The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels

by Various Authors

  “But what good would that do?” asked Dorothy. “If I got across, it wouldn’t help the rest of you, and I couldn’t go alone among all those giants and dragons while you stayed here.”

  “True enough,” agreed the Wizard sadly. And then, after looking around the group, he inquired, “What is that on your finger, Trot?”

  “A ring. The Mermaids gave it to me,” she explained, “and if ever I’m in trouble when I’m on the water, I can call the Mermaids and they’ll come and help me. But the Mermaids can’t help me on the land, you know, ‘cause they swim, and—and—they haven’t any legs.”

  “True enough,” repeated the Wizard, more sadly.

  There was a big, broad, spreading tree near the edge of the gulf, and as the sun was hot above them, they all gathered under the shade of the tree to study the problem of what to do next. “If we had a long rope,” said Betsy, “we could fasten it to this tree and let the other end of it down into the gulf and all slide down it.”

  “Well, what then?” asked the Wizard.

  “Then, if we could manage to throw the rope up the other side,” explained the girl, “we could all climb it and be on the other side of the gulf.”

  “There are too many ‘if’s’ in that suggestion,” remarked the little Wizard. “And you must remember that the other side is nothing but spinning mountains, so we couldn’t possibly fasten a rope to them, even if we had one.”

  “That rope idea isn’t half bad, though,” said the Patchwork Girl, who had been dancing dangerously near to the edge of the gulf.

  “What do you mean?” asked Dorothy.

  The Patchwork Girl suddenly stood still and cast her button eyes around the group. “Ha, I have it!” she exclaimed. “Unharness the Sawhorse, somebody. My fingers are too clumsy.”

  “Shall we?” asked Button-Bright doubtfully, turning to the others.

  “Well, Scraps has a lot of brains, even if she IS stuffed with cotton,” asserted the Wizard. “If her brains can help us out of this trouble, we ought to use them.”

  So he began unharnessing the Sawhorse, and Button-Bright and Dorothy helped him. When they had removed the harness, the Patchwork Girl told them to take it all apart and buckle the straps together, end to end. And after they had done this, they found they had one very long strap that was stronger than any rope. “It would reach across the gulf easily,” said the Lion, who with the other animals had sat on his haunches and watched this proceeding. “But I don’t see how it could be fastened to one of those dizzy mountains.”

  Scraps had no such notion as that in her baggy head. She told them to fasten one end of the strap to a stout limb of the tree, pointing to one which extended quite to the edge of the gulf. Button-Bright did that, climbing the tree and then crawling out upon the limb until he was nearly over the gulf. There he managed to fasten the strap, which reached to the ground below, and then he slid down it and was caught by the Wizard, who feared he might fall into the chasm. Scraps was delighted. She seized the lower end of the strap, and telling them all to get out of her way, she went back as far as the strap would reach and then made a sudden run toward the gulf. Over the edge she swung, clinging to the strap until it had gone as far as its length permitted, when she let go and sailed gracefully through the air until she alighted upon the mountain just in front of them.

  Almost instantly, as the great cone continued to whirl, she was sent flying against the next mountain in the rear, and that one had only turned halfway around when Scraps was sent flying to the next mountain behind it. Then her patchwork form disappeared from view entirely, and the amazed watchers under the tree wondered what had become of her. “She’s gone, and she can’t get back,” said the Woozy.

  “My, how she bounded from one mountain to another!” exclaimed the Lion.

  “That was because they whirl so fast,” the Wizard explained. “Scraps had nothing to hold on to, and so of course she was tossed from one hill to another. I’m afraid we shall never see the poor Patchwork Girl again.”

  “I shall see her,” declared the Woozy. “Scraps is an old friend of mine, and if there are really Thistle-Eaters and Giants on the other side of those tops, she will need someone to protect her. So here I go!” He seized the dangling strap firmly in his square mouth, and in the same way that Scraps had done swung himself over the gulf. He let go the strap at the right moment and fell upon the first whirling mountain. Then he bounded to the next one back of it—not on his feet, but “all mixed up,” as Trot said—and then he shot across to another mountain, disappearing from view just as the Patchwork Girl had done.

