"Isn't this doggone?" groaned Peter glumly. "Jack's lost his head, I've lost the sack and Belfaygor will probably smother in whiskers! If someone doesn't warn Ozma, the Emerald City will be taken in no time. There's only one Knight and one soldier in the palace and the soldier can't fight at all. If Ozma doesn't know Mogodore is coming, so that she and the Wizard can start up their magic, they'll all be captured and the whole city destroyed. I wonder whatever put the notion of conquering Oz in Mogodore's head? Darn! Doggone! I wish I could get out of here!" Doubling up his fists, Peter pounded on the dungeon door.
"Maybe I can squeeze through the bars and fly off to warn Ozma of this villain's coming," said the Iffin, but the bars were so close together that even Snif could not slip through and in great discouragement the two prisoners sat side by side on the hard stone bench. Presently ten shrill blasts from the bugles and the clatter of hoofs on the cobbles below told that Mogodore had really started for the Emerald City.
"Now I'll never have any grandchildren," choked the Iffin, a tear trickling off the end of his nose.
"And I'll never get back to Philadelphia, or be an air mail pilot," sighed Peter, clasping his hands behind his head and staring gloomily at the wall.
And I am sure each of you would have felt gloomy, if you had been in Peter's plight.
CHAPTER 12
The Escape from Baffleburg
As the rattle of hoofs and sound of bugles died away, Peter, looking down at Snif noticed that his eyes were growing larger and larger.
"Stop!" breathed Peter, nervously edging away and brushing his hand cross his forehead.
"Stop what?" grunted the Iffin crossly. "I'm not doing anything."
"But your eyes," screamed Peter, edging still further away, "and your ears! Why your ears are as big as you are. Help! Help! Look out. Are you going to explode?"
Before Snif could touch his ear with his claw or wonder what Peter was yelling about, he expanded like a balloon, filling the entire dungeon and squeezing Peter flat against the wall. The effect of the shrinking violets had worn off at last, and with the Iffin rapidly reaching his former size and strength, there was not room in the box-like cell. To keep from crushing Peter, he pressed against the bars of the dungeon. The force with which he shot up to his full and former size, tore the door from its hinges and bent out the bars like wax. While Snif stood terrified and trembling with surprise, Peter, with great presence of mind, pressed past him, slipped through the bent bars and unlocked the dungeon door.
"We're free," gasped the little boy, as Snif tumbled head first from their cell. "We're free and you're big and strong again. We can fly to the Emerald City right away and save Ozma and everybody."
"If—I—ever—get—my—breath, you mean," wheezed Snif, leaning against the wall and puffing like a porpoise. "Wh—ew! Growing up is almost as bad as shrinking down."
"Did it hurt," asked Peter, eyeing his friend with lively curiosity.
"Well, not exactly," explained the Iffin, raising first one foot and then the other, "but I've had lots more pleasant experiences. Did I hurt you?"
"Not much," said Peter, feeling a bruise on his elbow where he had been pressed against the wall. "Say, it's great to have you a monster again. Don't ever eat another violet as long as you live."
"I never will," shuddered the Iffin, shaking his head solemnly. "Out of my way, lump!" Pushing over a startled jailer who had run out to see what was the matter, Snif rushed along the corridor.
"First we'll find Belfaygor, then we'll hunt Jack's head and the pirate's sack and next we'll fly to the capitol and put an end to Mogodore's mischief. I can out-fly a thousand horses without even trying," boasted Snif, pushing over another guard who darted out to intercept them.
"If I'd only opened that pirate's sack right away," puffed Peter running to catch up with Snif, "if I only had, all this would never have happened. Goodness, what's this?"
"Good news to me," chuckled Snif galloping along gaily. "It is Belfaygor's beard and will lead us straight to his dungeon." Snif was right. Trailing the flowing red whiskers of the baron, they came to the topmost cell in the tower. Out from the dungeon bars poured the enchanted beard of Belfaygor. Belfaygor, himself was leaning against the door, too discouraged and unhappy to even clip them once. But when Peter called him by name, and he saw Snif grown to full size and power again, he snapped his shears joyfully and in a trembling voice demanded to know how they had come there.
