Ruggedo had been served in the same manner but, none the worse for their tumble, they picked themselves up and began looking around. They had fallen in a sunny peach orchard. In the distance they could see the shimmering sand of the dangerous desert, while not far away stood a small, yellow, dome-shaped cottage.
“We’ll go there,” declared Ruggedo, tucking the magic cloak more carefully under his arm. “We’ll go there, General, and inquire the way to the Kingdom of Patch. But remember to say nothing of the plans to capture my belt. We’re in the enemy’s country now!”
Still dazed from the surprising way in which they had crossed the desert, Peter looked around him with delight. It did not look like the enemy’s country to Peter and, picking up a large, luscious peach, he decided then and there that he was going to like the Marvelous Land of Oz.
Peter thought that even the Wizard of Oz, himself, would be interested in the wonderful elevator plants, and decided to tell him all about them when he got to the Emerald City.
CHAPTER 8
Peter Meets Kuma Party
As they walked up the neat pebble path to the little yellow house, Peter tried to remember all he had read about Oz and its curious inhabitants. But nothing he had read prepared him for the next happening. In answer to their knock, the door simply burst open and out came a hand and foot without any body at all. The hand seized Peter’s hand, shook it warmly and drew him into the house. The foot gave Ruggedo such a kick, he went flying into a gooseberry bush. Drawn by the hand into a cozy sitting room, Peter stood trembling with uneasiness. In a comfortable chair, smoking a pipe, sat the owner of the cottage, also the owner of the hand and foot, and Peter gave a gasp as they immediately snapped back to their proper places.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said the stranger in a soft voice and, taking the pipe out of his mouth, he smiled kindly at the little boy. Peter was not alarmed-he was perfectly petrified and, as the old gentleman’s head flew off his body and looked out the window, he dropped into a chair and began to fan himself with his cap. “I thought he’d go away,” sighed the head regretfully, “but he’s coming into the house. Why do you travel with a bad little creature like that?”
“Because I’m lost,” explained Peter, in a slightly shaky voice, turning around to address himself to the head.
“Well, you may find yourself in a heap of trouble, travelling with a gnome. Never trust a gnome,” advised the head, coming back to settle on the old gentleman’s shoulders.
“Ah! Here he comes!”
“Who kicked me?” demanded Ruggedo, glaring all around in a perfect fury. The owner of the cottage made no reply, but as he needed more tobacco for his pipe just then, flung out his hand toward the mantel. The hand sailed through the air like a bird and, seizing the tobacco pouch, set it on the table and then quietly attached itself to the man’s wrist. At this odd occurrence, Ruggedo’s eyes rolled wildly. Cringing against the wall, he began to move stealthily toward the door.
“Don’t go,” begged the owner of the cottage blandly. “I’m not especialy fond of gnomes, but as you are with this honest lad you may stay. Sit down on that bench there and if I catch you stealing anything, I’ll throw my head at you.” Pale with terror, Ruggedo did as he was told, while the man’s hand, flying off again, closed and locked the door.
“There!” he sighed, leaning back contentedly, “now we can talk without being disturbed and let us start at once with names. My name,” he confided proudly, “is Kuma Party, and I have had the curious gift which seems so to astonish you since early childhood. My father was a wizard, practicing magic in the Zamagoochie Country, before the practice of magic was forbidden in Oz, and it is to my father that I attribute my strange come - apartishness.” He paused and waited politely for Peter to make some remark, but Peter by this time was simply speechless-so Kuma, with an indulgent smile, went quietly on with his story.
“Being constructed as I am is extremely convenient,” he explained earnestly. “I am never tired or rushed about as ordinary Oz folk are. If I wish to pick the peaches in my orchard, I send my hands to attend to the matter and while they are busily at work I rest myself comfortably at home. If my body is tired and I desire to be amused, I send my head to the nearest village for news and I can often help my less fortunate neighbors by lending them a hand or foot when they are in trouble. Perhaps I can help you?” he suggested, leaning amiably toward Peter. “May I lend you a hand?” he finished graciously.
