“King!” exploded Sir Hokus, growing quite curious. “What merry nonsense it this? I am a Knight, bound upon a curious quest.”
“He’ll do very well indeed, if we remove the shell,” continued Gotsom, eyeing Sir Hokus with frank approval. “How would you like to be Monarch of the Marshes and King of the Stickin-the-Muds?” he asked coaxingly. “Our Queen has sworn to marry the first stranger who enters the Kingdom; you are the first, so-”
“Hold, fellow!” Imperiously Sir Hokus raised his arm. “I would hear more of this Queen.”
“Well,” admitted Getsom, looking uneasily at Gotsum, “she has one wonderful eye.”
“One wonderful eye!” gulped the Knight. “By my father’s beard, it is not enough! If I ever marry twill be a Princess with two wonderful eyes and curly hair like little Dorothy’s. But I am not minded to marry at all. I crave adventure, conquest, and furious battle!”
“Marry Marcia, and you will have all three,” promised Gotsom quickly.
“Oh, come on! You’re wasting our time,” grumbled Getsom, and pressing forward impatiently the two Mud Guards made ready to seize the Knight. But Sir Hokus had no intention of being taken. Striking two ways at once, he felled Getsom with his sword and Gotsom with his battle-axe and, leaping over their inert bodies, rushed impetuously forward. Almost instantly he regretted this hasty action; for though he was indeed out of the gloomy forest, in all directions stretched a wild and desolate marsh, and scarcely had he run three paces before he began to sink down into the treacherous, watery bog. Sir Hokus struck out bravely enough, but what good is bravery in the mud? No matter how brave you are, you still keep on sinking, and weighed down by his heavy armor the Knight was soon in to his waist and going deeper every minute. Indeed, if he had not snatched desperately at a scraggly little tree, he would have disappeared altogether.
“Methinks,” groaned the Knight regretfully, “methinks I had done better to have gone with those muddy rogues and taken my chance with their one-eyed Queen. They, no doubt, have a way of crossing this mire.” But the Mud Guards would not regain their senses for hours, and meanwhile he could do nothing but cling to the tree. “What now? And what next?” he muttered, looking around despondently. Then he took a firmer hold on his sword. “Odds goblins!” breathed Sir Hokus, wrinkling his brows.
All around him giant bubbles were rising in the mud, and from each bubble came a great green frog’s head. Odd goblins they were, indeed! Frog goblins, to be perfectly correct, and with hair-raising croaks and screeches they pressed closer, trying to pull the Knight down into the mire. Each frog goblin was about the size of a small child, and at first Sir Hokus struck them lightly with the flat of his sword. But as they came nearer and nearer, snatching with their long, skinny fingers and trying to loosen his hold on the tree, he swung his sword with all his might and brought it down with resounding whacks on their heads, But as fast as he struck down four, a dozen others hurled themselves upon him. Having only one hand free and being waist deep in the mud, Sir Hokus fought them off as best as he could, but there were so many it seemed but a question of time before he would be pulled ingloriously into the swamp and suffocated. Then, suddenly, right at the height of the conflict, the frog goblins, with a hundred dismal croaks, dove into the bog. Panting with exhaustion, Sir Hokus glared around to discover the cause of their disappearance and saw a giant mud turtle plowing determinedly toward him. Its jaws snapped, its eyes rolled, and it was as large as an elephant flattened out.
“A monster!” puffed Sir Hokus. “At last, a monster! But I could wish it had come at some happier moment, when I had more breath and better footing!” Nevertheless, he pulled himself resolutely up out of the mud and, raising his sword, calmly waited for the turtle to approach. When it had almost reached his tree, the creature stopped, stretched up its neck and regarded him long and searchingly, as if it were deciding upon the best place to begin biting him. Sir Hokus endured this inspection for several minutes in silence; then, as the monster made no move or murmur, he called out impatiently:
“Quail, wretch! Quiver, or at least do something to show that you are afraid!’
“I am not a quail,” answered the turtle in a dignified voice, “and in this shell, how could I
quiver?”
“Well, do what you’re going to do, then,” shouted the Knight, “and be done with it.” Lack of breakfast and the discomforts of the past few hours had not improved his temper. “Do something, d’ye
hear?”