"We burst our bars," cried Peter exuberantly. "At least Snif did." While the Iffin brushed the torrent of whiskers aside, the little boy unlocked the dungeon door, and after a hearty embrace told the baron all that had happened. Overjoyed at his release, Belfaygor followed them down the grim tower corridors. Each jailer who appeared was scornfully pushed aside by Snif, and when they came to the bottom Belfaygor and Peter seated themselves on his back and Snif rushed into the great stone hall of the castle. The few guards who had been left behind took to their heels as the Iffin flew screaming over their heads, and with no one to bother them the three began a systematic search for Jack's head. Jack's body still sprawled over the center table. The top of his peg neck had been chopped off with his head, but whittling another point on the end, Peter gently dragged the headless figure to a chair and sat him down. Snif soon found the famous sack behind a screen, and remembering Jack's pumpkin had rolled through the door, Peter pushed aside the hanging and tip-toed into a long dim entry. It slanted slightly and Peter hurried along looking anxiously to the right and left, but the pumpkin head was nowhere to be seen. The hallway was growing narrower every minute, curving round and round like a spiral slideway and leading continuously downward. Peter was about to go back and call the others, when the moist nose of Snif appeared round one of the curves back of him.
"What's this?" demanded the Iffin. "And whither doth it lead?"
"I don't know," said Peter, "but Jack's head must have rolled down here and be lying somewhere at the bottom."
"Then let us join it by all means," chuckled the Iffin sitting down and sliding calmly after Peter. "Look out, here I come, and take this pirate's sack will you? It makes me positively shudder." Peter reached back and relieved Snif of the sack. Above they could hear Belfaygor treading cautiously down the hallway, but the curved passage soon grew so steep, Peter and Snif began to slip, roll and finally coast like children on a playground slide. "Now you've done it," coughed the Iffin as they finally somersaulted into a dark cellarway, lit by one feeble lantern. "Out of one dungeon into another!"
"But there's Jack's head!" cried Peter, picking himself up joyfully. The sudden arrival of Belfaygor immediately knocked him down again, but while the baron mumbled apologies, Peter sprang to his feet, and hurrying over to the corner of the cellar pounced upon Jack's pumpkin.
"Oh Jack, we've been so worried about you," said the little boy, holding the head tightly in both arms, "but now we'll soon fix you up and fly to the Emerald City, for Snif has grown big again and we've all escaped from the tower."
"So I see," observed Jack as Peter held his head toward the others. "And I'm very glad they chopped off my head and not yours, Peter, for yours would not so easily be put back, and it's lucky they did chop it off too, for otherwise I would never have learned of the forbidden flagon."
"Forbidden flagon!" exclaimed Peter, sitting down on an overturned keg and staring earnestly down at Jack's head. "What has that to do with us?"
"Everything," confided Jack mysteriously. "Has Mogodore started for the Emerald City?" Peter nodded and Snif and Belfaygor both drew nearer, while the little boy explained how they had escaped and how they were now about to fly to the capitol to warn Ozma of Mogodore's wicked intentions.
"But we must not go without that flagon," insisted Jack, after listening attentively to Peter's recital. "Listen: As I was lying here a while ago, hoping that no rats would come to gnaw my fine features, or make a nest in my head, an armed guard came creeping up that ladder you see over in the darkest corner. As he did, another came sliding down from above, and stopping under the lantern they began to converse.
"'What a bitter waste of time it is, guarding this foolish flagon,' fumed the guard who had climbed the ladder. 'Who ever could find their way to the enchanted cavern through the lost labyrinth, anyway?'
"'Only one as knows the tricks,' grinned the fellow who had come down to relieve him. 'Left turn left, and always left, and as for the enchanted cavern itself, bah, what a joke! But have you heard the latest news Do-ab? Mogodore has gone to capture the Emerald City and make himself a King.'
"'A King,' roared the second, 'Ha! Ha! 'Tis well those foolish folk at the capitol know nothing of this flask. One tip of that forbidden flagon and—'"
"What?" demanded Peter, who had been listening breathlessly to Jack's story.
"Well," admitted the Pumpkinhead regretfully, "he didn't say, but from the nudge he gave his comrade, I imagine there's something in that flask to destroy Mogodore's power."
"But we have the sack, and the Wizard and Ozma have plenty of magic," objected Peter impatiently. "I don't think we'd better stop to hunt for it, Jack. We had better go on to the Emerald City just as fast as we can."
"We had the sack before and Mogodore captured us. Don't forget that," sighed the Pumpkinhead gloomily. "What's happened before may easily happen again."
"It will not take longer than an hour to fly to the capitol, and Mogodore riding at his best speed cannot reach there until afternoon. Perhaps we had better find this flagon, Peter, and make sure of victory this time," murmured Snif thoughtfully, and as Belfaygor sided with the Iffin, Peter rather reluctantly agreed to descend into the enchanted cavern.
"We may lose our way in the labyrinth," said Peter looking down the ladder without much enthusiasm.
"Not while I have my whiskers," smiled Belfaygor, stroking his famous beard, "We'll let them grow along with us and then we'll follow them back."
roared Snif, saluting the baron with his front paw.
"Not so loud! Not so loud!" begged Belfaygor, looking around nervously. "Someone might hear you."
