“Do you mind?” asked the Princess, leaning forward anxiously.
“No,— Speedy assured her gallantly. “But I should think you would.” His glance travelled critically from her long, frilled skirts, now sadly torn and dusty, to the stiff, high, and certainly uncomfortable ruff. “Girls don’t wear such long skirts nowadays,” he explained apologetically. “I say, shall I cut off some of that stuff?” The Princess seemed quite interested in the idea, so Speedy, taking out his scout knife, which fortunately had a scissor attachment, snipped all the lace ruffles from her gold dress, making it about knee length. Then he cut off her huge, uncomfortable ruff and stood back, quite pleased with the result. “If it wasn’t for that crown you’d look just like a regular girl,” declared Speedy, returning the knife to his pocket. At these words, and before he could stop her, Marygolden took off her crown and flung it as far as she possibly could.
“Curses!” muttered the boy with a worried bounce. “You shouldn’t have done that, Mary. It’s probably worth a lot of money,
“But it makes my head ache,” stated the Princess calmly, “and what good is it anyway?”
“Oh, well,” decided Speedy, after looking without success for the golden circlet, “I guess you won’t need a crown now, for you’re going home with me, if I can ever find the way, and they don’t use crowns in America.”
“America?” asked the Princess, taking a few dancing steps to see how it felt without her long, trailing skirts. “Shall we reach there soon?”
“Not unless we start,” answered Speedy. “And unless we want to spend the rest of the day in this forest, we’d better start right away.” Marygolden made no objection, so talking quite cheerfully they strolled along under the giant trees.
“Pretty soon, now,” observed Speedy, helping the Princess over a little brook, “pretty soon now we ought to be meeting some people.”
‘People!” sniffed Marygolden, turning up her pretty nose. “Every time we meet people we run. I’d rather not meet any people, Speedy.”
“Maybe the next ones will be good fellows. Maybe they’ll give us something to eat and tell us where we are. We can’t just go on and on forever,” he explained, leaning down to examine a colored stone at his feet.
“Is there another way of getting about, then?” inquired Marygolden, staring sorrowfully at her gold kid slippers, which were already sadly scratched and torn by the sticks and stones of the forest. “Must we always walk and run?”
“If we were in my country we could take a bus, or a train, or a taxi; but there’s nothing to take here,” answered Speedy in a matter-of-fact voice, and finally deciding that the stone he had picked up was of no value, he sent it flying into the branches of a horse chestnut tree. With speed and accuracy it hit a large chestnut burr and the burr, sailing through the air, dropped directly in his path. As Speedy was about to pick it up, it began to swell like a balloon, larger and larger till it was simply immense; and as Speedy and Marygolden jumped back together, it burst with a loud bang and out trotted a shining chestnut steed. He wore a breastplate of gold, yellow silk trappings, a gold-trimmed saddle, and had such a glorious, golden, flyaway mane and tail that Speedy, in spite of his fright and astonishment, gave a cry of pure delight and admiration. The horse, lifting his head, looked about a bit wildly and began to paw up the earth with his forefoot.
“Do you see that?” gasped Speedy, holding fast to Marygolden’s arm in case the wonderful horse should spring forward. “One minute there was a horse chestnut and now there’s a chestnut horse. Girl! Girl! What a country!”
“Is it something to ride?” whispered Marygolden, not in the least upset by the miraculous appearance of this stunning steed. “Is it yours?”
“I belong to the Yellow Knight,” trumpeted the horse, with a quick toss of his golden mane. “Have you seen the Yellow Knight, Smallfellow?”
“Knight!” breathed Speedy in a hushed voice. “I didn’t know there were any Knights now-a-days. And listen to that, Marygolden, he’s talking; that horse is talking to us. Wait! Stop!” he called excitedly, as the horse, wheeling round and round, showed signs of galloping off. “Wait, I want to
ask you something. How is it one moment you were a chestnut burr, and the next moment a horse? How is it you can talk? Horses in my country only say ‘neigh’.”
“Nay!” snorted the Knight’s horse, pausing with one foot uplifted. “What a stupid country yours must be. What do they do when they wish to say yes, or answer a question?”
