"Goodbye, old Toz!" he called roguishly to the Medicine Man. "See you again, Princeling, but now the tall grass is calling me."
"Does he eat tall grass?" asked Philador, looking over the balcony with great interest as High Boy galloped away.
"Of course! That's what makes him so tall. What did you suppose a high horse ate?" asked the King merrily.
Leading the visitors into the castle he left them in a sumptuous dressing room with amethyst mirrors and brushes and gorgeous silk hangings. Philador was glad enough to wash off the dust and brush his hair, but Herby spent most of the time rearranging the bottles and boxes in his medicine chest.
"Better take a couple of these," he advised, as the little Prince started for the door.
"What are they for?" asked Phil curiously, as Herby swallowed several of the pills himself.
"For yawns," explained the Medicine Man quickly. "Where there's a feast there's bound to be talking. Now speeches always make me sleepy, so to keep from yawning and offending Their Majesties, I have taken this slight precaution.
"Give me a couple of precautions, too," laughed Philador. "I hope they won't keep us long Herby, for we ought to be halfway to the Emerald City by now.
As Philador and the Medicine Man stepped through the doorway, they were met by a tremendous Uplander who introduced himself as High Jinx. He was Joe King's chief adviser and immediately conducted them to the dining hall where he seated them between the King and Queen.
Herby had been quite right about the speeches. Almost everyone at the table made a speech, complimenting the little Prince on his bravery and wishing him success on his perilous journey. But the Medicine Man's pills worked so well that neither he nor Philador yawned even once during the entire procedure. As for the luncheon, it might have been a birthday party at least, from the number of goodies served. What with the chicken and waffles, sweet potatoes and hot biscuits, not to mention the cream cake, custard pie and lavender ices, Philador decided he could never be hungry again.
Queen Hyacinth had ordered a lunch packed up for the travelers, and when Herby and Philador both declared they could not eat another bite, Joe King himself went off to search for his high horse.
"On High Boy you will reach the capital in no time," His Majesty assured them earnestly, "and when you have saved the Ozure Isles and saved your royal mother, you must come back and pay us a real visit."
This Philador readily promised to do; also to find out from Ozma what had become of the Good Witch of the North for, without a ruler, the Gilliken Country was open to war and invasion by hostile tribes. While they were waiting for the high horse to appear, Phil and the Medicine Man expressed a desire to walk about the city. Joe, giving each of them an umbrella, in case a storm came up, as he put it, hurried off to find High Boy himself.
Greatly encouraged by the happy change in their fortunes, Philador and Herby walked briskly along High Street, stopping now and then to gaze in shop windows or to wave to the friendly children playing in the doorways. They were careful to keep close to the castle and were about to turn back, when a great gust of wind came tearing across the town, flattening them against the side of a house. They had just time to open their umbrellas when the storm broke with such suddenness and fury that they could neither see, hear nor call for help. And help they most certainly needed.
Philador had a confused glimpse of an old Uplander putting down his umbrella and jumping into it, before the wind seized his own and whirled him aloft like a kite. Drenched and breathless, he soared over the city. Fortunately the wind was light and buoyant and the umbrella strong and sturdy, so that when it did come down Philador landed gently enough. The storm seemed to be left behind and scrambling to his feet, the little Prince looked anxiously upward. He was at the very bottom of Joe King's mountain and the top was still hidden by the black storm clouds. Though he looked and looked, not one glimpse of the castle nor city towers could he catch. With a discouraged sigh, he turned about just in time to see the Medicine Man sail down into the midst of a huckleberry bush.
"Well!" spluttered Herby, putting down his umbrella and pulling himself out with great difficulty. "What do you think of this?"
"Not much," confessed Philador ruefully. "We've lost High Boy and we haven't time to go back and-"
"The Good Witch's thinking cap is gone too," mourned the Medicine Man, clapping his hand to his head. "We'll have to do our own thinking hereafter." Herby opened his medicine chest and peered in, and presently he was crunching away at one of his remedies. When Philador, who had been looking about, called that he was ready to start, the Medicine Man came almost cheerfully.
"We still have the jumping rope," he reminded the little boy happily. "And we still have the lunch basket and we're over the first mountain.
Philador nodded soberly and wondered what Herby had been taking to make him so cheerful. For his part, he could not help thinking that their fall had been most unfortunate. Without the thinking cap how were they to know which direction to take, and without High Boy's long legs to help them how were they ever to reach the Emerald City in time? Ahead loomed a still higher mountain. Sighing deeply he trudged along the rocky little path, his head down and the lunch basket trailing listlessly from his hand.
"If we'd only stayed in the castle," he mused sorrowfully, "this never would have happened." Herby did not answer but quietly passed him a small round box. "Comfort pills. Will cure any trouble that hasn't happened," announced the label. Absently the little Prince took two and handed the box back. As he popped the pills into his mouth, there was a joyful snort and stamp behind them. It was the King's horse, and with outspread arms Philador ran to meet him.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" whinnied High Boy, lowering himself down to the little boy's height and looking reproachfully into his eyes. "I've been looking for you all over the mountain.
