, as he recited the couplet.

  “But what do you eat?” inquired Dorothy. She had been puzzling over this for some time. “Water cress, water melons and fish,” answered Flub Blub, without slackening his speed. “Raw fish?” asked Dorothy, with a little gasp.

  “Well, rawther,” giggled another Scooter just behind them. “Raw fish make the sails grow. Stay in the water little girl and you’ll soon have a fine pair of sails.”

  “That’s right,” added Flub Blub approvingly. Removing his bubble pipe he continued earnestly, “Fish will make your feet grow too. Eat fish, my dear, and grow a beautiful pair like mine!”

  Dorothy looked down at the Scooter’s long feet and shuddered. “That settles it,” she whispered, with a little shiver. “I’ll never eat fish!”

  They had now reached the opposite side of the river. Thanking the Scooters for their kindness and bidding them an affectionate farewell, the little girl scampered quickly up the bank. Humpy and already been tossed ashore.

  “Goodbye!” shouted the Scooters, cheerfully waving their sails. They were in mid-stream by

  this time.

  “Goodbye!” called Dorothy and Humpy, picking himself up clumsily, waved his crown.

  “Ah, still the same size I see,” smiled Humpy, looking amiably at Dorothy. “Any more adventures coming?”

  “Well, I liked that one,” chuckled Dorothy, pulling up her stockings and straightening her hat. “Didn’t you?”

  Humpy nodded, his eyes wandering over the fields and hills, spreading out invitingly before them. “Is this the way to your palace?” he demanded, throwing his cloak back over one shoulder and waving his stick ahead.

  “It’s not my palace,” explained Dorothy, taking his arm, “it’s Ozma’s. She is the Queen of Oz, you know, but I have the dearest little apartment there, with a hundred fairy tale books, a hundred games, a hundred dresses, a dog named Toto and a little white kitten.”

  “Well, I hope your dog won’t chew me,” said Humpy uneasily. “I was in a picture with a dog once. He was supposed to knock me down. Well, he did and, before they could pull him away he had chewed off my ear and eaten up my wig. I hate dogs.”

  “But Toto’s only a little dog, you’ll just love Toto,” Dorothy assured him quickly.

  Humpy still looked doubtful and, seeing that dogs made him unhappy, Dorothy began telling him all about the Scarecrow and Scraps. Chatting pleasantly, they walked along for more than an hour, when Humpy, ever on the lookout for adventures, gave Dorothy’s arm a quick jerk. Moving slowly behind a thin fringe of trees to the right was a great gray shadow. As they stopped, the shadow stopped too and out through the trees something that looked like a long grey snake came curiously curling.

  “Run!” puffed the valiant dummy. “Run, Dorothy! This is my part of the show for it can’t bite

  me!”

  Raising his stick, Humpy brought it down sharply on the thick gray body. There was an enraged snort and snuffle in the bushes. Then, before Dorothy could run or Humpy could use his stick again, a perfectly enormous elephant came charging out between the trees. His sides were heaving with rage and his tusks were trembling with temper.

  “Who hit me?” screamed the elephant, lashing about furiously with his trunk. “I’ll mash him, I’ll crash him! Ah hah!” His little eyes snapped wickedly as they fell upon Humpy’s stick. The next instant the great beast had seized the dummy in his trunk and flung him fifty feet into the air. Then, pausing to straighten his pearl
head-piece, he glared indignantly at Dorothy. There is only one elephant in Oz who is elegant enough to own a headband of pearls and, with a little shriek of surprise and recognition, Dorothy ran forward just in time to save Humpy from another toss in the air.

  “Why Kabumpo!” cried the little girl in delight. “Wait! Wait a minute!” The Elegant Elephant, after a quick look at the little girl, snatched a huge silk hanky from a pocket in his robe and blew his trunk violently.

  “Well, I’ll be blowed if it isn’t Dorothy,” wheezed Kabumpo, half-choked between embarrassment and surprise. “What brings you here?”

  Just as he spoke he caught another glimpse of Humpy, who had risen and was advancing unsteadily. “Excuse me until I mash that idiot,” he roared.

  “Oh please don’t mash him,” begged Dorothy in alarm. “You see he’s only a dummy and he didn’t mean to hit you. Besides he’s a friend of mine.”

  Kabumpo swayed uncertainly for a moment and then stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. “Well, nobody but a dummy would hit an elephant on the trunk. Why have such dumb friends?”

  he asked sulkily.

  As quickly as she could, Dorothy explained her strange meeting with the dummy, his coming to life and her curious adventures since. It was such an amazing story that Kabumpo now regarded Humpy with more interest than anger. Dorothy, seeing that the dummy still thought her in danger, hastily took away his stick and introduced him. to the Elegant Elephant.