L. Frank Baum - Oz 26

by The Purple Prince Of Oz

  “Where are we going first?” inquired the boy as Kabumpo, having eaten all the leaves he could hold, lifted him carefully aloft.

  “I-don’t—know-,” admitted Kabumpo, picking his way cleverly between the tall trees. “I thought of going straight to the Emerald City and appealing to Ozma and the Wizard of Oz for help. The practice of magic, as you know, is forbidden in Oz, and Ozma would not only punish this meddling magician but force him to restore the King and his family at once. On the other trunk,” the Elegant Elephant cleared his throat self consciously, “I’d much rather rescue the royal family myself.”

  “Oh, so should I!” agreed Randy, with an understanding nod. “But how are we going to do it?”

  “Search me!” Kabumpo flapped his ears, crushing twigs and branches wrathfully under his feet. “I never liked Kettywig from the moment he set foot in the palace. He must have planned to steal Pompus’ throne from the very beginning, and s-a-y how I wish you’d caught that villain with his own magic, though putting Pumper out of the way was a big help. The very idea of him calling Kettywig ‘King’ just to save his own silly neck. The very idea!” “I wonder what he’s doing now,” called Randy, lying flat on Kabumpo’s back to escape the scratching of the overhanging twigs and branches.

  “Pretending to be King,” sniffed the Elegant Elephant,

  lifting his trunk with huge scorn. “He’s just

  a pretender pretending to his business. Hah! Wait

  till I get my trunk on the fellow!” Increasing his

  pace, Kabumpo went crashing through the underbrush,

  too angry for further speech, and presently

  they came to an irregular clearing in the forest. At

  the furthest end stood a small, mean-looking hut.

  “Who lives here?” inquired Randy, sitting up curiously as Kabumpo came to a sudden stop.

  “Faleero!” answered Kabumpo, speaking quietly out of the corner of his mouth. “The Fairy Princess of Follenshy Forest. Shall we drop in and pay our respects, my boy?”

  “Not unless you want to,” chuckled Randy, for the last time they had seen Faleero she had not only tried to hit them with a bundle of nettles, but had screeched so loud and fearsomely that the Elegant Elephant had taken to his heels.

  “Well,” snickered Kabumpo, “I, myself, have no desire to see her hideous old Highness, but if she is out, we might find some food in the royal hovel. Anyway let’s have a look.” In spite of his great size Kabumpo could move without a sound, and stepping softly to the back window, he and Randy peered in.

  “Why, there’s Nishibis!” shuddered Randy, grasping

  his sword.

  “Sh-hh!” warned Kabumpo, pressing closer to the window. It was strange enough to find the rascally magician in Faleero’s hut, but as the two looked anxiously through the glass an even stranger thing happened. Snatching off his peaked hat and spectacles and clapping his bony hands together, Nishibis gave three piercing screeches. Immediately three bent old crones hobbled briskly into the room. The first took the wizard’s cloak, the second pulled off the wizard’s beard, the third tossed his blue bag into the corner, and the wizard, no longer a wizard but a wizened and ancient old lady, began to hop, skip and prance in crazy circles, yelling at the top of her cracked and disagreeable voice:

  “Drink to my happiness, drink, oh, drink, For I’m to be Queen of Pumperdink! Dance to my happiness, dance and jig; Faleero shall marry King Kettywig !”

  “Faleero!” gulped Kabumpo, clapping his trunk to his forehead as the four old witches continued to dance and caper about in the firelight.

  “No wonder I knew that wizard’s voice,” exclaimed Randy. “Remember the day she chased us, Kabumpo?

  Why, she just pretended to be a magician!”

  “But she certainly knows her magic! Great Grump! Just look at the old fury! She and Kettywig must have planned this from the very first. Well, I wish him joy of his bargain. What a queen! What a king! What a mix-up!”

  “Who are those other old women?” queried Randy, pressing his nose against the glass.

  “Ladies in waiting to her Majesty,” answered Kabumpo, with a little sniff.

  “They look as if they had been waiting a long time,” said Randy, lowering his head cautiously. “Are we going in?”