"Do you want to come with us?" asked Peter, looking doubtfully at the Pumpkinhead.
"Better leave me here," advised Jack seriously. "You'll need both hands to fight the guard. Now don't forget, when you are in the labyrinth turn left and keep turning left."
"And you're sure you'll be all right?" asked Peter, placing Jack's head gently on the cellar floor.
"I certainly cannot be all right if I'm left, but I'd rather be left than right this time," muttered Jack to himself, as his three friends disappeared down the ladder into the labyrinth.
CHAPTER 13
The Enchanted Cavern
"This is about as exciting as rice pudding without any raisins," said Peter, treading closely after Snif. For five minutes they had been trudging solemnly through the labyrinth at the foot of the ladder. Every few rods the chilly tunnel would branch off into three or more tunnels, but Belfaygor, always taking the left turn, marched hopefully onward, his red beard trailing like a long and lively vine behind him.
"Are you sure we've been turning left all the time," asked Peter, after five more minutes of this weary winding. "We don't seem to be getting anywhere at all." Belfaygor nodded emphatically and taking another left turn, gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and dismay. Coming quickly around the bend, Peter and Snif saw that they had reached the enchanted cavern itself.
"Horrors!" shuddered Peter, catching hold of Snif's mane.
"You're right," wheezed the Iffin, rearing up on his hind legs. "Open the sack! Open the sack! These are worse than Scares!" The enchanted cavern was small and dim and lit only by a flickering red light, but ranged around the walls was such a company of Ugly Muglies that Peter's fingers, fumbling with the strings of the pirate's sack, shook so he could hardly untie the knots. He finally did get the cord unfastened and opening the sack he advanced a step into the cave. As he did, the Ugly Muglies advanced a step toward him and in a panic Peter realized that the sack was not going to swallow them. Belfaygor turning to run, tripped over his whiskers and fell flat. Peter looked round desperately for a rock or stone to fight with, but Snif, muttering dreadful denunciations in the Grif language, hurled himself bodily at the enemy. There was a dull thud as Snif met the enemy, and next instant he lay stretched on the floor. Peter was almost afraid to look, but forced himself to move forward.
"Come away," begged the little boy in a hoarse whisper, trying at the same time to tug the Iffin to his feet. "Hurry! Hurry! Here they come again."
"Again," moaned Snif, opening one eye, "they were never there at all."
"But I see them," insisted Peter. "What knocked you down?"
Instead of answering, Snif lurched to his feet.
"Myself," panted the Iffin, planting his claw in the middle of a red monster's nose. "The walls of this cave are mirrors, boy, magic mirrors. They multiplied us fifty times and in fifty frightful ways. There's nobody here but us." Rubbing his eyes, Peter looked again, then, tip-toeing forward, touched the walls of the cavern. Just as Snif said, they were mirrors, and remembering how he had often laughed at his distorted reflection in the mirror maze at Willow Grove, Peter began to laugh now.
"No wonder the sack wouldn't work," said Peter, jerking the cords tight and tossing the sack over his shoulder. "But it's a pretty good trick at that. Look at me. I'm enough to frighten my own grandfather."
"Oh, come on," grumbled Belfaygor, who was vexed to think he had been so easily scared. "Let's find this miserable flagon and begone. It's stifling in here."
The scowling reflections cast by the mirrors were so confusing, they had to go slowly and carefully, but after circling the cavern several times, they discovered an opening into a still smaller cave. Peter went first, and poking his head under the arch between the caves saw the guard Jack had mentioned, asleep beside a fountain of fire. The fire fountain jetted up from the center of a deep green grotto and in the middle of the fountain, Peter could just make out a small black flagon. With a little cry of triumph he darted into the rocky room.
"You'll burn yourself," puffed Belfaygor, as Peter leaned forward to snatch the flagon from the flames. At his cry of warning, the guard awakened and with spear upraised sprang to his feet. But Belfaygor was ready for him. Seizing his spear, Belfaygor ran 'round and 'round the startled soldier, till he was wound up like a mummy in the baron's red beard. Calmly cutting off his end of the whiskers, Belfaygor dragged the helpless guard out of the way. "Let us get this flagon and depart," cried the baron.
"Maybe this fire isn't real," suggested Peter. "Maybe it's a trick like the mirrors." Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, Peter tossed it into the fountain. But it caught fire at once and burned up with such a snap and crackle the three friends jumped back in a hurry.
"I don't mind singeing a few feathers for the cause," said Snif, as Peter and Belfaygor looked longingly at the strange black flask.
