This proved a very clumsy task, because the strings were tied at the back of the Ork’s neck, just where his claws would not easily reach. After much fumbling he said:
“I’m afraid I can’t let you out, and there is no one near to help me.”
This was at first discouraging, but after a little thought Cap’n Bill said:
“If you don’t mind, Trot, I can cut a slit in your sunbonnet with my knife.”
“Do,” she replied. “The slit won’t matter, ’cause I can sew it up again afterward, when I am big.”
So Cap’n Bill got out his knife, which was just as small, in proportion, as he was, and after considerable trouble managed to cut a long slit in the sunbonnet. First he squeezed through the opening himself and then helped Trot to get out.
When they stood on firm ground again their first act was to begin eating the dark purple berries which they had brought with them. Two of these Trot had guarded carefully during the long journey, by holding them in her lap, for their safety meant much to the tiny people.
“I’m not very hungry,” said the little girl as she handed a berry to Cap’n Bill, “but hunger doesn’t count, in this case. It’s like taking medicine to make you well, so we must manage to eat ’em, somehow or other.”
But the berries proved quite pleasant to taste and as Cap’n Bill and Trot nibbled at their edges their forms began to grow in size — slowly but steadily. The bigger they grew the easier it was for them to eat the berries, which of course became smaller to them, and by the time the fruit was eaten our friends had regained their natural size.
The little girl was greatly relieved when she found herself as large as she had ever been, and Cap’n Bill shared her satisfaction; for, although they had seen the effect of the berries on the Ork, they had not been sure the magic fruit would have the same effect on human beings, or that the magic would work in any other country than that in which the berries grew.
“What shall we do with the other four berries?” asked Trot, as she picked up her sunbonnet, marveling that she had ever been small. enough to ride in it. “They’re no good to us now, are they, Cap’n?”
“I’m not sure as to that,” he replied. “If they were eaten by one who had never eaten the lavender berries, they might have no effect at all; but then, contrarywise, they might. One of ’em has got badly jammed, so I’ll throw it away, but the other three I b’lieve I’ll carry with me. They’re magic things, you know, and may come handy to us some time.”
He now searched in his big pockets and drew out a small wooden box with a sliding cover. The sailor had kept an assortment of nails, of various sizes, in this box, but those he now dumped loosely into his pocket and in the box placed the three sound purple berries.
When this important matter was attended to they found time to look about them and see what sort of place the Ork had landed them in.
Chapter Seven
The Bumpy Man
The mountain on which they had alighted was not a barren waste, but had on its sides patches of green grass, some bushes, a few slender trees and here and there masses of tumbled rocks. The sides of the slope seemed rather steep, but with care one could climb up or down them with ease and safety. The view from where they now stood showed pleasant valleys and fertile hills lying below the heights. Trot thought she saw some houses of queer shapes scattered about the lower landscape, and there were moving dots that might be people or animals, yet were too far away for her to see them clearly.
Not far from the place where they stood was the top of the mountain, which seemed to be flat, so the Ork proposed to his companions that he would fly up and see what was there.
“That’s a good idea,” said Trot, “’cause it’s getting toward evening and we’ll have to find a place to sleep.”
The Ork had not been gone more than a few minutes when they saw him appear on the edge of the top which was nearest them.
“Come on up!” he called.
So Trot and Cap’n Bill began to ascend the steep slope and it did not take them long to reach the place where the Ork awaited them.
Their first view of the mountain top pleased them very much. It was a level space of wider extent than they had guessed and upon it grew grass of a brilliant green color. In the very center stood a house built of stone and very neatly constructed. No one was in sight, but smoke was coming from the chimney, so with one accord all three began walking toward the house.
“I wonder,” said Trot, “in what country we are, and if it’s very far from my home in California.” “Can’t say as to that, partner,” answered Cap’n Bill, “but I’m mighty certain we’ve come a long way since we struck that whirlpool.”
“Yes,” she agreed, with a sigh, “it must be miles and miles!”
“Distance means nothing,” said the Ork. “I have flown pretty much all over the world, trying to find my home, and it is astonishing how many little countries there are, hidden away in the cracks and corners of this big globe of Earth. If one travels, he may find some new country at every turn, and a good many of them have never yet been put upon the maps.”
“P’raps this is one of them,” suggested Trot.
They reached the house after a brisk walk and Cap’n Bill knocked upon the door. It was at once opened by a rugged looking man who had “bumps all over him,” as Trot afterward declared. There were bumps on his head, bumps on his body and bumps on his arms and legs and hands. Even his fingers had bumps on the ends of them. For dress he wore an old gray suit of fantastic design, which fitted him very badly because of the bumps it covered but could not conceal.
But the Bumpy Man’s eyes were kind and twinkling in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice:
“Happy day! Come in and shut the door, for it grows cool when the sun goes down. Winter is now upon us.”
“Why, it isn’t cold a bit, outside,” said Trot, “so it can’t be winter yet.”
“You will change your mind about that in a little while,” declared the Bumpy Man. “My bumps always tell me the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a snowstorm was coming this way. But make yourselves at home, strangers. Supper is nearly ready and there is food enough for all.”
Inside the house there was but one large room, simply but comfortably furnished. It had benches, a table and a fireplace, all made of stone. On the hearth a pot was bubbling and steaming, and Trot thought it had a rather nice smell. The visitors seated themselves upon the benches — except the Ork. which squatted by the fireplace — and the Bumpy Man began stirring the kettle briskly.
“May I ask what country this is, sir?” inquired Cap’n Bill.
“Goodness me — fruit-cake and apple-sauce! –don’t you know where you are?” asked the Bumpy Man, as he stopped stirring and looked at the speaker in surprise.
“No,” admitted Cap’n Bill. “We’ve just arrived.”
“Lost your way?” questioned the Bumpy Man.
“Not exactly,” said Cap’n Bill. “We didn’t have any way to lose.”
“Ah!” said the Bumpy Man, nodding his bumpy head. “This,” he announced, in a solemn, impressive voice, “is the famous Land of Mo.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the sailor and the girl, both in one breath. But, never having heard of the Land of Mo, they were no wiser than before.
“I thought that would startle you,” remarked the Bumpy Man, well pleased, as he resumed his stirring. The Ork watched him a while in silence and then asked:
“Who may you be?”
“Me?” answered the Bumpy Man. “Haven’t you heard of me? Gingerbread and lemon-juice! I’m known, far and wide, as the Mountain Ear.”
They all received this information in silence at first, for they were trying to think what he could mean. Finally Trot mustered up courage to ask:
“What is a Mountain Ear, please?”
For answer the man turned around and faced them, waving the spoon with which he had been stirring the kettle, as he recited the following verses in a singsong tone of voice:
“Here’s a mountain, hard of hearing,
That’s sad-hearted and needs cheering, So my duty is to listen to all sounds that Nature makes,
So the hill won’t get uneasy —
Get to coughing, or get sneezy —
For this monster bump, when frightened, is quite liable to quakes.
“You can hear a bell that’s ringing;
I can feel some people’s singing;
But a mountain isn’t sensible of what goes on, and so
When I hear a blizzard blowing
Or it’s raining hard, or snowing,
I tell it to the mountain and the mountain seems to know.
“Thus I benefit all people
While I’m living on this steeple,
For I keep the mountain steady so my neighbors all may thrive.
With my list’ning and my shouting
I prevent this mount from spouting,
And that makes me so important that I’m glad that I’m alive.”
When he had finished these lines of verse the Bumpy Man turned again to resume his stirring. The Ork laughed softly and Cap’n Bill whistled to himself and Trot made up her mind that the Mountain Ear must be a little crazy. But the Bumpy Man seemed satisfied that he had explained his position fully and presently he placed four stone plates upon the table and then lifted the kettle from the fire and poured some of its contents on each of the plates. Cap’n Bill and Trot at once approached the table, for they were hungry, but when she examined her plate the little girl exclaimed:
“Why, it’s molasses candy!”
“To be sure,” returned the Bumpy Man, with a pleasant smile. “Eat it quick, while it’s hot, for it cools very quickly this winter weather.”
