Enchanting as the gardens were the people themseEves. Men and women alike were clad in embroidered silk robes, the men's flowing free, the women's belted with broad satin sashes. But it was their heads that startled and fascinated Tompy. They were not usual heads at all, but lighted paper lanterns with delicately painted faces, each different and distinctive but all cheerful and amiable. In groups of two or three they drifted about under the trees, or danced gracefully in the center square to the lilting music that had drawn Yankee and Tompy like a magnet to the wall. "Not Chinese, not Japanese, but Lanternese," concluded Tompy, quite pleased with the name he had invented for them.
"They're lit up," mumbled Yankee, ears back and eyes bulging.
"What if they are?" breathed Tompy. "Now don't bark or spring about, you might frighten or blow them out. Oh, I do hope they will like us," he said, taking a firm hold on the terrier's harness as two of the Lanternesians separated themseEves from the crowd and started slowly toward them. The embroidered slippers of the approaching gentlemen turned up, their long silken moustachios turned down, and each carried a long lighted taper. As they reached the boy and dog, they bowed ceremoniously, at which Tompy caught his tongue between his teeth, for as they bowed the lighted candles inside their lantern heads touched the fragile paper sides. Oddly enough, their heads did not catch fire. Limp with relief, Tompy himself bowed three times. Yankee, never having learned to bow, compromised by wagging his tail. On the sleeve of the gentleman facing Tompy was an embroidered name, "Flicker." On the one facing Yankee was the name, "Blaze." With never a word, Flicker leaned forward to touch Tompy's face, while Blaze ran his fingers lightly over the space dog's head and ears. Then exchanging a meaningful look and evidently coming to some important conclusion, Flicker touched his taper to each of the buttons on Tompy's jacket, while Blaze touched his taper to the tip of Yankee's quivering tail. Expecting to be burned or to burst into flames both sprang back. But nothing unpleasant happened. The buttons on Tompy's jacket merely lit up like small electric lights, while the tip of Yankee's tail glowed like a tiny beacon. As the two were recovering from their surprise, Flicker and Blaze moved majestically back toward the center square, Flicker turning once to wave an arm, indicating that they were to follow him.
"Wants us to come along, I take it?" Tompy experimentally touched his jacket buttons to see whether they were hot.
"Why not?" wheezed Yankee, who was turned pretzel-wise trying to get a better view of his rear end. "Live and burn. Ha, ha! Bet I'm the only dog in the world with a real tail light."
"And how handy it would have been in that forest," laughed Tompy. "Know what," he went on, as they started after Flicker and Blaze, "my uncle is a scientist who works with cold light. These people are illumined with cold light or I'm a son of a sea cook."
"Sound reasonable," conceded Yankee with a rapturous sniff of the soft night air. "Lucky for us we are lit up that way, too. These are gentle people, Tompy, a dog has ways of knowing."
"Then I can skip the mind reader routine," decided Tompy. "After all, the characters we meet change their minds so fast, I'd have to go through each country we come to with my nose glued to the book."
"Well, you'll not need it here." Yankee spoke with such conviction that Tompy could not help believing him. For quite a while after they had joined the gay throng in the square they stood watching. Then Yankee began prancing about, licking fingers and elbows and tugging playfully at sleeves and sashes. The dancers did not seem to mind, and one pretty little Lanternesian was so tickled that she took the terrier's paws and danced three waltzes with him. Tompy, meanwhile, had been edging closer to the musicians, grouped under a graceful willow off to one side. Some played accordians, lit up like lanterns, other strummed on bamboo guitars, or piped away on long bamboo flutes. The fellow Tompy admired most was the one with the big bamboo fiddle. The music itself was like none he had ever heard and kept his feet tapping with melodies that made him sad or gay by turns. Noting his interest, Flicker, who stood nearby, pushed him gently forward. With pleased nods, the players made a place for him. There were no drums in the outfit and heartily wishing he had his brushes instead of his sticks, Tompy fell to, following along with such a light rustle of rhythm and fusilade of taps that more than once the dancers stopped to applaud.
