L. Frank Baum - Oz 26

by The Purple Prince Of Oz

  “And it did, didn’t it?” marveled Randy. “Well, it certainly made them more sensible,”

  agreed Jinnicky, looking around the throne room with quiet satisfaction. “Some people, my boy, are only sensible when they are insensible and while my blue incense still keeps them so, let us depart and shake the dust of this double dealing city from our doublets.”

  “But I don’t see why you did not throw the incense when we first met them?” puzzled Randy, thinking of his uncomfortable night in the dungeon.

  “Blue incense only works after three o’clock in the morning,” answered Jinnicky mysteriously. “That’s why I had to wait, but as soon as it did take effect I put on my looking glasses and started to hunt you. It took me a long time to unbar that dungeon, but here you are and here I am. I suppose they did away with our fat friend?” he finished inquiringly.

  Jinnicky tried to keep his voice indifferent and casual when he referred to Kabumpo, but Randy, with a little smile, saw the worried frown on his round little face.

  “I believe he likes Kabumpo as much as I do,” thought Randy, with a little sniff of satisfaction, and he quickly told the Jinn how the Elegant Elephant had been driven into the courtyard of the castle.

  “Well,” said Jinnicky, putting on his red glasses again, “in that case we might as well look around

  for the old gaboscis. He has all my magic, you know.”

  Rolling off the throne Jinnicky stepped carelessly over Too Too and, followed by Randy, marched resolutely from the yellow castle. The looking glasses led them to the meanest and smallest end of the courtyard. There they finally found Kabumpo, penned up in a log enclosure. Soon after he had been shut up the Elegant Elephant had recovered from the trumpet blow and had thumped and bumped against the logs till he was black and blue and trumpeted till he was too hoarse to make another sound. Then, like Randy in his dungeon, he had given up and fallen into a heavy slumber. When the Red Jinn and the mountain boy reached the enclosure he was already awake and banging and pushing furiously against the logs. Calling to him reassuringly, Randy after some difficulty, unbarred the door and the next minute the three adventurers were reunited.

  Kabumpo had a huge lump between his eyes and the robe made from Nandywog’s silk handkerchiefs was frayed and torn beyond recognition. He listened in a lofty and bored silence while the Red Jinn explained how he had overcome their enemies, thanked him gruffly for his trouble and suggested that they

  leave for other parts at once. This suited Randy and Jinnicky exactly and climbing thankfully aloft they begged him to start at once. So as not to waste any time Kabumpo put on the looking glasses and directing them to take him to Pumperdink, left the city of Double Up at a double quick pace, trumpeting with scorn as he swung through the double gates of the hateful city. Jinnicky, after peeping into both wicker baskets to make sure all his jugs and bottles were safe, settled back contentedly among his cushions.

  “The thing to do,” he concluded cheerfully, “is to profit by our mistakes. Now take that welcome band. That was quite an idea and took us completely by surprise. I’d expect horns on a wild animal to be dangerous, but horns in a band, never. We looked for music and instead received blows. Altogether a noteworthy victory for the enemy, which we might sum up by saying: ‘Lively blows were struck by the enemy and as the invaders could not beat their band they were forthwith taken and dragged into the city.’

  “For who’d expect a sliding flute To up and rap you on the snoot?”

  Jinnicky looked so comical chanting his ridiculous verses that Randy burst out laughing, but Kabumpo

  was still mad.

  “Stop it! Stop it,” he shouted violently, “or I’ll take off these glasses and not go another step.” The lump on his forehead was the only reminder he wanted of their wretched encounter with the double band. He could not yet understand how the fellows had got the best of him and the poor figure he had cut in the affair made him feel perfectly savage.

  “Notwithstanding and nevertheless,” continued Jinnicky in a low voice to Randy, “I’ve a mind to equip my army with shooting horns, disguise them as musicians and outwit all my enemies.”

  “Have you any of that blue incense left?” asked Randy, after agreeing that Jinnicky’s idea might be a good thing. The incense seemed a handy weapon on a journey as perilous as this.

  “Plenty,” smiled the Red Jinn, nodding his head gaily. “In those baskets, my lad, I believe I have a cure for any emergency.”