  “Not in, on,” said Kabumpo grimly, “on and on and-on, till we’re entirely out of this mischievous forest. No use tackling Faleero without any magic,” and swinging noiselessly away from the Royal Hut Kabumpo plunged again into the deep and impenetrable forest.

  “Faleero’s been furious ever since Pompa married Peg Amy,” confided the Elegant Elephant, shouldering his way through a dense tangle of vines and underbrush. “But I never thought she would do us any actual harm. I tell you, my boy, it’s a dangerous thing to offend a fairy, especially an old fairy.”

  “She doesn’t seem much like a fairy to me,” sighed Randy, settling himself comfortably between the

  Elegant Elephant’s ears. “But then, I suppose there are bad fairies as well as good ones.” Kabumpo mournfully agreed that there were. Then, lifting his trunk, he suddenly came to a complete standstill.

  “Someone’s coming,” he announced uneasily. Randy could not hear a sound and was about to tell Kabumpo he must surely be mistaken, when a tall weird figure in a dark cloak sprang out of the gloom.

  “Sooth! Sooth! Sooth!” cried the stranger, in a loud and challenging voice. “Sooth! Sooth! Sooth!”

  “Why do you cry ‘sooth’?” rumbled the Elegant Elephant irritably.

  “Because I am a soothsayer,” stated the fellow, extending both arms. “Sooth! Sooth! Sooth !”

  “Oh, bother such stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Kabumpo, swaying irritably to and fro. “If you have anything to soothsay, for Grump’s sake say it! We are in a hurry, a great hurry!”

  “An elephant is always great, whether he hurries or not,” replied the soothsayer soothingly. “And just permit me to observe that there is no door a golden key will not open.”

  “But there isn’t any door around here,” objected

  leaning over to look more closely at the soothsayer. Kabumpo, however, seemed to understand

  perfectly what was wanted and was already fumbling with his trunk in the pocket of his robe.

  “Here,” he said, not ungraciously, holding out to the soothsayer a huge and gleaming pearl. “Unlock the doors of your soothsaying mind and tell us something really useful.”

  “Ah !” smiled the stranger, greedily pocketing the jewel. “You drop pearls of wisdom when you speak. Then harken and hear ye:

  “A person of high rank and extreme importance is traveling toward the Emerald City of Oz.”

  “Everyone around here knows me,” muttered Kabumpo, in a pleased aside to Randy. “Everybody!”

  “I was not referring to your royal self,” sniffed the soothsayer, who had overheard Kabumpo’s whisper. With a provoking wink at Randy he folded his arms and began to back away into the forest, and before the Elegant Elephant had recovered from his shock and displeasure, he spoke again.

  “In the castle of the Red Jinn you will find what you seek. He, alone, can help you.” As Kabumpo and Randy stared at him in utter amazement he disappeared between the trees but after a short silence his mocking voice came floating back to them:

  “Step by step one goes a long way.”

  “Oooh! I wonder how long a way it is?” breathed

  Randy, looking at the spot where the soothsayer had been. “Oh, Kabumpo, do you suppose the King and his family are really in the castle of the Red Jinn? Then all we have to do is find the Red Jinn.”

  “But we don’t even know where he is,” blustered the Elegant Elephant, forgetting that he had been insulted. “Still, if he’s a Red Jinn-.” Kabumpo began to move swiftly in the direction the soothsayer had taken. “If he’s a Red Jinn his castle must be in the Quadling Country, for that is the reddest Kingdom in Oz. Everything is red there, even the bluest books.” Trumpeting with
pleasure at his own cleverness, Kabumpo flung forward at such a pace that Randy had all he could do to stay aboard and no breath at all to ask questions.

  “‘Step by step,’ did he say?” Kabumpo bellowed gleefully. “Well, here we go step by stepping!”

