“But, oh, for a good old pasty!” sighed Sir Hokus late on the third afternoon as they finished the last of the crumbly sandwiches.
“Do you know,” said Dorothy, looking through the straggly fields and woods ahead, “I believe we’ve been going in the wrong direction again.”
“Again!” choked the Cowardly Lion. “You mean still. I’ve been in a good many parts of Oz, but this — this is the worst.”
“Not even one little dragon!” Sir Hokus shook his head mournfully. Then, seeing that Dorothy was tired and discouraged, he pretended to strum on a guitar and sang in his high-pitched voice:
A rusty Knight in steel bedite
And Lady Dot, so fair,
Sir Lion bold, with mane of gold
And might besides to spa — ha — hare!
And might beside to spare!
The dauntless three, a company
Of wit and bravery are,
Who seek the valiant Scarecrow man,
Who seek him near and fa — har — har,
Who seek him near and fa — har!
“Oh, I like that!” cried Dorothy, jumping up and giving Sir Hokus a little squeeze. “Only you should have said trusty Knight.”
The Cowardly Lion shook his golden mane. “Let’s do a little reconnoitering, Hokus,” he said carelessly. He felt he must live up to the song somehow. “Perhaps we’ll find a sign.”
“I don’t believe in signs anymore,” laughed Dorothy, “but I’m coming too.” Sir Hokus’ song had cheered them all, and it wasn’t the first time the Knight had helped make the best of a tiresome journey.
“The air seemeth to grow very hot,” observed Sir Hokus after they had walked along silently for a time. “Hast noticed it, Sir Cowardly?”
“No, but I’ve swallowed some of it,” coughed the Cowardly Lion, looking suspiciously through the trees.
“I’ll just step forward and see what it is,” said the Knight. As he disappeared, the truth dawned on Dorothy.
“Wait! Wait! Don’t go! Please, please, Sir Hokus, come back, come back!” cried the little girl, running after him as fast as she could.
“What’s the matter?” rumbled the Cowardly Lion, thudding behind her. Then both, coming suddenly out of the woods, gave a terrible scream, which so startled Sir Hokus that he fell over backwards. Just in time, too, for another step would have taken him straight on to the Deadly Desert, which destroys every living thing and keeps all intruders away from Oz.
“What befell?” puffed Sir Hokus, getting to his feet. Naturally, he knew nothing of the poisonous sands.
“You did,” wheezed the Cowardly Lion in an agitated voice.
“Was it a dragon?” asked the Knight, limping toward them hopefully.
“Sit down!” The Cowardly Lion mopped his brow with his tail. “One step on that desert and it would have been one long goodnight.”
“I should say it would!” shuddered Dorothy, and explained to Sir Hokus the deadly nature of the sands. “And do you know what this means?” Dorothy was nearer to tears than even I like to think about. “It means we’ve come in exactly the wrong direction and are farther away from the Emerald City than we were when we started.”
“And seek him near and fa — hah — har,” mumbled Sir Hokus with a very troubled light in his kindly blue eyes.
“And seek him near and far.”
“Fah — har — har! I should say it was,” said the Cowardly Lion bitterly. “But you needn’t sing it.”
“No, I s’pose not. Uds helmets and hauberks! I s’pose not!” The Knight lapsed into a discouraged silence, and all three sat and stared drearily at the stretch of desert before them and thought gloomily of the rough country behind.
“It’s a caravan,” wheezed a hoarse voice.
“I doubt that, Camy, I doubt it very much.” The shrill nasal voices so startled the three travelers that they swung about in astonishment.
“Great dates and deserts!” burst out the Cowardly Lion, jumping up. And on the whole, this exclamation was entirely suitable, for ambling toward them were a long-legged camel and a wobbly-necked dromedary.
“At last! A steed!” cried the Knight, bounding to his feet.
“I doubt that.” The dromedary stopped and looked at him coldly.
“Try me,” said the camel amiably. “I’m more comfortable.”
“I doubt that, too.”
“The doubtful dromedary wept,
As o’er the desert sands he stept,
Association with the sphinx
Has made him doubtful, so he thinks!”
chortled the Knight with his head on one side.
“How did you know?” asked the Dromedary, opening his eyes wide.
