CHAPTER 14
The Emperor of Oz
The same morning Dorothy wakened in the rustic summer house of the Winkie farmer, Skamperoo opened his eyes upon the unaccustomed grandeur of Ozma's Royal Palace. The banquet had lasted till long after three o'clock, then still chuckling and yawning, he had waved goodnight to his hilarious and amiable subjects and led Chalk off to bed. Twenty footmen with twenty lighted tapers preceded him to Ozma's own apartment, but dismissing this as too plain and simple, he had taken the immense green guest suite across the hall. Chalk would have much preferred a stall in the Royal Stable with the other four-footed members of the castle party, but Skamperoo would not hear of such a separation. He wanted his white wishing horse close at hand, not only because through him and the magic emeralds he could satisfy every wish, but because for the first time in his long, lazy, selfish life he had found someone he liked better than himself. In Skamperoo's eyes Chalk was absolutely perfect, and as his own wish had brought the golden-maned charger into being, he felt proud and important as a parent with his first child.
After a few regretful sniffs out of the window, a few short turns up and down their immense and elegant sleeping apartment, Chalk leaped lightly on one of the large green beds and settled himself gracefully for the night. Covering Chalk tenderly with a green satin quilt, Skamperoo hastily disrobed, and clutching his precious necklaces, climbed wearily into the other bed. There, without even stopping to wish himself goodnight, he fell into a deep and tranquil slumber. Indeed both, in spite of the strangeness of their surroundings, slept soundly till morning.
About eight o'clock, Chalk, lifting his head from the embroidered pillow, looked indulgently across at the new Emperor of Oz. Sitting up in bed, Skamperoo was busily counting the gems in his three magic chains.
"Ho, throw those silly beads away!" advised the white horse, jumping out of bed with a gay toss of his golden mane. "You have nothing else to wish for, Kingaling, nothing more at all! M—mmm, this green carpet looks good enough to eat, but I've a fancy to nibble the clover in Your Majesty's garden while it is still fresh with dew."
"Say it again," begged Skamperoo, closing his eyes and clasping himself blissfully around the middle.
"Your Majesty's garden! Your Majesty's Palace, Your Majesty's Kingdom of Oz!" whinnied the white horse, rising on his hind legs and pirouetting round with mischievous little prances. "But come, Emp! What are your wishes for today? I think we will have to use the necklaces after all. You must certainly have some new clothes. It would never do to appear this morning in the suit you wore last night. You had better have some sleeping garments, too. I've a notion that Emperors do not sleep in their raw hides like horses." Skamperoo, giggling self-consciously, dragged the satin sheets up to his chin, for to tell the truth, he had arrived in the Emerald City with only one suit to his back, and an extremely shabby one at that.
"Maybe I'd better change my face, too," he murmured, "to go with all this, you know." Dreamily Skamperoo waved his hands about, and then, leaning forward, slipped the chains over Chalk's ear.
"What's the matter with the face you have?" demanded Chalk, gazing fondly at the red, rotund countenance of his Master. "I like you just as you are, and if you change I wouldn't even know you, but I'll tell you what you can wish after you've ordered yourself some new clothes—wish yourself a seasoned rider and then we can go far and wide, Kingaling, far and wide at a furious gallop and none shall say us nay—hey, hey!"
"And none shall say us nay," trilled Skamperoo, rolling out of bed, covers and all. To wish himself fifty jewel-encrusted robes with boots, crowns, and all the undergarments to go with them, fifty splendid sleeping robes, and fifty suits of riding clothes took but a moment. He and Chalk could hear them landing with little thuds on the hangers in the many closets as Skamperoo finished speaking. Then, being naturally lazy, the new Emperor wished that he had already had his bath and was dressed in his green riding clothes. So, immediately he was, and winking at his clever assistant adviser, he next wished himself the best rider in Oz. Then, taking back his necklaces, he buttoned them carefully in a little pocket over his heart and went over to the mirror to have a look at himself.
"How about this governing stuff?" puffed the self-made Emperor, turning this way and that to get a good view of his new clothes.
"Oh, I shouldn't bother about governing," answered Chalk carelessly. "A well-governed country like this should be able to run itself for a few weeks. By that time we'll be ready for more serious matters, but right now I'm all for enjoying myself. A splendid idea, that, of putting all the rulers and the Wizard and his magic out of the way. The rest of your court and subjects are exceedingly sensible and jolly, and if we are pleasant and sensible too, everything will be 'What ho and so cozy!' So let's go below and start our first day of emperoaring!" Impatiently Chalk pranced away toward the door.
"You're sure I look all right?" asked Skamperoo with another anxious squint at his reflection. "Seems to me I'm a bit too fat."
"Oh, don't worry about that," said Chalk, rolling his eyes wickedly. "Come along, come along, and I'll soon shake some of that fat off you. Up with you, Kingaling, and let's to our oats!" To his delight and pleasure, Skamperoo had not the slightest trouble mounting, and once in the saddle he felt perfectly at home, even when Chalk bounded through the door, took the long circular steps between a canter and a gallop, and ran madly three times round the Royal gardens.