  CHAPTER 5

  The River

  Road

  THOUGH Randy had no breath to speak, he was doing a heap of thinking as Kabumpo rushed recklessly through Follensby Forest. Like all the

  other boys in the wonderful Kingdom of Oz he had studied his geozify and hoztry, as they call geography and history in that merry and magical country. He knew that Oz was ruled by Ozma, a lovely girl fairy in the famous Emerald City. And although he had never visited the capital himself, he knew that it was in the exact center of the Kingdom just where the four triangular countries of the realm met. The northernmost country of Oz, where Randy lived, was the Gilliken or purple country, the western dominions of Oz were the Blue Lands of the Munchkins. To the east lay the yellow Winkie Kingdom and to the south the red lands of the Quadlings. All these countries have their own rulers but all four sovereigns are subject to Ozma, who is the Supreme Ruler of them all. As Pumperdink was in the north central part of the Gilliken Country, Randy realized that they must travel south to reach the Quadling Country and in that gay red Kingdom search for the castle of the Red Jinn.

  It was all very exciting and mysterious, and Randy heartily hoped ‘they would pass through the Emerald City on their way south and see the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and some of the other famous celebrities at Ozma’s court. Perhaps they would visit the palace of Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South

  and ruler of the Quadlings. Glinda would surely know something of the Red Jinn. The very sound of a Red Jinn fascinated Randy, and just as he was picturing to himself how a Jinn might look, Kabumpo gave a little extra spurt of speed that carried them entirely out of the dismal forest. For a moment the sunshine made them both blink, but as they grew more accustomed to the brightness they saw that they were still in the land of the Gillikens. The fields were tinged with purple, purple flags and violets clustered around the roots of the trees and grape arbors and plum orchards were everywhere.

  Panting a little from his tiring run, Kabumpo moved along more slowly, looking to the right and left for familiar landmarks. There were no towns or villages in sight, but on the other side of a small hill three roads branched off in different directions.

  “Now, which road?” pondered the Elegant Elephant, swaying uncertainly from side to side. “Which road would be best?” As he did not have his specs and as the signs were too low for him to read anyway, he snatched the first sign out by the roots and held it up for Randy to read.

  “This way to the river,” read Randy promptly. Throwing down the first sign Kabumpo stepped over

  to the next road and jerked up the second.

  “That way to the river,” read Randy in some surprise, and when Kabumpo had torn up the third sign they both felt rather provoked.

  “The other way to the river,” stated the third sign

  contrarily.

  “Well, who wants to go to the river?” grumbled the Elegant Elephant discontentedly. “Still,” he flapped his ears thoughtfully, “rivers usually go some place and it will be something to drink and wash in.”

  “Yes,” agreed Randy not very enthusiastically, “but which way shall we go, Kabumpo, this way, that way, or the other way?” Kabumpo squinted uncertainly at the three roads. Then, as they all went in a more or less southerly direction, he tossed up Randy’s sword to decide the matter.

  “Point for ‘this way,’

  hilt for ‘that way,’ and blade for ‘the other’,” announced Kabumpo, flinging the jeweled weapon high into the air. The sword embedded itself point down in the exact center of “this way so, restoring it to Randy, the Elegant Elephant started cautiously down the first road. There was nothing remarkable about “this way,” but after the dark, tangled forest, it seemed very pleasant and interesting to the two travelers. Talking of one thing and another, but mostly of the unexpected happenings

  in Pumperdink, they proceeded comfortably enough, Randy standing up now and then to pluck a plum from the trees that lined the roadway, or to look for signs of a castle or cottage where they might stop for lunch. About noon they came to a sign large enough for even Kabumpo to read.

  “RIVER ROAD” said the sign in splashy purple letters.

  “Pshaw! We knew that already,” sniffed Kabumpo. “And it’s about time we got to this river, if you ask me.”

  Randy said nothing, but looking out over Kabumpo’s ears he noticed that the road had widened considerably. It seemed to the Gilliken boy that the road bed was moving and churning about, but thinking it was the reflection of the sun on the gleaming purple sands, he said nothing, and with a weary sigh Kabumpo resignedly pushed forward. But scarcely had he gone six steps before he had sunk to his shoulders in the River Road and next instant the road in a great wave rose and rolled completely over them. Gasping and choking Randy clutched Kabumpo’s jeweled collar. As he did so Kabumpo got his head up.