With this he seized a stone spoon and began putting the hot molasses candy into his mouth, while the others watched him in astonishment.
“Doesn’t it burn you?” asked the girl.
“No indeed,” said he. “Why don’t you eat? Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yes,” she replied, “I am hungry. But we usually eat our candy when it is cold and hard. We always pull molasses candy before we eat it.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Mountain Ear. “What a funny idea! Where in the world did you come from?”
“California,” she said.
“California! Pooh! there isn’t any such place. I’ve heard of every place in the Land of Mo, but I never before heard of California.”
“It isn’t in the Land of Mo,” she explained.
“Then it isn’t worth talking about,” declared the Bumpy Man, helping himself again from the steaming kettle, for he had been eating all the time he talked.
“For my part,” sighed Cap’n Bill, “I’d like a decent square meal, once more, just by way of variety. In the last place there was nothing but fruit to eat, and here it’s worse, for there’s nothing but candy.”
“Molasses candy isn’t so bad,” said Trot. “Mine’s nearly cool enough to pull, already. Wait a bit, Cap’n, and you can eat it.”
A little later she was able to gather the candy from the stone plate and begin to work it back and forth with her hands. The Mountain Ear was greatly amazed at this and watched her closely. It was really good candy and pulled beautifully, so that Trot was soon ready to cut it into chunks for eating.
Cap’n Bill condescended to eat one or two pieces and the Ork ate several, but the Bumpy Man refused to try it. Trot finished the plate of candy herself and then asked for a drink of water.
“Water?” said the Mountain Ear wonderingly. “What is that?”
“Something to drink. Don’t you have water in Mo?”
“None that ever I heard of,” said he. “But I can give you some fresh lemonade. I caught it in a jar the last time it rained, which was only day before yesterday.”
“Oh, does it rain lemonade here?” she inquired.
“Always; and it is very refreshing and healthful.”
With this he brought from a cupboard a stone jar and a dipper, and the girl found it very nice lemonade, indeed. Cap’n Bill liked it, too; but the Ork would not touch it.
“If there is no water in this country, I cannot stay here for long,” the creature declared. “Water means life to man and beast and bird.”
“There must be water in lemonade,” said Trot.
“Yes,” answered the Ork, “I suppose so; but there are other things in it, too, and they spoil the good water.”
The day’s adventures had made our wanderers tired, so the Bumpy Man brought them some blankets in which they rolled themselves and then lay down before the fire, which their host kept alive with fuel all through the night. Trot wakened several times and found the Mountain Ear always alert and listening intently for the slightest sound. But the little girl could hear no sound at all except the snores of Cap’n Bill.
Chapter Eight
Button-Bright is Lost and Found Again
“Wake up — wake up!” called the voice of the Bumpy Man. “Didn’t I tell you winter was coming? I could hear it coming with my left ear, and the proof is that it is now snowing hard outside.”
“Is it?” said Trot, rubbing her eyes and creeping out of her blanket. “Where I live, in California, I have never seen snow, except far away on the tops of high mountains.”
“Well, this is the top of a high mountain,” returned the bumpy one, “and for that reason we get our heaviest snowfalls right here.”
The little girl went to the window and looked out. The air was filled with falling white flakes, so large in size and so queer in form that she was puzzled.
“Are you certain this is snow?” she asked.
“To be sure. I must get my snow-shovel and turn out to shovel a path. Would you like to come with me?”
“Yes,” she said, and followed the Bumpy Man out when he opened the door. Then she exclaimed: “Why, it isn’t cold a bit!”
“Of course not,” replied the man. “It was cold last night, before the snowstorm; but snow, when it falls, is always crisp and warm.”
Trot gathered a handful of it.
“Why, it’s popcorn?” she cried.
“Certainly; all snow is popcorn. What did you expect it to be?”
“Popcorn is not snow in my country.”
“Well, it is the only snow we have in the Land of Mo, so you may as well make the best of it,” said he, a little impatiently. “I’m not responsible for the absurd things that happen in your country, and when you’re in Mo you must do as the Momen do. Eat some of our snow, and you will find it is good. The only fault I find with our snow is that we get too much of it at times.”
With this the Bumpy Man set to work shoveling a path and he was so quick and industrious that he piled up the popcorn in great banks on either side of the trail that led to the mountain-top from the plains below. While he worked, Trot ate popcorn and found it crisp and slightly warm, as well as nicely salted and buttered. Presently Cap’n Bill came out of the house and joined her.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Mo snow,” said she. “But it isn’t real snow, although it falls from the sky. It’s popcorn.”
Cap’n Bill tasted it; then he sat down in the path and began to eat. The Ork came out and pecked away with its bill as fast as it could. They all liked popcorn and they all were hungry this morning.
Meantime the flakes of “Mo snow” came down so fast that the number of them almost darkened the air. The Bumpy Man was now shoveling quite a distance down the mountain- side, while the path behind him rapidly filled up with fresh-fallen popcorn. Suddenly Trot heard him call out:
“Goodness gracious — mince pie and pancakes! — here is some one buried in the snow.”
She ran toward him at once and the others followed, wading through the corn and crunching it underneath their feet. The Mo snow was pretty deep where the Bumpy Man was shoveling and from beneath a great bank of it he had uncovered a pair of feet.
“Dear me! Someone has been lost in the storm,” said Cap’n Bill. “I hope he is still alive. Let’s pull him out and see.”
He took hold of one foot and the Bumpy Man took hold of the other. Then they both pulled and out from the heap of popcorn came a little boy. He was dressed in a brown velvet jacket and knickerbockers, with brown stockings, buckled shoes and a blue shirt-waist that had frills down its front. When drawn from the heap the boy was chewing a mouthful of popcorn and both his hands were full of it. So at first he couldn’t speak to his rescuers but lay quite still and eyed them calmly until he had swallowed his mouthful. Then he said:
“Get my cap,” and stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.
While the Bumpy Man began shoveling into the corn-bank to find the boy’s cap, Trot was laughing joyfully and Cap’n Bill had a broad grin on his face. The Ork looked from one to another and asked:
“Who is this stranger?”
“Why, it’s Button-Bright, of course,” answered Trot. “If anyone ever finds a lost boy, he can make up his mind it’s Button-Bright. But how he ever came to be lost in this far-away country is more’n I can make out.”
“Where does he belong?” inquired the Ork.
“His home used to be in Philadelphia, I think; but I’m quite sure Button-Bright doesn’t belong anywhere.”
“That’s right,” said the boy, nodding his head as he swallowed the second mouthful.
“Everyone belongs somewhere,” remarked the Ork.
“Not me,” insisted Button-Bright. “I’m half way round the world from Philadelphia, and I’ve lost my Magic Umbrella, that used to carry me anywhere. Stands to reason that if I can’t get back I haven’t any home. But I don’t care much. This is a pretty good country, Trot. I’ve had lots of fun here.”
By this time the Mountain Ear had secured the boy’s cap and was listening to the conversation with much interest.
“It seems you know this poor, snow-covered cast- away,” he said.
“Yes, indeed,” answered Trot. “We made a journey together to Sky Island, once, and were good friends.”
“Well, then I’m glad I saved his life,” said the Bumpy Man.
“Much obliged, Mr. Knobs,” said Button-Bright, sitting up and staring at him, “but I don’t believe you’ve saved anything except some popcorn that I might have eaten had you not disturbed me. It was nice and warm in that bank of popcorn, and there was plenty to eat. What made you dig me out? And what makes you so bumpy everywhere?”
“As for the bumps,” replied the man, looking at himself with much pride, “I was born with them and I suspect they were a gift from the fairies. They make me look rugged and big, like the mountain I serve.”
“All right,” said Button-Bright and began eating popcorn again.
It had stopped snowing, now, and great flocks of birds were gathering around the mountain-side, eating the popcorn with much eagerness and scarcely noticing the people at all. There were birds of every size and color, most of them having gorgeous feathers and plumes.
“Just look at them!” exclaimed the Ork scornfully. “Aren’t they dreadful creatures, all covered with feathers?”
“I think they’re beautiful,” said Trot, and this made the Ork so indignant that he went back into the house and sulked.
