Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “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 gray 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 hands 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.”

  “You must have been to visit the Wise Donkey,” said Scraps, laughing so merrily that the crowd smiled with her, in sympathy. “But that reminds me, Captain — or King — ”

  “I am Chief of the Horners, and my name is Jak.”

  “Of course; Little Jack Horner; I might have known it. But the reason I volplaned over the fence was so I could have a talk with you about the Hoppers.”

  “What about the Hoppers?” asked the Chief, frowning.

  “You’ve insulted them, and you’d better beg their pardon,” said Scraps. “If you don’t, they’ll probably hop over here and conquer you.”

  “We’re not afraid — as long as the gate is locked,” declared the Chief. “And we didn’t insult them at all. One of us made a joke that the stu
pid Hoppers couldn’t see.”

  The Chief smiled as he said this and the smile made his face look quite jolly.

  “What was the joke?” asked Scraps.

  “A Horner said they have less understanding than we, because they’ve only one leg. Ha, ha! You see the point, don’t you? If you stand on your legs, and your legs are under you, then — ha, ha, ha! — then your legs are your under-standing. Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho! My, but that’s a fine joke. And the stupid Hoppers couldn’t see it! They couldn’t see that with only one leg they must have less under-standing than we who have two legs. Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee! Ho, ho!” The Chief wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with the bottom hem of his white robe, and all the other Horners wiped their eyes on their robes, for they had laughed just as heartily as their Chief at the absurd joke.

  “Then,” said Scraps, “their understanding of the understanding you meant led to the misunderstanding.”

  “Exactly; and so there’s no need for us to apologize,” returned the Chief.

  “No need for an apology, perhaps, but much need for an explanation,” said Scraps decidedly. “You don’t want war, do you?”

  “Not if we can help it,” admitted Jak Horner. “The question is, who’s going to explain the joke to the Horners? You know it spoils any joke to be obliged to explain it, and this is the best joke I ever heard.”

  “Who made the joke?” asked Scraps.

  “Diksey Horner. He is working in the mines, just now, but he’ll be home before long. Suppose we wait and talk with him about it? Maybe he’ll be willing to explain his joke to the Hoppers.”

  “All right,” said Scraps. “I’ll wait, if Diksey isn’t too long.”

  “No, he’s short; he’s shorter than I am. Ha, ha, ha! Say! that’s a better joke than Diksey’s. He won’t be too long, because he’s short. Hee, hee, ho!”

  The other Horners who were standing by roared with laughter and seemed to like their Chief’s joke as much as he did. Scraps thought it was odd that they could be so easily amused, but decided there could be little harm in people who laughed so merrily.

  23 Peace is Declared

  “COME with me to my dwelling and I’ll introduce you to my daughters,” said the Chief. “We’re bringing them up according to a book of rules that was written by one of our leading old bachelors, and everyone says they’re a remarkable lot of girls.”

  So Scraps accompanied him along the street to a house that seemed on the outside exceptionally grimy and dingy. The streets of this city were not paved nor had any attempt been made to beautify the houses or their surroundings, and having noticed this condition Scraps was astonished when the Chief ushered her into his home.

  Here was nothing grimy or faded, indeed. On the contrary, the room was of dazzling brilliance and beauty, for it was lined throughout with an exquisite metal that resembled translucent frosted silver. The surface of this metal was highly ornamented in raised designs representing men, animals, flowers and trees, and from the metal itself was radiated the soft light which flooded the room. All the furniture was made of the same glorious metal, and Scraps asked what it was.

  “That’s radium,” answered the Chief. “We Horners spend all our time digging radium from the mines under this mountain, and we use it to decorate our homes and make them pretty and cosy. It is a medicine, too, and no one can ever be sick who lives near radium.”

  “Have you plenty of it?” asked the Patchwork Girl.

  “More than we can use. All the houses in this city are decorated with it, just the same as mine is.”

  “Why don’t you use it on your streets, then, and the outside of your houses, to make them as pretty as they are within?” she inquired.

  “Outside? Who cares for the outside of anything?” asked the Chief. “We Horners don’t live on the outside of our homes; we live inside. Many people are like those stupid Hoppers, who love to make an outside show. I suppose you strangers thought their city more beautiful than ours, because you judged from appearances and they have handsome marble houses and marble streets; but if you entered one of their stiff dwellings you would find it bare and uncomfortable, as all their show is on the outside. They have an idea that what is not seen by others is not important, but with us the rooms we live in are our chief delight and care, and we pay no attention to outside show.”

  “Seems to me,” said Scraps, musingly, “it would be better to make it all pretty — inside and out.”

