Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “If he tries that, he’ll prob’ly lose his way,” said Trot. “I’ve known him to do that, lots of times. It’s losing his way that gets him lost.”

  “Very true,” said the Wizard. “So all the rest of you must stay here while I go look for the boy.”

  “Won’t you get lost, too?” asked Betsy.

  “I hope not, my dear.”

  “Let me go,” said Scraps, dropping lightly to the ground. “I can’t get lost, and I’m more likely to find Button-Bright than any of you.”

  Without waiting for permission she darted away through the trees and soon disappeared from their view.

  “Dorothy,” said Toto, squatting beside his little mistress, “I’ve lost my growl.”

  “How did that happen?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” replied Toto. “Yesterday morning the Woozy nearly stepped on me and I tried to growl at him and found I couldn’t growl a bit.”

  “Can you bark?” inquired Dorothy.

  “Oh, yes, indeed!”

  “Then never mind the growl,” said she.

  “But what will I do when I get home to the Glass Cat and the Pink Kitten?” asked the little dog in an anxious voice.

  “They won’t mind, if you can’t growl at them, I’m sure,” said Dorothy. “I’m sorry for you, of course, Toto, for it’s just those things we can’t do that we want to do most of all; but before we get back you may find your growl again.”

  “Do you think the person who stole Ozma stole my growl?”

  Dorothy smiled.

  “Perhaps, Toto.”

  “Then he’s a scoundrel!” cried the little dog.

  “Anyone who would steal Ozma is as bad as bad can be,” agreed Dorothy, “and when we remember that our dear friend, the lovely Ruler of Oz, is lost, we ought not to worry over just a growl.”

  Toto was not entirely satisfied with this remark, for the more he thought upon his lost growl the more important his misfortune became. When no one was looking he went away among the trees and tried his best to growl — even a little bit — but could not manage to do so. All he could do was bark, and a bark cannot take the place of a growl, so he sadly returned to the others.

  Now, Button-Bright had no idea that he was lost, at first. He had merely wandered from tree to tree, seeking the finest fruit, until he discovered he was alone in the great orchard. But that didn’t worry him just then and seeing some apricot trees farther on he went to them; then he discovered some cherry trees; just beyond these were some tangerines.

  “We’ve found ‘most ev’ry kind of fruit but peaches,” he said to himself, “so I guess there are peaches here, too, if I can find the trees.”

  He searched here and there, paying no attention to his way, until he found that the trees surrounding him bore only nuts. He put some walnuts in his pockets and kept on searching and at last — right among the nut trees — he came upon one solitary peach tree. It was a graceful, beautiful tree, but although it was thickly leaved it bore no fruit except one large, splendid peach, rosy-cheeked and fuzzy and just right to eat.

  Button-Bright had some trouble getting that lonesome peach, for it hung far out of reach; but he climbed the tree nimbly and crept out on the branch on which it grew and after several trials, during which he was in danger of falling, he finally managed to pick it. Then he got back to the ground and decided the fruit was well worth his trouble. It was delightfully fragrant and when he bit into it he found it the most delicious morsel he had ever tasted.

  “I really ought to divide it with Trot and Dorothy and Betsy,” he said; “but p’rhaps there are plenty more in some other part of the orchard.”

  In his heart he doubted this statement, for this was a solitary peach tree, while all the other fruits grew upon many trees set close to one another; but that one luscious bite made him unable to resist eating the rest of it and soon the peach was all gone except the pit.

  Button-Bright was about to throw this peach-pit away when he noticed that it was of pure gold. Of course this surprised him, but so many things in the Land of Oz were surprising that he did not give much thought to the golden peach-pit. He put it in his pocket, however, to show to the girls, and five minutes afterward had forgotten all about it.

  For now he realized that he was far separated from his companions, and knowing that this would worry them and delay their journey, he began to shout as loud as he could. His voice did not penetrate very far among all those trees, and after shouting a dozen times and getting no answer he sat down on the ground and said:

  “Well, I’m lost again. It’s too bad, but I don’t see how it can be helped.”