On fine days Ozma always had breakfast in her private garden, and it being an especially fine day, the palace servants without thought or question had placed the royal table under the trees. It was still fairly early and none of the guests or members of the household were down, but this did not spoil Skamperoo's excellent appetite at all. Ordering Chalk a breakfast of oats, bran and quartered apples, he seated himself gaily at the head of the table. The green riding hat, set well over one ear, became him vastly well and Chalk, regarding him proudly from the foot of the table, thought him every inch an Emperor, even if round the waist there were a good many too many inches.
"I wish Pinny Penny could see you now," sighed the horse, sinking contentedly back on his haunches, "and how I should have enjoyed seeing Matiah's face when he finally discovered you and the necklaces were gone. By the way, perhaps we should do something about Matiah?"
"Pinny Penny will attend to him," said Skamperoo, popping a huge cherry into his mouth and nodding his head reassuringly. "I'll wager Pinny Penny sent the fellow packing the moment he found himself King. Wonder how Pinny is making out, anyway?"
"But suppose Matiah should follow us here?" went on Chalk. Having been in existence only two days, he knew little of Oz or geozophy.
"He can't come here," Skamperoo told him triumphantly. "There's a deadly desert between Skampavia and Oz that no one in my father's lifetime or in mine has ever crossed, that is with the exception of ourselves, and we were wished across, which doesn't count." Then as four footmen with heaping trays appeared, he winked at Chalk and the white horse lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
And Skamperoo had been perfectly correct in his conjectures about Pinny Penny. When, with a resounding clunk, the King's gold crown had fallen upon the astonished Prime Minister, his head had gone entirely through so he was forced to wear it much as a dog wears a collar. But even so, he was not slow to realize the significance of this odd happening or the power it brought with it. Gripping the scepter which had forced itself into his hand, he rushed into the throne room to find out what strange whim of his Master had made him acting King of the Realm. A glance around the throne room was enough to show him that Skamperoo was not there, and when he saw Matiah sitting so unconcernedly in the book alcove, a sudden rage and conviction seized him. Whatever had happened, Matiah was to blame.
"Leave this palace at once!" shouted Pinny Penny, stamping first one foot and then the other. "At once, do you hear, or I'll call out the guard!" Matiah, still deep in the History of Oz, looked up in astonishment, and when he saw the little Prime Minister wearing Skamperoo's crown round his neck and brandishing his scepter, he gave a perfect bellow of anger and dismay.
"Where's the King?" he roared, looking wildly around the throne room, "and why are you wearing his crown? Where's Skamperoo—where're the necklaces?"
"Ask yourself!" raged Pinny Penny, shaking the scepter threateningly. "Everything was quiet and peaceful till you and your necklaces arrived at this palace; there's some magic trickery about them and about you. Don't think I was fooled by that horse story, a horse does not appear out of the air. Well, now the King's gone—the horse is gone and unless you are gone in ten seconds I'll have you thrown out of the window. Ten seconds—do you hear? This crown and scepter came to me through no wish or choice of my own, but since they did come to me I AM THE KING! And I intend to rule this country. My first official act will be to rid myself of your filthy presence. Now, then, start walking, merchant, and don't stop till you reach the border. Twenty guards will follow to see you safely out of the country."
"You wait till Skamperoo hears about this!" blustered Matiah, backing away in alarm from the determined little Prime Minister. "I'm more important to him than anyone else."
"Then why aren't you with him?" inquired Pinny Penny shrewdly. "No, wherever he's gone he has gone without you. I am the King and I do not need you, so be off!" Clapping his hands, Pinny gave a sharp command to the guards, who came hurrying in answer to his summons. Retiring rapidly to escape the tips of their sharp spikes, Matiah sullenly began his long march. It was nightfall by the time the little company reached the edge of Skampavia. Here, in a wilderness of rock and rubble, the guardsmen left him with food enough for a couple of days and stern warnings never to return to Skampavia. Far to the west the miserable merchant could see the comforting lights of Merryland, but he had no desire to go there or east to the Kingdom of Ix. Instead, he stared hopelessly across the wilderness to where the heaving sands of the Deadly Desert gleamed like molten silver in the moonlight.
"How had that rascally monarch ever escaped without his seeing him? How could he ever safely cross the Deadly Desert and hope to reach Oz? How had Skamperoo, who seemed so dumb and foolish, ever discovered the secret of using the magic emeralds when he himself had failed to do so? How? How? How?" Crouched on a flat rock, munching one of the sandwiches left by the guards, Matiah scowled evilly across the grim desert, his thoughts as treacherous and shifting as its deadly sands.
CHAPTER 15
The Dooners!
