“Where is that?” asked the child.
“Why, Hoptown is near the bottom of the gulch, in that thick patch of grass you see yonder. It’s on your way home, so I’d be pleased to have you visit it.”
“Won’t I step on some of you?” she asked.
“Not if you are careful,” replied Prince Nimble. “Grasshoppers don’t often get stepped on. We’re pretty active, you know.”
“All right,” said Twinkle. “I’d like to see a grasshopper village.”
“Then follow me, and I’ll guide you,” said Nimble, and at once he leaped from the blade of grass and landed at least six feet away.
Twinkle got up and followed, keeping her eye on the pretty Prince, who leaped so fast that she had to trot to keep up with him. Nimble would wait on some clump of grass or bit of rock until the girl came up, and then away he’d go again.
“How far is it?” Twinkle once asked him.
“About a mile and a half,” was the answer; “we’ll soon be there, for you are as good as a mile, and I’m good for the half-mile.”
“How do you figure that out?” asked Twinkle.
“Why, I’ve always heard that a miss is as good as a mile, and you’re a miss, are you not?”
“Not yet,” she answered; “I’m only a little girl. But papa will be sure to miss me if I don’t get home to supper.”
Chapter VII. The Grasshoppers’ Hop
TWINKLE now began to fear she wouldn’t get home to supper, for the sun started to sink into the big prairie, and in the golden glow it left behind, the girl beheld most beautiful palaces and castles suspended in the air just above the hollow in which she stood. Splendid banners floated from the peaks and spires of these magnificent buildings, and all the windows seemed of silver and all the roofs of gold.
“What city is that?” she asked, standing still, in amazement.
“That isn’t any city,” replied the grasshopper. “They are only Castles in the Air — very pretty to look at, but out of everybody’s reach. Come along, my little friend; we’re almost at Hoptown.”
So Twinkle walked on, and before long Prince Nimble paused on the stem of a hollyhock and said:
“Now, sit down carefully, right where you are, and you will be able to watch my people. It is the night of our regular hop — if you listen you can hear the orchestra tuning up.”
She sat down, as he bade her, and tried to listen, but only heard a low whirr and rattle like the noise of a beetle’s wings.
“That’s the drummer,” said Prince Nimble. “He is very clever, indeed.”
“Good gracious! It’s night,” said Twinkle, with a start. “I ought to be at home and in bed this very minute!”
“Never mind,” said the grasshopper; “you can sleep any time, but this is our annual ball, and it’s a great privilege to witness it.”
Suddenly the grass all around them became brilliantly lighted, as if from a thousand tiny electric lamps. Twinkle looked closely, and saw that a vast number of fireflies had formed a circle around them, and were illuminating the scene of the ball.
In the center of the circle were assembled hundreds of grasshoppers, of all sizes. The small ones were of a delicate green color, and the middle-sized ones of a deeper green, while the biggest ones were a yellowish brown.
But the members of the orchestra interested Twinkle more than anything else. They were seated upon the broad top of a big toadstool at one side, and the musicians were all beetles and big-bugs. A fat water-beetle played a bass fiddle as big and fat as himself, and two pretty ladybugs played the violins. A scarab, brightly colored with scarlet and black, tooted upon a long horn, and a sand- beetle made the sound of a drum with its wings. Then there was a coleopto, making shrill sounds like a flute — only of course Twinkle didn’t know the names of these beetles, and thought they were all just “bugs.”
When the orchestra began to play, the music was more pleasing than you might suppose; anyway, the grasshoppers liked it, for they commenced at once to dance.
The antics of the grasshoppers made Twinkle laugh more than once, for the way they danced was to hop around in a circle, and jump over each other, and then a lady grasshopper and a gentleman grasshopper would take hold of hands and stand on their long rear legs and swing partners until it made the girl dizzy just to watch them.
