So they began the climb and found it indeed difficult, for a way. But presently, in creeping over the big crags, they found a path at their feet which wound in and out among the masses of rock and was quite smooth and easy to walk upon. As the path gradually ascended the mountain, although in a roundabout way, they decided to follow it.
“This must be the road to the Country of the Hoppers,” said the Scarecrow.
“Who are the Hoppers?” asked Dorothy.
“Some people Jack Pumpkinhead told me about,” he replied.
“I didn’t hear him,” replied the girl.
“No; you were asleep,” explained the Scarecrow. “But he told Scraps and me that the Hoppers and the Horners live on this mountain.”
“He said in the mountain,” declared Scraps; “but of course he meant on it.”
“Didn’t he say what the Hoppers and Horners were like?” inquired Dorothy.
“No; he only said they were two separate nations, and that the Horners were the most important.”
“Well, if we go to their country we’ll find out all about ’em,” said the girl. “But I’ve never heard Ozma mention those people, so they can’t be very important.”
“Is this mountain in the Land of Oz?” asked Scraps.
“Course it is,” answered Dorothy. “It’s in the South Country of the Quadlings. When one comes to the edge of Oz, in any direction, there is nothing more to be seen at all. Once you could see sandy desert all around Oz; but now it’s diff’rent, and no other people can see us, any more than we can see them.”
“If the mountain is under Ozma’s rule, why doesn’t she know about the Hoppers and the Horners?” Ojo asked.
“Why, it’s a fairyland,” explained Dorothy, “and lots of queer people live in places so tucked away that those in the Emerald City never even hear of ’em. In the middle of the country it’s diff’rent, but when you get around the edges you’re sure to run into strange little corners that surprise you. I know, for I’ve traveled in Oz a good deal, and so has the Scarecrow.”
“Yes,” admitted the straw man, “I’ve been considerable of a traveler, in my time, and I like to explore strange places. I find I learn much more by traveling than by staying at home.”
During this conversation they had been walking up the steep pathway and now found themselves well up on the mountain. They could see nothing around them, for the rocks beside their path were higher than their heads. Nor could they see far in front of them, because the path was so crooked. But suddenly they stopped, because the path ended and there was no place to go. Ahead was a big rock lying against the side of the mountain, and this blocked the way completely.
“There wouldn’t be a path, though, if it didn’t go somewhere,” said the Scarecrow, wrinkling his forehead in deep thought.
“This is somewhere, isn’t it?” asked the Patchwork Girl, laughing at the bewildered looks of the others.
“The path is locked, the way is blocked,
Yet here we’ve innocently flocked;
And now we’re here it’s rather queer
There’s no front door that can be knocked.”
“Please don’t, Scraps,” said Ojo. “You make me nervous.”
“Well,” said Dorothy, “I’m glad of a little rest, for that’s a drea’ful steep path.”
As she spoke she leaned against the edge of the big rock that stood in their way. To her surprise it slowly swung backward and showed behind it a dark hole that looked like the mouth of a tunnel.
“Why, here’s where the path goes to!” she exclaimed.
“So it is,” answered the Scarecrow. “But the question is, do we want to go where the path does?”
“It’s underground; right inside the mountain,” said Ojo, peering into the dark hole. “Perhaps there’s a well there; and, if there is, it’s sure to be a dark one.”
“Why, that’s true enough!” cried Dorothy with eagerness. “Let’s go in, Scarecrow; ’cause, if others have gone, we’re pretty safe to go, too.”
Toto looked in and barked, but he did not venture to enter until the Scarecrow had bravely gone first. Scraps followed closely after the straw man and then Ojo and Dorothy timidly stepped inside the tunnel. As soon as all of them had passed the big rock, it slowly turned and filled up the opening again; but now they were no longer in the dark, for a soft, rosy light enabled them to see around them quite distinctly.
It was only a passage, wide enough for two of them to walk abreast—with Toto in between them—and it had a high, arched roof. They could not see where the light which flooded the place so pleasantly came from, for there were no lamps anywhere visible. The passage ran straight for a little way and then made a bend to the right and another sharp turn to the left, after which it went straight again. But there were no side passages, so they could not lose their way.
After proceeding some distance, Toto, who had gone on ahead, began to bark loudly. They ran around a bend to see what was the matter and found a man sitting on the floor of the passage and leaning his back against the wall. He had probably been asleep before Toto’s barks aroused him, for he was now rubbing his eyes and staring at the little dog with all his might.
There was something about this man that Toto objected to, and when he slowly rose to his foot they saw what it was. He had but one leg, set just below the middle of his round, fat body; but it was a stout leg and had a broad, flat foot at the bottom of it, on which the man seemed to stand very well. He had never had but this one leg, which looked something like a pedestal, and when Toto ran up and made a grab at the man’s ankle he hopped first one way and then another in a very active manner, looking so frightened that Scraps laughed aloud.
Toto was usually a well behaved dog, but this time he was angry and snapped at the man’s leg again and again. This filled the poor fellow with fear, and in hopping out of Toto’s reach he suddenly lost his balance and tumbled heel over head upon the floor. When he sat up he kicked Toto on the nose and made the dog howl angrily, but Dorothy now ran forward and caught Toto’s collar, holding him back.