  “Do you have anything to keep you from talking all the time?” snapped Kabumpo disagreeably.

  “Even that! Even that, my dear El!” Imperturbed, Jinnicky drew out his silver bell and rang it briskly three times. “Nothing like food for keeping a body from talking,” he observed slyly, as the

  turbaned slave set down appetizing trays before him and Randy. “Bacon, eggs, waffles and honey. My mercy me! What a treat!”

  “Shut up!” rumbled Kabumpo, pounding sullenly down the hill. And while Randy and Jinnicky breakfasted heartily from the magic trays, the Elegant Elephant snatched savage bites from the trees and bushes. But as the morning wore on Kabumpo’s ill temper wore off. They had soon reached the foot of the hill and following the tug of the Jinn’s glasses the Elegant Elephant was making his way through a small, pleasant wood. The trees were just far enough apart for comfort and the air was so fragrant and delicious that Kabumpo began to forget his unpleasant experiences in Double Up.

  “We should reach the Gilliken Country any minute now,” he called back to Randy. “There’s the Winkie River just ahead and that will bring us quite near the border.”

  “Say, won’t Kettywig be surprised when we march into the castle?” exulted Randy, standing up to get a glimpse of the river. “And won’t Faleero be furious? Are you sure you can restore the King and the others, Jinnicky?”

  “Reasonably so, reasonably so,” murmured the Red Jinn, shaking his head like a little china mandarin,

  and he proceeded to give Randy a lively lecture on red magic, its causes and principal effects. While they were talking Kabumpo had stepped out of the wood and seeing a broad, tumbling river before them, Jinnicky hurriedly crawled past randy and snatched the looking glasses off Kabumpo’s trunk.

  “No use swimming so early in the day,” smiled Jinnicky, holding on to Kabumpo’s ear to steady himself.

  “That’s so!” puffed Kabumpo, coming to a stop on the brink of the river. “I expect those specs would have pulled me in, ears over hind quarters. But if I don’t swim, how are we to get across?” Jinnicky, handing the looking glasses to Randy, began rummaging in the left hand wicker basket. Bringing up a green flower pot containing a small plant, he flung it carelessly over Kabumpo’s head. The flower pot, striking on a stone, broke into a hundred fragments and while Kabumpo and Randy looked on in amazement a tremendous green spruce sprang up, growing like a magic bean stalk before their eyes. Randy was wondering what good a tree would do them, when the spruce, as if cut down by a mighty and invisible ax, fell crashing across the stream.

  “There you are! There you are!” Snapping his fingers joyfully Randy crawled back to his seat and Kabumpo, with a snort of approval, stepped out on the trunk. In spite of his huge size and great weight, Kabumpo was sure-footed and fearless and without mishap or misstep crossed the river safely on the magic bridge.

  “A tree-mendously successful idea,” chuckled the Jinn, handing Kabumpo the red looking glasses: “The river’s behind us, the broad plain before; To-morrow will find us at Pumperdink’s door.”

  “What else have you in those baskets?” asked Randy curiously.

  “Well, here’s a cooky jar that’s always full and a water pitcher that’s never empty,” answered Jinnicky, diving into the right hand basket, “so let us refresh ourselves. How about a cooky, El? How about a cooky?” Jinnicky wagged his finger roguishly at Kabumpo, who was looking over his shoulder to see what the Jinn had taken out of his baskets.

  “One cooky is about as much good to an elep
hant as one bullet to an army,” sniffed Kabumpo scornfully.

  “But wait-” laughed the Jinn, and hurrying out on Kabumpo’s head, he tilted the cooky jar so that a perfect cascade of crisp, toothsome wafers poured down the elephant’s trunk. Now if there was one

  thing Kabumpo liked better than peanuts it was cookies and while he tossed down dozen after dozen, Jinnicky and Randy refreshed themselves from the black pitcher and ate a heap of the cookies themselves. Kabumpo, after downing two hundred and fifty, quenched his thirst in the Winkie River, adjusted the red looking glasses and once more turned his face toward the west. To tell the truth, he was homesick for a sight of the castle and his own quiet and comfortable quarters. He missed his white marble bath and his hundred and ten robes and cloaks of silk and velvet. Traveling was all very well, but for the present, Kabumpo had had quite enough of it. So the Red Jinn’s looking glasses, fast as they drew him along, could not go too fast for the Elegant Elephant. And when, about three o’clock, he stepped from the yellow country into the purple dominions of the Gillikens, he gave a long low whistle of relief and satisfaction.