Now Kuma, in spite of his come-apartishness, seemed so pleasant and jolly that Peter wanted to tell him the whole history of his adventures, but Ruggedo frowned and shook his head, so for the present Peter decided to fall in with the gnome’s plans and merely told Kuma his name and asked him the way to Patch.
“Patch?” mused the Winkie thoughtfully. “Why, that’s not far from here. It is just below the Kingdom of Queen Ann of Oogaboo, but why not wait till morning? It’s growing dark now and besides it’s raining.” Looking out in surprise, Peter saw that it was raining. He had been so interested in Kuma’s story that he had not even heard the patter of raindrops on the roof.
“Better stay,” urged Kuma hospitably. “While my hands are preparing the supper, you can tell me some about your own self and why you are going to Patch.” All during Kuma’s conversation, Ruggedo been wiggling with impatience and now, bouncing to his feet, he motioned for Peter to come along.
“I guess we will have to go,” sighed Peter. “Which direction do we take from here, Mr. Party?” The old Winkie looked disapprovingly at the little gnome, then shaking his head and evidently concluding that it was no affair of his, threw out his right arm. It immediately whizzed up stairs, but was back in a moment, a large umbrella hanging in the crook of the elbow and a lantern grasped in the hand.
“Since you must go,” said Kuma, rising slowly to his feet, “at least let me point out the way for you and loan you an umbrella.”
“It’s very kind of you,” faltered Peter, ducking in spite of himself as the arm passed over his head on its way to open the door. “Are you sure you can spare it?”
“Oh, yes!” Kuma nodded cheerfully. “I still have one left, you know, and as I’m only going to play checkers this evening, one will be plenty. Goodbye.” He smiled, patting Peter kindly on the shoulder. “Remember what I told you about gnomes. He stared sternly down at Ruggedo, and Ruggedo, not daring to meet his eye, scuttled nervously into the garden.
“Maybe I’ll see you again,” said Peter, and shaking Kuma’s remaining hand stepped reluctantly after the Gnome King.
“I hope so,” called Kuma and, with a farewell wave and nod he went in and shut the door. Peter had to run to catch up with Ruggedo. He was already out of the gate and halfway down the road. As he reached the gnome’s side, Kuma’s arm, holding the umbrella carefully, took its position over their heads.
“Why didn’t you stay?” grumbled Peter crossly. “There were lots of things I wanted to ask that man.” Really he felt quite provoked with the old gnome.
“Sh-h!” warned Ruggedo, pointing warningly up at the arm over their heads. “Shh-hh!”
“Well, you don’t suppose he can hear through his fingers, do you?” teased Peter, and then, because everything did seem so comical and ridiculous, he burst into a loud laugh. “I wish grandfather could see this,” gasped the Captain of the A. P. Baseball Team, reaching in his pocket for his handkerchief. “Jimminy, wouldn’t it be fine to have an extra arm in a scrap with the fellows!”
Ruggedo was too busy with his own thoughts to pay any attention to Peter’s, so for quite a while they walked along in silence. It was pouring steadily, but Kuma’s umbrella was so large and his hand held it so carefully, not a drop fell upon the travelers.
It was too gloomy to see much of the country but, from the tidy farms and orchards they did glimpse through the curtain of rain, Peter concluded that the Winkie Country must be a very prosperous and delightful place to live in. They had to walk briskly to keep pace with the umbrella, but after an
hour or so the rain stopped. The arm stopped also, and after standing about uncertainly and wondering what to do, Peter reached up and closed the umbrella. Then taking a match, which he noticed in the rim of the lantern that swung from Kuma’s wrist, he lifted the chimney and lit the wick within. This was evidently what the arm had been waiting for and now it moved confidently a few paces ahead, the forefinger of its hand pointing stiffly in the direction they were to follow. It was quite late by now and the lantern shed a cheery light over the fast darkening road.
Nibbling at the supper Kaliko had packed up for them, Peter and Ruggedo hastened after Kuma’s guiding hand.