Button-Bright reached out his hand and caught a big bird by the leg. At once it rose into the air and it was so strong that it nearly carried the little boy with it. He let go the leg in a hurry and the bird flew down again and began to eat of the popcorn, not being frightened in the least.
This gave Cap’n Bill an idea. He felt in his pocket and drew out several pieces of stout string. Moving very quietly, so as to not alarm the birds, he crept up to several of the biggest ones and tied cords around their legs, thus making them prisoners. The birds were so intent on their eating that they did not notice what had happened to them, and when about twenty had been captured in this manner Cap’n Bill tied the ends of all the strings together and fastened them to a huge stone, so they could not escape.
The Bumpy Man watched the old sailor’s actions with much curiosity
“The birds will be quiet until they’ve eaten up all the snow,” he said, “but then they will want to fly away to their homes. Tell me, sir, what will the poor things do when they find they can’t fly?”
“It may worry ’em a little,” replied Cap’n Bill, “but they’re not going to be hurt if they take it easy and behave themselves.”
Our friends had all made a good breakfast of the delicious popcorn and now they walked toward the house again. Button-Bright walked beside Trot and held her hand in his, because they were old friends and he liked the little girl very much. The boy was not so old as Trot, and small as she was he was half a head shorter in height. The most remarkable thing about Button-Bright was that he was always quiet and composed, whatever happened, and nothing was ever able to astonish him. Trot liked him because he was not rude and never tried to plague her. Cap’n Bill liked him because he had found the boy cheerful and brave at all times, and willing to do anything he was asked to do.
When they came to the house Trot sniffed the air and asked “Don’t I smell perfume?”
“I think you do,” said the Bumpy Man. “You smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. All our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. The south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. So we need no weathervane to tell us which way the wind is blowing. We have only to smell the perfume and it informs us at once.”
Inside the house they found the Ork, and Button-Bright regarded the strange, birdlike creature with curious interest. After examining it closely for a time he asked:
“Which way does your tail whirl?”
“Either way,” said the Ork.
Button-Bright put out his hand and tried to spin it.
“Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Ork.
“Why not? ” inquired the boy.
“Because it happens to be my tail, and I reserve the right to whirl it myself,” explained the Ork.
“Let’s go out and fly somewhere,” proposed Button- Bright. “I want to see how the tail works.”
“Not now,” said the Ork. “I appreciate your interest in me, which I fully deserve; but I only fly when I am going somewhere, and if I got started I might not stop.”
“That reminds me,” remarked Cap’n Bill, “to ask you, friend Ork, how we are going to get away from here?”
“Get away!” exclaimed the Bumpy Man. “Why don’t you stay here? You won’t find any nicer place than Mo.”
“Have you been anywhere else, sir?”
“No; I can’t say that I have,” admitted the Mountain Ear.
“Then permit me to say you’re no judge,” declared Cap’n Bill. “But you haven’t answered my question, friend Ork. How are we to get away from this mountain?”
The Ork reflected a while before he answered.
“I might carry one of you — the boy or the girl –upon my back,” said he, “but three big people are more than I can manage, although I have carried two of you for a short distance. You ought not to have eaten those purple berries so soon.”
“P’r’aps we did make a mistake,” Cap’n Bill acknowledged.
“Or we might have brought some of those lavender berries with us, instead of so many purple ones,” suggested Trot regretfully.
Cap’n Bill made no reply to this statement, which showed he did not fully agree with the little girl; but he fell into deep thought, with wrinkled brows, and finally he said:
“If those purple berries would make anything grow bigger, whether it’d eaten the lavender ones or not, I could find a way out of our troubles.”
They did not understand this speech and looked at the old sailor as if expecting him to explain what he meant. But just then a chorus of shrill cries rose from outside.
“Here! Let me go — let me go!” the voices seemed to say. “Why are we insulted in this way? Mountain Ear, come and help us!”
Trot ran to the window and looked out.
“It’s the birds you caught, Cap’n,” she said. “I didn’t know they could talk.”
“Oh, yes; all the birds in Mo are educated to talk,” said the Bumpy Man. Then he looked at Cap’n Bill uneasily and added: “Won’t you let the poor things go?”
“I’ll see,” replied the sailor, and walked out to where the birds were fluttering and complaining because the strings would not allow them to fly away.
“Listen to me!” he cried, and at once they became still. “We three people who are strangers in your land want to go to some other country, and we want three of you birds to carry us there. We know we are asking a great favor, but it’s the only way we can think of — excep’ walkin’, an’ I’m not much good at that because I’ve a wooden leg. Besides, Trot an’ Button-Bright are too small to undertake a long and tiresome journey. Now, tell me: Which three of you birds will consent to carry us?”
The birds looked at one another as if greatly astonished. Then one of them replied: “You must be crazy, old man. Not one of us is big enough to fly with even the smallest of your party.”
“I’ll fix the matter of size,” promised Cap’n Bill. “If three of you will agree to carry us, I’ll make you big an’ strong enough to do it, so it won’t worry you a bit.”
The birds considered this gravely. Living in a magic country, they had no doubt but that the strange one- legged man could do what he said. After a little, one of them asked:
“If you make us big, would we stay big always?”
“I think so,” replied Cap’n Bill.
They chattered a while among themselves and then the bird that had first spoken said: “I’ll go, for one.”
“So will I,” said another; and after a pause a third said: “I’ll go, too.”
Perhaps more would have volunteered, for it seemed that for some reason they all longed to be bigger than they were; but three were enough for Cap’n Bill’s purpose and so he promptly released all the others, who immediately flew away.
The three that remained were cousins, and all were of the same brilliant plumage and in size about as large as eagles. When Trot questioned them she found they were quite young, having only abandoned their nests a few weeks before. They were strong young birds, with clear, brave eyes, and the little girl decided they were the most beautiful of all the feathered creatures she had ever seen.
Cap’n Bill now took from his pocket the wooden box with the sliding cover and removed the three purple berries, which were still in good condition.
“Eat these,” he said, and gave one to each of the birds. They obeyed, finding the fruit very pleasant to taste. In a few seconds they began to grow in size and grew so fast that Trot feared they would never stop. But they finally did stop growing, and then they were much larger than the Ork, and nearly the size of full-grown ostriches.
Cap’n Bill was much pleased by this result.
“You can carry us now, all right,” said he.
The birds strutted around with pride, highly pleased with their immense size.
“I don’t see, though,” said Trot doubtfully, “how we’re going to ride on their backs without falling off.”
“We’re not going to ride on their backs,” answered Cap’n Bill. “I’m going to make swings for us to ride in.”
He then asked the Bumpy Man for some rope, but the man had no rope. He had, however, an old suit of gray clothes which he gladly presented to Cap’n Bill, who cut the cloth into strips and twisted it so that it was almost as strong as rope. With this material he attached to each bird a swing that dangled below its feet, and Button- Bright made a trial flight in one of them to prove that it was safe and comfortable. When all this had been arranged one of the birds asked:
“Where do you wish us to take you?”
“Why, just follow the Ork,” said Cap’n Bill. “He will be our leader, and wherever the Ork flies you are to fly, and wherever the Ork lands you are to land. Is that satisfactory?”
The birds declared it was quite satisfactory, so Cap’n Bill took counsel with the Ork.
“On our way here,” said that peculiar creature, “I noticed a broad, sandy desert at the left of me, on which was no living thing.”
“Then we’d better keep away from it,” replied the sailor.
“Not so,” insisted the Ork. “I have found, on my travels, that the most pleasant countries often lie in the midst of deserts; so I think it would be wise for us to fly over this desert and discover what lies beyond it. For in the direction we came from lies the ocean, as we well know, and beyond here is this strange Land of Mo, which we do not care to explore. On one side, as we can see from this mountain, is a broad expanse of plain, and on the other the desert. For my part, I vote for the desert.”
“What do you say, Trot?” inquired Cap’n Bill.
“It’s all the same to me,” she replied.
No one thought of asking Button-Bright’s opinion, so it was decided to fly over the desert. They bade good-bye to the Bumpy Man and thanked him for his kindness and hospitality. Then they seated themselves in the swings — one for each bird — and told the Ork to start away and they would follow.