"No you don't," said Peter firmly. "You've done your share." With a little smile he touched the lump Snif had raised on his head when he ran into the walls of the cave. "You discovered the mirrors, Belfaygor captured the guard. Now it's my turn." While Snif grumbled his disapproval and the baron stroked his beard uneasily, Peter gazed into the sparkling fountain of fire. Then with a sudden snap of his fingers, he seized Belfaygor's shears, and clipped a long piece from the Baron's red and ever ready whiskers. "Now," said Peter, "you take one end, and I'll take the other." Looking much mystified, Belfaygor did as he was told. They were standing back of the fire fountain and one on each side. At a signal from Peter both rushed forward. The baron's beard, passing through the flames, knocked the flagon from its stand, before it went up in smoke and the flagon itself rolled into a dark corner of the green grotto. "Wait till it cools off," warned Peter as Snif made a pounce at the flask.
The flagon rolled into a dark corner of the Grotto.
"Gee, I do wonder what's in it and why it's hidden down here?" Impatiently they looked down at the smoking black bottle and after what seemed to be hours, Peter, covering his hand with his handkerchief, ventured to pick it up. It was still smoking hot, but by changing hands frequently, Peter managed to hold it and read aloud the curious legend on the red label.
"Now that's nice," said the Iffin, wiggling his nose very fast. "We break the flask to subdue Mogodore and bring a disaster on our own heads. Don't drop it lad, whatever you do, don't drop it. I'd like to have a few more geraniums and see a few more sunsets before a disaster hits me."
"It is my place to break the seal," announced Belfaygor in a determined voice. "Give me the flagon. What care I for disaster if Shirley Sunshine is saved?"
Peter was really alarmed at the threatening tone of the red verses. "Not now, Belfaygor, wait till we reach the Emerald City and then maybe we won't have to break it at all."
"That's the talk," said Snif, waving his tail gently to and fro. "Come, let's start back."
Peter tucked the flagon into his pocket. "We'll go right away," he said. Leaving the guard still swathed in whiskers, the three friends stepped from the small cavern into the large cavern and from the large cavern into the labyrinth.
Going back they turned right and kept turning right, but it was slow and tedious and seemed much longer than before. At last, dusty and weary, they came to the end and climbed the ladder into the cellarway.
"Thank the stars, you're here!" cried Jack's Pumpkinhead.
"Not the stars," wheezed Snif, heaving himself up the ladder and dropping heavily on the cellar floor, "not stars, whiskers!"
"They have been pretty useful," admitted Belfaygor, giving his beard a thoughtful stroke before he cut it off short.
"Useful," rumbled the Iffin, raising one claw. "They're wonderful. I'm positively attached to them."
"Not half so much as I am," smiled the baron, with another quick clip.
"So you found the flagon," said Jack, as Peter picked up his head and started up the long steep slideway. Peter nodded and with what breath he had left told Jack all about the enchanted cavern and the inscription on the magic flask. There was a rail beside the slide and by holding on to this they managed to pull themselves up without slipping backward. But they were now so impatient to be off that the slide seemed simply endless. Finally they reached the top and hurried down the hallway leading into Mogodore's room of state.
"Here's somebody you'll be glad to see," chuckled Peter, pointing to the stiff figure seated in the chair.
"Some body!" exclaimed Jack's head as Peter held it up. "Why it's mine. Reunite us at once, my boy. Oh, how I have missed me!" It was the matter of but a moment to place the pumpkin head back on its peg. At once Jack arose to his feet and executed a lively jig, in which the Iffin, with more gusto than grace joined him, while Peter and the baron looked amusedly on. The search for the flagon had taken just an hour, and feeling well repaid for their trouble the four valorous rescuers prepared to leave the palace. Jack took out the famous dinner bell to see that it was safe, Belfaygor gave his beard a last cheerful clip, Snif ate the tops of a pot of geraniums and Peter, putting the flagon in his pocket and tightening his hold on the pirate's sack felt ready for any adventure. But as he prepared to jump upon Snif's back, there came a sudden splutter screech and roar.
"Stop!" screamed a threatening voice. "Stop! Or you shall be boiled like eggs, stewed like prunes, fried like fish." Snif swallowed a geranium whole, Jack's knees knocked together and bent outward, and in spite of himself, Peter clutched at a chair for support.
"Who speaks?" boomed Belfaygor, snatching a sword from the wall and swinging about like a tee-too-tum.
"Die!" thundered the voice again. "Die you knaves!"
Trembling a little, Peter looked all around but could see no one. As the dreadful threats kept up, Belfaygor went to look behind a screen. But one of Mogodore's hunting dogs, rising from its place by the fire, moved majestically across the floor, picked up a small red box in its teeth, and with an impatient grunt dropped it at Peter's feet. Then with a satisfied yawn, the great dog rubbed against his knee and returning to its post immediately dozed off again.