  “It seems to work, all right,” remarked Button-Bright. “I guess I’ll try it.”

  “Wait a minute,” urged the Wizard. “Before any more of us make this desperate leap into the beyond, we must decide whether all will go or if some of us will remain behind.”

  “Do you s’pose it hurt them much to bump against those mountains?” asked Trot.

  “I don’t s’pose anything could hurt Scraps or the Woozy,” said Dorothy, “and nothing can hurt ME, because I wear the Magic Belt. So as I’m anxious to find Ozma, I mean to swing myself across too.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” decided Button-Bright.

  “I’m sure it will hurt dreadfully, and I’m afraid to do it,” said the Lion, who was already trembling, “but I shall do it if Dorothy does.”

  “Well, that will leave Betsy and the Mule and Trot,” said the Wizard, “for of course I shall go that I may look after Dorothy. Do you two girls think you can find your way back home again?” he asked, addressing Trot and Betsy.

  “I’m not afraid. Not much, that is,” said Trot. “It looks risky, I know, but I’m sure I can stand it if the others can.”

  “If it wasn’t for leaving Hank,” began Betsy in a hesitating voice.

  But the Mule interrupted her by saying, “Go ahead if you want to, and I’ll come after you. A mule is as brave as a lion any day.”

  “Braver,” said the Lion, “for I’m a coward, friend Hank, and you are not. But of course the Sawhorse—”

  “Oh, nothing ever hurts ME,” asserted the Sawhorse calmly. “There’s never been any question about my going. I can’t take the Red Wagon, though.”

  “No, we must leave the wagon,” said the wizard, “and also we must leave our food and blankets, I fear. But if we can defy these Merry-Go-Round Mountains to stop us, we won’t mind the sacrifice of some of our comforts.”

  “No one knows where we’re going to land!” remarked the Lion in a voice that sounded as if he were going to cry.

  “We may not land at all,” replied Hank, “but the best way to find out what will happen to us is to swing across as Scraps and the Woozy have done.”

  “I think I shall go last,” said the Wizard, “so who wants to go first?”

  “I’ll go,” decided Dorothy.

  “No, it’s my turn first,” said Button-Bright. “Watch me!”

  Even as he spoke, the boy seized the strap, and after making a run swung himself across the gulf. Away he went, bumping from hill to hill until he disappeared. They listened intently, but the boy uttered no cry until he had been gone some moments, when they heard a faint “Hullo-a!” as if called from a great distance. The sound gave them courage, however, and Dorothy picked up Toto and held him fast under one arm while with the other hand she seized the strap and bravely followed after Button-Bright.

  When she struck the first whirling mountain, she fell upon it quite softly, but before she had time to think, she flew through the air and lit with a jar on the side of the next mountain. Again she flew and alighted, and again and still again, until after five successive bumps she fell sprawling upon a green meadow and was so dazed and bewildered by her bumpy journey across the Merry-Go-Round Mountains that she lay quite still for a time to collect her thoughts. Toto had escaped from her arms just as she fell, and he now
sat beside her panting with excitement. Then Dorothy realized that someone was helping her to her feet, and here was Button-Bright on one side of her and Scraps on the other, both seeming to be unhurt. The next object her eyes fell upon was the Woozy, squatting upon his square back end and looking at her reflectively, while Toto barked joyously to find his mistress unhurt after her whirlwind trip.

  “Good!” said the Woozy. “Here’s another and a dog, both safe and sound. But my word, Dorothy, you flew some! If you could have seen yourself, you’d have been absolutely astonished.”

  “They say ‘Time flies,’” laughed Button-Bright, “but Time never made a quicker journey than that.”