“Do you surrender?” she asked the man.
“Who? Me?” asked the Hopper.
“Yes; you,” said the little girl.
“Am I captured?” he inquired.
“Of course. My dog has captured you,” she said.
“Well,” replied the man, “if I’m captured I must surrender, for it’s the proper thing to do. I like to do everything proper, for it saves one a lot of trouble.”
“It does, indeed,” said Dorothy. “Please tell us who you are.”
“I’m Hip Hopper—Hip Hopper, the Champion.”
“Champion what?” she asked in surprise.
“Champion wrestler. I’m a very strong man, and that ferocious animal which you are so kindly holding is the first living thing that has ever conquered me.”
“And you are a Hopper?” she continued.
“Yes. My people live in a great city not far from here. Would you like to visit it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said with hesitation. “Have you any dark wells in your city?”
“I think not. We have wells, you know, but they’re all well lighted, and a well lighted well cannot well be a dark well. But there may be such a thing as a very dark well in the Horner Country, which is a black spot on the face of the earth.”
“Where is the Horner Country?” Ojo inquired.
“The other side of the mountain. There’s a fence between the Hopper Country and the Horner Country, and a gate in the fence; but you can’t pass through just now, because we are at war with the Horners.”
“That’s too bad,” said the Scarecrow. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“Why, one of them made a very insulting remark about my people. He said we were lacking in understanding, because we had only one leg to a person. I can’t see that legs have anything to do with understanding things. The Horners each have two legs, just as you have. That’s one leg too many, it seems to me.”
“No,” declared Dorothy, “it’s just the right number.”
“You don’t need them,” argued the Hopper, obstinately. “You’ve only one head, and one body, and one nose and mouth. Two legs are quite unnecessary, and they spoil one’s shape.”
“But how can you walk, with only one leg?” asked Ojo.
“Walk! Who wants to walk?” exclaimed the man. “Walking is a terribly awkward way to travel. I hop, and so do all my people. It’s so much more graceful and agreeable than walking.”
“I don’t agree with you,” said the Scarecrow. “But tell me, is there any way to get to the Horner Country without going through the city of the Hoppers?”
“Yes; there is another path from the rocky lowlands, outside the mountain, that leads straight to the entrance of the Horner Country. But it’s a long way around, so you’d better come with me. Perhaps they will allow you to go through the gate; but we expect to conquer them this afternoon, if we get time, and then you may go and come as you please.”
They thought it best to take the Hopper’s advice, and asked him to lead the way. This he did in a series of hops, and he moved so swiftly in this strange manner that those with two legs had to run to keep up with him.
Chapter 22
The JOKING HORNERS
t was not long before they left the passage and came to a great cave, so high that it must have reached nearly to the top of the mountain within which it lay. It was a magnificent cave, illumined by the soft, invisible light, so that everything in it could be plainly seen. The walls were of polished marble, white with veins of delicate colors running through it, and the roof was arched and fantastic and beautiful.
Built beneath this vast dome was a pretty village—not very large, for there seemed not more than fifty houses altogether—and the dwellings were of marble and artistically designed. No grass nor flowers nor trees grew in this cave, so the yards surrounding the houses carved in designs both were smooth and bare and had low walls around them to mark their boundaries.
In the streets and the yards of the houses were many people all having one leg growing below their bodies and all hopping here and there whenever they moved. Even the children stood firmly upon their single legs and never lost their balance.
“All hail, Champion!” cried a man in the first group of Hoppers they met; “whom have you captured?”
“No one,” replied the Champion in a gloomy voice; “these strangers have captured me.”
“Then,” said another, “we will rescue you, and capture them, for we are greater in number.”
“No,” answered the Champion, “I can’t allow it. I’ve surrendered, and it isn’t polite to capture those you’ve surrendered to.”
“Never mind that,” said Dorothy. “We will give you your liberty and set you free.”
“Really?” asked the Champion in joyous tones.
“Yes,” said the little girl; “your people may need you to help conquer the Horners.”
At this all the Hoppers looked downcast and sad. Several more had joined the group by this time and quite a crowd of curious men, women and children surrounded the strangers.
“This war with our neighbors is a terrible thing,” remarked one of the women. “Some one is almost sure to get hurt.”
“Why do you say that, madam?” inquired the Scarecrow.
“Because the horns of our enemies are sharp, and in battle they will try to stick those horns into our warriors,” she replied.
“How many horns do the Horners have?” asked Dorothy.
“Each has one horn in the center of his forehead,” was the answer.
“Oh, then they’re unicorns,” declared the Scarecrow.
“No; they’re Horners. We never go to war with them if we can help it, on account of their dangerous horns; but this insult was so great and so unprovoked that our brave men decided to fight, in order to be revenged,” said the woman.
“What weapons do you fight with?” the Scarecrow asked.
“We have no weapons,” explained the Champion. “Whenever we fight the Horners, our plan is to push them back, for our arms are longer than theirs.”
“Then you are better armed,” said Scraps.
