"Oh, do be careful!" begged Tompy. "If they catch and tie you up, neither of us will ever get back home."
"I'll be careful," promised Yankee and away bounded the doughty bull terrier, the American flags on his harness snapping in the breeze.
There was no furniture in the guard house and after shaking the window bars and finding them exceedingly tight and sturdy, and then examining every inch of the stone walls for loose stones, the leader of the Pennwood Band sat down on the hard floor in complete discouragement. The happenings of the morning had all been so odd and puzzling, he could not be sure whether he was awake or asleep and dreaming it all. How could that old duffer have read his mind, for instance? How did he know that he and Yankee intended to find their way back home without stopping to hunt for the lost princess? And Wackajammy itself? Whoever heard of such a place? And, if it was in Oz, as Jack-a-lack had said, it was stranger still. To be sure, he had read several Oz books but had considered them to be just fairy tales. Yet here they were, right in the middle of a storybook country and he, himself, in as tight a position as he ever had been in his whole life. But right in the middle of all the worry and wondering Tompy began to think of Yankee. Even thinking of him made Tompy smile. After all, Yankee was with him in this adventure--Yankee as real and clever and brave as any three of his team mates at home. What could he be doing now? Still smiling, Tompy leaned back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. It was dim, damp, and very still in the little stone house, and it had been a long, tiring morning. presently, Toinpy slid down the wall, rolled over sideways, and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
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Chapter 4: Escape from Wackajammy
A PERSISTENT scratching noise roused Tompy. Rubbing his eyes he lurched to his feet, for a moment wondering where he was. Then it all came back with a rush and in one step he reached the window. Muttering and growling under his breath, the bull terrier was clawing frantically at the guard house door. Tapping on the window bars with a drum stick to attract his attention, Tompy softly called his name.Without a word, Yankee reared up on his hind legs. In his mouth was the yellowbook Yammer Jammer had consulted before he stalked away. By stretching one arm down, Tompy could just reach and pull it through the bars.
"Open it--open it!" directed Yankee. Without asking any questions, Tompy did as he was told and out dropped the big brass door key. Pouncing on the key he fitted it in the lock, gave it a turn, and his prison door swung open.
"Yankee! Yankee! You're back, you're safe. How did you do it?" Rushing out, he hugged him so hard they both fell over.
"The book, get the book!" panted Yankee, wriggling free. "Let's launch ourseEves out of here, and fast!" With no further urging, Tompy darted back, picked up the book, slammed the door of the guard house, and pelted after Yankee who already was on the run. Not till they were through the garden gates and far along the pebbled highway beyond, did they slacken their speed. On each side were the small yellow houses of the villagers. Casting interested glances right and left as he ran along, Tompy noted that they were dressed in sensible yellow overalls and green shirts. But instead of busying themseEves in the wheat fields or elsewhere they stood in idle groups arguing, played games of catch and toss, or walked aimlessly around their tiny gardens. None paid the slightest attention to the boy and dog racing down the highway and just as he felt he could not run another step, Yankee turned off into a narrow path cutting through a field of wheat. Pushing into the wheat till they were completely hidden, the exhausted travellers flung themseEves down for a short breather. While they rested, Yankee explained how he had managed to steal the book and key from the king's Chief Counselor.
"Sort of crept up on him," snickered Yankee with one of his wide grins. "Kept under cover till I reached the base--"
"Castle," corrected Tompy, settling into a more comfortable position.
"Then I slipped through a side door and hid behind a curtain in that big hall with the fountain," went on Yankee. "I could hear them talking and arguing, old Yammer Jammer loudest of all. Thought they'd never stop, but pretty soon they did and it grew so quiet I stuck out my head. The whole place was empty except for Big Ears. He was sound asleep on a sofa with one arm hanging down, and guess what?"
"What?" asked Tompy impatiently.
"The key was in his hand, but the book had fallen open on the floor. So I pussyfooted over and gave his hand a nudge. Fortunately, he did not waken, but the key slipped out of his grasp. I picked up the key--dropped it in the book--shut the book--then I clamped my teeth on the whole biz and slithered out of there on my stomach. I'll wager every lazy duffer in the place was asleep. Even the guards I passed on my way out were leaning against the wall snoring like buzz saws. Imagine grown men snoring in the middle of the day! Lucky for us they did, boy, lucky for us!" Rolling over on his back with his four feet straight in the air, Yankee gave a tremendous yawn and closed his eyes.