  As he leaned his back against a tree he looked up and saw a Bluefinch fly down from the sky and alight upon a branch just before him. The bird looked and looked at him. First it looked with one bright eye and then turned its head and looked at him with the other eye. Then, fluttering its wings a little, it said:

  “Oho! so you’ve eaten the enchanted peach, have you?”

  “Was it enchanted?” asked Button-Bright.

  “Of course,” replied the Bluefinch. “Ugu the Shoemaker did that.”

  “But why? And how was it enchanted? And what will happen to one who eats it?” questioned the boy.

  “Ask Ugu the Shoemaker; he knows,” said the bird, pruning its feathers with its bill.

  “And who is Ugu the Shoemaker?”

  “The one who enchanted the peach, and placed it here — in the exact center of the Great Orchard — so no one would ever find it. We birds didn’t dare to eat it; we are too wise for that. But you are Button-Bright, from the Emerald City, and you — you — YOU ate the enchanted peach! You must explain to Ugu the Shoemaker why you did that.”

  And then, before the boy could ask any more questions, the bird flew away and left him alone.

  Button-Bright was not much worried to find that the peach he had eaten was enchanted. It certainly had tasted very good and his stomach didn’t ache a bit. So again he began to reflect upon the best way to rejoin his friends.

  “Whichever direction I follow is likely to be the wrong one,” he said to himself, “so I’d better stay just where I am and let them find me — if they can.”

  A White Rabbit came hopping through the orchard and paused a little way off to look at him.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Button-Bright; “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid for myself,” returned the White Rabbit. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Yes; I’m lost,” said the boy.

  “I fear you are, indeed,” answered the Rabbit. “Why on earth did you eat the enchanted peach?”

  The boy looked at the excited little animal thoughtfully.

  “There were two reasons,” he explained. “One reason was that I like peaches, and the other reason was that I didn’t know it was enchanted.”

  “That won’t save you from Ugu the Shoemaker,” declared the White Rabbit and it scurried away before the boy could ask any more questions.

  “Rabbits and birds,” he thought, “are timid creatures and seem afraid of this shoemaker — whoever he may be. If there was another peach half as good as that other, I’d eat it in spite of a dozen enchantments or a hundred shoemakers!”

  Just then Scraps came dancing along and saw him sitting at the foot of the tree.

  “Oh, here you are!” she said. “Up to your old tricks, eh? Don’t you know it’s impolite to get lost and keep everybody waiting for you? Come along, and I’ll lead you back to Dorothy and the others.”

  Button-Bright rose slowly to accompany her.

  “That wasn’t much of a loss,” he said cheerfully. “I haven’t been gone half a day, so there’s no harm done.”

  Dorothy, however, when the boy rejoined the party, gave him a good scolding.

  “When we’re doing such an important thing as searching for Ozma,” said she, “it’s naughty for you to wander away and keep us from getting on. S’pose she’s a pris’ner — in
a dungeon cell! — do you want to keep our dear Ozma there any longer than we can help?”

  “If she’s in a dungeon cell, how are you going to get her out?” inquired the boy.

  “Never you mind; we’ll leave that to the Wizard; he’s sure to find a way.”

  The Wizard said nothing, for he realized that without his magic tools he could do no more than any other person. But there was no use reminding his companions of that fact; it might discourage them.

  “The important thing just now,” he remarked, “is to find Ozma; and, as our party is again happily reunited, I propose we move on.”

  As they came to the edge of the Great Orchard the sun was setting and they knew it would soon be dark. So it was decided to camp under the trees, as another broad plain was before them. The Wizard spread the blankets on a bed of soft leaves and presently all of them except Scraps and the Sawhorse were fast asleep. Toto snuggled close to his friend the Lion, and the Woozy snored so loudly that the Patchwork Girl covered his square head with her apron to deaden the sound.

