"Speak without smoking," muttered the monster in a puzzled voice. "Well, I might try it. Is this better?" he grunted presently. Benny nodded and waving the cloud of smoke from before his eyes peered anxiously downward.
"What do you want with Trot?" he asked suspiciously.
"I want her for a servant," answered Quiberon promptly. "She must polish my scales, comb my hair," he lifted a great silver lock that hung between his horns, "sweep out the cave and tell me stories." Benny was about to snap his stone fingers in the monster's face, when Trot tapped him sharply on the ankles.
"Don't make him angry," whispered the little girl. "Maybe if I tried it for a time we could find a way to escape." Disgusted at the thought of Trot even looking at such a creature, Benny nevertheless realized that she was more experienced in the ways of this fairy kingdom than he was. Stifling an impulse to jump on the monster's head Benny called gruffly:
"Will you promise not to hurt her?"
"Not at first," agreed Quiberon readily enough. "Not till she tells me all she knows about mortals. That's fair enough, isn't it?" With an angry grunt Benny stepped aside and Trot and the Scarecrow slipped out of the crevice.
"Remember now, no more firing," quavered the Scarecrow, "and no nonsense either!"
"Pooh!" sniffed Quiberon so vigorously the Scarecrow was blown five feet into the air and only saved by the quick action of Benny from falling into the tumbling stream below.
"What shall I do first?" asked Trot, bowing timidly to Quiberon.
"You may practice some songs," purred the dragon drowsily. "And when I return you may sing me to sleep."
"Are we going to stand for this?" demanded Benny in a furious whisper to the Scarecrow, who was balanced insecurely on a sharp spike jutting out from the side of the cave.
"Hush!" warned the Scarecrow. "I'm thinking!" And putting his cotton finger to his wrinkled forehead he gazed intently at the ceiling.
"I shall be just outside, so don't try running away," advised Quiberon, sliding into the water with a tremendous splash and in a few minutes his glittering tail had disappeared through the opening of the cave.
"Well!" exclaimed Trot, clasping her hands resignedly, "I've never tried singing a dragon to sleep, but I suppose there must always be a first time. I hope he doesn't put his head in my lap, though."
"He'd better not!" stormed Benny, tramping angrily up and down. "I'll dance on his talons, I'll tread on his tail and pull out his whiskers!"
"Maybe there's another way out," mused the Scarecrow removing his eyes from the ceiling of the cave.
"Let's look," proposed Trot, darting eagerly toward the back of the cavern. Hurriedly they circled one entire side without success. Tumbling straight from the top of the cave on the other side was a sparkling silver water fall.
"I wonder what's beyond that?" muttered the Scarecrow looking up at it thoughtfully.
"Water doesn't hurt me, so I'll just take a look," said the stone man and before Trot or the Scarecrow could stop him Benny stepped right through the water fall and disappeared. With a sharp cry of distress Trot rushed forward.
"He's gone!" wailed the little girl dolefully. The Scarecrow looked almost as upset as Trot, for even in this short time he had grown fond of their strange stone comrade. As they discussed in anxious tones what they had better do, the dripping face of Benny looked out through the water fall.
"Come on!" he spluttered excitedly. "Run through, it leads into another cave!" Taking a deep breath and the Scarecrow's hand, Trot plunged into the waterfall. Benny seized them just in time, for the terrible rush of water took Trot's breath and the poor Scarecrow was limp and helpless, when they stepped out on the other side.
"I'll carry him," decided Benny, as the Scarecrow made an unsuccessful attempt to walk. The live statue was really beginning to enjoy all these strange adventures and excitements. "Hurry!" he puffed, picking up the poor, soggy straw man. "That monster's coming. I hear him." Before they had reached the end of the second cave, Quiberon with a flop and flash came plunging through the water fall.
"How dare you run away?" sizzled the monster. As the water poured over his fire-breathing nose, steam came rolling in hot clouds toward Trot and her friends.