  CHAPTER 16

  Meanwhile, in Pumperdink

  NOW, while Kabumpo and Randy had been traveling

  rapidly in three directions to help them, the Pumperdinkians, under the rule of Faleero and Kettywig were having a blue and dismal time of it. Soon after the wedding, which had been celebrated with great haste and magnificence, Faleero’s vindictive and spiteful nature began to assert itself. Too old, stiff and crotchety to enjoy any fun or pleasure herself, she immediately passed laws against all kinds of amusement. No singing, music or dancing was permitted in Pumperdink. Games were strictly forbidden; even the children’s hoops, marbles and balls were confiscated by the guards and two small boys caught flying kites in the courtyard were dipped three times in the purple well.

  Everybody was dipped sooner or later and the chains operating the huge well bucket clanked dismally all day long. Grandfathers and uncles who craved a little relaxation had to retire to their cellars for a quiet game of checkers or chess. Everything was against the law and the law was against everything. Any one caught laughing on the King’s Highway was thrown into prison for a week and with sad, dolorous faces the usually gay and carefree citizens tiptoed cautiously about their business. Kettywig, who had meant to rule the kingdom himself and lead a life of ease and jollity, bitterly regretted his

  bargain with the wicked old fairy. Faleero would allow him to have nothing to say about affairs of state and bullied, scolded and cuffed him from morning till night. She took away his pipe and fed him on oatmeal and weak tea, her own favorite diet, and when Kettywig timidly suggested that they have roast beef and ice cream on Wednesdays, she flew into a passion and had him locked securely in the tower.

  Faleero had never really cared for Kettywig and with him so conveniently put out of the way she proceeded to govern Pumperdink as she pleased. Closely attended by her three ancient ladies in waiting, she stamped furiously about the palace giving her ill-natured commands and terrifying courtiers and servants alike. No one dared to defy the false Queen, for on her first day in the palace she had turned the cook to a cocoanut and had him baked in a pie. Fearful of her temper and her magic, the poor Pumperdinkians kept out of Faleero’s way whenever possible and longed heartily for the old happy days under King Pompus and Queen Pozy Pink.

  The disappearance of the Elegant Elephant was the only ray of cheer in all those gloomy times. Each loyal subject of the old King felt that Kabumpo had

  gone for help and would some day return to save them.

  Every night the guardsmen gathered in a distant corner of the royal gardens and tried to devise some way to seize and subdue their terrible Queen. But at the slightest sign of insurrection Faleero resorted to magic and after four of the guards had been turned to stone, the others sadly gave up the attempt.

  All but General Quakes. Indignation and fury burned in his tempery but honest breast and one night, after all his comrades had retired, he put on his best uniform, buckled on his largest sword and marched determinedly out of the city. Taking much the same direction Kabumpo had traveled, he set his face toward the Emerald City, determined to seek and obtain aid from Ozma herself. By some good fortune he skirted the River Road that had carried the Elegant Elephant so far out of his way and without any serious mishaps or encounters, reached the capital in safety-but only to discover that Ozma, the Wizard of Oz and the most famous and important of her advisers had gone to the castle of Glinda the Good Sorceress, who was celebrating her hundredth anniversary as Ruler of the South. And while the servants in the castle and the citizens themselves showed General Quakes every courtesy and listened

  with great sympathy to his story of the disasters in Pumperdink, they could do nothing at all to help him.

  So there was nothing for the General to do but march on to the south. He was dreadfully tired and footsore, but it took more than that to discourage this doughty patriot and after resting one night in Ozma’s palace, he borrowed a tremendous pair of boots from the Soldier with Green Whiskers-his own being perfectly worn out-and set boldly out for Glinda’s Red Castle.