  Just then, as Dorothy turned around to look at the whirling mountains, she was in time to see tiny Trot come flying from the nearest hill to fall upon the soft grass not a yard away from where she stood. Trot was so dizzy she couldn’t stand at first, but she wasn’t at all hurt, and presently Betsy came flying to them and would have bumped into the others had they not retreated in time to avoid her. Then, in quick succession, came the Lion, Hank and the Sawhorse, bounding from mountain to mountain to fall safely upon the greensward. Only the Wizard was now left behind, and they waited so long for him that Dorothy began to be worried.

  But suddenly he came flying from the nearest mountain and tumbled heels over head beside them. Then they saw that he had wound two of their blankets around his body to keep the bumps from hurting him and had fastened the blankets with some of the spare straps from the harness of the Sawhorse.

  CHAPTER 8.THE MYSTERIOUS CITY

  There they sat upon the grass, their heads still swimming from their dizzy flights, and looked at one another in silent bewilderment. But presently, when assured that no one was injured, they grew more calm and collected, and the Lion said with a sigh of relief, “Who would have thought those Merry-Go-Round Mountains were made of rubber?”

  “Are they really rubber?” asked Trot.

  “They must be,” replied the Lion, “for otherwise we would not have bounded so swiftly from one to another without getting hurt.”

  “That is all guesswork,” declared the Wizard, unwinding the blankets from his body, “for none of us stayed long enough on the mountains to discover what they are made of. But where are we?”

  “That’s guesswork,” said Scraps. “The shepherd said the Thistle-Eaters live this side of the mountains and are waited on by giants.”

  “Oh no,” said Dorothy, “it’s the Herkus who have giant slaves, and the Thistle-Eaters hitch dragons to their chariots.”

  “How could they do that?” asked the Woozy. “Dragons have long tails, which would get in the way of the chariot wheels.”

  “And if the Herkus have conquered the giants,” said Trot, “they must be at least twice the size of giants. P’raps the Herkus are the biggest people in all the world!”

  “Perhaps they are,” assented the Wizard in a thoughtful tone of voice. “And perhaps the shepherd didn’t know what he was talking about. Let us travel on toward the west and discover for ourselves what the people of this country are like.”

  It seemed a pleasant enough country, and it was quite still and peaceful when they turned their eyes away from the silently whirling mountains. There were trees here and there and green bushes, while throughout the thick grass were scattered brilliantly colored flowers. About a mile away was a low hill that hid from them all the country beyond it, so they realized they could not tell much about the country until they had crossed the hill. The Red Wagon having been left behind, it was now necessary to make other arrangements for traveling. The Lion told Dorothy she could ride upon his back as she had often done before, and the Woozy said he could easily carry both Trot and the Patchwork Girl. Betsy still had her mule, Hank, and Button-Bright and the Wizard could sit together upon the long, thin back of the Sawhorse, but they took care to soften their seat with a pad of blankets before they started. Thus mounted, the adventurers started for the hill, which was reached after a brief journey.

  As they mounted the crest and gazed beyond the hill, they discovered not far away a walled city, from the towers and spires of which gay banners were flying. It was not a very big city, indeed, but its walls were very high and thick, and it appeared that the people who lived there must have feared attack by a powerful enemy, else they would not have surrounded their dwellings with so strong a barrier. There was no path leading from the mountains to the city, and this proved that the people seldom or never visited the whirling hills, but our friends found the grass soft and agreeable to travel over, and with the city before them they could not well lose their way. When they drew nearer to the walls, the breeze carried to their ears the sound of music—dim at first, but growing louder as they advanced.

  “That doesn’t seem like a very terr’ble place,” remarked Dorothy.

  “Well, it LOOKS all right,” replied Trot from her seat on the Woozy, “but looks can’t always be trusted.”

  “MY looks can,” said Scraps. “I LOOK patchwork, and I AM patchwork, and no one but a blind owl could ever doubt that I’m the Patchwork Girl.” Saying which, she turned a somersault off the Woozy and, alighting on her feet, began wildly dancing about.

  “Are owls ever blind?” asked Trot.

  “Always, in the daytime,” said Button-Bright. “But Scraps can see with her button eyes both day and night. Isn’t it queer?”