“Nobody asks them questions,” answered Speedy, quite truthfully. “They just tell them what to
do.”
“Worse and worse,” whinnied the horse disapprovingly.
“Why, hereabouts all the animals can talk. You asked me how I happened to be a chestnut burr, didn’t you? Well, as to that, I think I’ve been enchanted, and someone has just broken the spell.”
“It was Speedy,” cried Marygolden, pointing proudly to the boy. “He threw a stone at the horse chestnut tree and knocked down the burr, and there you were!”
“Well, in that case,” mused the horse thoughtfully, “I owe you a great debt of gratitude. You have no idea how it feels to be cooped up in a chestnut burr. Speak up, Smallfellow, what can I do for you? What is your name, and where are you going?”
“My name is Speedy, I’m from the United States, and would like to get back there if I could. I found Marygolden in a cave. She was enchanted, too, I guess, but she’s all right now. Could you let us ride on your back and help us find our way back to America?”
“That place where horses can only say ‘neigh, neigh’?” questioned the Knight’s steed uneasily. “Where they are dumb as fish, and ordered about like slaves? Nay, nay! Good turnips, Smallfellow! You have me saying it already! Nay, an’ I will not go there, but I’ll tell you what I will do,” he offered generously, noticing Speedy’s disappointed expression. “I’ll not go with you, but you may come with me until I find the Yellow Knight, and perhaps he can tell you the way back to your own country. Come! Will you go? Decide quickly for I long to stretch my legs again.” It did not take Speedy long to decide. Putting his foot in the golden stirrup, he gave such a spring that he landed safely in the splendid saddle of the Yellow Knight. Then he looked doubtfully down at Marygolden.
“Can the little wench ride?” inquired the horse, beginning to prance with impatience. “Can the little baggage stick on?”
“I can do anything Speedy can do,” declared the Princess stoutly, and mounting a tree stump she motioned imperiously for the horse to approach.
“What’s your name?” asked Speedy, as the big chestnut trotted obligingly over to the tree
Stump.
“Stampedro!” cried the horse, with a joyous toss of his head, “Up with you, maiden, and away we’ll be going!” And scarcely had Marygolden seated herself behind Speedy and clasped her arms round his waist, before Stampedro set off at such a pace that both riders had all they could do to hang on. To himself, Speedy pretended he was really the Yellow Knight with long gleaming lance and gold armor, He only wished Uncle Billy or some of the fellows could see him galloping through the forest on this great shining steed, and though the Knight’s saddle was uncommonly hard, and the bumps and bouncing terrific, he would not have changed places with Lindy himself. After a while Stampedro slackened his speed, much to the relief of Marygolden, thumping up and down behind.
“AH-HH!” snorted the Knight’s horse. ” ‘Tis fine to breathe this keen air and feel the good earth underfoot again. It’s good to be alive, and could I see my young Master, no more would I ask.”
“Was he enchanted too?” asked Speedy, quite breathless from the jouncing he had received. “Say, why didn’t I bring along that stone? There must have been something magic about that stone, for it turned you from a chestnut burr to a chestnut horse. And if you ask me, there’s something magic about this whole country.
“Right in both cases,” agreed Stampedro amiably. “This is the Magical Co
untry of Oz.”
“Oz!” sputtered Speedy, sitting up very straight. “Why, I’ve often read about Oz, but I never thought it was really true.”
“Well, what do you think now?” queried the horse, looking over his shoulder to wink good-naturedly at Marygolden.
“It must be true,” conceded the boy slowly, “for you see, we’re here. Do you know what part of Oz we’re in, Stampedro?” The horse stopped short in his tracks and thought so intently that his ears crossed and his mane stood up and waved to and fro, but, think as he would, he could not remember.
“It’s that wretched enchantment,” he wheezed crossly. “I’ve been a chestnut inside of a burr so long I’ve forgotten everything.”
“But you remembered the Yellow Knight,” Marygolden reminded him softly, “and if we find him, perhaps he can tell us where we are.