The whirl of the Ork’s tail astonished the birds at first, but after he had gone a short distance they rose in the air, carrying their passengers easily, and flew with strong, regular strokes of their great wings in the wake of their leader.
Chapter Nine
The Kingdom of Jinxland
Trot rode with more comfort than she had expected, although the swing swayed so much that she had to hold on tight with both hands. Cap’n Bill’s bird followed the Ork, and Trot came next, with Button-Bright trailing behind her. It was quite an imposing procession, but unfortunately there was no one to see it, for the Ork had headed straight for the great sandy desert and in a few minutes after starting they were flying high over the broad waste, where no living thing could exist.
The little girl thought this would be a bad place for the birds to lose strength, or for the cloth ropes to give way; but although she could not help feeling a trifle nervous and fidgety she had confidence in the huge and brilliantly plumaged bird that bore her, as well as in Cap’n Bill’s knowledge of how to twist and fasten a rope so it would hold.
That was a remarkably big desert. There was nothing to relieve the monotony of view and every minute seemed an hour and every hour a day. Disagreeable fumes and gases rose from the sands, which would have been deadly to the travelers had they not been so high in the air. As it was, Trot was beginning to feel sick, when a breath of fresher air filled her nostrils and on looking ahead she saw a great cloud of pink-tinted mist. Even while she wondered what it could be, the Ork plunged boldly into the mist and the other birds followed. She could see nothing for a time, nor could the bird which carried her see where the Ork had gone, but it kept flying as sturdily as ever and in a few moments the mist was passed and the girl saw a most beautiful landscape spread out below her, extending as far as her eye could reach.
She saw bits of forest, verdure clothed hills, fields of waving grain, fountains, rivers and lakes; and throughout the scene were scattered groups of pretty houses and a few grand castles and palaces.
Over all this delightful landscape — which from Trot’s high perch seemed like a magnificent painted picture — was a rosy glow such as we sometimes see in the west at sunset. In this case, however, it was not in the west only, but everywhere.
No wonder the Ork paused to circle slowly over this lovely country. The other birds followed his action, all eyeing the place with equal delight. Then, as with one accord, the four formed a group and slowly sailed downward. This brought them to that part of the newly- discovered land which bordered on the desert’s edge; but it was just as pretty here as anywhere, so the Ork and the birds alighted and the three passengers at once got out of their swings.
“Oh, Cap’n Bill, isn’t this fine an’ dandy?” exclaimed Trot rapturously. “How lucky we were to discover this beautiful country!”
“The country seems rather high class, I’ll admit, Trot,” replied the old sailor-man, looking around him, “but we don’t know, as yet, what its people are like.”
“No one could live in such a country without being happy and good — I’m sure of that,” she said earnestly. “Don’t you think so, Button-Bright?”
“I’m not thinking, just now,” answered the little boy. “It tires me to think, and I never seem to gain anything by it. When we see the people who live here we will know what they are like, and no ‘mount of thinking will make them any different.”
“That’s true enough,” said the Ork. “But now I want to make a proposal. While you are getting acquainted with this new country, which looks as if it contains everything to make one happy, I would like to fly along – – all by myself — and see if I can find my home on the other side of the great desert. If I do, I will stay there, of course. But if I fail to find Orkland I will return to you in a week, to see if I can do anything more to assist you.”
They were sorry to lose their queer companion, but could offer no objection to the plan; so the Ork bade them good-bye and rising swiftly in the air, he flew over the country and was soon lost to view in the distance.
The three birds which had carried our friends now begged permission to return by the way they had come, to their own homes, saying they were anxious to show their families how big they had become. So Cap’n Bill and Trot and Button-Bright all thanked them gratefully for their assistance and soon the birds began their long flight toward the Land of Mo. Being now left to themselves in this strange land, the three comrades selected a pretty pathway and began walking along it. They believed this path would lead them to a splendid castle which they espied in the distance, the turrets of which towered far above the tops of the trees which surrounded it. It did not seem very far away, so they sauntered on slowly, admiring the beautiful ferns and flowers that lined the pathway and listening to the singing of the birds and the soft chirping of the grasshoppers.
Presently the path wound over a little hill. In a valley that lay beyond the hill was a tiny cottage surrounded by flower beds and fruit trees. On the shady porch of the cottage they saw, as they approached, a pleasant faced woman sitting amidst a group of children, to whom she was telling stories. The children quickly discovered the strangers and ran toward them with exclamations of astonishment, so that Trot and her friends became the center of a curious group, all chattering excitedly. Cap’n Bill’s wooden leg seemed to arouse the wonder of the children, as they could not understand why he had not two meat legs. This attention seemed to please the old sailor, who patted the heads of the children kindly and then, raising his hat to the woman, he inquired:
“Can you tell us, madam, just what country this is?”
She stared hard at all three of the strangers as she replied briefly: “Jinxland.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Cap’n Bill, with a puzzled look. “And where is Jinxland, please?”
“In the Quadling Country,” said she.
“What!” cried Trot, in sudden excitement. “Do you mean to say this is the Quadling Country of the Land of Oz?”
“To be sure I do,” the woman answered. “Every bit of land that is surrounded by the great desert is the Land of Oz, as you ought to know as well as I do; but I’m sorry to say that Jinxland is separated from the rest of the Quadling Country by that row of high mountains you see yonder, which have such steep sides that no one can cross them. So we live here all by ourselves, and are ruled by our own King, instead of by Ozma of Oz.”
“I’ve been to the Land of Oz before,” said Button- Bright, “but I’ve never been here.”
“Did you ever hear of Jinxland before?” asked Trot.
“No,” said Button-Bright.
“It is on the Map of Oz, though,” asserted the woman, “and it’s a fine country, I assure you. If only,” she added, and then paused to look around her with a frightened expression. “If only –” here she stopped again, as if not daring to go on with her speech.
“If only what, ma’am?” asked Cap’n Bill.
The woman sent the children into the house. Then she came closer to the strangers and whispered: “If only we had a different King, we would be very happy and contented.”
“What’s the matter with your King?” asked Trot, curiously. But the woman seemed frightened to have said so much. She retreated to her porch, merely saying:
“The King punishes severely any treason on the part of his subjects.”
“What’s treason?” asked Button-Bright.
“In this case,” replied Cap’n Bill, “treason seems to consist of knockin’ the King; but I guess we know his disposition now as well as if the lady had said more.”
“I wonder,” said Trot, going up to the woman, “if you could spare us something to eat. We haven’t had anything but popcorn and lemonade for a long time.”
“Bless your heart! Of course I can spare you some food,” the woman answered, and entering her cottage she soon returned with a tray loaded with sandwiches, cakes and cheese. One of the children drew a bucket of clear, cold water from a spring and the three wanderers ate heartily and enjoyed the good things immensely.
When Button-Bright could eat no more he filled the pockets of his jacket with cakes and cheese, and not even the children objected to this. Indeed they all seemed pleased to see the strangers eat, so Cap’n Bill decided that no matter what the King of Jinxland was like, the people would prove friendly and hospitable.
“Whose castle is that, yonder, ma’am?” he asked, waving his hand toward the towers that rose above the trees.
“It belongs to his Majesty, King Krewl.” she said.
“Oh, indeed; and does he live there?”
“When he is not out hunting with his fierce courtiers and war captains,” she replied.
“Is he hunting now?” Trot inquired.
“I do not know, my dear. The less we know about the King’s actions the safer we are.”
It was evident the woman did not like to talk about King Krewl and so, having finished their meal, they said good-bye and continued along the pathway.
“Don’t you think we’d better keep away from that King’s castle, Cap’n?” asked Trot.
“Well,” said he, “King Krewl would find out, sooner or later, that we are in his country, so we may as well face the music now. Perhaps he isn’t quite so bad as that woman thinks he is. Kings aren’t always popular with their people, you know, even if they do the best they know how.”
“Ozma is pop’lar,” said Button-Bright.
