“I never cared for these underground peoples and places,” sniffed Kabumpo, pounding determinedly along the empty passageway. “I hope to goodness we’ve not gone too far out of our way. Looks like a mine,” he decided, not very enthusiastically.
“Well, I wonder whose mine it is,” called Randy trying to see around the corner of the long corridor.
“Mine!” laughed a silvery voice, and down from a ledge just above their heads floated a little grey elfin lady wearing a filigreed silver crown on her long silver hair, a spun silver dress, and tiny silver slippers.
“Well, I’m certainly glad it is yours,” said Kabumpo, glancing thoughtfully down at the pretty little creature. “Are you an elf or a fairy, my dear?”
“My name is Delva!” answered the small silver lady, booking fearlessly up at the huge elephant. “I am Queen of the Delves and this is my silver mine. Will you stay here and help us delve, dig, and bore for silver?”
“Not if we can help it,” muttered Kabumpo under his breath. But Delva, without waiting for his consent,
clapped her small hands sharply. Instantly the passageway swarmed with delves. On their heads they wore silver helmets with long pointed spikes and on their hands, like gauntlets, they had spiked silver claws. As Randy stared doubtfully at these strange little men, Delva stamped her foot and immediately the whole band hurled themselves at the walls of the tunnel, burrowing with their heads and scratching with their claws till they had vanished like so many moles.
“You see how easy it is,” smiled Delva, powdering her nose energetically with a small box of silver powder. “Just come with me and I’ll have, our silversmith fit you out with gloves and helmets.”
“But we can’t stay here,” began Randy, as Delva skipped gaily ahead of Kabumpo. ‘We’re saving a King and Queen and we have to find the Red Jinn, don’t we Kabumpo?”
“Yes,” said the Elegant Elephant stiffly. “Besides, mining would bore us to death.” “Bore you to death!” Delva stopped short and tapped her silver slipper angrily on the silver-flagged flooring. “Why, that’s an idea! That’s just what I’ll do. You refuse to work? Very well, then, you shall be bored to death by my army of Delves.” Raising a silver whistle to her ups, and looking not
nearly so pretty as she had looked before, Delva blew three shrill blasts. But Kabumpo was weary of the strange manners and behavior of these underground rulers and without waiting for the whistle to take effect, he seized Delva in his trunk, set her unceremoniously on a high rock above his head and went thumping like an express train down the winding corridor of the silver mine. Soon they heard hundreds of tiny footsteps pattering behind them and as Kabumpo came to the end of the corridor and plunged headlong into the small room at the end, the first of the Silver Queen’s army came shouting into view. Slamming the door of the tiny compartment, which was quite dark and stifling, Kabumpo felt angrily around for a stick or some other weapon, but Randy gave a startled scream.
“We’re moving!” cried Randy delightedly. “Oh, Kabumpo-it’s an elevator and you must have started it when you shut the door.”
“Good luck at last,” panted Kabumpo, as they shot dizzily upward. “And about time, too.” And it really was good luck this time, for when the elevator did stop and they cautiously opened the door, they found themselves on top of the world again looking out over the pleasant fields, valleys and woods of the
Gillikens. And better still, over the tree tops just ahead rose the turrets and spires of an imposing castle. The sun was sinking behind the purple hills, the birds were twittering happily in the lacy branches of the tulip trees and never had the sky seemed more bright or beautiful. Stepping from the elevator, which at once shot down to the bottom of the shaft, Kabumpo started on a run for the castle.
“Hah, now we shall soon be with people who understand and appreciate us,” puffed the Elegant Elephant thankfully, “people of our own rank and station!”
Forgetting that Randy was only a poor mountain boy, and that he himself in his scorched and tattered cloak presented anything but a royal appearance, Kabumpo rushed confidently through the castle garden and thumped loudly on the castle door.