  CHAPTER 12

  Trot wakened just

  as the sun rose

  and, slipping out

  of the blankets,

  went to the edge of the Great Orchard and looked across the plain. Something glittered in the far distance.

  “That looks like another city,” she said half aloud.

  “And another city it is,” declared Scraps, who had crept to Trot’s side unheard, for her stuffed feet made no sound. “The Sawhorse and I made a journey in the dark, while you were all asleep, and we found over there a bigger city than Thi. There’s a wall around it, too, but it has gates and plenty of pathways.”

  “Did you go in?” asked Trot.

  “No, for the gates were locked and the wall was a real wall. So we came back here again. It isn’t far to the city. We can reach it in two hours after you’ve had your breakfasts.”

  Trot went back and, finding the other girls now awake, told them what Scraps had said. So they hurriedly ate some fruit — there were plenty of plums and fijoas in this part of the orchard — and then they mounted the animals and set out upon the journey to the strange city. Hank the Mule had breakfasted on grass and the Lion had stolen away and found a breakfast to his liking; he never told what it was, but Dorothy hoped the little rabbits and the field mice had kept out of his way. She warned Toto not to chase birds and gave the dog some apple, with which he was quite content. The Woozy was as fond of fruit as of any other food, except honey, and the Sawhorse never ate at all.

  Except for their worry over Ozma they were all in good spirits as they proceeded swiftly over the plain. Toto still worried over his lost growl, but like a wise little dog kept his worry to himself. Before long the city grew nearer and they could examine it with interest.

  In outward appearance the place was more imposing than Thi, and it was a square city, with a square, four-sided wall around it and on each side was a square gate of burnished copper. Everything about the city looked solid and substantial; there were no banners flying and the towers that rose above the city wall seemed bare of any ornament whatever.

  A path led from the fruit orchard directly to one of the city gates, showing that the inhabitants preferred fruit to thistles. Our friends followed this path to the gate, which they found fast shut. But the Wizard advanced and pounded upon it with his fist, saying in a loud voice: “Open!”

  At once there rose above the great wall a row of immense heads, all of which looked down at them as if to see who was intruding. The size of these heads was astonishing and our friends at once realized that they belonged to giants, who were standing within the city. All had thick, bushy hair and whiskers, on some the hair being white and on others black or red or yellow, while the hair of a few was just turning gray, showing that the giants were of all ages. However fierce the heads might seem the eyes were mild in expression, as if the creatures had been long subdued, and their faces expressed patience rather than ferocity.

  “What’s wanted?” asked one old giant, in a low, grumbling voice.

  “We are strangers and we wish to enter the city,” replied the Wizard.

  “Do you come in war or peace?” asked another.

  “In peace, of course,” retorted the Wizard, and he added impatiently: “Do we look like an army of conquest?”

  “No,” said the first giant who had spoken, “you look like innocent tramps; but one never can tell by appearances. Wait here until we report to our masters. No one can enter here without the permission of Vig, the Czarover.”

  “Who’s that?” inquired Dorothy. But the heads had all bobbed down and disappeared behind the wall, so there was no answer.

  They waited a long time before the gate rolled back with a rumbling sound and a loud voice cried: “Enter!” But they lost no time in taking advantage of the invitation.

  On either side of the broad street that led into the city from the gate stood a row of huge giants — twenty of them on a side and all standing so close together that their elbows touched. They wore uniforms of blue and yellow and were armed with clubs as big around as tree-trunks. Each giant had around his neck a broad band of gold, riveted on, to show he was a slave.