All day, with only a short pause for lunch, Pigasus had flown north, Dorothy keeping a sharp lookout for Thunder Mountain or mountains of any sort, but the wild, desolate country through which they were flying was flat, desert-like and apparently perfectly uninhabited.
"A fine healthy chance we have of finding an army here!" snorted Pigasus as the afternoon drew to a hot, weary close, "and what we'll do when we find Thunder Mountain, I haven't the faintest notion, have you? Even if I butt my nose black, blue and blunt, and you break both knuckles beating on its rocky exterior, how can we ever hope to enter such a place, much less release our unfortunate sovereigns? I told you Kalico was a scoundrel; I'll wager he's sent us on a wild goose chase just to get us out of the way."
said Dorothy almost as down-hearted as Pigasus, though she would not admit it. The pink pig, rather ashamed of himself, flew for several miles without saying anything, then, in rather a gruff voice, he called Dorothy's attention to the changing nature of the scenery below.
"Notice the hills?" he snorted, more hopefully. "Maybe there is a mountain, after all, but the sun's going down and I'm ready to sink myself, so let's descend and see whether we can find a soft rock on which to lay our heads."
"Not hills, dunes!" cried Dorothy, bouncing off as soon as Pigasus touched the earth. "Sand dunes; we must be near the coast and the Nonestic Ocean."
"It does smell salty," agreed Pigasus, sniffing the air eagerly, "but suppose we save the ocean for tomorrow, my feet ache, my wings ache, and I'm hollow as a drum."
"Then we'll have supper," decided Dorothy, sensibly. So seating themselves comfortably with their backs against a dune, the two weary explorers finished up all the cold meat, fruit, pie, and sandwiches Shoofenwaller had packed up for them. After a long, wistful sniff into the box convinced him there was not another crumb, Pigasus folded his wings, lay down in the soft sand at the foot of the dune, giving only indistinct grunts and snorts to Dorothy's questions and observations. Finally, getting no answer at all, Dorothy discovered he was asleep. The regular rise and fall of the pink pig's sides, the soft drowsy singing of the west wind lulled Dorothy into a pleasant state of dreaminess, and presently, with her head comfortably pillowed on the pig's plump shoulder, she fell asleep too.
It must have been hours later when terrified squeals from Pigasus and the patter of a hundred hurrying feet made her start up in alarm. Still only half awake, she was startled to find herself and Pigasus surrounded by a horde of savage-looking sandmen. In the pale and watery moonlight they looked like creatures out of some very bad dream. Their bodies were roughly moulded of sand, their eyes strangely green and phosphorescent, while their hair, rising like beach grass from their pointed heads, waved about their lumpy faces.
Clutching the basket that contained her small store of clothing, the Black Witch's powder of darkness, and Potaroo's box of stumbling blocks, Dorothy pressed back against the dune. Her first idea of leaping on the pig's back and bidding him fly was useless. Pigasus lay helplessly on his side, his wings and legs bound tightly with long strands of tough, strong seaweed. Thankful to find that she at least was free, Dorothy went a step closer to her struggling, squealing, furious little comrade. As she did so, a perfect shower of sand balls came flying toward them. The sharp sting of the sandmen's missiles not only awoke her completely, but goaded her into instant and angry action.
"Stop that! Stop that at once!" she cried, stamping her foot indignantly, but her words only brought another shower of sand balls down on their heads.
"You have dared to invade the sacred domain of the Dooners," yelled the rasping voice of the leader, rattling a long string of sea shells he wore round his neck. "And therefore you shall be sand balled, sand bagged and made into sandwiches for the sand crabs!"
If the Dooner had not looked so wild and dangerous, his foolish threat might have been amusing, but as he and his bandy-legged sandmen came leaping forward, Pigasus gave a squeal of sheer terror, and Dorothy, raising the basket over her head, hurled it with all her might into the midst of the advancing army. The effect was immediate and astonishing. Cowering down beside Pigasus and expecting to be seized or trampled on, Dorothy saw the first line of Dooners going down like a row of tenpins, then all the others began tumbling and tripping and falling in heaps. No sooner would a sandman rise than he would instantly tumble down again, and their squalls and screeches of rage were so piercing Dorothy put both hands over her ears.
"It's the blocks," wheezed Pigasus, managing to lift his head a few inches. "Kalico's stumbling blocks are flying like fur and fury. Now if they just keep 'em down for a while longer, we might get away."
Dorothy, peering sharply into the midst of the tumbling Dooners, saw the fifty magic squares released from their box when she flung her basket, fairly exploding with activity, and scramble up as they would after each tumble, the sandmen could not advance an inch, nor even manage to stand erect. The leader, attempting to crawl forward on his hands and knees, was caught by a dozen of the whirling missiles and rolled back like a log among his churning comrades.
"Hurray! Three cheers for Kalico!" puffed Pigasus. "Quick, my girl, see if you can untie these wretched seaweeds and we'll be flying and be off in a pigwhistle."