"It's the sauce box," cried Peter with a gasp of relief. Closing the lid, he smiled cheerfully at the Iffin.
"I'd like to smash its lid," grunted Snif vindictively. "I nearly choked on that geranium."
"Don't do that," advised Jack, leaning down to straighten his knee joints. "Take it along. What frightened us may easily frighten others."
"That's so," laughed Peter, helping Jack to mount Snif's back. "Well, we surely have enough magic now. A dinner bell, a forbidden flagon, a magic sack and a sauce box."
"Don't forget Belfaygor's beard," said Snif slyly, as Peter climbed up behind Jack.
"I wish I could forget it," sighed the baron, seating himself next to Peter.
"Oh, well," Peter reminded him cheerfully, "it won't be very long now, Belfaygor!"
"No, not if he keeps cutting it," said Jack calmly.
"I mean it won't be long before we reach the Emerald City," laughed Peter, as the Iffin raised his mighty wings and swooped out the wide open castle doors. "Here we go!"
CHAPTER 14
High Times in Swing City
"As soon as we see Mogodore, I'll open the pirate's sack, no fooling!" declared Peter, looking down at the whirling red landscape. Like tiny toys under a Christmas tree, the villages and towns spread out below, and some country people dancing about a May pole looked no larger than dolls.
"Swallowing's too good for him," objected Belfaygor, stroking the sword he had taken from the castle hall. "Let me have one good swing at him—one good thrust, before you open that sack!"
Called Snif, looking over his shoulder to wink at Peter.
"Much better," approved Jack Pumpkinhead. "Let us open the sack, break the forbidden flagon and throw the sauce box at his head."
"Yes, and bring a dire disaster on our own," said Peter, remembering the warning on the magic flask. "We'll give the flagon to Ozma and let the Wizard of Oz decide what is to be done with it."
"Well, I hope he can do something with my beard," groaned Belfaygor, looking ruefully at the blisters on his thumbs. "I cannot keep on cutting it forever. Besides it will frighten the Princess."
"He'll fix it," promised Peter confidently. "The Wizard of Oz can fix anything. Oh boy, I can hardly wait to see them all again. Is Scraps as funny as ever and has Kuma Party visited the Emerald City since I left?"
"He lent Ozma a hand just the other day," said Jack, throwing both arms around Snif's neck, as he made a sudden dive through a cloud. "She was having trouble with the Hammerheads and needed a strong hand to subdue them." Peter had met Kuma Party on his first journey to Oz. This singular gentleman can really send his hands, feet, head or body wheresoever he wishes. Belfaygor listened politely, as Peter told how Kuma's hand had guided him to the Kingdom of Patch, helped him escape, and how it had afterward arrived at the Emerald City in time to catch the Gnome King.
"If we had it now, we could send it down for some apples," sighed the little boy, peering hungrily over the Iffin's wing. Snif was flying low, to be sure not to miss Mogodore, and the orchards, laden with rosy red fruit, looked tempting indeed.
"Why not order lunch," asked Jack, as Peter continued to gaze longingly at the apples. "Eat as you fly!"
"Why not?" chuckled Belfaygor, slipping his shears into the pocket of his coat. "I could make some food fly right now." As Peter was wondering just how they would manage the trays, Jack rang and up beside the Iffin flashed the faithful slave of the bell. But he did not carry the tray this time. It was borne by Biggen, Mogodore's bodyguard, and the great fellow trod clumsily through the air, his eyes rolling with fright and fury. At a haughty gesture from the slave, he set the tray on Peter's lap. Then raising his fist, he was about to pound Peter on the head, when the little black seized him by the coat-tails and both disappeared.
"Wh—ew," whistled Peter ducking his head, "what do you think of that? Look out, here comes the other one!" As Jack rang the bell again, Little, just as angry as Biggen, came hurling toward them with the baron's dinner. The slave winked mischievously at Peter as the enraged bodyguard placed the tray on Belfaygor's knees; then catching the surly fellow by the ear, he vanished before Little could do any harm.
"Good enough," roared Snif, who had witnessed the whole proceeding over his shoulder. "What sweet little sprites they do make.
"That's what we have for dessert," said Peter, lifting the cover off his tray. "Say, it's too bad you don't eat pie, Snif."
"Or roast guinea," murmured Belfaygor, between rapturous bites. "I'll give you three horses and a couple of hunting dogs for that bell, Peter."
Peter smiled to himself, for he could not help thinking how crowded three horses and a dog would make the small back yard at home. But he tactfully said nothing, for he had decided to present the magic dinner bell to Ozma. Enjoying the Red Jinn's delicious dinner, looking dreamily down at the lovely mountain scenery beneath, Peter concluded that this was even more exciting and interesting than eating on the train.