“I wonder if it will fly back when we come to Patch,” mused Peter as they turned off the main road and into a small wood.
“Let’s hold on to it,” whispered the Gnome King craftily. “We can tie it up somehow and then when I get my magic belt, I’ll make it work for me.
“That’s a nice way to repay a man for helping us,” said Peter angrily. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Well, I’m not,” grunted the Gnome King, pausing to light his pipe, “and if you are going to be general of my armies, you’d better get over these nice ideas and notions.
Didn’t I hear you say a while ago that you’d like to have an extra arm yourself?”
“I said I’d like to have one, but I never said I’d steal one,” answered Peter indignantly.
“Take anything you need,” advised Ruggedo, puffing away at his pipe. “That’s my motto.” Realizing it was useless to argue with so bad a little gnome, Peter kept his own counsel and, fixing his eyes on the bobbing lantern ahead, wondered when they would reach Patch and what it would be like when they did reach it. He hoped there would be no wild animals or bandits upon the road and peered anxiously from side to side as they made their way through the tangled woodland. But without any worse mishap than a tumble over a fallen tree trunk, they came to the end of the wood and struck out across a broad field.
“Tomatoes!” muttered Peter, treading carefully between the plants. Leaning down he picked an especially tempting one and sank his teeth deep into the side. “Ugh!” choked Peter, shuddering with distaste. “It’s cotton! What kind of a silly country is this anyway?”
“A cotton country, I s’pose,” grinned Ruggedo, greatly amused at Peter’s wry face. “Cotton? Why, maybe it’s Patch itself!” By the light of Kuma’s lantern, they could now see some cottages ahead and the dim outline of a castle.
“Rocks and Rookies!” exulted the Gnome King, waving the cloak over his head.
“It won’t be long now before I’m ruler of the realm, boy!”
“I thought you just wanted your magic belt,” puffed Peter, running anxiously after Ruggedo.
“Oh, grow up!” called the gnome scornfully over his shoulder. “Grow up and don’t be so soft. You’re a regular Wooshmacushion!” Shooting ahead like an arrow, Kuma’s arm now flew so swiftly that it was all they could do to keep up with it. By the time they had reached the castle they had barely enough breath to mount the steps. As they did, the arm, in a business-like manner, set down the lantern and, taking the umbrella in its hand, thumped hard upon the castle door.
“Good!” panted Ruggedo, sinking down on the top step. “That ought to rouse them.” When no response came, he jumped up himself and began to kick and pound on the panels. Peter, naturally more polite, had at once put his finger on the bell and they were thus engaged when Piecer and Scrapper, returning from town, turned in at the gate.
“Customers,” murmured Scrapper, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“Wizards!” faltered Piecer, pointing with a trembling finger to the detached arm of Kuma, still beating on the door with the umbrella.
“So much the better! So much the better! Wizards always pay well.” Running up the palace steps, the Chief Scrapper of Patch tapped Ruggedo respectfully on the shoulder. “What can we do for you?” asked Scrapper, pulling the castle key from his pocket.
Ruggedo had been expecting attention from the other side of the door and was so startled that he made no answer, but the hand of Kuma immediately dropped the umbrella and shook hands with the Quilty statesman. It then moved quickly on toward Piecer, but Piecer, with a muffled scream, dodged behind a pillar. Snapping its fingers to show that it did not care one way or the other, the hand approached Peter and, after patting him approvingly on the shoulder, slipped a small note into his pocket. Then it shook its finger sternly under Ruggedo’s nose, picked up the lantern and umbrella and vanished from view.
Even Scrapper was somewhat dashed at this and, in a slightly choky voice, repeated his question to Ruggedo. Ruggedo was terribly provoked to have the arm escape but, recovering himself quickly, bowed civilly to the two Quilties.
“I have a cloak to be mended,” he announced grandly, “and will pay you handsomely for the trouble.”
“Certainly! Certainly!” Unlocking the door, Scrapper waved them into the shabby hallway then, lighting a candle, bade them follow him.
“I’ll take you to the Queen,” said Scrapper importantly, “and while she is entertaining you I will fetch our most skillful needlewoman.”