  “It’s queer that buttons can see at all,” answered Trot. “But good gracious! What’s become of the city?”

  “I was going to ask that myself,” said Dorothy. “It’s gone!”

  “It’s gone!”

  The animals came to a sudden halt, for the city had really disappeared, walls and all, and before them lay the clear, unbroken sweep of the country. “Dear me!” exclaimed the Wizard. “This is rather disagreeable. It is annoying to travel almost to a place and then find it is not there.”

  “Where can it be, then?” asked Dorothy. “It cert’nly was there a minute ago.”

  “I can hear the music yet,” declared Button-Bright, and when they all listened, the strains of music could plainly be heard.

  “Oh! There’s the city over at the left,” called Scraps, and turning their eyes, they saw the walls and towers and fluttering banners far to the left of them.

  “We must have lost our way,” suggested Dorothy.

  “Nonsense,” said the Lion.

  “I, and all the other animals, have been tramping straight toward the city ever since we first saw it.”

  “Then how does it happen—”

  “Never mind,” interrupted the Wizard, “we are no farther from it than we were before. It is in a different direction, that’s all, so let us hurry and get there before it again escapes us.”

  So on they went directly toward the city, which seemed only a couple of miles distant. But when they had traveled less than a mile, it suddenly disappeared again. Once more they paused, somewhat discouraged, but in a moment the button eyes of Scraps again discovered the city, only this time it was just behind them in the direction from which they had come. “Goodness gracious!” cried Dorothy. “There’s surely something wrong with that city. Do you s’pose it’s on wheels, Wizard?”

  “It may not be a city at all,” he replied, looking toward it with a speculative glance.

  “What COULD it be, then?”

  “Just an illusion.”

  “What’s that?” asked Trot.

  “Something you think you see and don’t see.”

  “I can’t believe that,” said Button-Bright. “If we only saw it, we might be mistaken, but if we can see it and hear it, too, it must be there.”

  “Where?” asked the Patchwork Girl.

  “Somewhere near us,” he insisted.

  “We will have to go back, I suppose,” said the Woozy with a sigh.

  So back they turned and headed for
the walled city until it disappeared again, only to reappear at the right of them. They were constantly getting nearer to it, however, so they kept their faces turned toward it as it flitted here and there to all points of the compass. Presently the Lion, who was leading the procession, halted abruptly and cried out, “Ouch!”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Dorothy.

  “Ouch—Ouch!” repeated the Lion, and leaped backward so suddenly that Dorothy nearly tumbled from his back. At the same time Hank the Mule yelled “Ouch!”

  “Ouch! Ouch!” repeated the Lion and leaped backward so suddenly that Dorothy nearly tumbled from his back. At the same time, Hank the Mule yelled “Ouch!” almost as loudly as the Lion had done, and he also pranced backward a few paces.

  “It’s the thistles,” said Betsy. “They prick their legs.”

  Hearing this, all looked down, and sure enough the ground was thick with thistles, which covered the plain from the point where they stood way up to the walls of the mysterious city. No pathways through them could be seen at all; here the soft grass ended and the growth of thistles began. “They’re the prickliest thistles I ever felt,” grumbled the Lion. “My legs smart yet from their stings, though I jumped out of them as quickly as I could.”

  “Here is a new difficulty,” remarked the Wizard in a grieved tone. “The city has stopped hopping around, it is true, but how are we to get to it over this mass of prickers?”

  “They can’t hurt ME,” said the thick-skinned Woozy, advancing fearlessly and trampling among the thistles.

  “Nor me,” said the Wooden Sawhorse.

  “But the Lion and the Mule cannot stand the prickers,” asserted Dorothy, “and we can’t leave them behind.”

  “Must we all go back?” asked Trot.

  “Course not!” replied Button-Bright scornfully. “Always when there’s trouble, there’s a way out of it if you can find it.”

  “I wish the Scarecrow was here,” said Scraps, standing on her head on the Woozy’s square back. “His splendid brains would soon show us how to conquer this field of thistles.”