  “The river!” coughed the Elegant Elephant, wrathfully spurting out the barrel of water he had swallowed. “Not a road at all! It’s a river road.” And

  so it was, a tumbling rushing torrent of purple water that swept the great elephant along as if he had been a match stick. No matter how hard he tried to swim toward the shore he was immediately carried out into the center and about all he could do was to keep his own head and Randy’s above water. Every time Kabumpo tried to talk, gallons of river rushed down his throat, so he finally gave up the attempt. He had already swallowed several small fish and when he thought what the river was doing to his robes and what a figure he would cut when he got out, he groaned with dismay and wretchedness.

  “Oh, why didn’t we go ‘that way’-or ‘the other way’-any way but ‘this way’?” choked the poor elephant, struggling grimly with the treacherous current that rolled him about like a log. Randy, as wet and miserable as Kabumpo, hung on desperately, bracing himself against the frequent duckings and wondering how much more he could stand. Just as he had decided things were as bad as they could possibly be, they grew terribly worse.

  Warned by a thunderous roar that there were rapids ahead, but unable to stop or help themselves, Randy and Kabumpo went hurling over a tremendous waterfall, down, down, down, till there actually seemed no end to the drop. How the boy kept his hold on Kabumpo’s

  collar I cannot imagine, nor could he have told you

  himself, but when, bruised, battered and half drowning,

  he opened his eyes, he and the Elegant Elephant

  were still together. Kabumpo, puffing and blowing

  like a porpoise, was desperately fighting the treacherous river.

  But now it was a fight in the dark, for the river had plunged underground and was carrying them through hollow and echoing caverns of rock and crystal. If you have ever been in a scenic railway and shot suddenly into its black, cavernous recesses, you can, in a small way, imagine how Randy felt. Only you would have to multiply that feeling by a thousand, for while scenic railways are sure to end, the Elegant Elephant and his drenched little rider had no idea. at all where the underground river was taking them, or whether they would ever see daylight again. Indeed, they were so breathless and shaken by their tumble down the waterfall that they hardly noticed that the current had grown calmer, and Kabumpo rolled along for almost a mile before he realized that with a little effort he could easily reach the shore.

  Then, too, as their eyes grew more accustomed to the dim darkness of the under-earth, they could see that it was not absolutely black, but a misty grey.

  Overhead pointed stalactites of crystal and basalt thrust their dangerous spikes downward. Each side of the river was lined with the same sharp crystal rocks. Kabumpo, splashing toward the right bank, looked worriedly for a place where he could land without puncturing himself. At last he sighted a stretch of
smooth black rock almost level with the river and with a huge grunt hoisted himself up and out of the mischievous stream.

  “Something to drink and wash in,” shuddered Kabumpo, giving himself a cautious shake so as not to unseat Randy. “I was never so sick of water, inside and out, in my life. I feel like a sponge and an aquarium. Er-rah! A fine place this is! We might just as well have disappeared with the King. Br-rah !”

  “I’m c-c-cold,” shivered Randy, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk and trying to squeeze the water out of his clothes.

  “Me too!” grunted the Elegant Elephant, trying to beat himself in the chest with his trunk, “and if my tusks weren’t so far apart they’d chatter, and I’m hungry enough to eat monkey meat.”

  “Elephants don’t eat meat.” Randy had to grin at Kabumpo’s savage expression.

  “No, they don’t eat meat and they hate monkeys, but I’m so starved that if I saw a monkey, I’d eat

  it like that!” Snapping his trunk, Kabumpo began to run around in a circle, with Randy right behind him.

  After the tenth round they felt a little better and began to examine the strange cavern. The rock on which they had landed was the only safe place for Kabumpo to tread, for as far as they could see in both directions the river was edged with the sharp and needle-pointed crystals. At the back of the rock a sheer wall of metal rose to the top of the long, dim passageway. Tiptoeing over to this wall, Randy gave it an experimental tap with his knuckles and found to his surprise that the wall was quite hot. He called Kabumpo and they both pressed against it as hard as they could in an endeavor to get warm and dry. In fact, the Elegant Elephant pressed so hard that the wall, with a great grind and creak, swayed inward, and before you could say Ozmopotamus Randy and Kabumpo tumbled over on the other side.