While he had been talking, Tompy had been turning the pages of the yellow book. Glancing curiously at the first one, he saw two words: Mind Reader.
"For Pete's sake, Yankee!" sputtered Tompy holding it up. "This book is a mind reader."
"Oh, I figured it must be something special. That's why I brought it." Rolling over, Yankee opened one eye. "How does it work?"
"Let's find out," said Tompy. "What are you thinking NOW?" he asked quickly. Before the bull terrier could answer a whole sentence appeared on the book's second page, then disappeared. "It says we had better move on," mused Tompy. "Is that what you were thinking?"
"Exactly what." Yankee was on his feet like a shot, his tail wagging furiously. "Say--this will be a big help to us, Tomp."
"Well, why didn't Yammer read Princess Doffi's mind?" reasoned Tompy. "Then he would have known where she was."
"Maybe a mind reader only works when the person is present," surmised the space dog runningover to sniff at the yellow book.
"Of course!" exclaimed Tompy. "That must be it, but how do you catch on to all these things so fast?"
"Can I help it if I'm smart! Come on!" Giving Tompy's coat a playful jerk, Yankee headed back to the pebbled highway. Tucking the Mind Reader under his jacket, Tompy soon overtook his galloping pal. Wackajammy, from what they could see, was a pleasant, old-fashioned country. Windmills flapped lazy wings in the light breeze. The power was there but the mills themseEves were deserted, the millers fishing contentedly in the small streams that laced the meadows beside the road. As frequent backward check-ups showed no one in pursuit, the two travelers slowed down to an easier pace and, when they came to a huge, rambling building at the edge of the village, stopped altogether. It was the Royal Bakery of Wackajammy. Leaning from windows and standing in doorways, the bakery boys and girls waved languidly at the visitors. No smoke rose from the tall chimneys and no good smell of hot bread, cinnamon buns, or pies floated out to tickle the noses of passersby.
"Get to work, you lazy loafers!" yelped Yankee, kicking up a shower of pebbles and following his remarks with a few sharp barks.
"Yes, why don't you?" called Tompy, addressing himself to a plump, aproned fellow in the nearest doorway.
"Because we are waiting for Aunt Doffi," answered the baker primly. "She hasn't been around all week and we just don't know what to do."
"Do what you always did," advised Yankee, tossing his head.
"Oh, we couldn't do that," explained the baker extending both arms. "Aunt Doffi always tells us how many loaves of bread, cakes, pies, rolls and cookies to bake. She has orders from all over the West. Aunt Doffi gives the orders around here."
"But that's ridiculous," scolded the terrier putting back his ears. "Suppose she doesn't come back, then what?"
"Then NOTHING. Who are you anyway?" demanded the baker sullenly, his face now quite red and angry.
"Get out of here! shouted all the bakery workers tossing their yellow locks. Next instant a perfect burst of hard biscuits, stale bread, pound cakes, and pies came hurtling d
own on the heads of the two adventurers. Snatching a loaf of French-style bread, Yankee tore down the highway.
"Gr-ruff!" wheezed Yankee speaking thickly through the bread. "Isn't this fun? Haven't enjoyed myself so much since the blast off!"
"Sure is!" puffed Tompy, picking up small tarts and cup cakes as he pounded along, "but we always seem to be running." After a fifteen minute sprint they did stop. "Are we still heading east?" he asked, flinging himself down on a rustic bench. "Anyway, we seem to have come to the end of the line."
"End of the road, sure enough," grunted Yankee dropping the loaf of bread to take short snifs in every direction. "East still straight ahead," he concluded, "but you know, I hate to leave this wacky country in such a poor state. Somebody had better find Aunt Doffi, or else. What they need 'round here are a couple of tough top sergeants. And how do you suppose they deliver all this bread stuff? Haven't seen a truck, train, or plane since we got here."
"There aren't any," Tompy told him with a solemn shake of his head. "Objects and even people sometimes are wished about or transported by magic belts or enchantments."