“Wait!” whispered Randy, his teeth beginning to chatter a little from fright and weariness. “There’s something very odd about this castle. Have you noticed the size of the door, and look, all the windows are at the top.” As Kabumpo drew back to see for himself, the door, which was in truth thirty feet high and thirty feet across, slowly creaked open and a giant stood looking curiously down at them. Randy was too stunned to speak and Kabumpo too weary to run and as they stood silently regarding him, the
giant burst into a hearty roar.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Leaning down he shook Kabumpo’s trunk as if it had been a pump handle. “Welcome to the Castle of Nandywog, and you are just in time for dinner, too.”
“Whose?” asked Randy in a faint voice, for he had read some extremely disturbing facts about giants. “Why, MINE!” beamed the giant gaily, and leaning over he picked up Kabumpo as if he had been a toy dog and carried him boisterously into the castle.
CHAPTER 8
Nandywog, the Little Giant
KABUMPO had never felt so small and insignificant
in his whole life and when the giant
set him on the floor his legs wobbled so strangely
that he had to lean against a three-legged stool for
support.
“Oh,” shivered the boy anxiously to himself. “Oh I hope I am going to be brave!” Grasping his jeweled sword firmly by the handle he waited desperately for the giant’s next move. But Nandywog, now that they were inside his castle, seemed perfectly
satisfied, and stretching himself full length upon the floor so he could better observe his small visitors, he regarded them long and seriously.
“Was it a fire or an explosion?” he asked finally, fixing his great eyes curiously on Kabumpo’s scorched and tattered cloak.
“A little of both,” admitted Kabumpo in a relieved voice, for the giant’s question was so frank and friendly that it filled the Elegant Elephant with new hope and confidence. “We fell in a river, were carried underground to Torpedo Town, got caught in a torpedo storm, escaped through Stair Way and a silver mine and coming to your castle hoped we might obtain rest and refreshment before continuing our journey.”
“And so you shall! So you shall!” promised Nandywog heartily. “I can see you are both brave and interesting. You neither run nor scream when you see a giant. You are the only people in all Oz who have treated me as a fellow being. Even my own subjects jump like rabbits when I approach. Nobody will talk to me, or visit me. I believe I am the loneliest person in this whole country.” Nandywog sighed gustily and rolling over on his back stared up at the ceiling. “Being a giant is awful-awful! Especially when you are a little giant,” he finished gloomily.
“Oh-are you a little giant?” asked Randy in surprise, for Nandywog seemed simply enormous to him.
“The littlest giant in Oz,” answered Nandy. “When I grew no taller than twenty feet, my own people flung me off Big Top Mountain. The giants will have nothing to do with me because I am too small and the Ozites will have nothing to do with me because I am too big. Terrible, isn’t it?”
Kabumpo thought it best to agree and shook his head sympathetically. “So,” continued Nandywog mournfully, “I traveled all over Oz till I came to this valley and the Tripedalians were so frightened they did everything I told them to do. So I told them to build me this castle and they did, and now they bring me everything I need or ask for, but although I am as kind and considerate as I can be they are still afraid and my life is hard and lonely.
“And who are these Tripedalians?” inquired Kabumpo, hoping the giant would soon stop talking and offer them something to eat. “I never even heard of them.” Nandywog, instead of answering, leaned over and pulled the bell rope beside the door. So quickly that it made Randy jump, a fat little servitor appeared in the doorway. He wa
s about the same size as the boy himself but there the similarity
ceased, for the giant’s servant was round and ruddy and his plump body was supported by three sturdy legs and feet. He kept hopping from one foot to the other in a way that made Randy exceedingly uneasy.
“Did you ring, sir?” he quavered in a scared voice. “Certainly,” rumbled the giant gruffly. “Can’t you see we have visitors? Serve the dinner at once, Kojo. Er-er-what would you like to have?” he inquired, turning his head toward the Elegant Elephant.
“Oh, just bring me a hundred pounds of hay, ten quarts of crushed vegetables, ten quarts of oats and barley and a barrel of peanuts,” ordered Kabumpo calmly. Kojo’s mouth fell open, but the giant seemed to find nothing strange about the elephant’s dinner.
“How about the boy?” he asked politely.
“Oh, I’ll take whatever you have,” decided Randy quickly, and Kojo, after an indignant glance at Kabumpo, went hippety-hopping out of the room.