  CHAPTER 17

  Ozwoz the Wonderful

  ONCE he had crossed into his own country, Kabumpo cheered up tremendously. Had he not successfully carried out his plans for saving the kingdom? On his back rode the famous Red Jinn of Ev, whose magic was ten times more powerful than the magic of Faleero. Before another day passed, Pumperdink would be restored to its rightful rulers and he, the Elegant Elephant of Oz, fittingly rewarded for his enterprise and bravery in bringing about the disenchantment of its sovereigns.

  He would put in a few good words for Randy, too, for surely the boy had proved himself on this journey. He would engage another attendant and Randy should henceforth be his friend and companion, free to go and come as he wished. Looking back at the handsome young mountaineer, Kabumpo gave him an affectionate wink and breaking into an old Gilliken ballad, sung, it must be confessed, through his trunk, swung cheerfully along the purple highway.

  Jinnicky had retired into his jar for his afternoon nap, and Randy, resting comfortably against Jinnicky’s wicker seat, was speculating upon the further contents of the wizard’s baskets. He was not paying much attention to the scenery and when Kabumpo, with a snort of displeasure, suddenly snatched off Jinnicky’s red looking glasses, Randy leaped anxiously to his feet to see what had happened. Nothing, he discovered, had happened yet, but from what he saw, something was about to happen, something highly unpleasant and disastrous. The highway, cutting through a small wood, had come out and quite suddenly ended on the edge of a broad plain. Marching in level rows across the plain came an army of stiff and enormous soldiers each standing twice as high as an ordinary Oz man.

  “Jinnicky! Jinnicky! Wake up!” Pounding on

  Jinnicky’s jar with the handle of his sword, Randy looked wildly over his shoulder. Kabumpo, thrusting the looking glasses in his pocket snatched up a tree by the roots and trumpeting like a steamboat whistle, prepared to defend himself. Wakened by Randy’s taps and Kabumpo’s furious snorting, Jinnicky stuck up his head. His sleepy eyes snapped wide open at sight of the advancing foe.

  “My mercy me!” puffed the little Jinn, bounding out of his seat and grabbing the handle of his left hand basket. “Another war? So soon? These military receptions are making me nervous, preserve us.” Fumbling in the basket as he talked, Jinnicky dragged out his blue bottle, and though there was still quite a distance between, uncorked the incense and hurled it into the midst of the marching men. “Lucky this works in the daytime,” he panted, catching hold of Randy to steady himself.

  “But it isn’t!” shrilled Randy, clutching Jinnicky firmly around the waist. “They’re still coming, they’re aiming their guns. Great Gillikens, they’re going to fire!” Dropping on his stomach, Randy pulled Jinnicky down beside him, and rolling over and over till he could reach his right hand basket, the Red Jinn pul
led out a large blue vase and tossed it high

  into the air. The soldiers, squinting sternly along their gun barrels, were now so close that Randy could count the wooden buttons on their uniforms. But just as the guns with a thousand deafening bangs went off, the blue vase, expanding to enormous dimensions, swooped down over Kabumpo and his companions, covering and enclosing them completely. Bullets pattered like hail stones on the sides of their strange refuge and peering through the milky blue glass, Randy saw the soldiers charging in waves and columns and piling up in heaps around the base.

  “How long will this jug hold together?” wheezed Kabumpo, pressing his trunk against the sides. “You know, there’s something extremely funny about this army, fellows, something strange, odd, not to say peculiar.”

  “I agree with you,” muttered Jinnicky, wiping off his red face with a bright silk handkerchief. “They are not real soldiers, or my blue incense would have rendered them insensible. A fortunate thing I had my expanding vase along. Otherwise we should have been shot and trampled to blotting paper.”

  “Not before I’d mowed down a few rows,” sniffed the Elegant Elephant a bit resentfully. “What was the big hurry anyway?”

  “You can’t argue with bullets, my dear El.” Jinnicky

  spoke kindly but firmly. “And here we will

  stay till they disperse, retreat and march back where

  they came from.

  “They’re beginning to move off now,” volunteered Randy, who had slid to the ground and was looking intently through the glass. “All but the ones who have fallen.”

  “Well, why don’t they pick themselves up?” scoffed Kabumpo. “Nobody shot them.”

  “Because-they are wood!” announced Randy, after a long, incredulous stare. “I can see them quite plainly now and they’re nothing but wooden soldiers, Kabumpo.”