L. Frank Baum - Oz 19

by The Lost King Of Oz

  “Are your ears on tight?” asked Snip anxiously, for it would certainly be a dreadful thing if the tailor’s ears had been left behind. Tora put up his hand quickly to touch them and then, with a pleased

  nod, arose to his feet.

  “You’ve brought me good luck, Snip,” smiled the old gentleman. “I’ve tried a hundred times to escape from the Blanks, but never could get through that gate.”

  “Well, I am glad I could help you, for you helped me,” said Snip. “Now that you have escaped, where will you go? Do you remember where you lived before?”

  “I remember nothing,” acknowledged the tailor sorrowfully, “so I’m going with you and after we find this good goose you speak of and the King, I’ll just look around for another shop. A tailor has no cause to worry, and I’ve all my tools right with me.” He chuckled, jingling his pockets cheerfully.

  Snip had to smile himself, for Tora certainly did look like a walking workshop. Around his neck were three long tape measures. Through tapes in his vest there hung a dozen pairs of scissors and shears of all sizes. Fastened to his coat was a huge pin cushion and both lapels were stuck full of needles. As for his pockets, they simply bulged with spools of silk, beeswax and thread.

  Snip thought he had never seen a more interesting traveller and, feeling happier than he had since he left Kimbaloo, and quite hopeful of finding Pajuka, he began to examine the surrounding country. The Farewell had spilled them into a large field of wheat and, from several purple barns in the distance, Snip knew they were still in the land of the Gillikens.

  “You’ll have to be guide, Snip,” sighed the tailor, gazing around with a bewildered expression. “I’ve lived so long with the Blanks that I know nothing of these parts at all. As for the Emerald City, I can’t remember even hearing of it.”

  “Well, I’ve never been there,” admitted Snip, “but I know it is in the very center of Oz and we were going south when Mombi threw me down the well. So if we can find out which direction is south we ought to reach the Emerald City by night time. Which way do you think it is?”

  The tailor squinted doubtfully up at the sun and, after a few more useless guesses, they determined to take a chance and started diagonally across the field.

  “I wonder what shape Mombi did turn the King into,” muttered Snip, as they hurried along through the wheat. “And I wonder whether Ozma can change Pajuka back to his own self again. He’s so tired of being a goose!”

  “It must be pretty tiresome,” observed Tora, pushing his specs up on his forehead, “though no worse than tailoring from morning till night for a city full of invisible and ungrateful rascals. Not that I mind the tailoring,” he explained hastily, looking down sideways at Snip. “I love that, and say, I’d like to make you a little suit sometime when I’ve set up my shop. No, it wasn’t the tailoring, but the imprisonment that I minded.”

  “Do you ‘spose they’ve missed you yet? What will they do when they find you’re gone?” chuckled the little button boy. He looked up expectantly, but the old man was staring thoughtfully over an olive tree and did not seem to hear Snip’s question.

  “Oh bother!” exclaimed Snip. “His ears have gone off again. How awfully inconvenient!”

  “I always let them off after breakfast,” explained the tailor apologetically and just as if he had read Snip’s thoughts. “It rests them, you know.”

  “But we’ve had no breakfast,” began Snip impatiently. Then, realizing that Tora could not hear one word, he walked along in a resigned silence, thinking how annoying it must be to have butterfly ears. “And yet,” mused Snip slowly, “it might be rather fun, too. One could send one’s ears to places one didn’t care to go to school and to lectures and all that sort of thing, and take them off when folks scolded or the conversation grew dull.” He had thought up quite a number of uses for butterfly ears, when the tailor, himself, broke the silence.

  “Perhaps it would amuse you to hear a little about the Blanks,” began Tora in his pleasant voice. “They were not always invisible as now, but they were always vain and haughty and trying to outshine one another in appearance. In fact,” sighed the old man, with a grave nod, “they thought of nothing but dress and all their time and money was spent for new and splendid apparel. As some of the inhabitants were handsomer than others there was always an argument as to who really looked the best.

  “Shortly after I, myself, came to Blankenburg, Vanette, the Queen, walking in a small woods behind the palace, discovered a hidden pool. Looking into the water to admire her reflection, she accidentally dropped her handkerchief. Before she could snatch it out the handkerchief had disappeared and, when she reached into the pond to search for it, her hand and arm suddenly became invisible.”