“I am,” said the turtle, blinking its eyes solemnly. “I am admiring you, dear brother. I have always suspected that somewhere a turtle man existed and here, at last, you are! What a gorgeous shell,
and how perfectly it fits!’ At these words, and seeing there was to be no slaying, Sir Hokus returned his sword to its scabbard and looked thoughtfully at the green monster.
“Dear, dear,” it continued, rolling its eyes affectionately, “I dote on you already. Can I catch you some nice little frogs, or would you prefer a serpent for breakfast?”
“Neither,” shuddered the Knight, “but you may carry me on your back, if you will.” If the creature were really as friendly as it appeared to be, he could stand being called its brother, at least until he was out of the swamp. At his words the turtle gave a squeal of pleasure, and hurling itself hit or miss through the mud, drew up like a ferryboat beside him. Seizing hold of its strong shell, Sir Hokus pulled himself thankfully up on its back.
“A fine Knight Errant I must appear,” he sighed, regarding his muddy armor ruefully. “No wonder it thinks I’m a turtle man! What ho, my good creature,” he called anxiously, “is it far to the edge of this marsh?”
“Far-far-very far, but not too far for Ploppa,” wheezed the mud turtle, looking fondly back at
the Knight.
“Then proceed, Ploppa!” cried Sir Hokus, chuckling in spite of himself at the turtle’s name. “Proceed, and let us make what speed we may!”
CHAPTER 3
Queen Marcia of Marshland
WITH his sword, Sir Hokus scraped some of the mud from his armor; then, setting himself cross-legged on Ploppa’s back, he looked about with deep distaste.
“Are you sure you would not like to squirm along beside me?” inquired the turtle, looking fondly over his shoulder. “The marsh is beautiful to-day. Ah, to feel the delicious squg and glug of it,” he murmured, rolling his eyes rapturously.
“Nay, an’ I care not for this glugging,” shuddered the Knight, “so splash along by yourself, dear creature.” Taking some chessmen from his boot, Sir Hokus set them out on the nicely marked squares of Ploppa’s shell and in the problems of the game tried to forget his hunger and the strangeness of his situation. Several times Ploppa opened his mouth to speak, for he felt extremely curious about this superior being he was carrying, but the Knight seemed so engrossed moving the ivory figures from place to place that he did not like to interrupt and churned quietly along saying nothing. Now and then a frog goblin rose from the mud, or a flock of wild geese flew screaming overhead, but for nearly an hour they met no one. Then, glancing up suddenly, Sir Hokus saw two giants striding across the marsh.
“What ho, and who goes there?” cried the Knight, thumping Ploppa on the head with a red
king.
“Oh, just a couple of Stickin-the-Muds,” answered the turtle indifferently. “The marsh is full of them.” Sweeping the chessmen back into his boot, Sir Hokus sat up very straight to have a better look at Queen Marcia’s odd subjects. Their bodies seemed no larger than his own, but their legs were long and stick-like and reached almost to the tops of the trees.
“Why, they are sticks,” decided Sir Hokus, after a long, intent look at the Marshlanders.
“Stilts,” corrected the turtle composedly. “They use stilts to keep out of the mud, you know.”
“So that’s how one manages,” said Sir Hokus, tapping his nose thoughtfully. He had once tried a smaller pair of stilts back in the Emerald City and had falle
n hard upon his helmet, and he could not help but admire the clever way in which these fellows got about on the unwieldy poles. Their dwellings were surprising, too, for the Marshlanders lived in tiny mud-thatched houses built high up in the trees. As Sir Hokus continued to watch, the two travelers, reaching their own house, which was on an exact level with their feet, stepped off their stilts and, leaving them standing against the tree, went in and slammed the door. “Well done, by my head!” breathed Sir Hokus, settling back with a little chuckle. “I must tell Dorothy about this. Hast ever heard of Princess Dorothy, my good Ploppa?”
“Is she a turtle?’ inquired the monster in a bored voice.
“Oh, no, no, no!” exclaimed Sir Hokus with a little gesture of distress, and immediately began telling the turtle all about the Emerald City; about Ozma, Dorothy, Bettsy, and Trot, and the other wonderful citizens of Oz,
The turtle listened attentively, and as Sir Hokus paused for breath, turned his head.
“If everything is so squg, (and “squg,” I must tell you, is turtle-talk for cozy) “why did you ever come away from there?” he inquired, reasonably enough.