"Faster! Faster! You go on!" urged Benny. "I'll stop him." With the stifling steam curling round her head, Trot ran as never before, all the way through the second cavern and rushed headlong into a narrow passageway that opened out between two rocks. Benny meanwhile, realizing that they could never outdistance Quiberon, stopped directly in his path, first placing the Scarecrow on a little ledge beside him. With a snort that shook seven sapphire rocks from the roof, Quiberon opened his monstrous mouth, and without a moment's hesitation the stone man stepped in. The Scarecrow, water soaked and helpless though he was, could not help admiring the courage of his new friend. Down came the jaws of the great fear fish. Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Then, there was a howl of anger and pain and eight red tusks lay on the floor of the cavern.
"Bite a Public Benefactor, would you?" sniffed Benny, stepping calmly out as the monster opened his mouth, and before Quiberon had recovered he snatched up the Scarecrow and pounded after Trot. They had almost reached the end of the dim blue corridor before Quiberon appeared at the head. Five times as furious as he had been before, he came crashing on like an express train. Trot dared not look over her shoulder, and even Benny felt that nothing could save them now. Without plan or hope they dashed on, till an ear splitting screech brought them to a sudden stop.
"You look!" begged. Trot, covering her eyes with both hands. Expecting almost anything, Benny swung round, then instantly gave a great shout of relief.
"He's stuck!" cried the stone man exuberantly. And so he was, a few yards behind them. Smoking, screaming and sending up shower after shower of sparks, the monster lay jammed between the rocky sides of the passageway. So fast had Trot and Benny been running they scarcely noticed the gradual narrowing of the corridor, and so fast had Quiberon rushed after them that he had stuck fast before he had time to stop himself.
"A narrow escape for us, but not for him," remarked the Scarecrow in a moist whisper. Scarcely able to see through the black smoke Quiberon was sending out, and almost deafened by his whistles and roars, Trot and Benny ran on. The passageway was growing narrower still, and after several twists and turns, it came to an abrupt stop.
"Cave City!" puffed Trot. The words were studded in sapphire on the rock ahead. "Admittance three rocks."
"Well, we can't go back," sighed the little girl, sitting down wearily, "so we'll just have to try Cave City."
"But we haven't any rocks," observed Benny, putting the Scarecrow down beside Trot and looking carefully all around. "And will the people of this city welcome us~or-" Benny did not finish his sentence but looked uneasily from Trot to the Scarecrow.
"There is a great deal of water on my brain," complained the Scarecrow, "but if someone will wring me out, I'll endeavor to think." Benny looked on rather nervously as Trot squeezed the water from the flimsy body of the Scarecrow.
"Don't forget to wring my neck," directed the straw man calmly. "I believe I am the only man in Oz whose neck can be wrung without discomfort," he explained, glancing brightly up at the live statue. Benny said nothing and indeed what could he say? And Trot, after shaking up the Scarecrow and smoothing him out as best she could, propped him up against the side of the passageway.
"I suppose if I were a real person, I could think of something too," mourned Benny, taking off his high hat and rubbing his stone crown reflectively.
"You're much better than a real person!" declared the Scarecrow promptly. "A real person could not have jumped into the jaws of a monster like Quiberon. I, for my part, am glad you are yourself!"
"Come on, Benny, let's look for some rocks!" cried Trot.
"And I shall think of some, said the Scarecrow leaning his head back against the wall. But though Benny and Trot searched up and down the narrow corridor not a loose rock, stone or even a pebble coul
d they find. The walls, ceiling and floor were of smooth sparkling sapphire. It shed a weird blue light over the three travelers and soon they began to feel as blue as they looked. After searching in vain for rocks, they began to thump upon the door of Cave City, but with no results and had about decided they were prisoners forever in the narrow enclosure, when the Scarecrow gave a loud shout. I have though of some rocks," he announced excitedly. "There are three of us here. Well then, we have but to rock with laughter and the doors will fly open."
