“Hello,” said the King, blinking his purple eyes at his followers; “what’s up now!”
“Strangers, your Majesty — strangers and captives,” replied the big Loon, pompously.
“Dear me! I see ‘em. I see ‘em very plainly,” exclaimed the King, his purple eyes bulging out as he looked at the three prisoners. “What curious animals! Are they dangerous, do you think, my good Panta?”
“I’m ‘fraid so, your Majesty. Of course, they may not be dangerous, but we mustn’t take chances. Enough accidents happen to us poor Loons as it is, and my advice is to condemn and perforate ‘em as quickly as possible.”
“Keep your advice to yourself,” said the monarch, in a peeved tone. “Who’s King here, anyhow? You or Me?”
“We made you our King because you have less common sense than the rest of us,” answered Panta Loon, indignantly. “I could have been King myself, had I wanted to, but I didn’t care for the hard work and responsibility.”
As he said this, the big Loon strutted back and forth in the space between the throne of King Bal and the prisoners, and the other Loons seemed much impressed by his defiance. But suddenly there came a sharp report and Panta Loon instantly disappeared, to the great astonishment of the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Woot the Wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that looked like a collapsed rubber balloon.
“There!” exclaimed the King; “I expected that would happen. The conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is the result of his folly. Get the pump working, some of you, and blow him up again.”
“We will have to mend the puncture first, your Majesty,” suggested one of the Loons, and the prisoners noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked at the sad accident to Panta.
“All right,” grumbled the King. “Fetch Til to mend him.”
One or two ran away and presently returned, followed by a lady Loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts. Also she had a purple feather fastened to a wart on the top of her head, and around her waist was a sash of fibre-like vines, dried and tough, that looked like strings.
“Get to work, Til,” commanded King Bal. “Panta has just exploded.”
The lady Loon picked up the bunch of skin and examined it carefully until she discovered a hole in one foot. Then she pulled a strand of string from her sash, and drawing the edges of the hole together, she tied them fast with the string, thus making one of those curious warts which the strangers had noticed on so many Loons. Having done this, Til Loon tossed the bit of skin to the other Loons and was about to go away when she noticed the prisoners and stopped to inspect them.
“Dear me!” said Til; “what dreadful creatures. Where did they come from?”
“We captured them,” replied one of the Loons.
“And what are we going to do with them?” inquired the girl Loon.
“Perhaps we’ll condemn ‘em and puncture ‘em,” answered the King.
“Well,” said she, still eyeing the captives, “I’m not sure they’ll puncture. Let’s try it, and see.”
One of the Loons ran to the forest’s edge and quickly returned with a long, sharp thorn. He glanced at the King, who nodded his head in assent, and then he rushed forward and stuck the thorn into the leg of the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow merely smiled and said nothing, for the thorn didn’t hurt him at all.
Then the Loon tried to prick the Tin Woodman’s leg, but the tin only blunted the point of the thorn. 57
“Just as I thought,” said Til, blinking her purple eyes and shaking her puffy head; but just then the Loon stuck the thorn into the leg of Woot the Wanderer, and while it had been blunted somewhat, it was still sharp enough to hurt.
“Ouch!” yelled Woot, and kicked out his leg with so much energy that the frail bonds that tied him burst apart. His foot caught the Loon — who was leaning over him — full on his puffy stomach, and sent him shooting up into the air. When he was high over their heads he exploded with a loud “pop” and his skin fell to the ground.
“I really believe,” said the King, rolling his spot-like eyes in a frightened way, “that Panta was right in claiming these prisoners are dangerous. Is the pump ready?”
Some of the Loons had wheeled a big machine in front of the throne and now took Panta’s skin and began to pump air into it. Slowly it swelled out until the King cried “Stop!”
“No, no!” yelled Panta, “I’m not big enough yet.”
“You’re as big as you’re going to be,” declared the King. “Before you exploded you were bigger than the rest of us, and that caused you to be proud and overbearing. Now you’re a little smaller than the rest, and you will last longer and be more humble.”59
“Pump me up — pump me up!” wailed Panta. “If you don’t you’ll break my heart.”
“If we do we’ll break your skin,” replied the King.
So the Loons stopped pumping air into Panta, and pushed him away from the pump. He was certainly more humble than before his accident, for he crept into the background and said nothing more.
“Now pump up the other one,” ordered the King. Til had already mended him, and the Loons set to work to pump him full of air.
During these last few moments none had paid much attention to the prisoners, so Woot, finding his legs free, crept over to the Tin Woodman and rubbed the bonds that were still around his arms and body against the sharp edge of the axe, which quickly cut them.
The boy was now free, and the thorn which the Loon had stuck into his leg was lying unnoticed on the ground, where the creature had dropped it when he exploded. Woot leaned forward and picked up the thorn, and while the Loons were busy watching the pump, the boy sprang to his feet and suddenly rushed upon the group.
“Pop” — ”pop” — ”pop!” went three of the Loons, when the Wanderer pricked them with his thorn, and at the sounds the others looked around and saw their danger. With yells of fear they bounded away in all directions, scattering about the clearing, with Woot the Wanderer in full chase. While they could run much faster than the boy, they often stumbled and fell, or got in one another’s way, so he managed to catch several and prick them with his thorn.