“Ozma is diff’rent from any other Ruler, from all I’ve heard,” remarked Trot musingly, as she walked beside the boy. “And, after all, we are really in the Land of Oz, where Ozma rules ev’ry King and ev’rybody else. I never heard of anybody getting hurt in her dominions, did you, Button-Bright?”
“Not when she knows about it,” he replied. “But those birds landed us in just the wrong place, seems to me. They might have carried us right on, over that row of mountains, to the Em’rald City.”
“True enough,” said Cap’n Bill; “but they didn’t, an’ so we must make the best of Jinxland. Let’s try not to be afraid.”
“Oh, I’m not very scared,” said Button-Bright, pausing to look at a pink rabbit that popped its head out of a hole in the field near by.
“Nor am I,” added Trot. “Really, Cap’n, I’m so glad to be anywhere at all in the wonderful fairyland of Oz that I think I’m the luckiest girl in all the world. Dorothy lives in the Em’rald City, you know, and so does the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman and Tik-Tok and the Shaggy Man — and all the rest of ’em that we’ve heard so much about — not to mention Ozma, who must be the sweetest and loveliest girl in all the world!”
“Take your time, Trot,” advised Button-Bright. “You don’t have to say it all in one breath, you know. And you haven’t mentioned half of the curious people in the Em’rald City.”
“That ‘ere Em’rald City,” said Cap’n Bill impressively, “happens to be on the other side o’ those mountains, that we’re told no one is able to cross. I don’t want to discourage of you, Trot, but we’re a’most as much separated from your Ozma an’ Dorothy as we were when we lived in Californy.”
There was so much truth in this statement that they all walked on in silence for some time. Finally they reached the grove of stately trees that bordered the grounds of the King’s castle. They had gone halfway through it when the sound of sobbing, as of someone in bitter distress, reached their ears and caused them to halt abruptly.
Chapter Ten
Pon, the Gardener’s Boy
It was Button-Bright who first discovered, lying on his face beneath a broad spreading tree near the pathway, a young man whose body shook with the force of his sobs. He was dressed in a long brown smock and had sandals on his feet, betokening one in humble life. His head was bare and showed a shock of brown, curly hair. Button-Bright looked down on the young man and said:
“Who cares, anyhow?”
“I do!” cried the young man, interrupting his sobs to roll over, face upward, that he might see who had spoken. “I care, for my heart is broken!”
“Can’t you get another one?” asked the little boy.
“I don’t want another!” wailed the young man.
By this time Trot and Cap’n Bill arrived at the spot and the girl leaned over and said in a sympathetic voice:
“Tell us your troubles and perhaps we may help you.”
The youth sat up, then, and bowed politely. Afterward he got upon his feet, but still kept wringing his hands as he tried to choke down his sobs. Trot thought he was very brave to control such awful agony so well.
“My name is Pon,” he began. “I’m the gardener’s boy.”
“Then the gardener of the King is your father, I suppose,” said Trot.
“Not my father, but my master,” was the reply
“I do the work and the gardener gives the orders. And it was not my fault, in the least, that the Princess Gloria fell in love with me.”
“Did she, really?” asked the little girl.
“I don’t see why,” remarked Button-Bright, staring at the youth.
“And who may the Princess Gloria be?” inquired Cap’n Bill.
“She is the niece of King Krewl, who is her guardian. The Princess lives in the castle and is the loveliest and sweetest maiden in all Jinxland. She is fond of flowers and used to walk in the gardens with her attendants. At such times, if I was working at my tasks, I used to cast down my eyes as Gloria passed me; but one day I glanced up and found her gazing at me with a very tender look in her eyes. The next day she dismissed her attendants and, coming to my side, began to talk with me. She said I had touched her heart as no other young man had ever done. I kissed her hand. Just then the King came around a bend in the walk. He struck me with his fist and kicked me with his foot. Then he seized the arm of the Princess and rudely dragged her into the castle.”
“Wasn’t he awful!” gasped Trot indignantly.
“He is a very abrupt King,” said Pon, “so it was the least I could expect. Up to that time I had not thought of loving Princess Gloria, but realizing it would be impolite not to return her love, I did so. We met at evening, now and then, and she told me the King wanted her to marry a rich courtier named Googly-Goo, who is old enough to be Gloria’s father. She has refused Googly-Goo thirty-nine times, but he still persists and has brought many rich presents to bribe the King. On that account King Krewl has commanded his niece to marry the old man, but the Princess has assured me, time and again, that she will wed only me. This morning we happened to meet in the grape arbor and as I was respectfully saluting the cheek of the Princess, two of the King’s guards seized me and beat me terribly before the very eyes of Gloria, whom the King himself held back so she could not interfere.”
“Why, this King must be a monster!” cried Trot.
“He is far worse than that,” said Pon, mournfully.
“But, see here,” interrupted Cap’n Bill, who had listened carefully to Pon. “This King may not be so much to blame, after all. Kings are proud folks, because they’re so high an’ mighty, an’ it isn’t reasonable for a royal Princess to marry a common gardener’s boy.”
“It isn’t right,” declared Button-Bright. “A Princess should marry a Prince.”
“I’m not a common gardener’s boy,” protested Pon. “If I had my rights I would be the King instead of Krewl. As it is, I’m a Prince, and as royal as any man in Jinxland.”
“How does that come?” asked Cap’n Bill.
“My father used to be the King and Krewl was his Prime Minister. But one day while out hunting, King Phearse — that was my father’s name — had a quarrel with Krewl and tapped him gently on the nose with the knuckles of his closed hand. This so provoked the wicked Krewl that he tripped my father backward, so that he fell into a deep pond. At once Krewl threw in a mass of heavy stones, which so weighted down my poor father that his body could not rise again to the surface. It is impossible to kill anyone in this land, as perhaps you know, but when my father was pressed down into the mud at the bottom of the deep pool and the stones held him so he could never escape, he was of no more use to himself or the world than if he had died. Knowing this, Krewl proclaimed himself King, taking possession of the royal castle and driving all my father’s people out. I was a small boy, then, but when I grew up I became a gardener. I have served King Krewl without his knowing that I am the son of the same King Phearse whom he so cruelly made away with.”
“My, but that’s a terr’bly exciting story!” said Trot, drawing a long breath. “But tell us, Pon, who was Gloria’s father?”
“Oh, he was the King before my father,” replied Pon. “Father was Prime Minister for King Kynd, who was Gloria’s father. She was only a baby when King Kynd fell into the Great Gulf that lies just this side of the mountains — the same mountains that separate Jinxland from the rest of the Land of Oz. It is said the Great Gulf has no bottom; but, however that may be, King Kynd has never been seen again and my father became King in his place.”
“Seems to me,” said Trot, “that if Gloria had her rights she would be Queen of Jinxland.”
“Well, her father was a King,” admitted Pon, “and so was my father; so we are of equal rank, although she’s a great lady and I’m a humble gardener’s boy. I can’t see why we should not marry if we want to except that King Krewl won’t let us.”
“It’s a sort of mixed-up mess, taken altogether,” remarked Cap’n Bill. “But we are on our way to visit King Krewl, and if we get a chance, young man, we’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Do, please!” begged Pon.
“Was it the flogging you got that broke your heart?” inquired Button-Bright.
“Why, it helped to break it, of course,” said Pon.
“I’d get it fixed up, if I were you,” advised the boy, tossing a pebble at a chipmunk in a tree. “You ought to give Gloria just as good a heart as she gives you.”
“That’s common sense,” agreed Cap’n Bill. So they left the gardener’s boy standing beside the path, and resumed their journey toward the castle.
Chapter Eleven
The Wicked King and Googly-Goo
When our friends approached the great doorway of the castle they found it guarded by several soldiers dressed in splendid uniforms. They were armed with swords and lances. Cap’n Bill walked straight up to them and asked:
“Does the King happen to be at home?”
“His Magnificent and Glorious Majesty, King Krewl, is at present inhabiting his Royal Castle,” was the stiff reply.
“Then I guess we’ll go in an’ say how-d’ye-do,” continued Cap’n Bill, attempting to enter the doorway. But a soldier barred his way with a lance.
“Who are you, what are your names, and where do you come from?” demanded the soldier.
