L. Frank Baum - Oz 19

by The Lost King Of Oz

  “But what about the mountain?” asked Snip, as it loomed up suddenly ahead.

  “Watch,” called Pajuka and while Kabumpo swayed uncertainly before it, he flew straight through the wall of rocks. Like many another mountain when you come right to it, this was no mountain at all only a shadow mountain.

  “No wonder Mombi could walk through,” sighed Snip, greatly relieved that the witch had not recovered her magic powers.

  CHAPTER 17

  Mombi’s Magic

  THE thoughts of the little company, as they sped toward the Emerald City, were many and varied. Mombi, suspended precariously in Kabumpo’s trunk, smiled darkly to herself, for Mombi, as usual, had a plan to outwit her enemies. She could not remember changing the King to a dummy at all, and had at first doubted that Humpy really was the King, but when she had read upon his collar the forgotten green magic formula, even Mombi was convinced. All that was now necessary to dispel the enchantment was to reach the Emerald City.

  “Once there, I’ll show them,” the old witch chuckled wickedly to herself, as she thought of what would happen then.

  Pajuka, looking at the stuffed King beside him, was wondering sadly whether he and his royal master would ever be quite the same, whether the good old Oz days they had enjoyed together would ever return again. Fluttering his wings, and keeping his balance with difficulty, the poor goose dreamed longingly of the comfortable chairs in the old hunting lodge, of his pipe and his smoking jacket with sixteen pockets.

  Snip was trying to puzzle out how the King had ever fallen into California, how Tora had got his strange ears, how Pajuka would look as a man and how Ozma would like giving up the throne to her father.

  Tora, holding fast to his precious ears, had closed his eyes and begun to plan a blue suit for Snip and a velvet cloak for Dorothy. He had taken a great fancy to the little girl. “Let the other fellows worry about this king,” thought the tailor with a tired sigh.

  Dorothy, for her part, was trying to imagine what would happen when they reached the capitol. She felt sure Mombi meant some mischief but, comforting herself with the thought of Sir Hokus of Pokes and the other brave inhabitants of the castle, she finally stopped worrying and began to wonder how Humpy would look when he was changed to himself and what would become of her apartment in the palace. It was all so strange and confusing that Dorothy could hardly wait to see how it would turn out, and watched anxiously for the first sight of the green towers and spires of Ozma’s palace.

  Humpy was too busy holding on to his crown and to Kabumpo to think of anything, but the Elegant Elephant was busily considering the appearance he would make at the King’s coronation. “I’ll just have that old tailor cut me a white velvet robe,” decided Kabumpo importantly. “I’ll wear my pearls and a satin bow on my tail and

  Just then, Snip gave a little scream of delight, for, spreading out suddenly before them like a picture from fairyland itself, was the enchanting Emerald City of Oz. Its lacy turrets and spires sparkled with emeralds, its marble streets glowed with the same precious stones. The air was sweet with roses and honeysuckle and everywhere were flowering parks and tree lined avenues.

  Humpy, Pajuka, Snip and the tailor were simply stunned by the magnificence of the capitol, but to Dorothy, Mombi and Kabumpo, the Emerald City was an old story. Accustomed to its beauty and familiar with its grandeur, they scarcely gave it a second glance. Many of the town’s people, recognizing

  Dorothy, waved cheerfully as they passed and all too soon for Snip, who could have ridden up and down its enchanted streets all day, the Elegant Elephant charged into the royal park and approached the Palace of Emeralds itself.

  “Master,” choked the goose, touching Humpy tremulously with his wing, “our castle was never so fine as this. To think that all of this belongs to you!” Pajuka stretched his neck exultantly. “I wonder if there’s a pipe anywhere in the castle?” he puffed suddenly.

  “You shall have twenty pipes, my good goose!” promised the dummy. “Everybody shall have a

  pipe!”

  Dorothy and Snip giggled a little at this. Then, as Kabumpo stepped upon the broad portico, Pajuka, remembering Mombi’s past threats, began to scream hoarsely, “The witch-don’t let her go, don’t let her go, whatever you do! She’ll steal Ozma’s magic and destroy us all. Hold on to Mombi!”