Sometimes two of them would leap at once, and knock against each other in the air, and then go tumbling to the ground, where the other dancers tripped over them. She saw Prince Nimble dancing away with the others, and his partner was a lovely green grasshopper with sparkling black eyes and wings that were like velvet. They didn’t bump into as many of the others as some did, and Twinkle thought they danced very gracefully indeed.
And now, while the merriment was at its height, and waiter-grasshoppers were passing around refreshments that looked like grass seeds covered with thick molasses, a big cat suddenly jumped into the circle.
At once all the lights went out, for the fire-flies fled in every direction; but in the darkness Twinkle thought she could still hear the drone of the big bass fiddle and the flute-like trill of the ladybugs.
The next thing Twinkle knew, some one was shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up, dear,” said her mother’s voice. “It’s nearly supper-time, and papa’s waiting for you. And I see you haven’t picked a single blueberry.”
“Why, I picked ‘em, all right,” replied Twinkle, sitting up and first rubbing her eyes and then looking gravely at her empty tin pail. “They were all in the pail a few minutes ago. I wonder whatever became of them!”
THE END
SUGAR-LOAF MOUNTAIN
Chapter I. The Golden Key
TWINKLE had come to visit her old friend Chubbins, whose mother was now teaching school in a little town at the foot of the Ozark Mountains, in Arkansas. Twinkle’s own home was in Dakota, so the mountains that now towered around her made her open her eyes in wonder.
Near by — so near, in fact, that she thought she might almost reach out her arm and touch it — was Sugar-Loaf Mountain, round and high and big. And a little to the south was Backbone Mountain, and still farther along a peak called Crystal Mountain.
The very next day after her arrival Twinkle asked Chubbins to take her to see the mountain; and so the boy, who was about her own age, got his mother to fill for them a basket of good things to eat, and away they started, hand in hand, to explore the mountain-side.
It was farther to Sugar-Loaf Mountain than Twinkle had thought, and by the time they reached the foot of the great mound, the rocky sides of which were covered with bushes and small trees, they were both rather tired by the walk.
“Let’s eat something,” suggested Chubbins.
“I’m willing,” said Twinkle.
So they climbed up a little way, to where some big rocks lay flat upon the mountain, and sat themselves down upon a slab of rock while they rested and ate some of the sandwiches and cake.
“Why do they call it ‘Sugar-Loaf’?” asked the girl, looking far up to the top of the mountain.
“I don’t know,” replied Chubbins.
“It’s a queer name,” said Twinkle, thoughtfully.
“That’s so,” agreed the boy. “They might as well have called it ‘gingerbread’ or ‘rock-salt,’ or ‘tea-biscuit.’ They call mountains funny names, don’t they?”
“Seems as if they do,” said Twinkle.
They had been sitting upon the edge of one big flat rock, with their feet resting against another that was almost as large. These rocks appeared to have been there for ages, — as if some big giants in olden days had tossed them carelessly down and then gone away and left them. Yet as the children pushed their feet against this one, the heavy mass suddenly began to tremble and then slide downward.
“Look out!” cried the girl, frightened to see the slab of rock move. “We’ll fall and get hurt!”
But they clung to the rock upon which they sat and met with no harm whatever. Nor did the big slab of stone
below them move very far from its original position.
It merely slid downward a few feet, and when they looked at the place where it had been they discovered what seemed to be a small iron door, built into the solid stone underneath, and now shown to their view by the moving of the upper rock.
“Why, it’s a door!” exclaimed Twinkle.
Chubbins got down upon his knees and examined the door carefully. There was a ring in it that seemed to be a handle, and he caught hold of it and pulled as hard as he could. But it wouldn’t move.
“It’s locked, Twink,” he said.
“What do you’spose is under it?” she asked.
“Maybe it’s a treasure!” answered Chubbins, his eyes big with interest.
“Well, Chub, we can’t get it, anyway,” said the practical Twinkle; “so let’s climb the mountain.”