  Tora looked down to see how Snip was taking the story and, finding him interested, continued dreamily: “For a time the Queen was exceedingly frightened, but all at once a wicked plan popped into her head. Hurrying back to the palace, she ordered her servants to carry a bucket of the magic water to everyone in the city. She then commanded them to bathe in the enchanted water and since then they have been perfectly invisible. Vanetta, herself, who is old and fat and exceedingly jealous of the young girls. bathed in the water too and now as invisible as the rest of her subjects. So now, when they dress up in their fine clothes, faces don’t count at all, and the Queen always wins all the beauty prizes. That’s why it’s against the law to have a face in Blankenburg,” continued Tora solemnly. “I’m glad we escaped before they got yours.

  Snip was glad, too, but wanted to ask how Tora had managed to save his own face, and the tailor, guessing what was in the little boy’s mind, finished up quickly: “For some reason or other the magic water had no effect upon me and as I was old and ugly and quite useful in my own way, they finally stopped bothering me.

  Picking up a long, crooked stick and evidently thinking he had talked enough, Tora began to whistle an old Oz tune. Walking along solemnly beside him Snip could not help wondering how the old tailor had ever come to be a prisoner in Blankenburg and whether he had always had butterfly ears.

  “I’ll ask him as soon as they come back,” decided Snip, but meantime he was growing hungrier and hungrier, for since the drink of cream in Catty Corners he had had nothing at all to eat. He kept a sharp lookout for fruit and nut trees and presently, in a small grove to the right, he caught a glimpse of a perfectly enormous breakfast bush.

  Motioning for Tora to wait for him, Snip darted off. The tailor looked slightly puzzled but, making no objection, sat down on a rock and went on with his whistling. Hastening back with two steaming breakfast dishes in his hands, Snip was surprised to hear a loud, plaintive voice mingling with Tora’s tune. Quickening his steps the little boy saw a tall, kingly figure waving indignant arms at the tailor.

  “Are you crazy?” he shouted angrily. “I ask you once again, may I borrow a breakfast or a bite of lunch? It’s for a Princess. Can’t you answer me?” But Tora, fixing his eye on a fluffy cloud skimming across the sky, went calmly on with his tune. “He is deaf to my pleas,” puffed the stranger, whirling round

  unsteadily and almost bumping into Snip. “Deaf and dumb!”

  “He isn’t deaf,” explained the little boy breathlessly. “He has just mislaid his ears. I mean he’s let them off for awhile.”

  “Let them off? Dorothy! Dorothy! Come at once! Here is a man with mislaid ears!” shrilled the stranger, hobbling off. Snip stared after him, open mouthed, as he wobbled wildly down the road.

  CHAPTER 15

  Kabumpo to the Rescue

  YOU have guessed that it was our old friend Humpy who had begged a breakfast of Tora, the tailor. You see the Elegant Elephant, travelling like the wind itself, had carried Dorothy and the dummy almost to the exact spot where Snip and Tora had fallen out of the Farewell. Then, exceedingly fatigued by his unaccustomed exertion, Kabumpo had gone off in search of some lunch.

  Snip had scarcely recovered from the shock of Humpy’s sudden disappearance when back
he came, holding Dorothy tightly by the hand. Now the little button boy had often seen pictures of Dorothy in the history books of Kimbaloo, but she had always been dressed as a Princess, so we cannot blame him for failing to recognize the shabby little girl who stood staring so earnestly at the tired tailor of Oz.

  “Why he has no ears at all,” cried Dorothy. Then, catching sight of Snip, she stopped short. “We were wondering whether you could lend us some lunch,” faltered Dorothy, talking very fast to cover her embarrassment. “Kabumpo can eat treetops and Humpy does not eat at all, but I’ve had nothing but a tomato since breakfast and I’m very hungry.”

  “There’s a breakfast bush over yonder,” answered Snip, waving sulkily toward the grove. Tora had saved his face and he was not going to have him laughed at. Dorothy turned to see for herself and, as she did, Tora arose and moved quickly over to the dummy.