  Kabumpo had been on the point of dropping the old woman so he could pull the jewelled bell rope, but at Pajuka’s warning he tightened his grip.

  “Pray alight, Dorothy, and announce his Majesty!” puffed the Elegant Elephant, forgetting that not more than an hour ago he had called the King a piece of a night shirt. Dorothy and Snip slid down together and, both seizing the rope, set it to jingling merrily.

  “Won’t they be surprised,” murmured Dorothy, looking over her shoulder at Kabumpo and his strange passengers. “Won’t they be surprised when they see who is here? But why don’t they come to the

  door?”

  Why indeed? For the very simple reason, that there was no one to come-not even the cook’s boy. For that morning, Jellia Jamb, Ozma’s small serving maid, looking from the castle window, had seen her mistress and the little group who were with her in the garden vanish before her eyes. Rushing frantically through the palace, she spread the dire news, and immediately the entire household had set out to find the lost ones-the entire household from the tallest courtier to the tiniest page. Tik Tok might have enlightened them, but the machine man had run down. No one thought to wind him up and even Tik Tok did not know that Ozma and her friends had gone to Morrow.

  In puzzled dismay, Dorothy pressed her nose to the diamond panes in the door. Then, seeing that the great hall was empty, she tried the knob. In their excitement the searchers had left the door unlocked and, with a little exclamation of surprise, Dorothy opened it and motioned for Kabumpo to follow with his passengers.

  Kabumpo was bitterly disappointed that there was no one to witness his grand entry with the King and, when they reached the throne room itself without encountering anyone, he looked positively crestfallen. “A fine welcome for his Highness!” he grunted irritably. “Where is the court? Where are the attendants. A thing like this would never have happened in Pumperdink!”

  “Ha, ha!” croaked Mombi maliciously, but subsided at once when the Elegant Elephant gave her a shake. Pajuka and Tora had alighted with Snip and all were staring about the beautiful room in admiration.

  But Kabumpo was still angry. “Is this tailor to be admitted to the presence?” he demanded loftily, fixing his eyes upon Tora’s shabby suit. “In Pumperdink such things are not done.”

  Dorothy was too worried over the strange silence in the castle to bother with Kabumpo’s saucy speeches, but the dummy, falling headlong from the Elegant Elephant’s back, put his arm affectionately through Tora’s.

  Humpy waved Kabumpo aside and pulled the old tailor to a seat beside him. Tora shoved his spectacles up on his forehead and looked gravely at the pompous dummy.

  “Let him stay by all means,” said Humpy condescendingly. “Every King must have his tailor and he’s mine. Besides, has anyone else in this room flying ears, I want to know?”

  “Well, I prefer my ears on,” grunted the Elegant Elephant disdainfully.

  “I’m glad they’re on you,” sniffed Pajuka. He felt unaccountably drawn to the gentle old tailor, but Tora himself was too taken up with his splendid surroundings to mind Kabumpo’s remarks. Just then Humpy, catching sight of the glittering emerald throne, let go of the tailor’s arm and started running across the room. The others gave little heed, for certainly it was right and fitting for the King to occupy his proper place in the palace.

  Mombi, seeing the dummy’s move, fairly trembled with excitement. Without being at all aware of it, Humpy was playing directly into her hands and as he sank down upon the throne the witch gave a shriek of triumph. Held fast through she was in Kabumpo’s trunk, her arms were still free. Beginning with Snip and going on to Dorothy, Mombi began to count, “O
ne-two-three-four-five-six-seven!”

  At seven her finger pointed to Pajuka, whose every feather stood erect with terror. Snatching two buttons from Kabumpo’s robe, Mombi popped them into her mouth and shouted the magic formula on the dummy’s collar. “202 B E-10 B-4 7,” ran the number, but as Mombi said it, it sounded like this, “Two ought to be eaten before seven.”

  That done, Mombi glared at the King. “I command you to assume your proper form,” she

  screamed.

  Well, surely nothing could have been worse than the next happening. With a grinding, crashing suddenness, the palace began to sink, gaining speed as it went. Down, down, down, till the windows and doorways were blotted out with earth and mud and the whole company lost in the choke of utter and awful darkness. Of all the screams in the room, Mombi’s was loudest. Never in her darkest imaginings had Mombi anticipated anything like this! What unknown and dreadful magic had she set in motion?