She got down from her seat and approached the door, and as she did so she struck a small bit of rock with her foot and sent it tumbling down the hill. Then she stopped short with a cry of wonder, for under the stone she had kicked away was a little hole in the rock, and within this they saw a small golden key.
“Perhaps,” she said, eagerly, as she stooped to pick up the key, “this will unlock the iron door.”
“Let’s try it!” cried the boy.
Chapter II. Through the Tunnel
THEY examined the door carefully, and at last found near the center of it a small hole. Twinkle put the golden key into this and found that it fitted exactly. But it took all of Chubbins’s strength to turn the key in the rusty lock. Yet finally it did turn, and they heard the noise of bolts shooting back, so they both took hold of the ring, and pulling hard together, managed to raise the iron door on its hinges.
All they saw was a dark tunnel, with stone steps leading down into the mountain.
“No treasure here,” said the little girl.
“P’raps it’s farther in,” replied Chub-bins. “Shall we go down?”
“Won’t it be dangerous?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” said Chubbins, honestly. “It’s been years and years since this door was opened. You can see for yourself. That rock must have covered it up a long time.”
“There must be something inside,” she declared, “or there wouldn’t be any door, or any steps.”
“That’s so,” answered Chubbins. “I’ll go down and see. You wait.”
“No; I’ll go too,” said Twinkle. “I’d be just as scared waiting outside as I would be in. And I ‘in bigger than you are, Chub.”
“You’re taller, but you’re only a month older, Twink; so don’t you put on airs. And I’m the strongest.”
“We’ll both go,” she decided; “and then if we find the treasure we’ll divide.”
“All right; come on!”
Forgetting their basket, which they left upon the rocks, they crept through the little doorway and down the steps. There were only seven steps in all, and then came a narrow but level tunnel that led straight into the mountain-side. It was dark a few feet from the door, but the children resolved to go on. Taking hold of hands, so as not to get separated, and feeling the sides of the passage to guide them, they walked a long way into the black tunnel.
Twinkle was just about to say they’d better go back, when the passage suddenly turned, and far ahead of them shone a faint light. This encouraged them, and they went on faster, hoping they would soon come to the treasure.
“Keep it up, Twink,” said the boy. “It’s no use going home yet.”
“We must be almost in the middle of Sugar-Loaf Mountain,” she answered.
“Oh, no; it’s an awful big mountain,” said he. “But we’ve come quite a way, haven’t we?”
“I guess mama’d scold, if she knew where we are.”
“Mamas,” said Chubbins, “shouldn’t know everything, ‘cause they’d only worry. And if we don’t get hurt I can’t see as there’s any harm done.”
“But we mustn’t be naughty, Chub.”
“The only thing that’s naughty,” he replied, “is doing what you’re told not to do. And no one told us not to go into the middle of Sugar-Loaf Mountain.”
Just then they came to another curve in their path, and saw a bright light ahead. It looked to the children just like daylight; so they ran along and soon passed through a low arch and came out into —
Well! the scene before them was so strange that it nearly took away their breath, and they stood perfectly still and stared as hard as their big eyes could possibly stare.
Chapter III. Sugar-Loaf City
SUGAR-LOAF Mountain was hollow inside, for the children stood facing a great dome that rose so far above their heads that it seemed almost as high as the sky. And underneath this dome lay spread out the loveliest city imaginable. There were streets of houses, and buildings with round domes, and slender, delicate spires reaching far up into the air, and turrets beautifully ornamented with carvings. And all these were white as the driven snow and sparkling in every part like millions of diamonds — for all were built of pure loaf- sugar! The pavements of the streets were also loaf-sugar, and the trees and bushes and flowers were likewise sugar; but these last were not all white, because all sugar is not white, and they showed many bright colors of red sugar and blue sugar and yellow, purple and green sugar, all contrasting most prettily with the sparkling white buildings and the great white dome overhead.