“It just occurred to me,” admitted Sir Hokus, clearing his throat modestly.
“I doubt that. Somebody told you,” said the Doubtful Dromedary bitterly.
“Pon my honor,” said Sir Hokus.
“I doubt it, I doubt it very much,” persisted the Dromedary, wagging his head sorrowfully.
“You seem to doubt everything!” Dorothy laughed in spite of herself, and the Dromedary regarded her sulkily.
“He does,” said the Camel. “It makes him very doubtful company. Now, I like to be comfortable and happy, and you can’t be if you’re always doubting things and people and places. Eh, my dear?”
“Where did you comfortable and doubtful parties come from?” asked the Cowardly Lion. “Strangers here?”
“Well, yes,” admitted the Camel, nibbling the branch of a tree. “There was a terrific sandstorm, and after blowing and blowing and blowing, we found ourselves in this little wood. The odd part of it is that you talk in our language. Never knew a two-leg to understand a word of Camelia before.”
“You’re not talking Camelia, you’re talking Ozish,” laughed Dorothy. “All animals can talk here.”
“Well, now, that’s very comfortable, I must say,” sighed the Camel, “and if you’d just tell me where to go, it would be more comfortable still.”
“I doubt that,” snapped the Dromedary. “They’re no caravan.”
“Where do you want to go?” asked the Cowardly Lion, ignoring the Doubtful Dromedary.
“Anywhere, just so we keep moving. We’re used to being told when to start and stop, and life is mighty lonely without our Karwan Bashi,” sighed the Comfortable Camel.
“Why, I didn’t know you smoked!” exclaimed Dorothy in surprise. She thought the camel was referring to a brand of tobacco.
“He means his camel driver,” whispered Sir Hokus, eyeing the soft, pillowed seat on the camel’s back longingly. Besides the seat, great sacks and bales of goods hung from its sides. The Doubtful Dromedary was similarly loaded.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Dorothy. A sudden idea had struck her. “You haven’t anything to eat in those sacks, have you?”
“Plenty, my child — plenty!” answered the Camel calmly.
“Three cheers for the Comfortable Camel!” roared the Cowardly Lion, while Sir Hokus, following the camel’s directions, carefully unfastened a large, woven basket from one of the sacks on its side.
“You may be my Karwan Bashi,” announced the Comfortable Camel judiciously as Sir Hokus paused for breath.
“Hear that, Lady Dot?” Sir Hokus swept the camel a bow and fairly beamed with pleasure. Dorothy, meanwhile, had set out an appetizing repast on a small, rocky ledge — a regular feast, it appeared to the hungry travelers. There were loaves of black bread, figs, dates, cheese, and a curious sort of dried meat which the Cowardly Lion swallowed in great quantities.
“Isn’t this cozy?” said Dorothy, forgetting the long, weary way ahead. “My, I’m glad we met you!”
“Very comforting to us, too, my dear,” said the Camel, swaying complacently. “Isn’t it, Doubty?”
“There are some silk cushions in my right-hand saddle sack, but I doubt very much whether you’ll like ‘em,” mumbled the Dromedary gruffly.
“Out with them!” cried Sir H
okus, pouncing on the Doubtful Dromedary, and in a minute each of the party had a cushion and was as snug as possible.
“Could anything have been more fortunate?” exulted the Knight. “We can now resume our journey properly mounted.”
“I think I’ll ride the Cowardly Lion,” said Dorothy, looking uneasily at the high seat on the camel’s back. “Let’s start before it grows any darker.”
They had eaten to heart’s content, and now, packing up the remainder of the feast, the little party made ready to start.
Sir Hokus, using the Cowardly Lion as a footstool, mounted the camel, and then Dorothy climbed on her old friend’s back, and the little caravan moved slowly through the forest.
“There’s a tent in my left-hand saddle sack, but I doubt very much whether you can put it up,” said the Doubtful Dromedary, falling in behind the Comfortable Camel. “I doubt it very much indeed.”
“How now, what means this doubting?” called Sir Hokus from his perilous seat. “I’ll pitch it when the time comes.”
“Mind you don’t pitch out when the Camel goes!” called the Cowardly Lion, who would have his little joke. Sir Hokus, to tell the truth, was feeling tossed about and dizzy, but he was too polite to mention the fact. As they proceeded, Dorothy told the Comfortable Camel all about the Scarecrow and Oz.