  CHAPTER 18

  Ozma’s Odd Home-Coming

  WHILE the dummy King and his friends were making their way to the Emerald City from the North, Ozma and her faithful followers were plodding wearily up from the South through a lonely section of the Quadling Country. The red house in the hunting park had been totally deserted but the Scarecrow, climbing an old windmill nearby, had seen dimly through the tree tops the glittering spires of the capitol.

  Considerably cheered therefore, the little party had continued its journey home.

  At about the time Kabumpo was making his grand entry into the city, Scraps, turning to ask Sir Hokus a question, noticed that the Knight was fidgeting about in an extremely odd and alarming manner. They were a bit ahead of the others and for a time Scraps regarded her companion with her head on one side. But silence is not one of the Patch Work Girl’s strong points and as the Knight continued to squirm and bounce, she stopped short in the road.

  “Why do you jump from side to side and rattle about like a salt shaker? Have you fleas?” inquired Scraps, looking sharply at Sir Hokus. “Is there an ant in your armor, or what?”

  “Something-something’s tickling me,” confessed the Knight, wriggling his shoulders desperately. “Something like-like a sparrow. Ouch!” gasped Sir Hokus, giving himself a shake that unfastened the top buckle of his mailed shirt.

  At Sir Hokus’ cry, Scraps, too, gave a startled shriek, for out of the Knight’s shirt sped the golden goose feather he had tucked there for safe-keeping. Before either of them had recovered from their surprise it poised in the air and began to write furiously on the Knight’s burnished shield, while Scraps and Sir Hokus watched breathlessly.

  “The King of Oz is in the palace,” announced the feather with a flourish, then fluttered down lifelessly in the dust.

  “Odds blood! It thinks I’m a blackboard,” grunted Sir Hokus indignantly, and nearly bending double to get a glimpse of the writing. “Ozma, Betsy, Trot, Wizard, come quickly!”

  At the excited cries, the others, who were just around a bend in the road, broke into a run. Sir Hokus, puffing and still indignant, pointed to his shield. The second message of the magic quill was as amazing as the first, which had sent them to Morrow.

  “Well, that saves us hunting for him,” observed the Scarecrow, cheerfully picking up the goose quill. “He must have found himself, you know. Shall I keep this my dear?”

  “Please do,” sighed Ozma, staring hard at the message, which the Knight was vainly trying to rub from his shield, “and let’s hurry. Just think, my father is in the castle! Hurry! Hurry! We’re almost home!” And setting an example herself, the little fairy girl fairly flew down the road.

  “I for one shall not recognize this King,” shouted Scraps, running awkwardly after Ozma.

  “I wonder whether he’ll let us live in the castle?” puffed Trot, who was running hand in hand with Betsy Bobbin. “I kinda wish he’d never turned up, don’t you?”

  Betsy nodded emphatically, and it must be confessed that all of the others shared Trot’s wish. But as Ozma herself seemed so happy at her father’s restoration, such thoughts seemed almost treasonable and no one but Scraps voiced his real opinion.

  Ozma, being a fairy, did not tire as easily as the rest, but even Ozma had to slacken her pace before they came to the Emerald City. Indeed, it was a hard two-hour journey before they reached the outskirts of the capitol. Hot, tired and dusty, they hurried through the quiet streets. No one in the city had discovered Ozma’s absence, for the searchers in the palace had gone off without notifying anyone, so they stared in surprise at the breathless little company. Without stopping to explain, the royal party

  hurried on to the palace itself, for was not the King already there and waiting for them?

  Sir Hokus was the first to burst through the tall hedge enclosing the royal residence. He paused, brushed his mailed fist across his eyes and then fell with a crash to the jewelled walk. The Scarecrow, close behind, promptly fell on top of him and Scraps, the Wizard and the little girls, bumping into the two, stopped short in their tracks. For where the castle had stood, there was nothing at all excepting a stretch of lawn, a little greener, perhaps, than in other parts of the garden, but so smooth, no one would have suspected that a castle ever had stood there!