Almost unnoticed, the hours drifted by, but presently, overcome by a desperate weariness, the young drummer leaned back against the trunk of the willow and closed his eyes. He was roused by a light touch on his shoulder. Again, it was Flicker who seemed to be in charge. Taking Tompy by the arm, the kindly old gentleman guided him across the mossy square, down a long arbored pathway to one of the quaint bamboo houses. Yankee, tired as Tompy, had crept under a bamboo bench. Though half asleep, he opened an eye now and then to check on proceedings. Fortunately that one eye was open as Flicker and Tompy started across the square. Scrambling out, he pattered anxiously after them. The little house, with its transparent paper windows and simple bamboo furniture, could not have been more inviting. Fresh flowers were everywhere, and a large siEver bowl of grapes, plums, and satiny pears was on the center table. After patting Tompy and Yankee fondly on the head, Flicker bowed twice and left, closing the sliding doors behind him.
With a satisfied glance around, Tompy tossed his cap up on a screen, slipped off his drum and halter and jacket, and fell on a cushioned straw mat under the window. Yankee not bothering even to look around curled up on another mat beside Tompy. The only light in the room came from Yankee's glowing tail and Tompy's twinkling jacket buttons, but nothing could have kept them awake a moment longer. Relaxed and in perfect comfort they slept dreamlessly on till morning. Yankee, the first to waken, rolled over, jumped up, and turned sideways to examine his tail.
"Mouse and pussy cat whiskers!" he growled crossly. "It's gone out and now I'm just like any other pooch!"
"Oh, no, you're not!" Sitting up with a smile, Tompy enjoyed a luxurious stretch. "You're still something quite special, Yank, a sky riding space hound. Remember!"
"Maybe it will light up tonight?" worried Yankee, still intent on his tail.
"Tonight? Jeepers! I hope tonight we'll both be back home!" exclaimed Tompy,jumping up and reaching for his jacket. "Guess the folks have given me up for lost by now."
"They've probably stopped looking for me, too." Now regarding Tompy instead of his tail, the space dog gave a little bounce sideways. "Well, we'll fool 'em, eh Tomp? We'll turn up in the old U.S.A. good as new and twice as sassy. Wonder what they eat around here, flowers? From the looks of them, I'd say they were light eaters--ha, ha!"
"How about some fruit? Care to try some?" Tossing Yankee a pear, Tompy bit into one himself and found it delicious.
"Kinda watery, but better'n nothing," mumbled the terrier after several juicy bites. "Let's shove on," he urged running over to the sliding doors. "A splendid day for travel, seems like."
"Be right with you," said Tompy. Slipping on his halter and jacket, he collected his cap from the top of the screen and then hurried across the sunny room. The door rolled back smoothly at Tompy's light touch and quite rested and in high spirits the two adventurers stepped outside. The Land of Lanterns looked almost as lovely by day as by night. Flowers nodded, birds sang, butterflies, the largest and gayest Tompy ever had seen, flitted about, but there were no people anywhere around.
"Gee whiskers, where IS everybody?" Yankee looked around in real disappointment, for in just one evening he had grown quite fond of the Lanternesians. Running over to the nearest house, he stood on his hind legs to peer through the window, Tompy quickly following him. Reclining gracefully on a straw mat was a lovely little lady. But her pretty lantern head was completely collapsed, its candle blown out. She looked so odd and pitful that they turned away.
"Live by night and sleep by day," sighed Yankee. "D'ye suppose Flicker blows out all the candles and if he does, who blows out his?"
"I wonder?" mused Tompy who was as disappointed as Yankee not to see the musicians and dance
rs or kindly old Flicker again. He could not even thank him for a pleasant evening. "Never thought I'd sit in with a grand combo like that," he observed as they passed the great willow in the square. "Boy, that bass fiddler was out of this world! All of them were.
"Well, they are out of the world, at least our kind of world," sniffed Yankee.
"How did I do, Yank?" asked Tompy, giving his drum a light rim tap.
"Fine, simply fine. Didn't you see me stepping 'round with the gals? I tell you, anyone who can make a bull terrier dance has a lot on the drum. You were sharp, boy--real sharp!"
"I thought so, too," agreed Tompy smoothing down his jacket. "And know something? I like this country and the Lanternesians are the pleasantest people we have met so far."
"Oh, I'll go along with that," agreed Yankee galloping on ahead. "Couldn't have been nicer!"