‘Well,’ muttered Sir Hokus, beginning to wonder a little himself, “well!” Then recalling the high purpose of his journey, he braced up and spoke most earnestly. “A Knight,” stated Sir Hokus, raising his sword solemnly, “must beware of squgness’ A Knight must seek danger and go upon curious quests in search of adventure. In other words, he must fight!”
“I see,” Ploppa shook his head knowingly. “By the way, have you met our Queen?”
“No, but I’ve heard of her,” admitted Sir Hokus, recalling his strange encounter with Getsom and Gotsom. He had been so busy describing the Emerald City to Ploppa that he had not remarked the change in their surroundings. Ahead, like an oasis in a desert, lay a higher and dryer bit of ground. In the exact center of this clearing rose a mud house much larger and more pretentious than the tree dwellings of the other Stickin-the-muds. Before the door stood six Mud Guards, their stilts held stiffly before them. At sight of Sir Hokus, all six dropped their stilts and stared at him so fixedly that his grip upon his sword tightened and he quietly reached for his battle-axe.
“The Royal Hut of her Majesty, Queen Marcia, announced the turtle, seeming to take no notice of the Guards.
“Yes? Yes, but let us make haste!” puffed Sir Hokus, thumping Ploppa hard upon the shell. “I crave not to meet her muddy Majesty. But before Ploppa could obey his instructions, they had come opposite the hut; the six Guards darted forward, jumping upon ploppa’s back, dragged Sir Hokus triumphantly in to the Queen.
“The King!” they shouted, all together. “Long live the King!” And hurling the Knight upon the floor of the hut, they stood proudly at attention. Queen Marcia sat cross-legged on the floor, eating marshmallows from a large box at her side. She looked, at first glance, like a South Sea Islander, with her dark skin and skirt of swamp grass. But when Sir Hokus, who had instantly sprung to his feet, gazed into the face of this royal lady, he was too stunned to speak or even stutter. Marcia had, indeed, one wonderful eye. It was large, brown, and lively, turning in toward the nose. The other, which was small and blue and turned impishly outward, did not count at all. The Queen’s hair had evidently never been combed, and Sir Hokus in his whole seven centuries had not seen anyone so bewilderingly wild and ugly. As he stood uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other, Marcia’s dog, a dingy little swampoodle, rushed out and snapped viciously at his heels. But the Knight’s armor served him well, and yelping with pain and bad temper the swampoodle ran back to its mistress. The Queen had been examining Sir Hokus quite as closely as he had been examining her, and now, popping another marshmallow into her mouth, she spoke.
“Well, I’ll be splattered!” mumbled her Majesty. “I’ll be splashed and splattered! What do you think of him, Mira? My sister, the Marchioness of Muckengoo!” explained the Queen, with a wave at the dark-skinned lady at her side. Sir Hokus bowed in a dazed fashion and Mira, who was weaving baskets from dried reeds, squinted critically up at the Knight.
‘Well,” said Mira, after a long, earnest squint, “if you don’t marry him, sister, I shall!” “But ladies!” protested Sir Hokus, backing away in great distress, “this is impossible! I must go-
“Silence!” roared Marcia, as well as she could with her mouth full of marshmallows, “I have sworn to marry the first stranger who enters my Kingdom, and marry you I will. Guards! Fetch the crown, bring on the food, and summon the guests!”
“You always have the best of everything,” pouted Mira, throwing down her reeds. “You married the last stranger. This one is mine!” Swallowing with great difficulty, the Marchioness of Muckengoo buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed as if her heart would break.
“But if your Majesty is already married,” began Sir Hokus, stepping forward hopefully, “how can you marry me?”
“Silence!” cried the Queen furiously. “Speak when you’re spoken to, and bow when you speak to me.”
“The last King was a p-peer!” sobbed Marcia, coming out from behind her handkerchief, “Well, what became of him?” demanded the Knight, paying no attention to Marcia’s angry
gestures.
“He-he disappeared!” confided the Marchioness, beginning to sob anew.
“Oh, I expect he fell off his stilts and was lost in the mud,” sniffed the Queen unfeelingly. “You must be careful with your stilts, fellow. By the way, what is your name?”
“You see in me a Knight, bound upon a curious quest,” announced Sir Hokus, resolved to speak his mind and end this ridiculous discussion. “You see-”
“That will do, Usee! Smirch! Conduct the King to his apartment and see that he is served a
portion of the royal duck.” At the Queen’s last remark, Sir Hokus brightened visibly, for he had not eaten since the night before.