"I had a pair of scissors in my basket if it hasn't fallen out, and anyway I'm not going without my things," declared Dorothy, now quite bold since the enemy had been overcome by magic. And in spite of the pig's anxious squeals of warning, she rushed forward, grabbed her basket and began picking up her scattered belongings, noting with a sigh of relief that the box containing the powder of darkness was still closed. With the scissors, still safe in the little pocket in the side of the basket, she soon clipped the seaweed trusses from Pigasus, and clasping the basket in her arms climbed swiftly on his back. Pigasus, without one backward glance, rose straight into the air and again headed north. Dorothy, peering fearfully over his left wing, saw the Dooners spring suddenly to their feet and then, like frightened prairie dogs, disappear into many holes in the sand.
Funny, mused Dorothy, that they had not noticed these openings before. Funny that the Dooners had stopped stumbling as soon as she and Pigasus had taken to the air. Funny—but then, everything was funny. Right in the middle of her conjectures the box of stumbling blocks, now closed and tied with a red ribbon, dropped "plink" into the middle of her basket.
"Someone's throwing things," gasped Pigasus, flapping his wings a bit faster and looking rather wildly over his shoulder.
"No, just our box of stumbling blocks," yawned Dorothy. Now that the excitement was over she felt dreadfully tired and even the sight of the Nonestic Ocean rippling and gleaming a few yards ahead did not arouse or interest her.
It did not interest Pigasus, either. He was far from pleased to find himself so near the coast.
"I don't like this, I don't like this at all," muttered the pig, perking up his ears and wiggling his nose rapidly. "We've flown straight north and instead of striking Thunder Mountain, we strike the sea, and how could a mountain be in the middle of the sea?"
said Dorothy sleepily, recalling the days she had studied geography in the United States.
"I don't care if they are," answered Pigasus fiercely, "I won't go to Japan and I'll not go a wing's breadth over this ocean tonight, islands or no islands. Sa—hay! There's the North Star to our left, so we're not going north at all. We're off our course, that's what we are!"
"North Star? North Star, of course we are!" mumbled Dorothy with a drowsy nod.
"You're asleep," scolded Pigasus in a worried voice. "I'd better land."
"If you land too soon, you'll strike a dune," warned Dorothy with another yawn. And after a quick glance below, and convinced they were still over the Dooner's domain, Pigasus spread his wings a bit wider and swung along the coast looking carefully for a safe place to land and spend the rest of the night. He was so busy squinting downward that he never saw the long curious tube-like shadow shooting after him with incredible accuracy and speed. A terrific blast of air as it rushed by them on the right was his first warning of danger. Dorothy, too, caught unaware, gave a faint shriek as an immense snake-like body curved back and began to coil round and round them like some gigantic air serpent.
"It is a snake!" thought poor Dorothy, as Pigasus hung helplessly in the little circle of air left in the center of its coils. Neither spoke, for truly there seemed nothing to say or do. Then just as the suspense grew too awful to be endured, the monster opened its mouth and Dorothy, backing as far along the pig's back as she possibly could, almost lost her balance. Instead of a tongue or long tusks, out popped the head and shoulders of a little old man no larger than Dorothy herself.
"Pardon me," he murmured politely, "I was looking for a sea serpent."
"Do I look like a sea serpent?" snorted Pigasus in a quivering voice, for he was still half choked from shock and fright. "If you and that monster you're riding are looking for a sea serpent, go ahead—look for one, but leave honest travelers alone!"
"Monster?" exclaimed the little man in a hurt voice. "Oh, I say now, you have us all wrong. This is no monster, this is the long, strong, flexible, stretchable SHOOTING TOWER of my private castle, and I, myself, am Bitty Bit, the Seer of Some Summit."
In the short silence that followed Bitty Bit's astonishing announcement, Dorothy, examining more closely the tube-like coils encircling herself and Pigasus, saw that they really were of stone with rubber-like sections between. What she had taken for a mouth was really a window. With his elbow resting on the ledge, Bitty Bit was regarding them fixedly.
"Well, even if you are a seer and have a shooting tower," grunted Pigasus, gathering courage as he went along, "there is no reason for you to come towering over us this way!"
"But a seer must be constantly looking for things," explained Bitty Bit, spreading his hands expansively, "that, you know, is his business. I am always looking for something and tonight it happens to be sea serpents."
"Sorry to disappoint you," said Pigasus, more mildly, "but since we are not sea serpents, perhaps you'll be good enough to unwind your tower. As it happens, I have a little looking to do myself. As a matter of fact, when you and your tower overtook us I was searching for a safe place for this young Princess and myself to spend the night."
"Look no more!" begged Bitty Bit, leaning so far over the sill Dorothy involuntarily put out her hand to save him from falling. "You shall both spend the night in my castle. COME!" Grasping Dorothy by one hand and Pigasus by one wing, the little seer with superhuman strength for one so small and wrinkled dragged them both through the open window of his shooting tower.