"Know why?" Tompy tilted his cap forward. "Because they didn't talk. No questions, no arguments, no boring stories, and yet we all got along smooth as silk. Maybe that's why people like dogs so much," he continued thoughtfully. "Best company a fellow can have, a dog. Knows what you're thinking without your saying a word, no gripes, no insults, and NO back talk. Whatever you do, he's for you!"
"You think so?" Yankee's tail and ears shot straight up. "Mean you'll like me just as much when we get back to the States and I can't bark a word?"
"You betcha!" Leaning down, Tompy gave him a good hug. "A dog can tell you more by a look, a tail wag, or woof than a person in a whole hour of biz-bazzing."
"Ki-Yi-Yippy!" squealed the terrier, racing to the top of the curved bridge they were crossing. "Then I won't mind going back, I won't mind it at all."
The Land of Lanterns was a small country and a pleasant hour's walk brought them to the other side of the paper wall. With little trouble, Tompy found the sliding panel that served as a gateway and gave it a little push. With a last regretful look around the lovely land they were leaving, they stepped through the opening and then closed the wall behind them.
Ahead loomed a high purple mountain. The country between the wall and the mountain was rough, rocky, and covered with thorny vines and scrub pine.
"Oh, well," sniffed Yankee, pushing along doggedly, "we can't expect easy going all of the time. Could be we'll meet another trav-e-log or flying what-is-it."
"What say we go 'round the mountain?" proposed Tompy untangling a thorny vine from his trouser leg.
"But east is straight ahead," objected Yankee stubbornly. "Come on, Tomp, we'll make out. And, OH, what I'd give for a fat hamburger swimming in gravy!" Tompy was famished, too, for except for the pear and a bunch of grapes he had not eaten either. But pulling in his belt, he trudged resignedly after the bounding bull terrier and sooner than they had expected they came to the base of the mountain itself. After circling around a bit, Yankee barked sharply, and hurrying over, Tompy saw why. Yankee had come upon a sign, and this is what is said:
UPANDUP MOUNTAIN
A stony path straggled skyward and in a few places steps had been hewn out of the rock. Thankful for even this small help, the hungry travelers started the long climb upward.
________________________________________________________________
Chapter 9: A Merry Meeting on the Mountain
AFTER scrambling up the rocky trail for almost an hour, Tompy plumped down on one of the roughly hewn steps to fan himself with his cap."Man, could I ever go for a stack of my mother's griddle cakes swimming in butterand syrup," he sighed wistfully.
"Does she serve sausage with them?" asked Yankee peering down from the stepabove.
"Scads and scads of sausage," boasted Tompy.
"Just leave the sausage for me, seven or eight of them anyway. Remind me to invite myself to breakfast sometime." Closing his eyes, Yankee licked his chops hungrily.
"You're invited now, for the first morning we are home," promised Tompy recklessly. "Say, hay--what's that? Sounds like a water fall."
"What?" panted Yankee. "Well, water may not be breakfast but it'll help." Scampering up the rocky steps two at a time, the space dog flashed off to the left. Here, off a craggy ledge and from the rocky heights above, a narrow water fall cascaded into a small pool below. With eyes closed and front feet spread, Yankee was lapping up water like mad when Tompy himself stepped out on the ledge. Both were refreshed after the cool drink. Tompy even dipped his handkerchief into the pool and mopped off his face and hands, while the terrier wriggled joyously under the flying spray. Then giving himself a shake he glanced anxiously around at the crossed flags on his harness.
"They'll dry," Tompy assured him with a grin and tied his own wet handkerchief behind the flags. "They'll all dry. Oh, MY--my goodness!" Both swerved sideways as a perfectly enormous butterfly fluttered down beside the pool. Not really a butterfly, but a girl with wide butterfly wings. Tall as Tompy himself, she leaned over the pool to admire herself in the clear water, and not even in story books had Tompy seen anyone more bewitching. A soft profusion of flowers sprang upward from her head, long tendrils of glossy vines and maiden hair fern rippled down her back and framed her small lovely face. Her short dress, fashioned of flower petals, gave off little puffs of perfume as she moved. Afraid to stir, lest they frighten this lovely sprite away the two stood rooted to the spot. But the little flower girl seems to be more pleased than startled to see them when she did turn around.
