“Dear me! dear me!” cried the shaggy man, feeling of his shaggy new head and his long ears. “What a misfortune—what a great misfortune! Give me back my own head, you stupid king—if you love me at all!”
“Don’t you like it?” asked the King, surprised.
“Hee-haw! I hate it! Take it away, quick!” said the shaggy man.
“But I can’t do that,” was the reply. “My magic works only one way. I can DO things, but I can’t UNdo them. You’ll have to find the Truth Pond, and bathe in its water, in order to get back your own head. But I advise you not to do that. This head is much more beautiful than the old one.”
“That’s a matter of taste,” said Dorothy.
“Where is the Truth Pond?” asked the shaggy man, earnestly.
“Somewhere in the Land of Oz; but just the exact location of it I can not tell,” was the answer.
“Don’t worry, Shaggy Man,” said Dorothy, smiling because her friend wagged his new ears so comically. “If the Truth Pond is in Oz, we’ll be sure to find it when we get there.”
“Oh! Are you going to the Land of Oz?” asked King Kik-a-bray.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but we’ve been told we are nearer the Land of Oz than to Kansas, and if that’s so, the quickest way for me to get home is to find Ozma.”
“Haw-haw! Do you know the mighty Princess Ozma?” asked the King, his tone both surprised and eager.
“‘Course I do; she’s my friend,” said Dorothy.
“Then perhaps you’ll do me a favor,” continued the white donkey, much excited.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Perhaps you can get me an invitation to Princess Ozma’s birthday celebration, which will be the grandest royal function ever held in Fairyland. I’d love to go.”
“Hee-haw! You deserve punishment, rather than reward, for giving me this dreadful head,” said the shaggy man, sorrowfully.
“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘hee-haw’ so much,” Polychrome begged him; “it makes cold chills run down my back.”
“But I can’t help it, my dear; my donkey head wants to bray continually,” he replied. “Doesn’t your fox head want to yelp every minute?” he asked Button-Bright.
“Don’t know,” said the boy, still staring at the shaggy man’s ears. These seemed to interest him greatly, and the sight also made him forget his own fox head, which was a comfort.
“What do you think, Polly? Shall I promise the donkey king an invitation to Ozma’s party?” asked Dorothy of the Rainbow’s Daughter, who was flitting about the room like a sunbeam because she could never keep still.
“Do as you please, dear,” answered Polychrome. “He might help to amuse the guests of the Princess.”
“Then, if you will give us some supper and a place to sleep to-night, and let us get started on our journey early to-morrow morning,” said Dorothy to the King, “I’ll ask Ozma to invite you—if I happen to get to Oz.”
“Good! Hee-haw! Excellent!” cried Kik-a-bray, much pleased. “You shall all have fine suppers and good beds. What food would you prefer, a bran mash or ripe oats in the shell?”
“Neither one,” replied Dorothy, promptly.
“Perhaps plain hay, or some sweet juicy grass would suit you better,” suggested Kik-a-bray, musingly.
“Is that all you have to eat?” asked the girl.
“What more do you desire?”
“Well, you see we’re not donkeys,” she explained, “and so we’re used to other food. The foxes gave us a nice supper in Foxville.”
“We’d like some dewdrops and mist-cakes,” said Polychrome.
“I’d prefer apples and a ham sandwich,” declared the shaggy man, “for although I’ve a donkey head, I still have my own particular stomach.”
“I want pie,” said Button-Bright.
“I think some beefsteak and chocolate layer-cake would taste best,” said Dorothy.
“Hee-haw! I declare!” exclaimed the King. “It seems each one of you wants a different food. How queer all living creatures are, except donkeys!”
“And donkeys like you are queerest of all,” laughed Polychrome.
“Well,” decided the King, “I suppose my Magic Staff will produce the things you crave; if you are lacking in good taste it is not my fault.”
With this, he waved his staff with the jeweled ball, and before them instantly appeared a tea-table, set with linen and pretty dishes, and on the table were the very things each had wished for. Dorothy’s beefsteak was smoking hot, and the shaggy man’s apples were plump and rosy-cheeked. The King had not thought to provide chairs, so they all stood in their places around the table and ate with good appetite, being hungry. The Rainbow’s Daughter found three tiny dewdrops on a crystal plate, and Button-Bright had a big slice of apple pie, which he devoured eagerly.