"The storm came up and blew us away, explained Philador hastily.
"Did you put your umbrellas down?" asked High Boy, nodding amiably to the Medicine Man.
"Why should we put them down?" questioned Herby, puckering up his forehead, "It was raining!"
"Of course it was raining. Wasn't I there too, but you must know that in our country, the storms come up and the thing to do is to put your umbrella down and jump in it. Like this," explained High Boy, swinging his umbrella tail expertly under his telescope legs and standing calmly in the center of it. "Then when the rain comes, you don't get wet or blown away. Always put your umbrella down when a storm comes up," he finished, jumping out of his umbrella and swinging it back into place.
Philador was too surprised to make any remark, but Herby, delighted to see the King's famous steed, put his foot into the stirrup and pulled up into the saddle.
"Do you know the way to the Emerald City?" he asked breathlessly.
"Two mountains and a couple of countries to the South," answered High Boy carelessly. "Up with you Princeling, four legs are better than two, especially when they are my kind." To this Philador could agree most heartily, and swinging himself up in front of Herby, he took the reins hanging loosely round High Boy's neck and begged him to start.
"I always did want to see the capital," confessed High Boy trotting smartly along the stony mountain path. "I hear that there is a saw horse at the Emerald City, and I want to see whether he is as handsome and as useful as I am."
"He couldn't possibly be as nice," sighed Philador, putting both arms round High Boy's neck. "You're even better than my sea horse."
"Hey! Hey! Well, what do you think of that?" With a snort of surprise and pleasure, the King's horse set off for the second mountain at such a pace that the wind whistled by like a hurricane.
"Hold on, boys," he neighed boisterously. "I'm your friend for life!"
"A~very~fast friend!" stuttered Herby, clutching Philador by the belt and wincing each time he struck the saddle. And so up the mountain pounded High Boy, his front legs short, his back legs long and his umbrella tail switching behind him.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 11
The King of Cave City
THE same morning that Philador was having his amazing experiences in the Good Witch's hut and on Joe King's Mountain, Trot and her friends were having some curious adventures in Cave City.
"Where are we going?" asked Trot, following the old mer-man cautiously and once almost treading on his tail.
"To the King," answered the mer-man sadly. "Do you call this a city?" sniffed the Scarecrow, looking scornfully down the dim damp corridors opening to the right and left and the muddy stream of water flowing through the center.
"No, I don't call it a city," wheezed their guide resting for a few moments on his crutches, "but you had better not let the cave men hear you criticizing their town. It will go hard enough with you as it is." Sighing to himself the old fellow went tapping along on his crutches. "Wait till Silly sees you," he mumbled mournfully.
"Who's Silly?" inquired Benny, picking up a boulder and hurling it into the center of the stream.
"The King," replied the mer-man without turning 'round.
"Humph!" chuckled the Scarecrow, winking at Trot, "I've known many Kings who acted silly and who looked silly, but I have never met one who called himself that. Do you mean to say you call him Silly right to his face?"
"To his side face," answered the mer-man solemnly. "He only has half a face," he added, stopping again. "That's all anyone has here. That's all you'll have presently," he predicted gloomily.
"Half a face!" gasped Trot, putting one hand to her cheek and looking around uneasily. "Why what do you mean?"
"Are you a cave man?" demanded the Scarecrow, running around and planting himself in front of the old mer-man. "If you're not, get us out of here. My face may be funny, but I'm attached to it and it's attached to me and nobody can have half of Trot's face either!"
"Nor mine!" panted Benny, bringing his stone heels together with a resounding click. "Show us the way out of here or I'll tread on your tail."
"There is no way out," quavered their guide, sitting down on a sapphire rock and waving his tall about sadly. "I have been here for years, ever since Mombi stole the Queen of the Ozure Isles and sent Quiberon to plague the Islanders.
"Mombi! Why Mombi was put out two years ago," exclaimed Trot, dropping down on another rock. "Do you mean to say she stole this Queen before then? And were those the Ozure Isles we flew over this morning?"
"Were they jeweled islands?" inquired the mer-man eagerly, "and did you see a City of Sapphires?" Trot shook her head quickly and the old mer-man, covering his face with both hands began to rock to and fro with grief. "If I could but see the Sapphire City once more, if I could just see the jeweled rocks and the blue waters of Orizon," he mumbled miserably.
"Then you're a prisoner, too?" asked Trot, leaning forward sympathetically.
"Who are you?" demanded the Scarecrow again. "And how is it you still have both sides of your face?"
"Because the blue ray could not destroy a waterman," said the old man proudly, and sitting up he told them a strange story.
"My name is Orpah," he announced sadly, "and I was keeper of the King's sea horses. Every morning I would drive them from the jeweled caverns to graze upon the green plants at the bottom of the lake, bringing them back when the King and his subjects wished to ride. Yes, for many years I cared for the sea horses of Cheeriobed, who gave me not only every thing I wished for but had these golden crutches made for me so I could travel on land as well as in the water."