CHAPTER 16
The Seer of Some Summit
Since coming to Oz, Dorothy had traveled in many strange ways, but to find herself shooting through the midnight sky in Bitty Bit's tower was surely the oddest of all. Both she and Pigasus stared from the window in wide-eyed wonder as the tower uncoiled and started shrinking rapidly backward.
"We may as well go home at once," observed Bitty Bit, rubbing his little hands briskly together. "You are much more interesting than sea serpents and I can easily look for sea serpents some other night. Now don't be alarmed when we bump."
"Bump?" repeated Dorothy rather nervously.
"Of course," the sage told her calmly. "As I go forward, the tower stretches out in any direction I wish to go; when I return, it shrinks, contracts, and retires within itself like a telescope, and by the time we reach the castle it is no larger than an ordinary tower. Mm—better hold on to something, we're almost there!" Running around the circular room a few feet from the wall was a gold railing. Pigasus had just time to hook his wing around this railing and Dorothy to seize it with one hand, when Bitty Bit's tower with a resounding crash snapped back, but up to a vertical position, so that what had been the floor of the little room became the east wall and the window a skylight. Dorothy and Pigasus, describing a complete circle on the bar, landed in a more or less upside down position on what had been the back wall. "That's why I have it cushioned," explained the seer, who also had executed a neat somersault. Hopping up, as if landing on his head was a perfectly usual and ordinary occurrence, Bitty Bit opened a trap door in the floor and motioned for Dorothy and Pigasus to follow him down a long winding stair.
"These magic contraptions will be the death of me," wheezed Pigasus, picking himself up with a groan. The cushioned floor had made his fall painless, but he was considerably jolted and upset from the shock, or rather the series of shocks that had so far punctuated their evening.
"But if he's a seer," whispered Dorothy, recovering her basket and trotting eagerly after Bitty Bit, "he ought to be able to help us a—"
"Bitty Bit," sniffed the pink pig. "Well, if he'll just help me to a bed, I'll be satisfied!" and grunting and grumbling, he clumped sleepily down the stairs behind Dorothy. The room into which the stone stairway led them was evidently the cozy and comfortable study of the comical little seer. Its walls were of oak, lined from floor to ceiling with books, and all its furnishings were tan or brown. Dorothy considered this extremely suitable as Bitty Bit himself looked like a very wise and merry Brownie. On his little round head was a round cap with a yellow quill and he wore a brown wrinkled robe rather like a monk's, tied tightly round the waist with a yellow cord. His bright, black, sharp little eyes danced with good humor and interest in his sun-tanned, honest little face. While Pigasus stood sleepily and somewhat disapprovingly on the hearth rug, Dorothy sank into a snug brown arm chair and looked expectantly up at their singular host.
"No, no, not a word," begged Bitty Bit, raising his hand pleadingly. "Remember, I am the Seer of Some Summit, a seer who can see and foresee; a seer who can tell and foretell. Just by closing my eyes I can tell who you are, whence you came, and whither you are going."
"Fancy that, now," observed Pigasus in a mocking voice.
"You," retorted Bitty Bit, pointing a skinny brown finger at the pig, "you are a creation of my friend, the Red Jinn, whose taste for low verse I always knew would lead him into some mischief."
"Low verses?" retorted Pigasus indignantly, while even Dorothy looked a little shocked.
"Yes, low verses," insisted Bitty Bit solemnly. "You are so constructed that he who rides must rhyme and break into foolish jingles. Is this not so?"
"They may be jingles, but they are NOT low verse," protested Pigasus, flapping his ears angrily.
"Well, then, let us call them simple verses," amended Bitty Bit with a generous wave of the hand, "at least they are verses that anyone can understand, which, of course, makes them of no value whatever. People never appreciate what they can understand."
"Dorothy does," declared Pigasus, now mad enough to fly right out the window.
"Dorothy? Ah, yes, I was coming to her." Swinging around, Bitty Bit, his eyes still tightly shut, wagged his finger at the astonished little girl. "You are the mortal girl who came to Oz by cyclone. You live in the Emerald City of Oz and are—"
"Oh, tell us something we don't already know," interrupted Pigasus with a bored yawn. "Where is Ozma of Oz now—how could a scalawag Emperor steal her throne?"
"Wait! Wait! Give me time! Not a word more—not a word!" panted Bitty Bit, advancing with short dancing steps toward Dorothy. "I—I see a necklace," he muttered mysteriously. "One—two—three necklaces! I see a white horse and a fat, red-faced fellow wearing a small emerald crown. Great sea bass and sassafrass! Oz has been conquered—its inhabitants enchanted—its rulers banished, and the King of Skampavia sits on the throne."
"So that's where he comes from!" breathed Dorothy, forgetting Bitty Bit's request for silence. "Oh, quick, tell us more—tell us more, and help us to restore Ozma and the other lost sovereigns to power!"