This alone might well astonish the eyes of children from the outside world, but it was by no means all that Twinkle and Chubbins beheld in that first curious look at Sugar-Loaf City. For the city was inhabited by many people — men, women and children — who walked along the streets just as briskly as we do; only all were made of sugar. There were several different kinds of these sugar people. Some, who strutted proudly along, were evidently of pure loaf-sugar, and these were of a most respectable appearance. Others seemed to be made of a light brown sugar, and were more humble in their manners and seemed to hurry along as if they had business to attend to. Then there were some of sugar so dark in color that Twinkle suspected it was maple-sugar, and these folks seemed of less account than any of the others, being servants, drivers of carriages, and beggars and idlers.
Carts and carriages moved along the streets, and were mostly made of brown sugar. The horses that drew them were either pressed sugar or maple-sugar. In fact, everything that existed in this wonderful city was made of some kind of sugar.
Where the light, which made all this place so bright and beautiful, came from, Twinkle could not imagine. There was no sun, nor were there any electric lights that could be seen; but it was fully as bright as day and everything showed with great plainness.
While the children, who stood just inside the archway through which they had entered, were looking at the wonders of Sugar-Loaf City, a file of sugar soldiers suddenly came around a corner at a swift trot.
“Halt!” cried the Captain. He wore a red sugar jacket and a red sugar cap, and the soldiers were dressed in the same manner as their Captain, but without the officer’s yellow sugar shoulder-straps. At the command, the sugar soldiers came to a stop, and all pointed their sugar muskets at Twinkle and Chubbins.
“Surrender!” said the Captain to them. “Surrender, or I’ll — I’ll — ”
He hesitated.
“What will you do?” said Twinkle.
“I don’t know what, but something very dreadful,” replied the Captain. “But of course you’ll surrender.”
“I suppose we’ll have to,” answered the girl.
“That’s right. I’ll just take you to the king, and let him decide what to do,” he added pleasantly.
So the soldiers surrounded the two children, shouldered arms, and marched away down the street, Twinkle and Chubbins walking slowly, so the candy folks would not have to run; for the tallest soldiers were only as high as their shoulders.
“This is a great event,” remarked the Captain, as he walked beside them with as much dignity as he could muster. “It was really g
ood of you to come and be arrested, for I haven’t had any excitement in a long time. The people here are such good sugar that they seldom do anything wrong.”
Chapter IV. To the King’s Palace
“WHAT, allow me to ask, is your grade of sugar?” inquired the Captain, with much politeness. “You do not seem to be the best loaf, but I suppose that of course you are solid.”
“Solid what?” asked Chubbins.
“Solid sugar,” replied the Captain.
“We’re not sugar at all,” explained Twinkle. “We’re just meat.”
“Meat! And what is that?”
“Haven’t you any meat in your city?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Well, I can’t explain exactly what meat is,” she said; “but it isn’t sugar, anyway.”
At this the Captain looked solemn.
“It isn’t any of my business, after all,” he told them. “The king must decide about you, for that’s his business. But since you are not made of sugar you must excuse me if I decline to converse with you any longer. It is beneath my dignity.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Twinkle.
“Where we came from,” said Chubbins, “meat costs more a pound than sugar does; so I guess we’re just as good as you are.”
But the Captain made no reply to this statement, and before long they stopped in front of a big sugar building, while a crowd of sugar people quickly gathered.
“Stand back!” cried the Captain, and the sugar soldiers formed a row between the children and the sugar citizens, and kept the crowd from getting too near. Then the Captain led Twinkle and Chubbins through a high sugar gateway and up a broad sugar walk to the entrance of the building.
“Must be the king’s castle,” said Chubbins.
“The king’s palace,” corrected the Captain, stiffly.
“What’s the difference?” asked Twinkle.
But the sugar officer did not care to explain.
Brown sugar servants in plum-colored sugar coats stood at the entrance to the palace, and their eyes stuck out like lozenges from their sugar faces when they saw the strangers the Captain was escorting.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 372