“You wouldn’t know if we told you,” returned the sailor, “seein’ as we’re strangers in a strange land.”
“Oh, if you are strangers you will be permitted to enter,” said the soldier, lowering his lance. “His Majesty is very fond of strangers.”
“Do many strangers come here?” asked Trot.
“You are the first that ever came to our country,” said the man. “But his Majesty has often said that if strangers ever arrived in Jinxland he would see that they had a very exciting time.”
Cap’n Bill scratched his chin thoughtfully. He wasn’t very favorably impressed by this last remark. But he decided that as there was no way of escape from Jinxland it would be wise to confront the King boldly and try to win his favor. So they entered the castle, escorted by one of the soldiers.
It was certainly a fine castle, with many large rooms, all beautifully furnished. The passages were winding and handsomely decorated, and after following several of these the soldier led them into an open court that occupied the very center of the huge building. It was surrounded on every side by high turreted walls, and contained beds of flowers, fountains and walks of many colored marbles which were matched together in quaint designs. In an open space near the middle of the court they saw a group of courtiers and their ladies, who surrounded a lean man who wore upon his head a jeweled crown. His face was hard and sullen and through the slits of his half-closed eyelids the eyes glowed like coals of fire. He was dressed in brilliant satins and velvets and was seated in a golden throne-chair.
This personage was King Krewl, and as soon as Cap’n Bill saw him the old sailor knew at once that he was not going to like the King of Jinxland.
“Hello! who’s here?” said his Majesty, with a deep scowl.
“Strangers, Sire,” answered the soldier, bowing so low that his forehead touched the marble tiles.
“Strangers, eh? Well, well; what an unexpected visit! Advance, strangers, and give an account of yourselves.”
The King’s voice was as harsh as his features. Trot shuddered a little but Cap’n Bill calmly replied:
“There ain’t much for us to say, ‘cept as we’ve arrived to look over your country an’ see how we like it. Judgin’ from the way you speak, you don’t know who we are, or you’d be jumpin’ up to shake hands an’ offer us seats. Kings usually treat us pretty well, in the great big Outside World where we come from, but in this little kingdom — which don’t amount to much, anyhow — folks don’t seem to ‘a’ got much culchure.”
The King listened with amazement to this bold speech, first with a frown and then gazing at the two children and the old sailor with evident curiosity. The courtiers were dumb with fear, for no one had ever dared speak in such a manner to their self-willed, cruel King before. His Majesty, however, was somewhat frightened, for cruel people are always cowards, and he feared these mysterious strangers might possess magic powers that would destroy him unless he treated them well. So he commanded his people to give the new arrivals seats, and they obeyed with trembling haste.
After being seated, Cap’n Bill lighted his pipe and began puffing smoke from it, a sight so strange to them that it filled them all with wonder. Presently the King asked:
“How did you penetrate to this hidden country? Did you cross the desert or the mountains?”
“Desert,” answered Cap’n Bill, as if the task were too easy to be worth talking about.
“Indeed! No one has ever been able to do that before,” said the King.
“Well, it’s easy enough, if you know how,” asserted Cap’n Bill, so carelessly that it greatly impressed his hearers. The King shifted in his throne uneasily. He was more afraid of these strangers than before.
“Do you intend to stay long in Jinxland?” was his next anxious question.
“Depends on how we like it,” said Cap’n Bill. “Just now I might suggest to your Majesty to order some rooms got ready for us in your dinky little castle here. And a royal banquet, with some fried onions an’ pickled tripe, would set easy on our stomicks an’ make us a bit happier than we are now.”
“Your wishes shall be attended to,” said King Krewl, but his eyes flashed from between their slits in a wicked way that made Trot hope the food wouldn’t be poisoned. At the King’s command several of his attendants hastened away to give the proper orders to the castle servants and no sooner were they gone than a skinny old man entered the courtyard and bowed before the King.
This disagreeable person was dressed in rich velvets, with many furbelows and laces. He was covered with golden chains, finely wrought rings and jeweled ornaments. He walked with mincing steps and glared at all the courtiers as if he considered himself far superior to any or all of them.
“Well, well, your Majesty; what news — what news?” he demanded, in a shrill, cracked voice.
The King gave him a surly look.
“No news, Lord Googly-Goo, except that strangers have arrived,” he said.
Googly-Goo cast a contemptuous glance at Cap’n Bill and a disdainful one at Trot and Button-Bright. Then he said:
“Strangers do not interest me, your Majesty. But the Princess Gloria is very interesting — very interesting, indeed! What does she say, Sire? Will she marry me?”
“Ask her,” retorted the King.
“I have, many times; and every time she has refused.”
“Well?” said the King harshly.
“Well,” said Googly-Goo in a jaunty tone, “a bird that can sing, and won’t sing, must be made to sing.”
“Huh!” sneered the King. “That’s easy, with a bird; but a girl is harder to manage.”
“Still,” persisted Googly-Goo, “we must overcome difficulties. The chief trouble is that Gloria fancies she loves that miserable gardener’s boy, Pon. Suppose we throw Pon into the Great Gulf, your Majesty?”
“It would do you no good,” returned the King. “She would still love him.”
“Too bad, too bad!” sighed Googly-Goo. “I have laid aside more than a bushel of precious gems –each worth a king’s ransom — to present to your Majesty on the day I wed Gloria.”
The King’s eyes sparkled, for he loved wealth above everything; but the next moment he frowned deeply again.
“It won’t help us to kill Pon,” he muttered. “What we must do is kill Gloria’s love for Pon.”
“That is better, if you can find a way to do it,” agreed Googly-Goo. “Everything would come right if you could kill Gloria’s love for that gardener’s boy. Really, Sire, now that I come to think of it, there must be fully a bushel and a half of those jewels!”
Just then a messenger entered the court to say that the banquet was prepared for the strangers. So Cap’n Bill, Trot and Button-Bright entered the castle and were taken to a room where a fine feast was spread upon the table.
“I don’t like that Lord Googly-Goo,” remarked Trot as she was busily eating.
“Nor I,” said Cap’n Bill. “But from the talk we heard I guess the gardener’s boy won’t get the Princess.”
“Perhaps not,” returned the girl; “but I hope old Googly doesn’t get her, either.”
“The King means to sell her for all those jewels,” observed Button-Bright, his mouth half full of cake and jam.
“Poor Princess!” sighed Trot. “I’m sorry for her, although I’ve never seen her. But if she says no to Googly-Goo, and means it, what can they do?”
“Don’t let us worry about a strange Princess,” advised Cap’n Bill. “I’ve a notion we’re not too safe, ourselves, with this cruel King.”
The two children felt the same way and all three were rather solemn during the remainder of the meal.
When they had eaten, the servants escorted them to their rooms. Cap’n Bill’s room was way to one end of the castle, very high up, and Trot’s room was at the opposite end, rather low down. As for Button-Bright, they placed him in the middle, so that all were as far apart as they could possibly be. They didn’t like this arrangement very well, but all the rooms were handsomely furnished and being guests of the King they dared not complain.
After the strangers had left the courtyard the King and Googly-Goo had a long talk together, and the King said:
“I cannot force Gloria to marry you just now, because those strangers may interfere. I suspect that the wooden- legged man possesses great magical powers, or he would never have been able to carry himself and those children across the deadly desert.”
“I don’t like him; he looks dangerous,” answered Googly-Goo. “But perhaps you are mistaken about his being a wizard. Why don’t you test his powers?”
“How?” asked the King.
“Send for the Wicked Witch. She will tell you in a moment whether that wooden-legged person is a common man or a magician.”
“Ha! that’s a good idea,” cried the King. “Why didn’t I think of the Wicked Witch before? But the woman demands rich rewards for her services.”
“Never mind; I will pay her,” promised the wealthy Googly-Goo.
So a servant was dispatched to summon the Wicked Witch, who lived but a few leagues from King Krewl’s castle. While they awaited her, the withered old courtier proposed that they pay a visit to Princess Gloria and see if she was not now in a more complaisant mood. So the two started away together and searched the castle over without finding Gloria.