"They are!" Yankee took a good bite of bread and munched it thoughtfully. "Kind of way out, eh? Tell me more, Tomp--tell me more."
"Well," began Tompy, "I only know what I've read--"
"That's the trouble," grumbled the terrier, "nobody reads to dogs--a wonder we know anything at all." Coming over to lean against Tompy's knee, he listened with a far away look in his eyes as Tompy gave him a brief history of the magical Land of Oz.
As you and I and most people know, Oz is an oblong country divided into four triangular kingdoms. To the north is the purple country of the Gillikins, to the west the yellow land of the Winkies. To the east, lies the blue Munchkin Kingdom and to the south the red Quadling Country ruled over by Glinda the Good Sorceress. In each of these four countries are many smaller kingdoms and in the exact center of Oz, the Emerald City built by the Wizard of Oz. To begin with, this Wizard had not been a real wizard, but a little man named Oscar Z. Diggs who did tricks and made balloon ascensions at circuses and fairs. On one of his flights his balloon blew off course and after a long, bumpy journey came down in the exact center of Oz. On the balloon, Diggs had his first two initials, 0. Z. The inhabitants, seeing the name of their country on this strange contrivance floating down from the sky, immediately hailed the startled balloonist as a Wizard and made him ruler of Oz. Although he was not a real wizard, Diggs was a shrewd and clever ruler, and he planned and superintended the building of the Emerald City and was famed through out the Land.
Years later, Dorothy Gale a little Kansas girl and her dog Toto were blown to Oz by a cyclone. In the company of the Cowardly Lion, a live Scarecrow, and a Tin Woodman, Dorothy arrived at the Emerald City. The Wizard, not being a real wizard, could not send her home--but he did construct another balloon and agree to fly with her to America. After appointing the Scarecrow to rule in his place, he mounted into the basket, but the balloon broke loose before Dorothy could join him. After some more astonishing adventures, Dorothy and Toto finally were sent home by Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South. Quite a few other mortal boys and girls have come to Oz in curious ways. Dorothy and the Wizard both returned and now live in the capital with Ozma, present ruler of the merry old country. The Wizard from much practice and with the help of Glinda is now a real Wizard, and so many exciting things have happened in Oz that many books of history have been written to record them. Tompy had not read them all, but enough to give Yankee a good idea of what to expect in this magical country.
"Of course," he finished, quite out of breath from his long recital, "I never really thought I would land in Oz myself!"
"Me neither," admitted Yankee, scratching his ear with his hind leg, "but since we ARE here we might as well see all we can and enjoy ourseEves. After all, Oz is not so very different from America. Maybe they do have wizards and sorceresses, but remember WE have scientists and astronauts and computers and can push buttons for almost everything we need. Now, just where in Oz did Jack-a-lack say his kingdom was?"
"In the northeastern part of the Winkie Land where everything is yellow."
"So I've noticed," mused the space dog looking up as a flock of yellow birds circled overhead. "The leaves of the trees are yellow, the houses are yellow, the--"
"Yes, and if we don't watch out we might turn yellow, too. Let's shove along, shall we? If we keep on going east, we'll soon be out of the Winkie Country. Then when we cross the purple Gillikin Kingdom we'll come to the edge of the Deadly Desert and how in crackers will we ever cross that?"
"Did anyone ever cross it before?" inquired Yankee, panting a little at this new problem.
"Well, yes," answered Tompy, recalling several notable instances. "Of course, we could turn south and head for the Emerald City. Then Ozma could transport us to America with her magic belt."
"No, thanks!" The bull terrier shook his head till his harness rattled. "I prefer to get there on my own steam. Let's just keep our noses pointed east and see what happens."
"Let's," laughed Tompy. Popping the last cup cake into his mouth, he stepped off the pebbled pathway and started across a broad meadow edged with goldenrod. Yankee, taking a last bite of the bread, discarded the rest and loped contentedly at his side.
"You know, Yank," Tompy reaching the far side of the field, paused to take a long backward look, "I just can't believe we really are in Oz. Always thought it was a storybook country, a fairytale !"