"I shall think nothing of airplane trips after this," mused the little boy, sipping his chocolate complacently. "I don't believe anything could ever surprise or frighten me again; not even a highwayman." Finishing off his pie, Peter closed his eyes and was fighting an imaginary duel with a Mexican bandit, when he was suddenly seized by the shoulders, jerked from the Iffin's back and hurled like a ball through the air. His first thought was that Biggen, returning for the magic tray, had taken this means of revenge, but there was no sign of either bodyguard. In spite of his recent boast, Peter's heart beat with dreadful thumps as he turned over and over in the air. But just as he gave himself up for lost, he was skillfully caught by the ankles.
"Howde-do!" called a pleasant voice, and looking up Peter saw a jolly fellow in silk tights swinging by his heels from a high trapeze. He wore a crown, which was held in place by ribbons tied beneath his chin. Now hanging head down, if you are not accustomed to it, is terribly upsetting and Peter was too upset to say a word. "Welcome to Swing City," said this strange sovereign in his high, jolly voice. "I am the King and the highest Swinger here. In fact, Hi-Swinger's my name," he coughed self-consciously. "But you must meet the Queen, Tip Toppsy the Tenth!" As he said "Meet the Queen," Hi-Swinger flung Peter carelessly downward. Any desire Peter had ever had to do circus stunts, he lost in that second dizzy drop through space. Fortunately, he did meet the Queen, somewhere in mid air. Like the King she was hanging head down from another swing, and grasping both of Peter's wrists swung him gently to and fro.
"Isn't he perfectly precious," cooed her Highness, smiling amiably down at the little boy. "I hope he'll stay with us always. What lovely hair! What sweet red cheeks. He'll make a perfectly splendid swinger, Highty." Now if there was one thing Peter detested it was being fussed over, and the Queen's speech made him squirm with embarrassment and rage. But before he could do more than mutter, Tip Toppsy swung him back to her husband. "Shall we dress him in pink or blue?" she called anxiously.
"Blue," answered the King, catching Peter and drawing him up close so he could look into his eyes. "But, my dear, see what's coming now. Who is this pomiferous person?" Throwing Peter carelessly aside, the King caught Jack Pumpkinhead, who had just been tossed up by someone below. Peter himself was seized by a smiling trapezist, some twenty feet beneath. Before the fellow could throw him further, Peter pulled himself desperately up on the trapeze, and holding tight to the side rope stared dizzily around. Over his head, and under his feet, pink and blue clad figures swooped and darted like birds. With lightning speed they shot from swing to swing, skipped recklessly across spidery ropes and balanced perilously on swaying cords.
"Trapleased to meet you," murmured the owner of the trapeze, swinging up beside Peter. "Hang around a while. You'll like it. 'Tis an easy life we lead—trapeasy," he added with a sly wink. "Have you met the Queen?"
"Yes! Yes!" shuddered Peter, moving as far from the tumbler as he could. "I'm looking for my friends."
"Is that one of them?" inquired the acrobat, pointing off toward the left. "Ha! Ha! Ha! The tight rope walkers will never let that fellow go. They are great cut-ups, you know, great cut-ups. Why, look at his beard! It's growing longer every minute. They can cut rope after tight rope from it. Ha! Ha! Ha! Rope after rope!"
"No they can't," shouted Peter angrily, "and you'd better be careful. We're wizards, and will destroy you like that." Letting go of the side rope with one hand, Peter snapped his fingers sharply.
"Will you?" said the trapezist in an interested voice. "Then that means a battle, an acrobattle. Hello! It's begun already. Look at that old Nibblywog down there. Come on, we're missing all the fun!"
Jerking Peter from the swing, the acrobat hurled him to the next trapeze and the next and the next, until everything turned topsy-turvy. Peter could no more have opened the pirate's sack than he could have counted the somersaults he took in the air. Jack had long since lost his head, and Peter could see the acrobats tossing it about like a ball. Below that a troupe of tight-rope walkers were dancing merrily on Belfaygor's beard, which had been stretched between two swings. The baron himself was held fast by a dozen swing citizens and Snif, trying to help first Peter then Belfaygor, was buffetted and banged with the hard fists of the aerialists.
"How dare you hold us up in this high handed manner," roared the Iffin, nearly beside himself with rage and indignation. There is no telling how long Peter and his friends would have been tossed about had not a sudden shake dislodged Mogodore's sauce box from the little boy's pocket. Opening as it fell it immediately filled the air with such a thunder of screams, threats and brazen screeches, several swing citizens lost their hold upon the swings and fell trembling through space.