  “The King is in the castle, but where is the castle?” groaned the Scarecrow, raising his head and peering over the Knight’s shoulder.

  “Gone!” wailed the little Queen, rushing forward in dismay. “Everything’s gone!” And overcome by the fatigues and disappointments of the day, Ozma threw herself down upon the grass and wept as if her heart would break. Betsy and Trot did their best to comfort her, but what could they say? What could anyone say in the face of so amazing a calamity?

  “Come out you villain King and thief! Bring back our home, you robber Chief!”

  screamed Scraps, making little dashes backward and forward. Of course Scraps did not expect the King to come out but, as if in answer to her call, there was a shudder and rumble below.

  The rumbling continued, grew worse and worse and finally, with an explosion like forty-nine roman candles going off at once, the towers, turrets and gleaming roof of the castle burst through the earth and, impaling the frightened company upon its spires, carried them kicking and struggling into the air. Up, up, and up shot the castle, till the entire structure was standing on its proper foundations. The flag pole had caught Sir Hokus between his mailed shirt and his armor and the Knight was spinning around like a weather cock in a gale. Ozma and the little girls had fortunately been carried aloft on one of the rounded domes and while their position was extremely precarious it was at least comfortable. Scraps hung limply over a filigreed balcony, the Wizard beside her, and the Scarecrow dangled from a spire.

  “Wait! Don’t move any of you,” coughed the strawman. “Wait, I’ll fall down and get a ladder!”

  And down he plunged!

  CHAPTER 19

  The Wizard Takes a Hand

  THE people clinging to the roof of the palace were no more puzzled and alarmed than the ones rattling around beneath the roof. To understand all of these strange and confusing events, we must go back to Mombi’s incantation. Mombi, you see, had used the magic formula without the King’s robe. Indeed, Mombi had forgotten that part of the transformation entirely, and in consequence the great disaster predicted by the Fairy Queen Lurline had occurred.

  When the palace had sunk so suddenly into the earth, Dorothy and her companions had been too startled to even move. But when it finally settled down and things grew quiet again, Dorothy, feeling her way cautiously, pressed a small radio button in the wall. Fortunately the lighting system had not been thrown out of order and, as the emerald lamps flooded the throne room with their reassuring glow, everyone gave a sigh of relief.

  Kabumpo had wound his trunk around one of the palace pillars and closed his eyes. Now he let go and looked fearfully around him. Mombi had rolled into a corner and Pajuka lay flat on his back with his feet in the air. Tora’s ears had flown off from th
e shock, carrying his spectacles with them, and the poor tailor was uncertainly groping his way toward the door. Snip, who suffered nothing worse than a bump over the eye, ran hastily to his assistance, leading him gently to a large arm chair. Sinking into its comfortable depths, Tora pulled out a red handkerchief and began mopping first his cheeks and then his brow and muttering unintelligibly to himself.

  Humpy was sprawled on the floor, his crown jammed down over his nose and his head resting on the last step of the dais. As Dorothy ran to help him up, he made a feeble gesture of protest.

  “The kingdom has fallen,” puffed the dummy indignantly, “and that lets me out. If this is the way you treat your sovereigns, I’m through. I resign! I abdicate. Let me be the bell boy, or the furnace man. Why even in the movies I have never been treated like this. It’s a crime. It’s an outrage!” coughed Humpy, struggling to a sitting position and trying to pry his crown upward.

  “Now Humpy,” began Dorothy reprovingly, you re talking like a dummy instead of a King.

  Just wait-”I am a dummy,” insisted the poor fellow, feeling of himself to make sure. “Has that old wretch changed me one hair’s breadth by her villainous magic? Oh, to think I should have sunk so low!”

  “She’s a fraud,” hissed Pajuka, who had also picked himself up. “Woman, how dare you sink the castle in this shocking and informal manner? Where are we and what is to become of his Majesty?”

  “Look out, she’s trying to get away,” warned Snip. The little button boy was right, for at each question Mombi was creeping nearer to the door.

  “No you don’t!” shrilled Kabumpo, snatching her back with his trunk. “I’ll teach you to sink elephants like a ship and play such tricks upon the King!” He began shaking her backward and forward till her very bones rattled.