“Do they all have three legs?” asked Randy, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk and seating himself comfortably on the floor beside Nandywog, or rather beside Nandywog’s nose. The giant nodded and smiled kindly at the boy. “Tripedals, three feet,” he explained gravely. Every one has three legs and feet, excepting me-the cows, the mice and even the chickens!”
“Why, so have the tables and chairs!” exclaimed
Randy in astonishment. And this was perfectly true.
Every chair, table, chest, stand and stool had three
legs and as Kabumpo and Nandywog began conversing
learnedly about the three-legged inhabitants
of the valley, Randy stepped around the giant’s hall
examining everything with lively interest and curiosity.
The windows high above his head were set
at just the proper height for Nandywog and all the
furnishings were giant size, too. But small doors
had been cut in the large doors for the giant’s servants
and slanting runways led up to the tables, side
boards, cupboards and book shelves.
It was fun to watch the Tripedalians setting the table, bustling importantly up the broad runway with the giant’s huge knives, forks, spoons and tremendous saucers and plates. They put a small table and chair for Randy upon the giant’s table itself and piled Kabumpo’s hay, vegetables and peanuts in a great flat flower dish in the center. Then Kojo, who seemed to be in charge, climbed a ladder and struck the huge dinner gong hanging on the wall.
Chuckling and rubbing his hands together, Nandywog invited his guests into the dining hall. Kabumpo he lifted ceremoniously to the center of the table, but Randy, not wishing to repeat the breath-taking
sensation of his first lift, ran up the slanting board used by the servants and cheerfully seated himself at the small table beside the giant’s tumbler. There, with scarcely concealed eagerness, the boy waited for the feast to begin.
Three roast oxen and two roast pigs, each borne by four Tripedalians, were served first and Nandywog cut small slices from each for his young visitor. Then, staggering up the board with dishes as big as bath tubs, ten more Tripedalian footmen served the giant with vegetables, salad and a tasty pudding. Never had Randy been so famished and never had food tasted more delicious. The giant kept filling and refilling his plate till he could not swallow another morsel. Kabumpo, forgetting his rank and royalty, stowed away all the provisions the Tripedalians had brought him and loudly trumpeted for more hay. This made the giant laugh so heartily that he nearly blew Randy into the pudding dish and soon they were all rocking with mirth and merriment and, in spite of their difference in weight and stature, joking together like old friends at a birthday party. Even the servants hippety-hopping about began to look less scared and nervous.
“Do stay, stay a long time,” begged Nandywog, beaming down at his small visitors. “Stay with me
always and you shall live like kings in my castle. Why, I haven’t been so happy since I was a boy on Big Top Mountain.”
Kabumpo, assured by now of Nandywog’s friendliness, thought it time to tell him the whole cause and purpose of their journey. The little giant was tremendously interested in the curious story and promised to do all he could to help them. Tripedalia, he explained, was on the edge of the Gilliken Country and scarcely a day’s journey from the Emerald City, and going into the library the obliging fellow looked through all his maps and history books for some information concerning the Red Jinn. But he could find no reference at all to this strange wizard. Still, he, like Kabumpo, felt that his castle must be in the Quadling Country of Oz.
“Why not come with us?” asked Randy, who was walking composedly up and down the giant’s shoulder. He had taken a great fancy to Nandywog. “Please do come!”
“I would only get you in trouble,” sighed the giant, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Everywhere I go, people immediately take me for an enemy and though they can do me no serious harm, it is distinctly unpleasant to have a fire hose turned on one from the
roof, or an army of soldiers shooting at my shins. No, here I am known and safe. Here I will stay. But when you have rescued the King and Royal Family of Pumperdink you must come back to visit me, for you are the only friends I have in all this great land of Oz.”