  “Seems? Why, you’re all seams, my girl!” said the Chief; and then he laughed heartily at his latest joke and a chorus of small voices echoed the chorus with “tee-hee-hee! ha, ha!”

  Scraps turned around and found a row of girls seated in radium chairs ranged along one wall of the room. There were nineteen of them, by actual count, and they were of all sizes from a tiny child to one almost a grown woman. All were neatly dressed in spotless white robes and had brown skins, horns on their foreheads and three-colored hair.

  “These,” said the Chief, “are my sweet daughters. My dears, I introduce to you Miss Scraps Patchwork, a lady who is traveling in foreign parts to increase her store of wisdom.”

  The nineteen Horner girls all arose and made a polite courtesy, after which they resumed their seats and rearranged their robes properly.

  “Why do they sit so still, and all in a row?” asked Scraps.

  “Because it is ladylike and proper,” replied the Chief.

  “But some are just children, poor things! Don’t they ever run around and play and laugh, and have a good time?”

  “No, indeed,” said the Chief. “That would be improper in young ladies, as well as in those who will sometime become young ladies. My daughters are being brought up according to the rules and regulations laid down by a leading bachelor who has given the subject much study and is himself a man of taste and culture. Politeness is his great hobby, and he claims that if a child is allowed to do an impolite thing one cannot expect the grown person to do anything better.”

  “Is it impolite to romp and shout and be jolly?” asked Scraps.

  “Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t,” replied the Horner, after considering the question. “By curbing such inclinations in my daughters we keep on the safe side. Once in a while I make a good joke, as you have heard, and then I permit my daughters to laugh decorously; but they are never allowed to make a joke themselves.”

  “That old bachelor who made the rules ought to be skinned alive!” declared Scraps, and would have said more on the subject had not the door opened to admit a little Horner man whom the Chief introduced as Diksey.

  “What’s up, Chief?” asked Diksey, winking nineteen times at the nineteen girls, who demurely cast down their eyes because their father was looking.

  The Chief told the man that his joke had not been understood by the dull Hoppers, who had become so angry that they had declared war. So the only way to avoid a terrible battle was to explain the joke so they could understand it.

  “All right,” replied Diksey, who seemed a good-natured man; “I’ll go at once to the fence and explain. I don’t want any war with the Hoppers, for wars between nations always cause hard feelings.”

  So the Chief and Diksey and Scraps left the house and went back to the marble picket fence. The Scarecrow was still stuck on the top of his picket but had now ceased to struggle. On the other side of the fence were Dorothy and Ojo, looking between the pickets; and there, also, were the Champion and many other Hoppers.

  Diksey went close to the fence and said:

  “My good Hoppers, I wish to explain that what I said about you was a joke. You have but one leg each, and we have two legs each. Our legs are under us, whether one or two, and we stand on them. So, when I said you had less understanding than we, I did not mean that you had less understanding, you understand, but that you had less standundering, so to speak. Do you understand that?”

  The Hoppers thought it over carefully. Then one said:

  “That is clear enough; but where do
es the joke come in?”

  Dorothy laughed, for she couldn’t help it, although all the others were solemn enough.

  “I’ll tell you where the joke comes in,” she said, and took the Hoppers away to a distance, where the Horners could not hear them. “You know,” she then explained, “those neighbors of yours are not very bright, poor things, and what they think is a joke isn’t a joke at all — it’s true, don’t you see?”

  “True that we have less understanding?” asked the Champion.

  “Yes; it’s true because you don’t understand such a poor joke; if you did, you’d be no wiser than they are.”

  “Ah, yes; of course,” they answered, looking very wise.

  “So I’ll tell you what to do,” continued Dorothy. “Laugh at their poor joke and tell ‘em it’s pretty good for a Horner. Then they won’t dare say you have less understanding, because you understand as much as they do.”

  The Hoppers looked at one another questioningly and blinked their eyes and tried to think what it all meant; but they couldn’t figure it out.

  “What do you think, Champion?” asked one of them.

  “I think it is dangerous to think of this thing any more than we can help,” he replied. “Let us do as this girl says and laugh with the Horners, so as to make them believe we see the joke. Then there will be peace again and no need to fight.”

  They readily agreed to this and returned to the fence laughing as loud and as hard as they could, although they didn’t feel like laughing a bit. The Horners were much surprised.

  “That’s a fine joke — for a Horner — and we are much pleased with it,” said the Champion, speaking between the pickets. “But please don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t,” promised Diksey. “If I think of another such joke I’ll try to forget it.”

  “Good!” cried the Chief Horner. “The war is over and peace is declared.”

  There was much joyful shouting on both sides the fence and the gate was unlocked and thrown wide open, so that Scraps was able to rejoin her friends.