"Are all the inhabitants of the Ozure Isles like you?" interrupted Trot, "or have they wings like the bird man who brought us here?"
"I am the only mer-man in these parts and the other Islanders have two legs like you yourself. I never saw any with wings," exclaimed Orpah, regarding the little girl with a puzzled frown.
"Let him tell his story and then we'll tell ours, advised Benny, who was extremely interested in the old man's recital.
"There isn't much more," sighed the mer-man gloomily. "Everything went well and happily till the day the little Prince of the Ozure Isles was two years old. Then Mombi suddenly appeared, snatched up her Majesty and flew off. The same day Quiberon came roaring across the lake. One by one, he devoured the herd of sea horses on which the Ozure Islanders were accustomed to ride to the mainland. When I tried to defend them he seized me and thrust me into his cave. Leaping through the water-fall, I escaped to Cave City and have been a prisoner ever since. If I refuse to obey the cave men, they shut me up without water. Without water I cannot live, so as their slave I have been forced to work in this dismal underground cavern.
"Just wait till Ozma hears this," cried Trot indignantly. "That monster tried to catch us too, but he's caught himself now, and never will get away.
"Do you mean it?" Orpah sprang to his crutches and looked joyfully from one to the other. Trot hastily told him how the bird man had carried them from the Emerald City to Quiberon's cave, how they, too, had escaped through the water-fall and how the great monster, rushing after them, had become wedged in the narrow passageway.
"I wish the King knew about this. If Cheeriobed knew, he'd 'start at once in search of the Queen," cried Orpah excitedly.
"We'll tell him as soon as we're out," proposed the Scarecrow cheerfully, "and help him find the Queen besides."
"But how are we to get out?" groaned the mer-man dismally. "I've been here for twenty years.
"I will fight these cave men," declared Benny, picking up a rock and glancing belligerently from left to right.
"Hush," warned the Scarecrow in a low voice. "We are being shadowed."
"What's that?" shivered Trot, as a cold damp wind went whistling past her ears and a long series of wails came echoing through the cavern.
"The cave men," whispered Orpah, quickening his pace. "They are coming to get you.
"They won't get me," blustered Benny, brandishing his umbrella in one hand and the rock in the other.
"Why, they're shadows!" cried Trot, seizing the Scarecrow's arm. "Live shadows."
"Silhouettes," corrected the mer-man, placing himself boldly in front of the little girl.
Rushing along both sides of the wall, came the cave men, shouting and yelling and waving their shadow swords and clubs. You have seen the picture of Egyptian silhouettes carved on old tombs and walls? Well, the cave men were like that, except that they could move and talk.
"Pooh! Who's afraid?" stuttered Trot, as the threatening shadows swept along each side of the cave.
"Surrender!" called a blue shade,armed with a long spear. "Surrender in the name bf King Silly the Second."
"Nonsense! "puffed the Scarecrow, shaking his cotton fist at the shadow, while Benny let his rock fly directly at the speaker. It struck the wall with a terrific thud, but the silhouette did not even seem to notice it. At the same time, the three travelers felt an irresistible force pushing them forward. The cave men themselves were moving backward.
"You are summoned into the Presence of the King!" announced a pikeman in a high thin voice.
"Well I'll be pebbled," panted the stone man. For even Benny's great weight could not withstand the relentless force that was dragging them along with the shadow army. Orpah tried to comfort them, but there was little the old man could say in the presence of this cruel and ghostly company. When at last they reached the King's cavern, even Benny felt dismayed. King Silly the Second was so immense he took up one entire side of the royal cave. He was sitting sideways, like all of the other shadows, upon a throne roughly drawn on the rocks. His one eye rolled angrily around at the intruders and as his subjects grouped themselves around the throne, he called loudly.
"No bodies allowed here. How dare you clutter up my Kingdom with your miserable bodies?"
"We can't help being ourselves," faltered Trot, eyeing His Majesty nervously, "and if you'll tell us the way out of your Kingdom, we'll go immediately."
"Faster than that, even," added the Scarecrow, looking 'round with a shudder.
"Hold your tongue," advised
the King sharply. "Since you are here, you might as well be silhouettes too. I need some new slaves. Pray stand against that wall yonder with your best sides out and I'll have you melted down to shadows."
"I won't be a shadow!" cried Benny, stamping his foot determinedly. "I am going to the Emerald City so I can be a real person."
"You'll make an excellent shade," muttered the King, resting his chin upon his arm.
"But look here," protested the Scarecrow, waving his hat to attract His Majesty's attention, you can't do this. We are important subjects of Ozma of Oz and when we fail to return she will come here with her army and destroy you.
"She can't fight shadows," answered the King calmly. "Fetch the blue ray, Ozeerus."
Backing along the wall, the blue shade thus addressed left the cavern, returning presently with a flaming blue torch. As the weird blue light danced all over the ceiling and walls, Trot seized her two friends by the hands.
The Giant Horse Of Oz Page 7