Kabumpo was not sure he could be spared but Randy earnestly promised to return and after toasting themselves a while at the giant’s fire the two begged leave to retire for the night. Randy, in a three legged bed as big as a house, slept soundly and well, while Kabumpo, who seldom lay down, dozed fitfully beside the window. The giant’s housekeeper, while they rested, made Kabumpo a new robe from two of Nandy’s best silk handkerchiefs, so that he looked quite his old and elegant self when they made ready to depart. There seemed no end to Nandywog’s thoughtfulness and after a hearty breakfast, and carrying with them a still heartier lunch, the travelers again turned their faces toward the south. It was with real regret that they said good-bye to the little giant and Nandywog stood in the door of his castle and waved and waved till they were out of sight.
Now Tripedalia is a small, three-cornered country with three-cornered cottages, three-cornered fields,
parks and flower beds. The three-legged people hopping briskly about their three-legged business nodded pleasantly to Randy and Kabumpo as they passed, and to see the three-legged sheep and cows quietly grazing in the pastures made the boy laugh outright with interest and amusement.
“We’ll always remember this as one of the good places, won’t we Kabumpo?” Randy sighed and looked dreamily back at the giant’s castle.
“We must take the good with the bad,” answered the Elegant Elephant philosophically. “Traveling is that way, my boy.” Kabumpo had not enjoyed the giant as thoroughly as Randy. He was used to being the biggest person present and Nandywog made him feel ridiculously small and unimportant. He was far more comfortable nodding condescendingly to the fat and amiable little Tripedalians and stepping hugely and majestically down their narrow streets and lanes. Tripedalia was not large and in an hour they had come to the end of the pleasant valley, and waving his trunk graciously to a three-legged farmer plowing with his three-legged horse, Kabumpo stepped through the narrow pass between two hills at the valley’s end.
“This should bring us out right on the edge of the
Emerald City,” predicted Randy eagerly. “Hello-but what’s this?”
“A couple of dummies probably,” muttered the Elegant Elephant, surveying two rotund little guardsmen who blocked the way at the other end of the pass. “Move aside there!” he called haughtily. But the guards, who seemed really to be dummies, neither moved nor spoke. If they had not rolled their eyes so drolly, Randy would have thought they were just figures set up to frighten off intruders.
“Why, they’re rubber!” he gasped, after a long, curious inspection. “Just look at them, Kabumpo!” This Kabumpo proceeded to do and after a short, contemptuous sniff he again ordered the guards to
move out of his way.
“Who are you, fellows?” he inquired irritably, and as neither guardsman moved nor spoke, he gave the first a sharp poke in the chest with his trunk.
“Squee!” yelled the guard, bouncing into the air with a broad grin.
“Gee!” squealed the other, as Kabumpo thumped him as hard as he had thumped his comrade. Then both rubber men bowed politely and waved their arms for the Elegant Elephant to follow them.
“Were you squeaking to me?” puffed Kabumpo, swaying angrily from side to side. The guards
nodded and snorting with indignation the Elegant Elephant thudded after them.
“They must be Squee Gees,” whispered Randy. “Oh, look, it’s a revolution! Or a war!” Following the guards, Kabumpo had walked directly into the public square of a comical Rubber City. Rubber blocks paved the streets so that the Elegant Elephant bounced high into the air at every step. Rubber trees lined the avenues and rubber houses in neat rows faced the visitors. Birds, shaped like barnyard hens, bounced from tree to tree whistling every time they struck against a branch.
“Fowl ball!” grunted Kabumpo, as one of the birds hit him between the eyes, and not wishing to bounce about himself, he stopped perfectly still and waited to see what would happen. All the inhabitants were bouncing wildly by this time. Not only that, they were thumping each other vigorously in the chest, at each punch emitting sharp, excited cries and speeches.
Almost deafened by the uproar but feeling terribly amused nevertheless, Randy, like Kabumpo, waited curiously for the Squee Gees to address them.
CHAPTER 9
The Guide Post Man
WHY, they’re just like Pajonia’s rubber dolls,” muttered Kabumpo at last. He had been watching the Squee Gees very closely for several minutes. “They can’t squeak unless you squeeze them. Look! To speak they have to punch each other. It’s not a battle at all, just a conversation. They are talking about us. Ho! Ha! Kerumph! And they don’t like us at all. How far is this city from the capital of Oz?” trumpeted Kabumpo, snatching a Squee Gee baker up in his trunk.
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