"I am only a seer," answered the sage, opening his eyes wide and suddenly. "I can see and foresee, tell and foretell, but I cannot change that which has happened or is about to happen."
"But where is Ozma?" demanded Pigasus, edging closer. "If you are a seer and can see 'er, at least you can tell us where she is." In this way Pigasus hoped to check up the information given them by Potaroo, the Gnome King's Wizard.
So again Bitty Bit closed his eyes and pressing his fingers to his forehead spoke: "Ozma, my old friend Jinnicky, the Wizard of Oz, a soldier with green whiskers, a purple horse, two Queens, two Kings, a Prince, the Tin Woodman, and Glinda the Good Sorceress are lying at the bottom of Lightning Lake, which is on the top of Thunder Mountain," Bitty Bit told them solemnly.
"Lightning Lake?" cried Dorothy, seizing the little seer frantically by the shoulders. "Why, then, they must be drowned, burned and destroyed altogether!"
"No, no—they are quite calm and as usual," Bitty Bit assured her hastily, "in fact, they are, I should say, in a trance of some kind."
"But what'll we do, how'll we disenchant them or find Thunder Mountain?" Loosing her hold on Bitty Bit, Dorothy spun round three times and then started firmly for the door.
"My shooting tower will take you to Thunder Mountain or any other place you decide you must go," promised Bitty Bit, hurrying anxiously after the little girl, "but not tonight, Dorothy—not tonight. We are all tired and I must have time to think. The conquering of Oz is a great shock to me. I would like time to look into the matter more fully and consider all of these strange events in their proper order. This problem shall be my pillow. I'll sleep on it, my dear, and in the morning will doubtless have something helpful to suggest."
"Well, then, where're the beds?" yawned Pigasus, who heartily approved of Bitty Bit's suggestion. "Or are we to sleep on our problems, too?" At this, Bitty Bit, who seemed to find Pigasus terribly amusing, laughed right out loud, then taking Dorothy's arm he led the way to a snug little bedroom all done in yellow. Pigasus had a gentlemanly apartment in tan next door and both were so weary they spent little time examining their new quarters, but instead went directly to bed and to sleep.
When Dorothy wakened next morning she looked out the window and saw Pigasus flying in slow circles round the tidy castle. Bitty Bit's brown stone palace, though small and unpretentious, perched, right on top of Some Summit, and the view was so fine and the mountain air so fresh and invigorating, Dorothy, in spite of all her anxiety and worry, began to feel happy and reckless and ready for anything. With cheerful little glances round her cozy yellow room, she dressed, brushed her hair till it shone, then skipped merrily down the brown marble steps and out into the garden. The garden, really a series of sloping terraces, was bright with hardy mountain posies, with spicy sage bushes and gnarled old trees which clung like acrobats to the steep rocks and dangerous crevices. Pigasus, catching a glimpse of Dorothy seated on a smooth rock near a little waterfall, came swooping down to wish her a merry morning.
"Not a bad little palace," remarked the pig considerately. "Not a bad little palace at all, though so far as I can see there's not a man servant nor a woman servant or even a ladybug about. I imagine this fellow is a hermit and from the looks of him probably lives on tobacco and snuff. What do you suppose are the chances for breakfast?"
"I don't know," said Dorothy, refusing to allow such a small matter as breakfast to dash her spirits. "Have you seen Bitty Bit this morning?"
"Yes," sniffed Pigasus, beginning to poke his nose hungrily round the roots of a dwarf oak, "before I flew out my window, I saw him going into his brown study. Seer goes into brown study. How's that for the first announcement of the day?"
"You're awful," laughed Dorothy, giving Pigasus a little push.
"No, just awfully hungry," grinned Pigasus. "Now I've been thinking—"
"NO?" Stepping out from behind a sizable bush, Bitty Bit regarded the pig with an air of assumed amazement. "He says he's been thinking," he repeated, turning solemnly to Dorothy. "Must be the air up here."
"That's about all I've had," retorted Pigasus, savagely crunching an acorn between his teeth, "that and a nibble from one of your sage bushes."
"Sage bush, eh?" chuckled Bitty Bit, winking at Dorothy. "That's good, and we'll make a sage of you yet, a sausage!" he whispered in an undertone that Pigasus heard quite distinctly. "And speaking of sausage, how about breakfast?"
Though Bitty Bit's remark about the sausage still rankled, Pigasus was too hungry to let it keep him from following the seer into a small walled garden that opened out from the larger dining hall of his castle. Here, on a small table covered with a gay yellow cloth, was assembled the most appetizing breakfast Dorothy ever had tasted. Ripe melon and apricots, cereal and eggs, tiny meat pies, pancakes and honey, hot rolls and steaming brown cocoa. There was a huge bowl of mush and cream for Pigasus and another of buttermilk, and under the soothing influence of his favorite foods, Pigasus completely forgot his annoyance and they were soon chattering away like old friends at a Sunday School Picnic. Bitty Bit's chef, whom the pig had overlooked in his grand tour of the palace, served them with skill and speed. No wonder Pigasus had not seen him, for he was even smaller than his wrinkled little Master and almost completely enveloped in a great brown linen apron and tall brown cap. Dorothy could not possibly eat all the dainties pressed upon her by the kind little seer and his chef, but she nibbled at each course, and when Bitty Bit saw that neither she nor Pigasus could down another bite, he swallowed the rest of his cocoa and bounced briskly to his feet.