It astonished him to see how easily the Loons exploded. When the air was let out of them they were quite helpless. Til Loon was one of those who ran against his thorn and many others suffered the same fate. The creatures could not escape from the enclosure, but in their fright many bounded upward and caught branches of the trees, and then climbed out of reach of the dreaded thorn.
Woot was getting pretty tired chasing them, so he stopped and came over, panting, to where his friends were sitting, still bound.
“Very well done, my Wanderer,” said the Tin Woodman. “It is evident that we need fear these puffed-up creatures no longer, so be kind enough to unfasten our bonds and we will proceed upon our journey.”
Woot untied the bonds of the Scarecrow and helped him to his feet. Then he freed the Tin Woodman, who got up without help. Looking around them, they saw that the only Loon now remaining within reach was Bal Loon, the King, who had remained seated in his throne, watching the punishment of his people with a bewildered look in his purple eyes.
“Shall I puncture the King?” the boy asked his companions. 62
King Bal must have overheard the question, for he fumbled with the cord that fastened him to the throne and managed to release it. Then he floated upward until he reached the leafy dome, and parting the branches he disappeared from sight. But the string that was tied to his body was still connected with the arm of the throne, and they knew they could pull his Majesty down again, if they wanted to.
“Let him alone,” suggested the Scarecrow. “He seems a good enough king for his peculiar people, and after we are gone, the Loons will have something of a job to pump up all those whom Woot has punctured.”
“Every one of them ought to be exploded,” declared Woot, who was angry because his leg
still hurt him.
“No,” said the Tin Woodman, “that would not be just fair. They were quite right to capture us, because we had no business to intrude here, having been warned to keep away from Loonville. This is their country, not ours, and since the poor things can’t get out of the clearing, they can harm no one save those who venture here out of curiosity, as we did.”
“Well said, my friend,” agreed the Scarecrow. “We really had no right to disturb their peace and comfort; so let us go away.”
They easily found the place where they had forced their way into the enclosure, so the Tin Woodman pushed aside the underbrush and started first along the path. The Scarecrow followed next and last came Woot, who looked back and saw that the Loons were still clinging to their perches on the trees and watching their former captives with frightened eyes.
“I guess they’re glad to see the last of us,” remarked the boy, and laughing at the happy ending of the adventure, he followed his comrades along the path.
Mrs. Yoop, the Giantess
CHAPTER 5
When they had reached the end of the path, where they had first seen the warning sign, they set off across the country in an easterly direction. Before long they reached Rolling Lands, which were a succession of hills and valleys where constant climbs and descents were required, and their journey now became tedious, because on climbing each hill, they found before them nothing in the valley below it — except grass, or weeds or stones.
Up and down they went for hours, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the landscape, until finally, when they had topped a higher hill than usual, they discovered a cup-shaped valley before them in the center of which stood an enormous castle, built of purple stone. The castle was high and broad and long, but had no turrets and towers. So far as they could see, there was but one small window and one big door on each side of the great building.
“This is strange!” mused the Scarecrow. “I’d no idea such a big castle existed in this Gillikin Country. I wonder who lives here?”
“It seems to me, from this distance,” remarked the Tin Woodman, “that it’s the biggest castle I ever saw. It is really too big for any use, and no one could open or shut those big doors without a stepladder.”
“Perhaps, if we go nearer, we shall find out whether anybody lives there or not,” suggested Woot. “Looks to me as if nobody lived there.”
On they went, and when they reached the center of the valley, where the great stone castle stood, it was beginning to grow dark. So they hesitated as to what to do.
“If friendly people happen to live here,” said Woot, “I shall be glad of a bed; but should enemies occupy the place, I prefer to sleep upon the ground.”
“And if no one at all lives here,” added the Scarecrow, “we can enter, and take possession, and make ourselves at home.”
While speaking he went nearer to one of the great doors, which was three times as high and broad as any he had ever seen in a house before, and then he discovered, engraved in big letters upon a stone over the doorway, the words:
“YOOP CASTLE”
“Oho!” he exclaimed; “I know the place now. This was probably the home of Mr. Yoop, a terrible giant whom I have seen confined in a cage, a long way from here. Therefore this castle is likely to be empty and we may use it in any way we please.”
“Yes, yes,” said the Tin Emperor, nodding; “I also remember Mr. Yoop. But how are we to get into his deserted castle? The latch of the door is so far above our heads that none of us can reach it.”
They considered this problem for a while, and then Woot said to the Tin Man:
“If I stand upon your shoulders, I think I can unlatch the door.”
“Climb up, then,” was the reply, and when the boy was perched upon the tin shoulders of Nick Chopper, he was just able to reach the latch and raise it.
At once the door swung open, its great hinges making a groaning sound as if in protest, so Woot leaped down and followed his companions into a big, bare hallway. Scarcely were the three inside, however, when they heard the door slam shut behind them, and this astonished them because no one had touched it. It had closed of its own accord, as if by magic. Moreover, the latch was on the outside, and the thought occurred to each one of them that they were now prisoners in this unknown castle.