At last Googly-Goo suggested she might be in the rear garden, which was a large park filled with bushes and trees and surrounded by a high wall. And what was their anger, when they turned a corner of the path, to find in a quiet nook the beautiful Princess, and kneeling before her, Pon, the gardener’s boy! With a roar of rage the King dashed forward; but Pon had scaled the wall by means of a ladder, which still stood in its place, and when he saw the King coming he ran up the ladder and made good his escape. But this left Gloria confronted by her angry guardian, the King, and by old Googly-Goo, who was trembling with a fury he could not express in words.
Seizing the Princess by her arm the King dragged her back to the castle. Pushing her into a room on the lower floor he locked the door upon the unhappy girl. And at that moment the arrival of the Wicked Witch was announced.
Hearing this, the King smiled, as a tiger smiles, showing his teeth. And Googly-Goo smiled, as a serpent smiles, for he had no teeth except a couple of fangs. And having frightened each other with these smiles the two dreadful men went away to the Royal Council Chamber to meet the Wicked Witch.
Chapter Twelve
The Wooden-Legged Grass-Hopper
Now it so happened that Trot, from the window of her room, had witnessed the meeting of the lovers in the garden and had seen the King come and drag Gloria away. The little girl’s heart went out in sympathy for the poor Princess, who seemed to her to be one of the sweetest and loveliest young ladies she had ever seen, so she crept along the passages and from a hidden niche saw Gloria locked in her room.
The key was still in the lock, so when the King had gone away, followed by Googly-Goo, Trot stole up to the door, turned the key and entered. The Princess lay prone upon a couch, sobbing bitterly. Trot went up to her and smoothed her hair and tried to comfort her.
“Don’t cry,” she said. “I’ve unlocked the door, so you can go away any time you want to.”
“It isn’t that,” sobbed the Princess. “I am unhappy because they will not let me love Pon, the gardener’s boy!”
“Well, never mind; Pon isn’t any great shakes, anyhow, seems to me,” said Trot soothingly. “There are lots of other people you can love.”
Gloria rolled over on the couch and looked at the little girl reproachfully.
“Pon has won my heart, and I can’t help loving him,” she explained. Then with sudden indignation she added: “But I’ll never love Googly-Goo — never, as long as I live!”
“I should say not!” replied Trot. “Pon may not be much good, but old Googly is very, very bad. Hunt around, and I’m sure you’ll find someone worth your love. You’re very pretty, you know, and almost anyone ought to love you.”
“You don’t understand, my dear,” said Gloria, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a dainty lace handkerchief bordered with pearls. “When you are older you will realize that a young lady cannot decide whom she will love, or choose the most worthy. Her heart alone decides for her, and whomsoever her heart selects, she must love, whether he amounts to much or not.”
Trot was a little puzzled by this speech, which seemed to her unreasonable; but she made no reply and presently Gloria’s grief softened and she began to question the little girl about herself and her adventures. Trot told her how they had happened to come to Jinxland, and all about Cap’n Bill and the Ork and Pessim and the Bumpy Man.
While they were thus conversing together, getting more and more friendly as they became better acquainted, in the Council Chamber the King and Googly-Goo were talking with the Wicked Witch.
This evil creature was old and ugly. She had lost one eye and wore a black patch over it, so the people of Jinxland had named her “Blinkie.” Of course witches are forbidden to exist in the Land of Oz, but Jinxland was so far removed from the center of Ozma’s dominions, and so absolutely cut off from it by the steep mountains and the bottomless gulf, that the laws of Oz were not obeyed very well in that country. So there were several witches in Jinxland who were the terror of the people, but King Krewl favored them and permitted them to exercise their evil sorcery.
Blinkie was the leader of all the other witches and therefore the most hated and feared. The King used her witchcraft at times to assist him in carrying out his cruelties and revenge, but he was always obliged to pay Blinkie large sums of money or heaps of precious jewels before she would undertake an enchantment. This made him hate the old woman almost as much as his subjects did, but to-day Lord Googly-Goo had agreed to pay the witch’s price, so the King greeted her with gracious favor.
“Can you destroy the love of Princess Gloria for the gardener’s boy?” inquired his Majesty.
The Wicked Witch thought about it before she replied:
“That’s a hard question to answer. I can do lots of clever magic, but love is a stubborn thing to conquer. When you think you’ve killed it, it’s liable to bob up again as strong as ever. I believe love and cats have nine lives. In other words, killing love is a hard job, even for a skillful witch, but I believe I can do something that will answer your purpose just as well.”
“What is that?” asked the King.
“I can freeze the girl’s heart. I’ve got a special incantation for that, and when Gloria’s heart is thoroughly frozen she can no longer love Pon.”
“Just the thing!” exclaimed Googly-Goo, and the King was likewise much pleased.
They bargained a long time as to the price, but finally the old courtier agreed to pay the Wicked Witch’s demands. It was arranged that they should take Gloria to Blinkie’s house the next day, to have her heart frozen.
Then King Krewl mentioned to the old hag the strangers who had that day arrived in Jinxland, and said to her:
“I think the two children — the boy and the girl — are unable to harm me, but I have a suspicion that the wooden-legged man is a powerful wizard.”
The witch’s face wore a troubled look when she heard this.
“If you are right,” she said, “this wizard might spoil my incantation and interfere with me in other ways. So it will be best for me to meet this stranger at once and match my magic against his, to decide which is the stronger.”
“All right,” said the King. “Come with me and I will lead you to the man’s room.”
Googly-Goo did not accompany them, as he was obliged to go home to get the money and jewels he had promised to pay old Blinkie, so the other two climbed several flights of stairs and went through many passages until they came to the room occupied by Cap’n Bill.
The sailor-man, finding his bed soft and inviting, and being tired with the adventures he had experienced, had decided to take a nap. When the Wicked Witch and the King softly opened his door and entered, Cap’n Bill was snoring with such vigor that he did not hear them at all.
Blinkie approached the bed and with her one eye anxiously stared at the sleeping stranger.
“Ah,” she said in a soft whisper, “I believe you are right, King Krewl. The man looks to me like a very powerful wizard. But by good luck I have caught him asleep, so I shall transform him before he wakes up, giving him such a form that he will be unable to oppose me.”
“Careful!” cautioned the King, also speaking low. “If he discovers what you are doing he may destroy you, and that would annoy me because I need you to attend to Gloria.”
But the Wicked Witch realized as well as he did that she must be careful. She carried over her arm a black bag, from which she now drew several packets carefully wrapped in paper. Three of these she selected, replacing the others in the bag. Two of the packets she mixed together. and then she cautiously opened the third.
“Better stand back, your Majesty,” she advised, “for if this powder falls on you you might be transformed yourself.”
The King hastily retreated to the end of the room. As Blinkie mixed the third powder with the others she waved her hands over it, mumbled a few words, and then backed away as quickly as she could.
Cap’n Bill was slumbering peacefully, all unconscious of what was going on. Puff! A great cloud of smoke rolled over the bed and completely hid him from view. When the smoke rolled away, both Blinkie and the King saw that the body of the stranger had quite disappeared, while in his place, crouching in the middle of the bed, was a little gray grasshopper.
One curious thing about this grasshopper was that the last joint of its left leg was made of wood. Another curious thing — considering it was a grasshopper — was that it began talking, crying out in a tiny but sharp voice:
“Here — you people! What do you mean by treating me so? Put me back where I belong, at once, or you’ll be sorry!”
The cruel King turned pale at hearing the grasshopper’s threats, but the Wicked Witch merely laughed in derision. Then she raised her stick and aimed a vicious blow at the grasshopper, but before the stick struck the bed the tiny hopper made a marvelous jump — marvelous, indeed, when we consider that it had a wooden leg. It rose in the air and sailed across the room and passed right through the open window, where it disappeared from their view.
“Good!” shouted the King. “We are well rid of this desperate wizard.” And then they both laughed heartily at the success of the incantation, and went away to complete their horrid plans.
After Trot had visited a time with Princess Gloria, the little girl went to Button-Bright’s room but did not find him there. Then she went to Cap’n Bill’s room, but he was not there because the witch and the King had been there before her. So she made her way downstairs and questioned the servants. They said they had seen the little boy go out into the garden, some time ago, but the old man with the wooden leg they had not seen at all.