  “You remind me of someone I used to know,” sighed the tailor, fingering Humpy’s green velvet robe dreamily. “Who are you? Are you real?”

  “Well, not quite. You see,” began Dorothy, “he’s a moving picture dummy.” Suddenly remembering that the tailor could not hear her, she turned back to Snip. “Where are his ears?” asked the little girl nervously.

  “Here they come now!” cried Snip, forgetting his vexation and, setting down the two breakfast dishes, he waved his cap excitedly in the air. As Snip waved and pointed, Dorothy saw the tailor’s ears whizz giddily over a lilac bush and then settle softly, one on each side of his head.

  “Who did you say you were?” asked Tora calmly, continuing his conversation with Humpy and paying no more attention to his ears than we would pay to a couple of flies.

  “A dummy!” whispered Humpy, blinking his painted eyes, while his voice grew fainter and fainter with astonishment. “I am a dummy, but what in Oz are you?”

  “A tailor,” answered Tora with a wink at Snip. “Well, that’s a splendid cloak you’re wearing, and a crown too. Are you a king, dummy?”

  “No, he’s a dummy king,” explained Dorothy, looking longingly at the hot breakfasts. “If we could just sit down and have something to eat I could tell you all about him. Then, maybe, you would tell me a little about your–Dorothy was going to say ears but, fearing this might not be quite polite, she changed it quickly to selves. The little girl cast a curious sidelong glance at Snip, but the button boy was gazing intently at the dummy.

  “Why we’re looking for a king,” exploded Snip excitedly. “Oh Tora, do you suppose this could

  be he?”

  “Why not do as this little lady suggests?” interrupted Tora, for he could see that Dorothy was weary as well as hungry. “Let’s have breakfast together and then talk things over. “Well, don’t start until I come back,” called the little boy, as Dorothy settled comfortably down beside the tailor. In a moment Snip had returned with another breakfast and, while Humpy looked on curiously, they opened the silver dishes Snip had picked from the breakfast bush. What could be cozier? Bacon, eggs, toast and a small sealed cup of coffee grew neatly in each one, but it never occurred to Dorothy, Snip or the tailor to be surprised at this, for breakfast bushes are quite common in Oz. Humpy, however, had seen nothing like this in the movies and kept up a low muttering to himself, as he watched them eat one and then another dainty from the dishes.

  “Now then,” smiled the tailor, after he had taken a long sip of coffee, “suppose you begin.” He looked expectantly at Dorothy. “I think you must be the little girl my ears were telling me of a while back, but where is the elephant?”

  “Mercy!” spluttered Dorothy, nearly choking on her coffee. “Do your ears tell you everything?”

  “Oh no, just odds and ends of things,” answered Tora, reaching up to touch them affectionately.

  “Well, did they tell you about me?” inquired Humpy, straightening his crown importantly.

  “No,” smiled the old man. “That’s just what we’re waiting to hear, though I declare I have seen you somewhere before. Have you ever seen me?”

  Humpy shook his head very positively and Dorothy, settling back against a tree, proceeded with her story. Introducing herself modestly and beginning with Wish Way, she related every single thing that had happened since her fall into California.

  Snip was especially interested in Dorothy’s sudden change in size. “Is that what tore your dress?” he asked curiously.

  The little girl nodded and Tora, ruffling up his silver locks and looking first at Dorothy and then at Humpy, murmured over and’ over: “Well, I can hardly believe my ears, I can hardly believe my ears!”

  Dorothy could not help thinking that the tailor’s ears were hard for anyone to believe, but feeling it would be rude to say so, went hurriedly on with her adventures, telling of her meeting with the

  Scooters and with the Elegant Elephant, whom she described at some length.

  “And now,” concluded the little girl, finishing off the last of the toast, “we’re going straight to the Emerald City. Where are you going?”

  “Why we’re going to the Emerald City too!” burst out Snip, “and maybe Dorothy can help us find Pajuka and warn Ozma!”

  “Warn Ozma?” cried Dorothy, jumping up in a hurry. “Why, what is the matter?”

  “Better tell her,” advised the tailor gravely, while Humpy edged close to the little button boy and looked earnestly up into his face.