Benny looked doubtful and Trot did not feel much like laughing, but as the Scarecrow insisted, they ranged themselves before the door of Cave City. Benny and Trot had to support the Scarecrow between them for he was still too wet and soggy to stand alone.
"Now you laugh 'He!', I'll laugh 'Ho!' and Trot must laugh 'Hah!'," directed the Scarecrow solemnly. So at his signal Benny burst into a loud "He!" Trot into a shrill "Hah!" and the Scarecrow into a husky "Ho!" At the same time they rocked all together and fixed their eyes expectantly upon the door. Much to Trot's surprise, it instantly swung inward, and an old merman on crutches stood in the opening.
"Well! Well!" he began querulously, "Why don't you come in? Come in! Come in, I'm mighty sorry to see you.
"Sorry?" gasped Trot, as Benny stepped forward, drawing the others along with him. "Why?"
"You'll know that soon enough," mumbled the old merman swinging along ahead of them on his crutches. "This way please, and mind you don't tread on my tail."
CHAPTER 6
The Wicked Soothsayer
AFTER leaving Trot and her companions to the mercies of Quiberon, Akbad flew quickly to the King's garden, intending to rid himself of the golden wings and say nothing at all about his curious adventure. But before he had come to the enchanted tree, the King and half of the courtiers came rushing out of the sapphire palace.
"My son? Where is my son?" panted Cheerobed, seizing Akbad by the arm, not even noticing the great wings that drooped from the Soothsayer's shoulders.
"The Prince! Where is the Prince?" demanded Toddledy in the same breath. "Miserable Mesmerizer can you think of nothing?" Akbad, worn and weary from his long flight, fairly blinked with astonishment, for naturally he knew nothing of Philador's disappearance, but he realized that he would be severely punished for stealing the golden pear. He felt that Quiberon had probably devoured the little Prince, but resolved for the present to save himself.
"Have no fear for the Prince of the Ozure Isles," he began boldly. "I, Akbad the Soothsayer, have saved him."
"How? Where?" The King plucked him frantically by the arm.
"He is safe in the Emerald City," lied Akbad calmly. "Last night, determined to save not only the Prince but our fair Islands as well, I picked the golden pear.
A little murmur of disapproval greeted Akbad's statement and they all looked curiously and accusingly at the golden wings, which they seemed to see for the first time.
"Immediately," continued the wily Soothsayer, "these wings attached themselves to my shoulders. Flying into the Prince's bed chamber, I lifted him in my arms and carried him to the great capital of Oz. Leaving him in the kindly care of our gentle ruler, Ozma, I stole into the garden and seizing a mortal maiden returned to the Ozure Isles and left her in the cave of Quiberon." Folding his arms proudly he waited for the King's commendation.
"That was very wrong of you," sighed Cheeriobed, letting his arm drop heavily at his side, "but I suppose you did it for the best."
"Idiot!" hissed Toddledy, "Why did you not ask Ozma to help us?"
"I did!" declared Akbad promptly. "As soon as the Wizard returns from the blue forest she will journey to our illustrious islands, destroy Quiberon and restore His Majesty's Queen!" Even Toddledy was silenced by this surprising news, while the Ozure Islanders began to cheer loud and lustily. Only the King still seemed disturbed.
"But the mortal maiden, we must save the mortal maiden!" exclaimed Cheeriobed anxiously. "You should never have carried her to that monster's cave. Who will go with me to rescue this poor child?" The Islanders looked uncomfortably at one another, then as the King started resolutely off by himself, a dozen of the boldest Guards followed.
"We can only perish once," declared the leader gallantly, "and to be destroyed with Your Majesty is not only an honor but a pleasure as well." Akbad made no attempt to accompany them, but the others, shamed by such bravery dashed hurriedly after the King.