  As our friends entered, riding upon the Lion, the Woozy, the Sawhorse and the Mule, the giants half turned and walked in two files on either side of them, as if escorting them on their way. It looked to Dorothy as if all her party had been made prisoners, for even mounted on their animals their heads scarcely reached to the knees of the marching giants. The girls and Button-Bright were anxious to know what sort of a city they had entered, and what the people were like who had made these powerful creatures their slaves. Through the legs of the giants, as they walked, Dorothy could see rows of houses on each side the street and throngs of people standing on the sidewalks; but the people were of ordinary size and the only remarkable thing about them was the fact that they were dreadfully lean and thin. Between their skin and their bones there seemed to be little or no flesh, and they were mostly stoop-shouldered and weary looking, even to the little children.

  More and more Dorothy wondered how and why the great giants had ever submitted to become slaves of such skinny, languid masters, but there was no chance to question anyone until they arrived at a big palace located in the heart of the city. Here the giants formed lines to the entrance and stood still while our friends rode into the courtyard of the palace. Then the gates closed behind them and before them was a skinny little man who bowed low and said in a sad voice:

  “If you will be so obliging as to dismount, it will give me pleasure to lead you into the presence of the World’s Most Mighty Ruler, Vig the Czarover.”

  “I don’t believe it!” said Dorothy indignantly.

  “What don’t you believe?” asked the man.

  “I don’t believe your Czarover can hold a candle to our Ozma.”

  “He wouldn’t hold a candle under any circumstances, or to any living person,” replied the man very seriously, “for he has slaves to do such things and the Mighty Vig is too dignified to do anything that others can do for him. He even obliges a slave to sneeze for him, if ever he catches cold. However, if you dare to face our powerful ruler, follow me.”

  “We dare anything,” said the Wizard, “so go ahead.”

  Through several marble corridors having lofty ceilings they passed, finding each corridor and doorway guarded by servants; but these servants of the palace were of the people and not giants, and they were so thin that they almost resembled skeletons. Finally they entered a great circular room with a high domed ceiling where the Czarover sat on a throne cut from a solid block of white marble and decorated with purple silk hangings and gold tassels.

  The ruler of these people was combing his eyebrows when our friends entered his throne-room and stood before him, but he put the comb in his pocket and examined the strangers with evident curiosity. Then he said:

  “Dear me, what a surprise! You have really shocked me. For no outsider
has ever before come to our City of Herku, and I cannot imagine why you have ventured to do so.”

  “We are looking for Ozma, the Supreme Ruler of the Land of Oz,” replied the Wizard.

  “Do you see her anywhere around here?” asked the Czarover.

  “Not yet, Your Majesty; but perhaps you may tell us where she is.”

  “No; I have my hands full keeping track of my own people. I find them hard to manage because they are so tremendously strong.”

  “They don’t look very strong,” said Dorothy. “It seems as if a good wind would blow ‘em way out of the city, if it wasn’t for the wall.”

  “Just so — just so,” admitted the Czarover. “They really look that way, don’t they? But you must never trust to appearances, which have a way of fooling one. Perhaps you noticed that I prevented you from meeting any of my people. I protected you with my giants while you were on the way from the gates to my palace, so that not a Herku got near you.”

  “Are your people so dangerous, then?” asked the Wizard.

  “To strangers, yes; but only because they are so friendly. For, if they shake hands with you, they are likely to break your arms or crush your fingers to a jelly.”

  “Why?” asked Button-Bright.

  “Because we are the strongest people in all the world.”

  “Pshaw!” exclaimed the boy, “that’s bragging. You prob’ly don’t know how strong other people are. Why, once I knew a man in Philadelphi’ who could bend iron bars with just his hands!”

  “But — mercy me! — it’s no trick to bend iron bars,” said His Majesty. “Tell me, could this man crush a block of stone with his bare hands?”

  “No one could do that,” declared the boy.

  “If I had a block of stone I’d show you,” said the Czarover, looking around the room. “Ah, here is my throne. The back is too high, anyhow, so I’ll just break off a piece of that.”

  He rose to his feet and tottered in an uncertain way around the throne. Then he took hold of the back and broke off a piece of marble over a foot thick.