  “We’ll,” began Snip, feeling a bit shy in the presence of a person as important as Princess Dorothy of Oz, “Mombi is trying to find the lost King of Oz and turn Ozma to a piano. Pajuka, he’s a goose, I mean a Prime Minister, and he’s trying to find the find the King too, and if we don’t get to the Emerald City first that old witch will steal all the magic and capture everybody.”

  “Why this is a regular thriller,” puffed the dummy, pushing back his crown. “Witches, geese, lost kings and everything. Oh, I’m enjoying this picture immensely. Couldn’t I fall for this lost king,

  Dorothy?”

  “I thought you were the King, yourself, at first,” explained Snip, “but of course, if Dorothy found you in America, you couldn’t possibly be the King of Oz. Besides, I don’t believe Mombi would turn the King to a dummy, do you?”

  “Oh, anything can happen in the pictures,” said Humpy carelessly.

  No one had time to tell Humpy he was not in a picture, for Dorothy, shuddering at the mere mention of old Mombi, insisted on Snip telling all over again just how he had discovered the witch’s wicked plans. This Snip did, from the strange conversation between Pajuka and Mombi in the castle kitchen of Kimbaloo to his encounter with the Blanks and his escape with the tired tailor of Oz. When he came to the part in the story where Mombi had flung him down the well, Humpy fell over backwards and Dorothy gasped with indignation.

  “Oh, we’ll have to hurry, we’ll have to hurry!” exclaimed the little girl, clasping her hands anxiously, “for if Mombi reaches the Emerald City first something dreadful will happen. I’m glad the King of Oz is alive, but I’m not going to have Ozma turned to a piano. Oh dear! Oh dear! Why doesn’t Kabumpo hurry back?”

  “Hadn’t we better start anyway?” asked Snip, who was growing more and more worried about Pajuka. He felt sure Mombi meant to get rid of the goose as soon as she found the King. “Let’s go without the elephant,” he proposed eagerly.

  “No, we’d better wait,” advised Dorothy, “for Kabumpo can travel a hundred times faster than we can, and a hundred times faster than Mombi can.

  “While we are waiting,” suggested Tora, who had been carefully threading his needle, “I’ll mend your frock, my dear. Have you any more buttons, Snip?”

  Snip felt in his pockets and brought out a handful of gold and silver buttons and as Dorothy

  stood shading her eyes and keeping an anxious lookout for Kabumpo, Tora sewed them neatly in place.

  “It must have been mighty queer, growing up all at once,” observed the old tailor, biting off his thread and giving the little girl an affectionate pat on the
shoulder.

  “It was,” answered Dorothy, groaning at the recollection. “I can’t imagine what happened to me, but then everything’s very queer lately.”

  With her frock neatly buttoned, Dorothy began to feel more like herself. She thanked Tora sweetly and smilingly invited him to tell them something about himself.

  “Yes, do,” urged Snip, coming to stand beside her.

  “Well,” sighed the old man, sticking his needle back in his lapel and taking off his specs, “there’s not much to tell. I’m a tailor, as you can readily see. How I got to Blankenburg, I don’t know, but there I’ve been for so long that it gives me rheumatism to think of it. But it’s all over now. When we reach this marvelous city you two young people speak of, I shall set up a shop and live happily ever afterward.”

  “What? With those ears?” shouted Humpy, falling up against a tree. “Oh, I don’t believe it!”

  “Hush,” begged Dorothy and, turning apologetically to the tailor, she whispered earnestly: “You really mustn’t mind Humpy. You see his head is stuffed with hair and it makes him kind of ridiculous.” The tailor chuckled under his breath and Snip giggled outright.

  Just at this moment Kabumpo, magnificent in his pearls and velvet robes, swung ponderously

  into view.

  “Dorothy,”trumpeted the Elegant Elephant, stopping a good twenty feet from the little group and elevating his trunk haughtily, “what are you doing with those shabby fellows? Don’t you realize you’re a Princess. A tailor! Great Grump! Do you expect me to associate with a tailor?”

  “But gaze upon his ears,” cried Humpy, waving his cloak triumphantly at Tora. “They wag, wiggle and fly off by themselves. And we’re hunting a king, a witch and a goose. Hurry up, you elegant old thing, we need you in this picture.”