"Flowers! Flowers!" she called softly fluttering her wings. "Pick as many as you wish." Inclining her pretty head she hurried over. Not wishing to hurt her feelings, Tompy chose a garden pink and pulled it through the top button hole of his jacket. He plucked a corn flower for Yankee and stuck it jauntily through his harness.
"Hello! And a merry morning to you! I am Su-posy," she announced, pirouetting around on one toe.
"Then supposy you tell us something about yourself," murmured Yankee, touching her gently with his wet nose.
"Oh, there's nothing much to tell," smiled Su-posy tossing her head. "I just fly all over this mountain to bring everyone fresh posies. It's hard for them to grow their own, but mine are fresh every day so everyone is happy to see me.
"I'll bet!" exclaimed Tompy, hoping he could remember how she looked so he could describe her to his mother when he got back home.
"Do many people live up here?" inquired the ever practical Yankee, raising one paw.
"Oh, yes. There are castles over there almost hidden by the trees," answered Su-posy waving over one shoulder. "There are shepherds over there," she added waving over the other. "And on the mountain top, ugh!" With a slight shudder the flower girl gazed aloft. "Let's not speak of the dangerous fellow who lives up there. I must go now. A little sad someone is prisoner on the mountin and my flowers cheer her up. But don't stop on the mountain top, dears. Fly swiftly over. It will be safer." With this warning and last dazzling smile, Su-posy flashed upward and vanished among the tree tops.
"She thinks everyone can fly," said Tompy looking back toward the rocky mountain trail. "What about that bad fellow on the mountain top? Perhaps we had better turn back?"
"Nonsense! Nonsense!" blustered Yankee. "Remember that a fellow who could frighten Miss Posy Su-posy might not scare us at all."
"That's so," agreed Tompy. "My drum and your growl might scare him more than he could scare us." The meeting with the little flower girl had been so unexpected and pleasant that they almost forgot their hunger and talked cheerfully of one thing and another as they resumed their climb upward.
"I wonder whether Max has caught up with his gold spoon and puEverized guardsman?" mused Tompy, pausing to pick a handful of huckleberries that grew thickly along the pathway. Even thinking of Tidy Town's Mix-Master made him chuckle.
"No doubt of it," grunted Yankee. "Probably has scooped up his powdered henchman and is stirring up another one to chase after us. What worries me more," continued the terrier sitting down to pant a little, "are those lazy Jammers standing around like dummies waiting for the king's Aunt Doffi to tell them what to do. Woul
d really like to meet that old girl. Kinda figure her as grim rolling-pin-in-hand kind of dame. She would have to be to keep those duffers in line."
"Then perhaps it would be better if we didn't find her as old Yammer Jammer predicted we would. Now, how could he ever have had an idea like that, even with the Mind Reader to help him?"
"Oh, I gave up on that one long ago," sniffed the space dog taking the next two steps in one bound. There he stopped, every hair on his back erect.
"Now what?" gasped Tompy hurrying up the last steps himself.
"Top of the mountain--that's what! Watch it, boy, watch it! Over there, backed up against that rock--old Mr. Mountain Topper himself!" warned Yankee, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. Peering through the swirling mists around them, Tompy glimpsed an expanse of level terrain. But beyond he could still make out more rocky steps leading higher.
"Relax, relax!" he whispered. "This is only a halfway spot, Yank--a plateau or something. There's still a lot of mountain to climb before we reach the top. And that old fellow over there is just another traveler like we are.
"Oh--, you think so?" Slowly the hair on Yankee's back settled down. "Then all we need do is sneak by the old codger and push on up. Easy now, let's not waken him." But when they came to the gently snoring sleeper, instead of hurrying by both came to a complete and astonished halt. For there, with his glassy back to the rock was certainly the oddest person they yet had encountered.
"It's a JUG! A big bean pot with arms and legs," hissed Yankee, "and what's that beside him, a big baby carriage?"
"Not a baby coach, a jinrikisha," corrected Tompy who had often seen pictures of these odd contrivances. This one was a red lacquered elegant conveyance, cushioned and trimmed with rubies. Its arms were hung with numerous baskets containing jugs, jars, and bottles and instead of shafts the front curved up and was finished with a flat bar of gold.
"How does it run?" whispered the space dog stretching his neck so he could sniff at one of the red wheels.
Yankee in Oz Page 6