“However,” mumbled the Scarecrow, “we are not to blame for what cannot be helped; so let us push bravely ahead and see what may be seen.”
It was quite dark in the hallway, now that the outside door was shut, so as they stumbled along a stone passage they kept close together, not knowing what danger was likely to befall them.
Suddenly a soft glow enveloped them. It grew brighter, until they could see their surroundings distinctly. They had reached the end of the passage and before them was another huge door. This noiselessly swung open before them, without the help of anyone, and through the doorway they observed a big chamber, the walls of which were lined with plates of pure gold, highly polished.
This room was also lighted, although they could discover no lamps, and in the center of it was a great table at which sat an immense woman. She was clad in silver robes embroidered with gay floral designs, and wore over this splendid raiment a short apron of elaborate lace-work. Such an apron was no protection, and was not in keeping with the handsome gown, but the huge woman wore it, nevertheless. The table at which she sat was spread with a white cloth and had golden dishes upon it, so the travelers saw that they had surprised the Giantess while she was eating her supper.
She had her back toward them and did not even turn around, but taking a biscuit from a dish she began to butter it and said in a voice that was big and deep but not especially unpleasant:
“Why don’t you come in and allow the door to shut? You’re causing a draught, and I shall catch cold and sneeze. When I sneeze, I get cross, and when I get cross I’m liable to do something wicked. Come in, you foolish strangers; come in!”
Being thus urged, they entered the room and approached the table, until they stood where they faced the great Giantess. She continued eating, but smiled in a curious way as she looked at them. Woot noticed that the door had closed silently after they had entered, and that didn’t please him at all.
“Well,” said the Giantess, “what excuse have you to offer?”
“We didn’t know anyone lived here, Madam,” explained the Scarecrow; “so, being travelers and strangers in these parts, and wishing to find a place for our boy friend to sleep, we ventured to enter your castle.”
“You knew it was private property, I suppose?” said she, buttering another biscuit.
“We saw the words, ‘Yoop Castle,’ over the door, but we knew that Mr. Yoop is a prisoner in a cage in a far-off part of the land of Oz, so we decided there was no one now at home and that we might use the castle for the night.”
“I see,” remarked the Giantess, nodding her head and smiling again in that curious way — a way that made Woot shudder. “You didn’t know that Mr. Yoop was married, or that after he was cruelly captured his wife still lived in his castle, and ran it to suit herself.”
“Who captured Mr. Yoop?” asked Woot, looking gravely at the big woman.
“Wicked enemies. People who selfishly objected to Yoop’s taking their cows and sheep for his food. I must admit, however, that Yoop had a bad temper, and had the habit of knocking over a few houses, now and then, when he was angry. So one day the little folks came in a great crowd and captured Mr. Yoop, and carried him away to a cage somewhere in the mountains. I don’t know where it is, and I don’t care, for my husband treated me badly at times, forgetting the respect a giant owes to a giantess. Often he kicked me on my shins, when I wouldn’t wait on him. So I’m glad he is gone.”
“It’s a wonder the people didn’t capture you, too,” remarked Woot.
“Well, I was too clever for them,” said she, giving a sudden laugh that caused such a breeze that the wobbly Scarecrow was almost blown off his feet and had to grab his frien
d Nick Chopper to steady himself. “I saw the people coming,” continued Mrs. Yoop, “and knowing they meant mischief I transformed myself into a mouse and hid in a cupboard. After they had gone away, carrying my shin-kicking husband with them, I transformed myself back to my former shape again, and here I’ve lived in peace and comfort ever since.”
“Are you a Witch, then?” inquired Woot.
“Well, not exactly a Witch,” she replied, “but I’m an Artist in Transformations. In other words, I’m more of a Yookoohoo than a Witch, and of course you know that the Yookoohoos are the cleverest magic-workers in the world.”
The travelers were silent for a time, uneasily considering this statement and the effect it might have on their future. No doubt the Giantess had wilfully made them her prisoners; yet she spoke so cheerfully, in her big voice, that until now they had not been alarmed in the least.
By and by the Scarecrow, whose mixed brains had been working steadily, asked the woman:
“Are we to consider you our friend, Mrs. Yoop, or do you intend to be our enemy?”
“I never have friends,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “because friends get too familiar and always forget to mind their own business. But I am not your enemy; not yet, anyhow. Indeed, I’m glad you’ve come, for my life here is rather lonely. I’ve had no one to talk to since I transformed Polychrome, the Daughter of the Rainbow, into a canary-bird.”
“How did you manage to do that?” asked the Tin Woodman, in amazement. “Polychrome is a powerful fairy!”
“She was,” said the Giantess; “but now she’s a canary-bird. One day after a rain, Polychrome danced off the Rainbow and fell asleep on a little mound in this valley, not far from my castle. The sun came out and drove the Rainbow away, and before Poly wakened, I stole out and transformed her into a canary-bird in a gold cage studded with diamonds. The cage was so she couldn’t fly away. I expected she’d sing and talk and we’d have good times together; but she has proved no company for me at all. Ever since the moment of her transformation, she has refused to speak a single word.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 164