“Duck!” muttered Sir Hokus. “Well, beshrew me now, after a portion of the royal duck I’ll be. better able to duck this whole proceeding.” A glance at the door had convinced him that escape, for the time being, was impossible. Ten Mud Guards had replaced the first six and at a slight move in their direction all ten had brandished their stilts threateningly. So, resolved to fall in with the plans of the Queen for the moment and make off at the first opportunity. Sir Hokus followed Smirch-into a small, mean room at the back of the royal hut. There was a rough table and chair, and a pile of grass in the corner evidently served for a bed. While the Knight was reflecting upon the very doubtful pleasures of being King of the Marsh, Smirch brought in a heaping platter of duck and, retreating, locked the door securely behind him. Almost never had anything tasted so delicious and Sir Hokus, unmindful of his dreary surroundings and his approaching marriage, fell upon the platter and soon reduced the duck to skin and bones. Then, much refreshed, he rose up to see what was to be done. The room’s one window was high and barred, but by placing a chair upon the table and standing on that, he could manage to see out. What he saw filled him with new hope and courage. Asleep in the tall grass beneath the window lay the giant mud turtle.
“Good, honest, faithful creature!” puffed the Knight, looking around for something to throw at Ploppa. There was nothing in the room but the knife, fork, and platter. The first two made no impression, but as the platter splintered to bits on his shell, Ploppa raised his head.
“What ho! ‘What ho, below!” whispered the Knight, so as not to arouse the Guards.
“Oh, it’s you, is it? Well, how are you enjoying the fighting? Is our Queen not a famous fighter?” wheezed Ploppa, blinking his eyes in an interested fashion.
“It is not seemly for a knight to fight with ladies,” hissed Sir Hokus earnestly. “And lest I forget I am a Knight, I must get hence. Get me hence at once, my good Ploppa. Wouldst have me marry a wild-eyed witch and break my head learning to stilt?”
“But they will follow us,” panted the turtle, pulling himself erect. So huge was the turtle that it towered above the house top and
had to bend down to look in the window. “The Queen will not let you
go”
“Break me these bars,” breathed Sit Hokus impatiently. “Break me these bars and we’ll go anyway. And if we are followed, I’ll break a few heads. Odds dragons! A few heads, and shins, and what nots!” As easily as you or I would bend wax, Ploppa forced the window bars apart with his strong claws; then, peering round to be sure nobody was looking, he put his face close to the Knight’s.
“I have just thought of something,” confided the turtle hoarsely. “When I return and call three times, be ready to jump!” Before Sir Hokus could stop him or ask about his plan, the great mud turtle was flopping at a great pace across the marsh.
CHAPTER 4
Ploppa and Sir Hokus Escape
GLOOMILY Sir Hokus climbed down from the table. If he jumped before Ploppa’s return, he could only reach the edge of the clearing and then sink into the treacherous mud. But suppose the turtle was too late? In great agitation he paced up and down the narrow room. Preparations for the wedding were going forward briskly, judging from the thumps and bangs and excited shrieks on the other side of the door. “A pretty kettle of blue fish!” fumed Sir Hokus, who, like most of the rest of us, had often dreamed of his own wedding and pictured an affair of great pomp and magnificence. “Not a cake nor a castle in the whole Kingdom. Like as not there’ll be mud pie. Not a tune-not a dance step. And such a bride!” Climbing on the table again, be stared anxiously out of the window. All around the Queen’s hut little black pigs grunted and squealed. In the distance he saw several cows on stilts nibbling hungrily at the tree tops, but nowhere in that whole dreary waste could he catch so much as a glimpse of Ploppa. Sir Hokus tried to imagine himself King of the Marshes, wobbling about uncomfortably on stilts, pointing out the sights to Dorothy or Bettsy Bobbin, but the mere thought of Marcia for a Queen made his heart thump so hard it rattled all his armor. “As soon as that door opens, I’ll make a dash for it,” he decided desperately, “‘and woe to the man who stands in my way!” But it was not a man who stood in the door when it did open, but Marcia herself, surrounded by a bevy of marsh maidens. Her brown eye rolled round and round with excitement, and in her arms she clasped a huge bouquet of tiger lilies and cattails.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 24 Page 2