As for Peter, he was so excited over the adventure with Kuma’s hand, he could think of nothing else.
CHAPTER 9
Queen Scraps Meets Peter
IT IS hard to say who was more astonished, when Scrapper opened the door of the sitting room and ushered in Peter and Ruggedo. The Patchwork Girl, who had been expecting a rescue party headed by the Scarecrow or some of her other old friends, stared in disbelief and horror at the King of the Gnomes. Ruggedo was so surprised to see Scraps outside of the Emerald City, and so disconcerted to know that she was the Queen on whom he must depend for favor, that he nearly ran out of the room.
Scraps knew all about the wicked little gnome, and had even been present when he was banished to Runaway Island. Peter thought of all the curious people he had met so far, and this Queen was the most curious and comical. But as they all kept their thoughts to themselves, Scrapper noticed nothing amiss.
“Kindly entertain this customer until I return,” ordered Scrapper and, with a curt nod at the Queen, went out and locked the door behind him. For a second longer Scraps and the Gnome King stared fixedly at one another. Then the Patchwork Girl, snatching off her steel-rimmed spectacles, groaned:
“Ruggedo, as I live, oh my land! How’d he get off of that island?”
“That’s my affair,” answered the Gnome King in a surly voice. “How do you happen to be Queen of Patch, I should like to know?”
“That’s my affair,” sniffed Scraps haughtily. “But I know you are up to some mischief. Boy,” she demanded, turning severely to Peter, “where did you meet this robber and what is he planning to do?”
Peter shuffled his feet uncomfortably, hardly knowing what to say. He was anxious for the magic cloak to be mended, for how else was he to reach the Emerald City and warn Ozma of her danger. If he told the whole truth they might both be thrown into prison, or so thought Peter then. Ruggedo was waiting nervously for his reply, and as the little boy mumbled out a few words about being lost and trying to find his way back home, the Gnome King sighed with relief.
“Why get so excited?” wheezed Ruggedo in a conciliatory voice. “I merely want to have my cloak mended and was told it could be done here better than anywhere else. What’s wrong about that?”
“It’s wrong for you to be off the island,” insisted Scraps. “You know perfectly well you were banished forever. Oh, for an egg! For a dozen eggs!” At the mention of eggs, Ruggedo turned quite pale under his wrinkled gray skin and, as Peter looked at the two in perplexity, Scrapper returned bringing an old Quilty grandame with him. She was angry to be summoned at so late an hour and, grumbling crossly, snatched the cloak from Ruggedo’s hand. Seating herself in a low chair by the candle, she opened her sewing box and began to stitch so rapidly that her needle fairly flashed through the air.
“Now then,” murm
ured Scrapper, smiling in satisfaction, “as to the price?”
“I command you to arrest this creature, interrupted the Patchwork Girl, rushing up to the Chief Scrapper. “Don’t you realize that he is the former King of the Gnomes and that he has tried to capture Oz at least a dozen times?”
“A king?” exclaimed Scrapper, clasping his hands rapturously. “Why, how we are honored! Have a chair, your Majesty! Have a cushion! Have-”
“Oh, have some sense!” screamed Scraps, while Ruggedo sidled closer to the old woman who was mending his cloak. “If you let him go he’ll try to capture the Emerald City. He always does.
“He’s mean, he’s cruel, he’s dangerous, He’ll ruin Oz and all of us!”
“Nonsense!” sniffed Scrapper, giving the Patchwork girl a push. “He is our honored customer, and you may be the Queen here, but remember, I’m the boss. Keep quiet or I’ll send for the Scissor Bird.”
“Wouldn’t this make your ear ache?” Peter jumped at the new voice and, peering around in the direction it had come from, saw a little bear peeking out of a chest. It was Grumpy, of course, and, as Peter continued to stare at him, he retired into the chest and closed the lid. But the Gnome King, encouraged by Scrapper’s treatment of the Patchwork Girl, puffed out his cheeks quite cheerfully.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 21 Page 6