"Magic," squealed Hi-Swinger, clutching his crown with both hands. "Drop them! Drop them at once!" So Peter and his companions were dropped as suddenly as they had been taken up by these fickle folk of the air, and with sickening speed went whizzing downward. Peter was too dizzy to realize he was falling again, and Snif, trying to catch all of them at once succeeded only in rescuing Jack's head as it whirled past. But he need not have worried, for under this strange city a great net was suspended and into this net they all landed with a bounce that promptly sent them skyward again.
"Score one for the sauce box," panted Peter as he fell back. "Gee-whiz—I never want to see another swing as long as I live!"
"Neither do I," muttered Belfaygor, unwinding himself from his long red whiskers and feeling for his shears. Snif said nothing, for he was trying to hold Jack's body steady and place his pumpkin back on its peg. Peter hastened to assist him and soon Jack was himself again.
"Ups and downs," he mused sadly. "Nothing but ups and downs! And how are we to get out of this net, may I ask?"
"I'll cut a hole in the net and we'll drop through," said Belfaygor promptly. "It's not far to the ground!"
"Another fall," groaned Jack, holding his head with both hands. "Oh, think of something else!"
"If we stay here," said the Iffin, "the Swingers will probably come back and if we don't hurry, we'll miss that rascally baron and he'll capture the Emerald City before we catch him."
"I'll fall," quavered Jack, crawling toward the opening Belfaygor was cutting in the net. "I'll do anything for Ozma!"
"We've certainly done a lot of falling for her so far," sighed Peter, scrambling after Jack. "Let me fall first and then I can help you." Holding for a moment to the edge of the opening, Peter dropped lightly to the ground. Then reaching up he caught Jack under the arms and carefully eased him down. Belfaygor quickly followed Jack and Snif bounced through in short order.
"Well, we've lost the sauce box and a lot of time but we've met a new and curious kind of people," said Peter, pulling down his jacket.
"And so did they," smiled the Iffin, giving himself a shake and examining two places where he had lost some fur. A hurried search proved that the magic bell, the sack and flagon were still in their possession. Jack was no worse for his swinging and though Snif, Peter and Belfaygor still felt dizzy and shaken by their unexpected experiences in Swing City, they decided not to stop and rest but to push straight on for the capitol.
"From now on," said Snif gravely, "we must keep a sharp look out for trouble."
"I'll watch the air," said Jack, seating himself quickly.
"I'll watch the ground," promised Peter, springing up briskly behind him.
"And I'll see that we're not followed," said Belfaygor, climbing on last of all.
"Then off we go," rumbled Snif. "What a lot I shall have to tell my grandchildren, if I ever have any grandchildren. I hope they'll be just like you, Peter," he added with an affectionate glance over his shoulder. Peter smiled faintly to himself, for he did not see how this could be but he was too polite to argue the question, and fixing his eyes upon the road below looked eagerly for some sign of Mogodore and his men.
CHAPTER 15
Peter Opens the Pirate's Sack
"What a curious existence," mused Belfaygor, as Snif came to the end of Swing City's net and soared joyfully into the air. "Well, everybody has his own idea of comfort, but as for me, I prefer a castle with someone to serve the soup and bring on the venison." Snipping off his beard, the baron gave a homesick sigh and looked glumly at the tiny farms and villages below.
"A place where a fellow can keep his feet on the ground and his head on his shoulders suits me," declared Jack in a weary voice. "I've never lost my head so often as on this trip. Did you see those savages using it for a ball?"
"They used my beard for a tight rope," said Belfaygor in an exasperated voice, "so what could you expect?"
"And they called Snif a Nibblywog," laughed Peter, "and threw me around like an old shoe. All they need to make them monkeys is tails!"
"Don't insult a monkey," said Snif, looking reprovingly over his wing. "I've known some polite monkeys in my day. But those highwaymen!" Snif gave a disgusted grunt. "I've a notion to fly back and settle with them after this other affair is all over."
"I hope we didn't miss Mogodore while we were being held up there," worried Peter. "It must be nearly four o'clock now and we certainly ought to overtake him soon. Are you sure we are flying in the right direction, Snif?"
"Yes," said the Iffin expertly circling a dark cloud. "Why there he is now!" Flapping both wings violently together, Snif pointed with his claw. "There, coming out of that forest—Mogodore and all his men! See the sun shining on their spears." With a swoop that nearly unseated his riders, the Iffin hurled himself over the wood and the next instant they were hanging motionless over a tossing sea of spears.
"The Princess," cried Belfaygor, leaning far over. "There's Shirley Sunshine riding out ahead. Fly lower, Snif, fly lower and we'll snatch her up and be off!"