“Yes; but they have those terrible horns, and unless we are careful they prick us with the points,” returned the Champion with a shudder. “That makes a war with them dangerous, and a dangerous war cannot be a pleasant one.”
“I see very clearly,” remarked the Scarecrow, “that you are going to have trouble in conquering those Horners—unless we help you.”
“Oh!” cried the Hoppers in a chorus; “can you help us? Please do! We will be greatly obliged! It would please us very much!” and by these exclamations the Scarecrow knew that his speech had met with favor.
“How far is it to the Horner Country?” he asked.
“Why, it’s just the other side of the fence,” they answered, and the Champion added:
“Come with me, please, and I’ll show you the Horners.”
So they followed the Champion and several others through the streets and just beyond the village came to a very high picket fence, built all of marble, which seemed to divide the great cave into two equal parts.
But the part inhabited by the Horners was in no way as grand in appearance as that of the Hoppers. Instead of being marble, the walls and roof were of dull grey rock and the square houses were plainly made of the same material. But in extent the city was much larger than that of the Hoppers and the streets were thronged with numerous people who busied themselves in various ways.
Looking through the open pickets of the fence our friends watched the Horners, who did not know they were being watched by strangers, and found them very unusual in appearance. They were little folks in size and had bodies round as balls and short legs and arms. Their heads were round, too, and they had long, pointed ears and a horn set in the center of the forehead. The horns did not seem very terrible, for they were not more than six inches long; but they were ivory white and sharp pointed, and no wonder the Hoppers feared them.
The skins of the Horners were light brown, but they wore snow-white robes and were bare-footed. Dorothy thought the most striking thing about them was their hair, which grew in three distinct colors on each and every head—red, yellow and green. The red was at the bottom and sometimes hung over their eyes; then came a broad circle of yellow and the green was at the top and formed a brush-shaped top-knot.
None of the Horners was yet aware of the presence of strangers, who watched the little brown people for a time and then went to the big gate in the center of the dividing fence. It was locked on both sides and over the latch was a sign reading:
WAR IS DECLARED
“Can’t we go through?” asked Dorothy.
“Not now,” answered the Champion.
“I think,” said the Scarecrow, “that if I could talk with those Horners they would apologize to you, and then there would be no need to fight.”
“Can’t you talk from this side?” asked the Champion.
“Not so well,” replied the Scarecrow. “Do you suppose you could throw me over that fence? It is high, but I am very light.”
“We can try it,” said the Hopper. “I am perhaps the strongest man in my country, so I’ll undertake to do the throwing. But I won’t promise you will land on your feet.”
“No matter about that,” returned the Scarecrow. “Just toss me over and I’ll be satisfied.”
So the Champion picked up the Scarecrow and balanced him a moment, to see how much he weighed, and then with all his strength tossed him high into the air.
Perhaps if the Scarecrow had been a trifle heavier he would have been easier to throw and would have gone a greater distance; but, as it was, instead of going over the fence he landed just on top of it, and one of the sharp pickets caught him in the middle of his back and held him fast prisoner. Had he been face downward the Scarecrow might have managed to free himself, but lying on his back on the picket his h
ands waved in the air of the Horner Country while his feet kicked the air of the Hopper Country; so there he was.
“Are you hurt?” called the Patchwork Girl anxiously.
“Course not,” said Dorothy. “But if he wiggles that way he may tear his clothes. How can we get him down, Mr. Champion?”
The Champion shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “If he could scare Horners as well as he does crows, it might be a good idea to leave him there.”
“This is terrible,” said Ojo, almost ready to cry. “I s’pose it’s because I am Ojo the Unlucky that everyone who tries to help me gets into trouble.”
“You are lucky to have anyone to help you,” declared Dorothy. “But don’t worry. We’ll rescue the Scarecrow somehow.”
“I know how,” announced Scraps. “Here, Mr. Champion; just throw me up to the Scarecrow. I’m nearly as light as he is, and when I’m on top the fence I’ll pull our friend off the picket and toss him down to you.”
“All right,” said the Champion, and he picked up the Patchwork Girl and threw her in the same manner he had the Scarecrow. He must have used more strength this time, however, for Scraps sailed far over the top of the fence and, without being able to grab the Scarecrow at all, tumbled to the ground in the Horner Country, where her stuffed body knocked over two men and a woman and made a crowd that had collected there run like rabbits to get away from her.
Seeing the next moment that she was harmless, the people slowly returned and gathered around the Patchwork Girl, regarding her with astonishment. One of them wore a jeweled star in his hair, just above his horn, and this seemed a person of importance. He spoke for the rest of his people, who treated him with great respect.
“Who are you, Unknown Being?” he asked.
“Scraps,” she said, rising to her feet and patting her cotton wadding smooth where it had bunched up.
“And where did you come from?” he continued.
“Over the fence. Don’t be silly. There’s no other place I could have come from,” she replied.
He looked at her thoughtfully.
“You are not a Hopper,” said he, “for you have two legs. They’re not very well shaped, but they are two in number. And that strange creature on top the fence—why doesn’t he stop kicking?—must be your brother, or father, or son, for he also has two legs.”
Oz, The Complete Collection Page 93