An occasional word jolted down from above told her that the Knight was singing. They had gone possibly a mile when Dorothy pointed in excitement to a road just ahead.
“We must have missed it before! Wait, I’ll see what it’s like.” Jumping down from the Cowardly Lion’s back, she peered curiously at the narrow, tree-lined path. “Why, here’s a sign!”
“What of?” asked the Comfortable Camel, lurching forward eagerly and nearly unseating the Knight.
W I S H W A Y
read Dorothy in a puzzled voice.
“Looks like a pretty good road,” said the Comfortable Camel, squinting up its eyes.
“I doubt it, Camy, I doubt it very much,” said the Doubtful Dromedary tremulously.
“What does my dear Karwan Bashi think?” asked the Comfortable Camel, looking adoringly back at the Knight.
“It is unwise to go back when the journey lieth forward,” said the Knight, and immediately returned to his song. So, single file, the little company turned in at the narrow path, the Comfortable Camel advancing with timid steps and the Doubtful Dromedary bobbing his head dubiously.
CHAPTER 17
DOUBTY AND CAMY VANISH INTO SPACE
For a short time, everything went well. Then Dorothy, turning to see how Sir Hokus was getting along, discovered that the Doubtful Dromedary had disappeared.
“Why, where in the world?” exclaimed Dorothy. The Comfortable Camel craned his wobbly neck and, when he saw that his friend was gone, burst into tears. His sobs heaved Sir Hokus clear out of his seat and flung him, helmet first, into the dust.
“Go to!” exploded the Knight, sitting up. “If I were a bird, riding in yon nest would be easier.” The last of his sentence ended in a hoarse croak. Sir Hokus vanished, and a great raven flopped down in the center of the road.
“Oh, where is my dear Karwan Bashi? Oh, where is Doubty?” screamed the Comfortable Camel, running around in frenzied circles. “I wish I’d never come on this path!”
“Magic!” gasped Dorothy, clutching the Cowardly Lion’s mane. The Comfortable Camel had melted into air before their very eyes.
“I doubt it, I doubt it very much!” coughed a faint voice close to her ear. Dorothy ducked her head involuntarily as a big yellow butterfly settled on the Cowardly Lion’s ear.
“Our doubtful friend,” whispered the lion weakly. “Oh, be careful, Dorothy dear. We may turn into frogs or something worse any minute.”
Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion had had experiences with magic transformations, and the little girl, pressing her fingers to her eyes, tried to think of something to do. The raven was making awkward attempts to fly and cawing “Go to, now!” every other second.
“Oh, I wish dear Sir Hokus were himself again,” wailed Dorothy after trying in vain to recall some magic sentences. Presto! The Knight stood before them, a bit breathless from flying, but hearty as ever.
“I see! I see!” said the Cowardly Lion with a little prance. “Every wish you make on this road comes true. Remember the sign: ‘Wish Way.’ I wish the Comfortable Camel were back. I wish the Doubtful Dromedary were himself again,” muttered the Cowardly Lion rapidly, and in an instant the two creatures were standing in the path.
“Uds bodikins! So I did wish myself a bird!” gasped the Knight, rubbing his gauntlets together excitedly.
“There you are! There you are!” cried the Comfortable Camel, stumbling toward him and resting his foolish head on his shoulder. “Dear, dear Karwan Bashi! And Doubty, old fellow, there you are too! Ah, how comfortable this all is.”
“Not two — one,” wheezed the Doubtful Dromedary. “And Camy, I doubt very much whether I’d care for butterflying. I just happened to wish myself one!”
“Don’t make any more wishes,” said the Cowardly Lion sternly.
“Methinks a proper wish might serve us well,” observed Sir Hokus. He had been pacing up and down in great excitement. “Why not wish — ”
“Oh, stop!” begged Dorothy. “Wait till we’ve thought it all out. Wishing’s awfully particular work!”
“One person better speak for the party,” said the Cowardly Lion. “Now, I suggest — ”
“Oh, be careful!” screamed Dorothy again. “I wish you would all stop wishing!” Sir Hokus looked at her reproachfully. No wonder. At Dorothy’s words, they all found themselves unable to speak. The Doubtful Dromedary’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. For the first time in its life, it was unable to doubt anything.