Afterward the King called the brown donkey, which was his favorite servant, and bade it lead his guests to the vacant house where they were to pass the night. It had only one room and no furniture except beds of clean straw and a few mats of woven grasses; but our travelers were contented with these simple things because they realized it was the best the Donkey-King had to offer them. As soon as it was dark they lay down on the mats and slept comfortably until morning.
At daybreak there was a dreadful noise throughout the city. Every donkey in the place brayed. When he heard this the shaggy man woke up and called out “Hee-haw!” as loud as he could.
“Stop that!” said Button-Bright, in a cross voice. Both Dorothy and Polly looked at the shaggy man reproachfully.
“I couldn’t help it, my dears,” he said, as if ashamed of his bray; “but I’ll try not to do it again.”
Of coursed they forgave him, for as he still had the Love Magnet in his pocket they were all obliged to love him as much as ever.
They did not see the King again, but Kik-a-bray remembered them; for a table appeared again in their room with the same food upon it as on the night before.
“Don’t want pie for breakfus’,” said Button-Bright.
“I’ll give you some of my beefsteak,” proposed Dorothy; “there’s plenty for us all.”
That suited the boy better, but the shaggy man said he was content with his apples and sandwiches, although he ended the meal by eating Button-Bright’s pie. Polly liked her dewdrops and mist-cakes better than any other food, so they all enjoyed an excellent breakfast. Toto had the scraps left from the beefsteak, and he stood up nicely on his hind legs while Dorothy fed them to him.
Breakfast ended, they passed through the village to the side opposite that by which they had entered, the brown servant-donkey guiding them through the maze of scattered houses. There was the road again, leading far away into the unknown country beyond.
“King Kik-a-bray says you must not forget his invitation,” said the brown donkey, as they passed through the opening in the wall.
“I shan’t,” promised Dorothy.
Perhaps no one ever beheld a more strangely assorted group than the one which now walked along the road, through pretty green fields and past groves of feathery pepper-trees and fragrant mimosa. Polychrome, her beautiful gauzy robes floating around her like a rainbow cloud, went first, dancing back and forth and darting now here to pluck a wild-flower or there to watch a beetle crawl across the path. Toto ran after her at times, barking joyously the while, only to become sober again and trot along at Dorothy’s heels. The little Kansas girl walked holding Button-Bright’s hand clasped in her own, and the wee boy with his fox head covered by the sailor hat presented an odd appearance. Strangest of all, perhaps, was the shaggy man, with his shaggy donkey head, who shuffled along in the rear with his hands thrust deep in his big pockets.
None of the party was really unhappy. All were straying in an unknown land and had suffered more or less annoyance and discomfort; but they realized they w
ere having a fairy adventure in a fairy country, and were much interested in finding out what would happen next.
8. The Musicker
About the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. By-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw, to their surprise, a small house standing by the road-side.
It was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. No one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. They could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!
Tiddle-tiddle-tiddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom—pah!
“What is it, a band or a mouth-organ?” asked Dorothy.
“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.
“Sounds to me like a played-out phonograph,” said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen.
“Oh, there just COULDN’T be a funnygraf in Fairyland!” cried Dorothy.
“It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?” asked Polychrome, trying to dance to the strains.
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. Presently, they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. He wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. On his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. His face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. The man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach.
Singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him.
They came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before:
Tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom—pah!
“Why, he’s a reg’lar musicker!” said Button-Bright.
“What’s a musicker?” asked Dorothy.
“Him!” said the boy.
Hearing this, the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom, oom—
“Stop it!” cried the shaggy man, earnestly. “Stop that dreadful noise.”
The fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. When he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. He said—or rather sang:
It isn’t a noise that you hear,
But Music, harmonic and clear.
My breath makes me play
Like an organ, all day—
That bass note is in my left ear.
“How funny!” exclaimed Dorothy; “he says his breath makes the music.”
“That’s all nonsense,” declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully.
My lungs are full of reeds like those
In organs, therefore I suppose,
If I breathe in or out my nose,
The reeds are bound to play.
So as I breathe to live, you know,
I squeeze out music as I go;
I’m very sorry this is so—
Forgive my piping, pray!
“Poor man,” said Polychrome; “he can’t help it. What a great misfortune it is!”
“Yes,” replied the shaggy man; “we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. Don’t you think so?”
“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright. Toto said, “Bow-wow!” and the others laughed.
“Perhaps that’s why he lives all alone,” suggested Dorothy.
“Yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury,” responded the shaggy man.
All this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes:
Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,
and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. The shaggy man said:
“Who are you, sir?”