“Maybe we’d better go back and hunt that magic stone,” suggested Speedy, as Stampedro, shouldering his way through some low bushes, came to a rushing yellow river. So far and so fast had he galloped that they were entirely out of the forest and moving swiftly toward a pleasant orange grove.
“Too late,” sighed Stampedro, picking his way carefully along the slippery bank of the stream. “We’d never find the place again. Besides, I do not think my Master was enchanted, He’s far too clever for such trickery. Hello, what’s this?” This was a bright yellow basket floating merrily along with the current. “Want it?” whinnied Stampedro, and as both his riders nodded enthusiastically he stepped daintily into the river and lifted the basket in his teeth.
“Wonder what’s in it,” muttered Speedy, leaning forward eagerly to take the basket. “Why, hurray, it’s something to eat! Chicken, Marygolden! Bread, fruit, cake, and everything! Here have a chicken wing, and do try this apricot.” Marygolden obediently took the articles Speedy handed to her, but she did not seem to know what to do with them. Speedy, buried to the ears in a piece of frosted cake, looked back at her in surprise.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, gulping down his great bite of cake so fast he almost choked. “My goodness, I forgot! You don’t even know how to eat. Here, girl, watch me, and do just what I do.”
“What manner of maiden is this Marygolden?” rumbled Stampedro. “A maiden who does not eat? Is she a fairy?”
“No, she’s a Princess,” explained the boy, biting off a piece of chicken leg and motioning for Marygolden to do the same with her wing. “Like it?” he asked, as Marygolden took a thoughtful nibble.
“Mm-mm! Yes!” sighed the Princess, chewing faster and faster. “See, I can eat just as fast as you can now!” And as both travellers were ever so hungry, there was soon nothing left in the basket at all. Speedy had given several apples to Stampedro and he was now finishing his lunch The Princess sampled the golden oranges, which they could pick quite easily as the great horse walked beneath the branches.
“You’ve brought us good luck already,” said Speedy, looking regretfully into the empty basket. He was about to toss it away when a sentence stamped on the bottom caught his attention.
‘Made in Samandra’,” read Speedy with a puzzled look. “I wonder where that is? And how did this basket come to be in the river?” As a matter of fact, the basket had tumbled from the yellow boat when Tuzzle and his men were capturing the Comfortable Camel, but of course Speedy could know nothing of this and continued to stare at the gay blue letters.
“Samandra!” he repeated slowly. “What kind of a country could that be?”
“Samandra?” coughed Stampedro, stopping his eating and putting one ear forward and one ear backward. “It seems to me I remember something disagreeable about that place. Humph-HAH!” The Knight’s horse trumpeted so loudly and suddenly that Marygolden nearly tumbled off backwards. “I know!” he wheezed grimly. “It’s a country like that America you were telling me about, the only country in Oz where animals can’t talk.”
“Then let’s keep away from there,” said Speedy, for he enjoyed the experience of a talking
steed.
“But Samandra,” continued the chestnut solemnly, “Samandra lies near the country of the Yellow Knight. I remember riding through there long ago, and being struck dumb for two days. Now why can’t I remember the name of my own country?”
“Well, if we’re near one we must be near both of them,” reasoned Speedy. “And maybe there’ll be some sign posts beyond this orange grove, or somebody who can tell us where we are.
“There’s somebody now,” cried Marygolden, tugging Speedy’s coat. “There, on the other side of the river! Oh dear, now we shall have to run again.”
“Good golly, it’s a Knight!” exclaimed Speedy, standing up in the stirrups. “Look! Look, Stampedro, is that your Master?” Spinning round so quickly he almost spilled both of his riders, the splendid chestnut faced the opposite bank, his breath coming in short, smoky pants. Then his head dropped.
“What a start you gave me, Smallfellow,” he sighed reproachfully. “This Knight wears silver armor; my Master wears gold. This Knight is old and thin; my Master is young and hearty. No, no, it is not he.” Stampedro’s head fell lower and lower until his long golden mane swept the ground, and sorrowfully he turned away. But Speedy, nothing daunted, leaned far out of the saddle and shouted loudly:
“Ho! Ho! Hello, Sir Knight! Can you tell me what country we are in?”