When the last one had gone, Akbad stepped quietly into the garden. Sinking down under the emerald tree he mopped his brow with his sleeve and cursed his own stupidity. Why had he not done as he had said: appealed to Ozma for help instead of foolishly seizing the mortal maiden? Perhaps it was not too late. He would fly back and beg Ozma to find the little Prince and save the Ozure Isles. Hoarsely he commanded the wings to take him to the Emerald City, but motionless and heavy they hung from his shoulders. Horrified to find that they would no longer obey him, he rubbed against the tree in an unsuccessful effort to brush them off. Then he tried every magic phrase and incantation that he knew to rid himself of the golden wings but though he pulled and tugged the wings stuck fast.
Now having wings sounds fine enough, but one must be born with wings to wear them comfortably. Akbad could neither sit nor lie down with any ease and when he walked the wings trailed disturbingly behind him. He found, after several trials that he could still fly, but not beyond the shore of the island and as he sank exhausted on the rocks the King and his army came marching back. They had tramped boldly into the monster's cave, but had of course found neither Quiberon nor Trot. As they knew nothing of the caves beyond the water fall they had sadly turned homeward. The King at least was sad, the others, while they said nothing of it, were secretly delighted to find themselves alive.
"Quiberon has gone," declared Cheeriobed gravely. "The mortal maiden also has vanished. But as you have saved Philador I shall say nothing of the stealing of the golden pear. There is naught to do now but wait for the coming of Ozma and the little Prince. And no doubt Ozma will find a way to save this mortal child."
"No doubt," muttered Akbad and, as the King shaking his head went on up to the palace, the Soothsayer flew into a tall tree and tried to think up the excuses he would offer His Majesty when Ozma failed to appear.
As for Cheeriobed, troubled though he was over the disappearance of the little mortal, he could not help but think that the worst of his misfortunes were over. Almost cheerfully, he bustled about giving orders for a grand reception to welcome Ozma to his Island Kingdom and bidding the royal household have everything in readiness for Philador's return.
CHAPTER 7
The Trials of Tattypoo
ON THE same evening Philador and Akbad flew off from the Ozure Isles, the Good Witch of the North sat quietly before her fire, spinning silver from straw. From time to time Agnes, her pet dragon, would toss a log on the blaze and set it glowing with her fiery breath. The cat with two tails purred drowsily in the chimney corner and nothing could have been cozier than this little room in the good witch's hut. And Tattypoo was content. Ruling over the North Country, settling disputes between its small kingdoms, and advising the Gillikens, about everything from birthday parties to preserves, filled her time most pleasantly. The door of the good witch's hut was never bolted and no one, coming for help or advice, had ever been turned away. So though her skin was drawn and wrinkled and her hair white as snow, and the little hut plainly, even poorly furnished, Tattypoo was perfectly happy.
But Agnes, the amiable dragon, was not. Agnes longed for grandeur and style and felt that the ruler of all the Gillikens should wear a crown or live in a castle. Agnes, while not exactly conceited, felt that her own beauty was utterly wasted in this little hut. She longed to flash her silver scales and switch her tail at the fine courts of Oz. But Tattypoo was neither vain nor ambitious and only chuckled when Agnes complained of the poorness of their dwelling, the plainness of the food and the lack of servants to wait upon them. She had lived so long in the pu
rple forest on the Gilliken mountain side that she had grown to love every tree and tumbling brook and even the witch's little cottage.
At the time the Wizard first came to Oz it was ruled over, as you well know, by four witches. Little Dorothy's house fell on the wicked witch of the East, and later this same little Dorothy had put out with a pail of water the wicked witch of the West. Glinda the good sorceress had conquered the bad witch of the South and Tattypoo had conquered Mombi, the wicked witch of the North, not before she had stolen Cheeriobed's Queen, however, and done many mischievous transformations. At first Mombi had been deprived of her magic powers but after her last attempt to capture the Emerald City she, too, had been put out with a pail of water, so that Tattypoo was the only witch of any power or consequence in Oz. And as she explained over and over again to Agnes, being a good witch in an important country like Oz was honor enough for her, and as long as she used her magic powers for good and so long as the Gillikens were peaceful and prosperous under her rule, she would be perfectly satisfied and happy.
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