"Now," he cried, tossing away his gay napkin with a flourish. "Now for the Emerald City and Oz!"
"But I thought we were going to Thunder Mountain," exclaimed Dorothy, pushing back her chair so hurriedly she bumped her head on the wall.
"That," exclaimed Bitty Bit, looking over his shoulder, for he was already half way through the door, "that will not be necessary. All we need to save the celebrities of Oz is the long lost wishing emeralds of Lorna the Wood Nymph."
"Lorna?" coughed Pigasus, rolling out of his seat and falling a bit sideways. "For pretty sake, who's she?"
"Oh, come along!" urged Dorothy, and without wasting another second she pelted into the brown palace after Bitty Bit.
With a groan Pigasus followed, and groaned again when he realized he would have to climb three flights of marble steps and a flight of stone to reach the famous shooting tower. Then, suddenly and joyfully remembering his wings, he spread them wide.
"Wings, hold me up," mumbled the pink pig stuffily, "we're carrying entirely too mush mush!" Rising rather uncertainly, he breathlessly flapped his way up to the tower room where Dorothy and Bitty Bit impatiently awaited him.
CHAPTER 17
Skamperoo in Oz
In the company of Scraps, the Scarecrow, the Royal Visitors, and all the amusing members of Ozma's court, the Emperor and Chalk passed a gay and hilarious morning. The tableaux and pageants proceeded without a single hitch and no one seemed to miss Dorothy or Pigasus at all, nor did anyone notice the omission of the carefully planned groups showing the Wizard's arrival in Oz, Dorothy's first visit to the Emerald City or the victory of Nick Chopper over the wolves. These interesting and historical events might just as well never have happened. Notta's circus later in the afternoon went off with a bang, even without Pigasus to jump through hoops and fly round the ring waving flags while Scraps did her balance-defying acts on the trapeze and tight rope. The picnic supper was even more fun than the circus, and the fireworks, set off by Tik Tok, who was in no danger of scorching himself, the best of all. Indeed, Skamperoo's first day in the Emerald City had been so full and so interesting he had not made a single wish or once thought of his magic emeralds.
"Funny we never had jolly times like this at home," mused Skamperoo, putting out the emerald stars in the ceiling that pleasantly lighted his green apartment, and burrowing happily down into his splendid green bed. "Oh, Chalk! Are you asleep there, old horse?" As no answer came from the other bed, Skamperoo let himself sink a bit deeper into the luxurious nest of silken covers and soon was asleep himself, puffing and whistling like a steamboat.
But the strange and frightful snoring of the Emperor did not seem to stop nor scare away the shadowy figure that presently came stealing into the Royal Chamber. Once—twice—three times, long skinny fingers reached out toward the thick neck of the snoring ruler of Oz. The fourth time there were three distinct little clips, and when the curving talon-like claw withdrew, it had in its clutching grasp the three powerful wishing chains. Then, without waking the occupant of either bed, the thief stole quietly into the shadows.
Now the Scarecrow, delighted with the success of the celebration so far, had suggested a series of athletic contests and obstacle races for next day and Skamperoo had heartily agreed to his plans. His first thought on waking was the race to be run by the straw man and himself, the Scarecrow on the wooden saw horse, he on his splendid white charger.
"I'll wear the white leather breeches and shirt," puffed Skamperoo, bounding out of bed like a school boy. He had taken a shower and donned his showy riding clothes before he missed his magic emeralds. Then, all at once, as he stood before the mirror to comb his hair, he gave a loud squall of anguish. "Chalk! Chalk!" roared the distracted Emperor, racing over to the balcony and leaning so far out over the railing he nearly fell on his crown. "They're gone! They're gone! My emeralds! My necklaces! My necklaces! My emeralds!"
Now Chalk, who had risen early to nibble the clover while it was still fresh with morning dew, looked up in alarm, then as his Master's voice grew louder and louder and his gestures more spectacular and desperate, the white horse rose up on his hind legs and shook his head in violent warning and displeasure.
"Hush!" he directed in a low voice. "I'll be right up." Making his way quickly but cautiously so as not to arouse the curiosity of any of the palace servants, already at work in the lower hallways, Chalk hurried up to the agitated Emperor.
"They're g-g—gone!" blubbered Skamperoo, sitting on the edge of the bed and crying like a baby. "G—g-g-gone! Now everything is ruined and I'll have nothing left at all!"