CHAPTER 15
Five Travellers Meet
AT Speedy’s lusty cry, Sir Hokus and the jester stopped running and stared in amazement across the river. “Come now, this is better,” chuckled Peter, shading his eyes with his hand and gazing across with lively interest at the travelers. “A page and a Princess, or I miss my guess.
“And a horse,” breathed the Knight, his eye sparkling with pleasure. “Such a steed as I’ve not seen these many long years. An’ they lend me yon noble beast I’ll overtake that fat camel-snatcher in no time. What ho!” he called loudly. “Canst lend me your horse, fellow, to catch the greatest rascal in the country?”
“Rascal?” gulped Speedy. “Why, this sounds interesting!” And Stampedro, being of the same mind, stepped boldly into the yellow river, swam strongly across, and climbed up the steep bank.
“Happily met, travellers!” cried Peter Pun, throwing up his belied cap. Then, running alongside the great charger, he stared inquisitively up at Marygolden. “Are you, perchance, a damsel in distress?” he queried saucily. “For know that this Knight is sworn to rescue a maid, serve a monarch, and slay a monster. Dost wish to be rescued, maiden? Speak the word and ‘twill be done.”
“I’m taking care of Marygolden,” said Speedy stiffly. “I found her and brought her to life, and she’s going back to America with me.”
“America!” boomed Sir Hokus, striding closer. “Art from America, young man? And this horse—is he from America, too?”
“Oh, no, no, no! We found him in the forest. Tell them about it, Stampedro,” begged the boy, who wanted to do nothing but feast his eyes on the Knight’s sword and armor. With a toss of his flying mane, Stampedro began to speak, but a long shrill neigh was the best he could manage. Terrified and dismayed, he reared and plunged, and had not Sir Hokus seized his bit, Speedy and Marygolden would have sailed over his head.
“Steady now! Steady! What means this?” puffed the Knight, stroking the glossy neck
soothingly.
“I know! I know!” Speedy stood straight up in the stirrups. “It means we’re in Samandra, that country where animals cannot talk. Don’t you care!” he whispered consolingly in the great chestnut steed’s ear. “You can still hear, can’t you?” Stampedro nodded his head to show that he could. “Well, then,” continued Speedy, “cheer up, for if we’re in Samandra we must be near the Kingdom of your Master. Can you tell us anything about the Yellow Knight?” asked Speedy, sliding down from the saddle and staring earnestly up at Sir Hokus. “This grand horse belongs to the Yellow Knight of Oz, but he’s been enchanted for years and years. He was a horse chestnut till I f
lung a stone at the tree, and then he turned into a real chestnut horse.”
“Enchantments!Still more enchantments. Odds helmets and hauberks!” stuttered Sir Hokus, falling back against a tree and forgetting all about Camy for the moment. “Odds helmets and hauberks! It
must have been the same stone that restored Peter. Didst pick up the stone in yonder forest, my boy?”
“Hey bowstrings and fiddles, they’re talking in riddles, But, Hokus, take heed, I remember that steed!”
“Hast ever seen me before, good horse?” inquired Peter Pun, capering close to the pawing charger. Stampedro, after a close look at the jester, nodded emphatically.
“Well, what do you know about that?” mused Speedy, gazing from one to the other.
“What do you know about it?” demanded Peter Pun, turning a somersault and coming top side up under Speedy’s very nose.
“Well,” sighed the boy, “everything’s so mixed up and strange, I hardly know what to think. But you all seem to belong together somehow,” he continued seriously, “you and this Knight and Stampedro. Even Marygolden,” he added reluctantly. “But I don’t see how you can all be alive to-day.”
“Why not to-day as well as yesterday, why not yesterday as well as to-morrow?” queried Peter Pun blandly, sitting down cross-legged in the grass.
“Because in our part of the world,” persisted Speedy in a puzzled voice, “Knights and jesters lived ages and ages ago and now they’re all dead.”
“What a country!” groaned Peter, toppling over backwards. “Why, we’re all ages in Oz and no one ever dies at all. Have you no Kings, Knights, jesters, wizards, or enchantments where you come from? A dreadful place it must be.”
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