“Now I’ll have to do it all,” thought Dorothy, and closing her eyes she tried to think of the very best wish for everybody concerned. It was night and growing darker. The Cowardly Lion, the Camel and Dromedary and Sir Hokus peered anxiously at the little girl, wondering what in the world was going to happen. Being wished around is no joke. For five minutes Dorothy thought and thought. Then, standing in the middle of the road, she made her wish in a clear, distinct voice. It was not a very long wish. To be exact, it had only eight words. Eight — short — little words! But stars! No sooner were they out of Dorothy’s mouth than the earth opened with a splintering crash and swallowed up the whole company!
CHAPTER 18
DOROTHY FINDS THE SCARECROW!
The next thing Dorothy knew, she was sitting on the hard floor of a great, dark hall. One lantern burned feebly, and in the dim, silvery light she could just make out the Comfortable Camel scrambling awkwardly to his feet.
“I smell straw,” sniffed the Camel softly.
“I doubt very much whether I am going to like this place.” The voice of the Doubtful Dromedary came hesitatingly through the gloom.
“By sword and scepter!” gasped the Knight, “Are you there, Sir Cowardly?”
“Thank goodness, they are!” said Dorothy. Wishing other people about is a risky and responsible business. “They’re all here, but I wonder where here is.” She jumped up, but at a shuffle of feet drew back.
“Pigs! Weasels!” shrilled an angry voice, and a fat little man hurled himself at Sir Hokus, who happened to have fallen in the lead.
“Uds trudgeons and bludgeons and maugre thy head!” roared the Knight, shaking him off like a fly.
“Tappy, Tappy, my dear boy. Caution! What’s all this?” At the sound of that dear, familiar voice Dorothy’s heart gave a skip of joy, and without stopping to explain she rushed forward.
“Dorothy!” cried the Scarecrow, stepping on his kimona and falling off his silvery throne. “Lights, Tappy! More lights, at once!” But Tappy was too busy backing away from Sir Hokus of Pokes.
“Approach, vassal!” thundered the Knight, who under-stood not a word of Tappy’s speech. “Approach! I think I’ve been insulted!” He drew his swo
rd and glared angrily through the darkness, and Tappy, having backed as far as possible, fell heels over pigtail into the silver fountain. At the loud splash, Dorothy hastened to the rescue.
“They’re friends, and we’ve found the Scarecrow, we’ve found the Scarecrow!” She seized Sir Hokus and shook him till his armor rattled.
“Tappy! Tappy!” called the Scarecrow. “Where in the world did he pagota?” That’s exactly what he said, but to Dorothy it sounded like no language at all.
“Why,” she cried in dismay, “it’s the Scarecrow, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying!”
“I think he must be talking Turkey,” droned the Comfortable Camel, “or donkey! I knew a donkey once, a very uncomfortable party, I — ”
“I doubt it’s donkey,” put in the Dromedary importantly, but no one paid any attention to the two beasts. For Happy Toko had at last dragged himself out of the fountain and set fifteen lanterns glowing.
“Oh!” gasped Dorothy as the magnificent silver throne room was flooded with light, “Where are we?”
The Scarecrow had picked himself up, and with outstretched arms came running toward her talking a perfect Niagara of Silver Islandish.
“Have you forgotten your Ozish so soon?” rumbled the Cowardly Lion reproachfully as Dorothy flung her arms around the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow, seeing the Cowardly Lion for the first time, fairly fell upon his neck. Then he brushed his clumsy hand across his forehead.
“Wasn’t I talking Ozish?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
“Oh, now you are!” exclaimed Dorothy. And sure enough, the Scarecrow was talking plain Ozish again. (Which I don’t mind telling you is also plain English.)
The Knight had been watching this little reunion with hardly repressed emotion. Advancing hastily, he dropped on one knee.
“My good sword and lance are ever at thy service, my Lord Scarecrow!” he exclaimed feelingly.
“Who is this impulsive person?” gulped the Scarecrow, staring in undisguised astonishment at the kneeling figure of the Sir Hokus of Pokes.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 209