"Well, you still have me," murmured Chalk, resting his head affectionately on Skamperoo's shoulder. "Brace up, Kingaling, and for oats sake be quiet! No one here knows about the necklaces and until the rascal who has stolen them learns how to use them we are as safe as soap. That rascal, of course, is Matiah. Somehow he has managed to cross the Deadly Desert. Yes," Chalk shook his mane wrathfully, "I am convinced that Matiah has the necklaces, but what good are they to him when we alone know the secret that makes them work? He'll have to come to us in the end and when he does! Hah!" Chalk expelled the air from his nose in a terrific snort. "Just let me take care of him."
"But shouldn't we give the alarm, have a search made for him, and try to recover the emeralds?"
"Let him alone," counseled the wishing horse firmly. "The thing for you to do is to sit tight on the throne of Oz. Remember you are still the Emperor!"
"But how can I be, without those emeralds?" Skamperoo dabbed at his eyes with the satin bed sheet.
"We got along all right yesterday," said Chalk calmly. "Come, cheer up, Skamper, everything will be ALL right."
"I rather counted on beating the Scarecrow in that race this morning," muttered Skamperoo wistfully. "How can you run as fast as that tireless wooden creature who was magically brought to life?"
"Well, wasn't I magically brought to life?" The white horse shook his mane roguishly. "Come along, Kingaling, we'll not only win that race, but we'll have back our necklaces and chase Matiah out of Oz before we are through."
"I—I really believe you can do anything," sighed Skamperoo, getting almost cheerfully to his feet. "But just the same, I shall keep a sharp outlook for Matiah. He might start a revolution."
"He'll revolute pretty rapidly if I once get my heels on him," promised Chalk with a wicked grin. "Come on—heads up, and who's afraid?" However, in spite of the white horse's valiant attempts to comfort him, Skamperoo spent a troubled and uneasy day, casting fearful glances behind him when no one was looking, searching the happy holiday crowds with haggard glances for a glimpse of the long, thin face of Matiah the merchant. Even when Chalk beat the Sawhorse in their long, exciting race through the park, and the crowds cheered themselves hoarse with delight and approval, the victory was spoiled by the knowledge that somewhere in the Emerald City lurked his most dangerous and relentless foe.
Chalk, too, though he pretended to regard the matter lightly, was almost as worried as his Master and spent every free moment poking his head into doorways and peering down side streets and rearing up over walls. And while Skamperoo was having his afternoon nap, the white horse systematically searched the palace from top to bottom, even the cellar.
But in the cellar Chalk did not go quite far enough, for it was in a hollowed out chamber under the cellar that the merchant of Skampavia was really hidden. Here, with a goodly supply of food, stolen from the pantry, Matiah had seriously settled down to work out the problem of the emerald necklace. He had meant to conceal himself in the cellar itself, but when his foot brushed against an iron ring in the floor, he had lifted it up and discovered to his delight and satisfaction this still more secluded and safe retreat.
The tunnels and rocky chambers below the Palace had been constructed and used by Ruggedo, the old Gnome King, when he was plotting to capture the Emerald City. Ruggedo himself had been captured, but the underground caves and passageways had been left pretty much as they were. There were a number of chairs, a rough bed and table, and numerous candles and lamps. Altogether it made an ideal workshop for the merchant to try out his experiments. In the cellar he might easily have been discovered by any of the kitchen boys sent down for supplies, but in Ruggedo's old hideout he could be sure of complete privacy. Lighting the largest of the lamps that hung on its rusty chain over the table, Matiah seated himself on a rickety old chair and prepared to concentrate with all his will power on the glittering emeralds. In the sickly green light he made a strange and sinister figure as he bent over the table, mumbling and chattering to himself. But after a whole day, during which he tried every known formula and combination, touching each gem in succession as he made his wish and counted to a hundred, he was still no nearer the solution of the mystery than he had been in Skampavia. First he had tried the diamond clasp of the third necklace, sure that that was the key to their power. But nothing at all had happened and the trick of the magic emeralds continued to elude him. To have in his fingers the means to immense power and good fortune and still be unable to benefit was so infuriating, Matiah began to stamp, splutter, and beat his chest with rage and disappointment. Was it for this he had bribed a red eagle with the promise of three wishes to carry him across the Deadly Desert? Even now the mammoth bird was waiting impatiently on the edge of a little wood near the City ready to tear him to pieces if he failed to fulfill his part of the bargain. No daylight penetrated into the tunneled chamber, and hardly realizing that it was now midnight, Matiah from sheer weariness and exasperation finally gave up and fell asleep, his head on the table, his hands still clutching the provoking chains. Footsteps pattering overhead wakened him at last, and also told him someone had come to the cellar for supplies. Stretching wearily, he rose and, going over to the stone steps, cautiously ascended and lifted the trapdoor. Now thoroughly convinced that the necklaces would not work unless worn by someone else, he determined to seize the first person entering the cellar and compel him to help.