The reply came in the shape of this sing-song:
I’m Allegro da Capo, a very famous man;
Just find another, high or low, to match me if you can.
Some people try, but can’t, to play
And have to practice every day;
But I’ve been musical always, since first my life began.
“Why, I b’lieve he’s proud of it,” exclaimed Dorothy; “and seems to me I’ve heard worse music than he makes.”
“Where?” asked Button-Bright.
“I’ve forgotten, just now. But Mr. Da Capo is certainly a strange person—isn’t he?—and p’r’aps he’s the only one of his kind in all the world.”
This praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his chest, looked important and sang as follows:
I wear no band around me,
And yet I am a band!
I do not strain to make my strains
But, on the other hand,
My toot is always destitute
Of flats or other errors;
To see sharp and be natural are
For me but minor terrors.
“I don’t quite understand that,” said Polychrome, with a puzzled look; “but perhaps it’s because I’m accustomed only to the music of the spheres.”
“What’s that?” asked Button-Bright.
“Oh, Polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, I s’pose,” explained Dorothy.
“Oh,” said Button-Bright.
“Bow-wow!” said Toto.
But the musicker was still breathing his constant
Oom, pom-pom; Oom pom-pom—
and it seemed to jar on the shaggy man’s nerves.
“Stop it, can’t you?” he cried angrily; “or breathe in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin on your nose. Do something, anyhow!”
But the fat one, with a sad look, sang this answer:
Music hath charms, and it may
Soothe even the savage, they say;
So if savage you feel
Just list to my reel,
For sooth to say that’s the real way.
The shaggy man had to laugh at this, and when he laughed he stretched his donkey mouth wide open. Said Dorothy:
“I don’t know how good his poetry is, but it seems to fit the notes, so that’s all that can be ‘xpected.”
“I like it,” said Button-Bright, who was staring hard at the musicker, his little legs spread wide apart. To the surprise of his companions, the boy asked this long question:
“If I swallowed a mouth-organ, what would I be?”
“An organette,” said the shaggy man. “But come, my dears; I think the best thing we can do is to continue on our journey before Button-Bright swallows anything. We must try to find that Land of Oz, you know.”
Hearing this speech the musicker sang, quickly:
If you go to the Land of Oz
Please take me along, because
On Ozma’s birthday
I’m anxious to play
The loveliest song ever was.
“No thank you,” s
aid Dorothy; “we prefer to travel alone. But if I see Ozma I’ll tell her you want to come to her birthday party.”
“Let’s be going,” urged the shaggy man, anxiously.
Polly was already dancing along the road, far in advance, and the others turned to follow her. Toto did not like the fat musicker and made a grab for his chubby leg. Dorothy quickly caught up the growling little dog and hurried after her companions, who were walking faster than usual in order to get out of hearing. They had to climb a hill, and until they got to the top they could not escape the musicker’s monotonous piping:
Oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom;
Tiddle-iddle-widdle, oom, pom-pom;
Oom, pom-pom—pah!
As they passed the brow of the hill, however, and descended on the other side, the sounds gradually died away, whereat they all felt much relieved.
“I’m glad I don’t have to live with the organ-man; aren’t you, Polly?” said Dorothy.
“Yes indeed,” answered the Rainbow’s Daughter.
“He’s nice,” declared Button-Bright, soberly.
“I hope your Princess Ozma won’t invite him to her birthday celebration,” remarked the shaggy man; “for the fellow’s music would drive her guests all crazy. You’ve given me an idea, Button-Bright; I believe the musicker must have swallowed an accordeon in his youth.”
“What’s ‘cordeon?” asked the boy.
“It’s a kind of pleating,” explained Dorothy, putting down the dog.
“Bow-wow!” said Toto, and ran away at a mad gallop to chase a bumble-bee.
9. Facing the Scoodlers
The country wasn’t so pretty now. Before the travelers appeared a rocky plain covered with hills on which grew nothing green. They were nearing some low mountains, too, and the road, which before had been smooth and pleasant to walk upon, grew rough and uneven.
Button-Bright’s little feet stumbled more than once, and Polychrome ceased her dancing because the walking was now so difficult that she had no trouble to keep warm.
It had become afternoon, yet there wasn’t a thing for their luncheon except two apples which the shaggy man had taken from the breakfast table. He divided these into four pieces and gave a portion to each of his companions. Dorothy and Button-Bright were glad to get theirs; but Polly was satisfied with a small bite, and Toto did not like apples.
The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels Page 170