"No we won't," muttered the Iffin grimly. "We'll open the sack and catch this kingdom stealer, first. Open the sack, Peter! Open the sack, there's no one to stop you now." So intent upon their purpose were the warriors below, they never saw the red monster above their heads. Now Peter had untied the pirate sack. Now it was ready to open. Seizing Snif's wing to balance himself, Peter stood up in order to hold the sack directly over the enemy. As he did a great gust of wind, tore the sack from his hands, filled it full of air and sent it spinning up like a balloon high above their heads.
"Oh," choked the little boy, nearly losing his hold on Snif, "nothing ever happens right. Doggone that sack anyway!"
"The flagon," screamed Jack. "Throw the flagon. Quick before he gets away!"
"I'll do it," whispered Belfaygor eagerly. "Give it to me, Peter. Quick!" Tugging the forbidden flagon from his pocket, Peter was about to pass it to the baron, when a hoarse scream from the Iffin, made him pause.
"The sack," panted the red monster, flapping his wings desperately. "It's coming straight for us! Look! Look! Look out! Look up! Hold on!
"If that comes nearer, we are gone!" Jack took one startled glance upward, and then instead of holding on, snatched the flagon from Peter's hand and dove recklessly to earth. As he did, and as the last of Mogodore's army galloped out of danger's way, the wretched sack, its mouth wide open came hurling down upon the rescuers. Jack had been wise to jump. Before Peter or the baron could follow him, they were snapped up, I mean down. An ear-splitting growl came to Jack as he turned over and over in the air. The fright of vanishing had restored Snif's gu—rrr! And it was a real Griffin, not an Iffin who disappeared into the fathomless depths of the pirate's grab bag. Then floating calmly to the ground, the terrible sack settled calmly against a pink hay stack and was still. Not far away, Jack lay face down on another soft mound of pink hay. So tightly had he held to his head and the flagon, he lost neither during the fall and the hay had saved both from smashing, but when Jack rolled over and started to rise, he found that his left leg had bent under and broken off at the knee. Being of wood, Jack suffered no pain, but it was frightfully inconvenient, and it was now impossible for him to walk, or even hobble. Shaking his fists as the last of Mogodore's riders disappeared in a cloud of dust, Jack sank dejectedly against the hay mound and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. His purpose in plunging from the Iffin's back, had been to break the flagon over Mogodore's head and save the Emerald City at any cost, even if he himself were destroyed. But now it was too late! Mogodore was gone, Peter, Snif and Belfaygor had vanished and he himself, was a broken man. The wicked Baron of Baffleburg, with none to stop him, would march boldly to the capitol, fall upon its unsuspecting inhabitants, enslave them all and seize the magic treasures for himself. This dark picture fairly made Jack groan and when he spied the magic sack resting against the next hay stack he positively shuddered.
"All that is left of three faithful friends," mourned Jack. "I hope there's room for Belfaygor's beard in that bag or they'll all be smothered. I hope they're not mixed with Scares. I must get that sack. Whatever happens I must get that sack and take it to the Wizard of Oz." At thought of touching the enchanted bag, Jack shook like a tree in a hail storm, but controlling his fear and distaste, he dragged himself to the haystack. First he pulled the cords that closed the top, then hanging it carefully over one shoulder, dragged himself back. His broken leg and the forbidden flagon lay side by side in the straw, and raising his voice Jack shouted loudly for help. But the pink hay field was a long way from the farm house and no one heard him except a few curious crows who answered his cries with dismal screeches. Finally Jack grew so hoarse he could shout no more and, holding his head in both hands, he tried to think of some way to reach the Emerald City.
"If the Scarecrow were only here," sighed Jack dolefully, "he would be sure to hit upon some clever plan, but I am only a poor stupid pumpkin head with only a few dried seeds for brains." Realizing that the whole fate of the Kingdom of Oz depended upon him, poor Jack pressed his head with his wooden hands and thought so hard that the seeds inside skipped about like corn in a corn popper. And one must have been a seed of thought, for presently Jack gave a little bounce and feeling in his pocket drew out the Red Jinn's bell. "I'll make that slave help me," muttered Jack determinedly. Just how the slave could help him Jack did not stop to figure out, but anything was better than sitting foolishly on a haystack while little Ozma was facing capture and possible banishment. So Jack tucked his broken leg under one arm, tightened his hold on the pirate's sack, put the precious flagon in his coat pocket and boldly rang the silver bell.
"I hope he does not bring those meddlesome bodyguards," muttered Jack leaning forward anxiously. The slave of the ball appeared so promptly this time that his tray almost hit Jack in the nose. Placing the tray on Jack's lap the little fellow backed away and was preparing to vanish when Jack sprang to his feet, and scattering dishes in every direction seized the small servitor by the arm.