Therefore Trot, not knowing what else to do, rambled through the great gardens, seeking for Button-Bright or Cap’n Bill and not finding either of them. This part of the garden, which lay before the castle, was not walled in, but extended to the roadway, and the paths were open to the edge of the forest; so, after two hours of vain search for her friends, the little girl returned to the castle.
But at the doorway a soldier stopped her.
“I live here,” said Trot, “so it’s all right to let me in. The King has given me a room.”
“Well, he has taken it back again,” was the soldier’s reply. “His Majesty’s orders are to turn you away if you attempt to enter. I am also ordered to forbid the boy, your companion, to again enter the King’s castle.”
“How ’bout Cap’n Bill?” she inquired.
“Why, it seems he has mysteriously disappeared,” replied the soldier, shaking his head ominously. “Where he has gone to, I can’t make out, but I can assure you he is no longer in this castle. I’m sorry, little girl, to disappoint you. Don’t blame me; I must obey my master’s orders.”
Now, all her life Trot had been accustomed to depend on Cap’n Bill, so when this good friend was suddenly taken from her she felt very miserable and forlorn indeed. She was brave enough not to cry before the soldier, or even to let him see her grief and anxiety, but after she was turned away from the castle she sought a quiet bench in the garden and for a time sobbed as if her heart would break.
It was Button-Bright who found her, at last, just as the sun had set and the shades of evening were falling. He also had been turned away from the King’s castle, when he tried to enter it, and in the park he came across Trot.
“Never mind,” said the boy. “We can find a place to sleep.”
“I want Cap’n Bill,” wailed the girl.
“Well, so do I,” was the reply. “But we haven’t got him. Where do you s’pose he is, Trot?
“I don’t s’pose anything. He’s gone, an’ that’s all I know ’bout it.”
Button-Bright sat on the bench beside her and thrust his hands in the pockets of his knickerbockers. Then he reflected somewhat gravely for him.
“Cap’n Bill isn’t around here,” he said, letting his eyes wander over the dim garden, “so we must go somewhere else if we want to find him. Besides, it’s fast getting dark, and if we want to find a place to sleep we must get busy while we can see where to go.”
He rose from the bench as he said this and Trot also jumped up, drying her eyes on her apron. Then she walked beside him out of the grounds of the King’s castle. They did not go by the main path, but passed through an opening in a hedge and found themselves in a small but well-worn roadway. Following this for some distance, along a winding way, they came upon no house or building that would afford them refuge for the night. It became so dark that they could scarcely see their way, and finally Trot stopped and suggested that they camp under a tree.
“All right,” said Button-Bright, “I’ve often found that leaves make a good warm blanket. But — look there, Trot! — isn’t that a light flashing over yonder?”
“It certainly is, Button-Bright. Let’s go over and see if it’s a house. Whoever lives there couldn’t treat us worse than the King did.”
To reach the light they had to leave the road, so they stumbled over hillocks and brushwood, hand in hand, keeping the tiny speck of light always in sight.
They were rather forlorn little waifs, outcasts in a strange country and forsaken by their only friend and guardian, Cap’n Bill. So they were very glad when finally they reached a small cottage and, looking in through its one window, saw Pon, the gardener’s boy, sitting by a fire of twigs.
As Trot opened the door and walked boldly in, Pon sprang up to greet them. They told him of Cap’n Bill’s disappearance and how they had been turned out of the King’s castle. As they finished the story Pon shook his head sadly.
“King Krewl is plotting mischief, I fear,” said he, “for to-day he sent for old Blinkie, the Wicked Witch, and with my own eyes I saw her come from the castle and hobble away toward her hut. She had been with the King and Googly-Goo, and I was afraid they were going to work some enchantment on Gloria so she would no longer love me. But perhaps the witch was only called to the castle to enchant your friend, Cap’n Bill.”
“Could she do that?” asked Trot, horrified by the suggestion.
“I suppose so, for old Blinkie can do a lot of wicked magical things.”
“What sort of an enchantment could she put on Cap’n Bill?”
“I don’t know. But he has disappeared, so I’m pretty certain she has done something dreadful to him. But don’t worry. If it has happened, it can’t be helped, and if it hasn’t happened we may be able to find him in the morning.”
With this Pon went to the cupboard and brought food for them. Trot was far too worried to eat, but Button-Bright made a good supper from the simple food and then lay down before the fire and went to sleep. The little girl and the gardener’s boy, however, sat for a long time staring into the fire, busy with their thoughts. But at last Trot, too, became sleepy and Pon gently covered her with the one blanket he possessed. Then he threw more wood on the fire and laid himself down before it, next to Button- Bright. Soon all three were fast asleep. They were in a good deal of trouble; but they were young, and sleep was good to them because for a time it made them forget.
Chapter Thirteen
Glinda the Good and the Scarecrow of Oz
That country south of the Emerald City, in the Land of Oz, is known as the Quadling Country, and in the very southernmost part of it stands a splendid palace in which lives Glinda the Good.
Glinda is the Royal Sorceress of Oz. She has wonderful magical powers and uses them only to benefit the subjects of Ozma’s kingdom. Even the famous Wizard of Oz pays tribute to her, for Glinda taught him all the real magic he knows, and she is his superior in all sorts of sorcery Everyone loves Glinda, from the dainty and exquisite Ruler, Ozma, down to the humblest inhabitant of Oz, for she is always kindly and helpful and willing to listen to their troubles, however busy she may be. No one knows her age, but all can see how beautiful and stately she is. Her hair is like red gold and finer than the finest silken strands. Her eyes are blue as the sky and always frank and smiling. Her cheeks are the envy of peach-blows and her mouth is enticing as a rosebud. Glinda is tall and wears splendid gowns that trail behind her as she walks. She wears no jewels, for her beauty would shame them.
For attendants Glinda has half a hundred of the loveliest girls in Oz. They are gathered from all over Oz, from among the Winkies, the Munchkins, the Gillikins and the Quadlings, as well as from Ozma’s magnificent Emerald City, and it is considered a great favor to be allowed to serve the Royal Sorceress.
Among the many wonderful things in Glinda’s palace is the Great Book of Records. In this book is inscribed everything that takes place in all the world, just the instant it happens; so that by referring to its pages Glinda knows what is taking place far and near, in every country that exists. In this way she learns when and where she can help any in distress or danger, and although her duties are confined to assisting those who inhabit the Land of Oz, she is always interested in what takes place in the unprotected outside world.
So it was that on a certain evening Glinda sat in her library, surrounded by a bevy of her maids, who were engaged in spinning, weaving and embroidery, when an attendant announced the arrival at the palace of the Scarecrow.
This personage was one of the most famous and popular in all the Land of Oz. His body was merely a suit of Munchkin clothes stuffed with straw, but his head was a round sack filled with bran, with which the Wizard of Oz had mixed some magic brains of a very superior sort. The eyes, nose and mouth of the Scarecrow were painted upon the front of the sack, as were his ears, and since this quaint being had been endowed with life, the expression of his face was very interesting, if somewhat comical.
The Scarecrow was good all through, even to his brains, and while he was naturally awkward in his movements and lacked the neat symmetry of other people, his disposition was so kind and considerate and he was so obliging and honest, that all who knew him loved him, and there were few people in Oz who had not met our Scarecrow and made his acquaintance. He lived part of the time in Ozma’s palace at the Emerald City, part of the time in his own corncob castle in the Winkie Country, and part of the time he traveled over all Oz, visiting with the people and playing with the children, whom he dearly loved.
It was on one of his wandering journeys that the Scarecrow had arrived at Glinda’s palace, and the Sorceress at once made him welcome. As he sat beside her, talking of his adventures, he asked:
“What’s new in the way of news?”
Glinda opened her Great Book of Records and read some of the last pages.
“Here is an item quite curious and interesting,” she announced, an accent of surprise in her voice. “Three people from the big Outside World have arrived in Jinxland.”
“Where is Jinxland?” inquired the Scarecrow.