"Now don't you go disbelieving fairytales," cautioned the space dog, closing one eye. "From what I heard back at the base the sky was mostly a big old fairytale, till men began charting and studying the heavens. And now, with astronauts rocketing up there left and right, we'll some day be dropping down for a visit on different planets, we thought were only pretty stars to shine at night. I'm proud I was chosen for a moon orbit. But it figures, it figures. The dog star, Sirius, is the brightest star in the sky, so why shouldn't a dog have a share in space exploration? And who knows, some day some lucky pooch will be landing on that dog star to lark around with all those sky terriers. As far as I know, I am the first American dog in space and might be considered a sky terrier, too!" Considering this tremendous honor, Yankee sprang straight up in the air and came down hard on Tompy's foot.
"Oh, you're a Yankee doodle dandy, all right!" grinned Tompy, giving him a friendly shove.
"Sure, sure, and if I'd been scooped up off the Florida coast, I'd never have bumped into you nor be having such a cracking good time in Oz. Ki-Yi-Yippy!" yodeled Yankee, tearing after a yellow rabbit that had popped up on his path. Guided by his excited barks, Tompy pushed through the thick underbrush and closely spaced trees of the small wood into which he had vanished. Guarding his precious drum as best he could from twigs and thorns, he presently came to a more open spot.
"Stand back! Stand Back!" warned the space dog shrilly. "I have him cornered."
"For seven's sake, who's afraid of a rabbit!" exclaimed Tompy scornfully. But this was no rabbit the bull terrier had backed up against a tree. It was a huge hairy bear-like creature with big claws and a long, quivering snout.
"Call off your snipper snapper!" it bawled, flashing angry little eyes at Tompy.
"Whipper snapper!" snarled Yankee lunging forward. "Gr-rrruff!"
"Wait, wait," begged Tompy, seizing him by the harness. "I know what this is, Yankee. "It's a great bear anteater. We have one in the zoo back home."
"AUNT eater!" The hair on the terrier's back stood up like a hair brush. "So that is what happened to the king's Aunt Doffi! What have you done with the princess, you monster, you?"
"Oh, no, no, NO!" cried Tompy, giving Yankee's harness another tug backward. "Anteaters never eat aunts with a "U," only a-n-t-s, insects and termites. Isn't that right, er--Sir?" He added the "Sir" to make up for Yankee's rudeness.
"That's correct," wheezed the anteater gruffly. "The name is Slug-a-bug," he announced in a surly voice. Dropping from his upright
stance, he shot out a long, long tongue, licked up a whole colony of red ants from a dead log, and ate them with great relish.
"OH--that kind of ants." Losing all interest in the ugly creature, Yankee darted off in search of more interesting quarry. Tompy, however, stayed long enough to ask some questions.
"Yes," Slug-a-bug told him grudgingly. "There is a town on the other side of this wood. But you won't like it."
"Why?" asked Tompy uneasily.
"Squeak-eek, eek!" snickered the anteater, starting to back into a clump of bushes. "You'll find out--you'll see! They'll take the starch out of that barking termite's tail," he finished spitefully, continuing to back until nothing showed but his ugly snout.
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Chapter 5: The Packaged People
FORTUNATELY the wood was not too dense nor wide, and by the time Tompy had overtaken his fleet-footed pal, they were on the outskirts of a compact little city. "Looky, a sign!" called Yankee. As usualy he had cantered on ahead and was already through the gates.
TIDY TOWN
You May Pass Through,
But Do Not Linger
"Who wants to linger?" sniffed the terrier as Tompy read it out to him. "All I crave is a big bone and a little conversation. Talking to people is a big thing for me and how'm I doing?"
"Couldn't be better," answered Tompy, giving Yankee's ear a friendly tweak. "But do be careful here and don't go chasing animals bigger than you are."
"Size has nothing to do with it. Courage is what counts. Why, that big old anteater backed up a tree before I even touched him," scoffed Yankee, snapping off the top of a yellow geranium.
"All right--all right, but just take it easy," cautioned Tompy, remembering Slug-a-bug's spiteful warning.
Tidy Town was well named. Everything was orderly and neat. The houses of yellow shingles had high-peaked roofs and were set close together with gardens back and front. Instead of numbers, the doors and gate posts were lettered from A on down through the alphabet.
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