“I’ll report you to Ozma,” threatened the Gnome King darkly. “You know perfectly well that you are breaking the law, having all this magic furniture and stuff.”
“Take your feet off my rounds,.” ordered the chair sharply, giving Ruggedo a good squeeze,
“How about your magic cloak?” said Wumbo, smiling a little as Ruggedo hastened to take his heels off the rungs of the chair, “and how about turning a boy to a peach basket? That sounds like pretty bad magic to me. Who is this boy? And why are you wearing a cloak of invisibility?”
“That’s my business,” muttered the gnome, looking uneasily around. “Are you going to let me go or not?”
“That depends on where you are going and what you are going to do,” answered Wumbo, clapping his hands three times. A box of chocolates instantly appeared and tilted invitingly toward the wizard. Helping himself, Wumbo offered a chocolate to Ruggedo, but the gnome shook his head impatiently, so Wumbo clapped his hands again and the chocolates disappeared.
“1 am going to the Emerald City to report the discovery of a treasure ship,” explained the Gnome King after a short Silence. “1 am going to have Ozma transport the jewels and gold pieces to her own castle. I’m making her a present of them,” finished Ruggedo virtuously.
Wumbo said nothing but, rising slowly, went over and stared into a great crystal ball on his desk, “That, of course, is not true,” said Wumbo, coming back to sit in his chair. “My crystal ball tells me that much and my own eyes tell me that you are wicked and untrustworthy. Therefore I shall keep you here until I find some way to warn Ozma of your coming.”
At these words Ruggedo was simply beside himself. Kicking and screaming and threatening Wumbo with every sort of death and destruction, he writhed about in the chair. But Wumbo was not easily frightened and, picking up the Book of Enchantments, began to read it to himself, while the arm chair, indignant at the Gnome King’s bounces and screeches, hugged him till he was forced to keep quiet. But sitting there in the firelight, he did a lot of thinking, and as it grew later and later and quieter and quieter in the great crystal cavern, the Gnome King’s spirits began to rise. For Ruggedo was beginning to remember some of his magic.
“If he doesn’t try any more chants, the present ones will wear off in four hours,” thought the old gnome craftily. “Four hours, and then for the magic cloak!” Wumbo, himself, fully intended to keep a strict watch over his visitor, but the heat from the fire and the drowsy chants in the old book made him sleepier and sleepier. Besides, he had the utmost confidence in his armchair and, not realizing that Ruggedo knew the length of time the magic chants would take to run out, he felt sure the old gnome would not try again to use his cloak. So he read on and on and, while he was searching for the chant to force a person to tell the truth, the book slipped from his knees and a loud snore issued from his lips.
“Wake up, Master! Wake up!” buzzed the clock, tilting forward in alarm. “Wake up! Wake up!” scolded the armchair and foot-stool both together, but before they could arouse the wizard, Ruggedo had vanished. Four hours had passed to the very minute, the magic of the wizard’s chant had worn entirely away and at a whispered command from the Gnome King, the magic cloak had lifted him out of the imprisoning arms of Wumbo’s chair and whirled him off and away. Over mountains, hills and valleys flew the gnome in his invisible cloak, through the chilly mists of early morning till, far below, he saw the flashing spires of the Emerald City of Oz.
CHAPTER 16
Kuma’s Hand Is at Work Again
As the chair, foot-stool and clock lost their power of speech at the same instant the Gnome King regained his freedom, there was no one to arouse Wumbo. And it was nearly noon time before he did awaken. Puzzled to find himself in a chair instead of bed he straightened up, gave himself a shake and blinked sleepily up at the clock. Something about the clock reminded him of his bad little visitor and, whirling round, he stared anxiously at his armchair. But of course Ruggedo was not there.
“Gone!” exclaimed the wizard, clapping his hand to his head. “Wumbo, you’re growing old and stupid. What’s to be done now? What’s to be done now?” Shuffling anxiously up and down his crystal hearth, Wumbo tried to think of the quickest way to locate the wicked little gnome. A loud thump upon the door interrupted his wonder-ings and, as he mechanically muttered the magic phrase that opened it, the arm and hand of Kuma Party came flying into the study.
“A message from my son,” breathed Wumbo, hurrying forward to clasp the hand.
There was a note folded up in the palm and while the wizard opened it the arm settled quietly down beside the clock.
“Dear father,” wrote Kuma, “a small mortal boy and a gnome came to my cottage yesterday afternoon. The boy is lost and the gnome quite evidently means mischief.
Knowing the perils for a mortal boy traveling in a magic country, I offered to lend him my hand if he ever needed it.
This morning he sent for help and I have dispatched my right arm and hand to help him escape from the Kingdom of Patch and am sending my left to you for instructions. Can you, by your magic, suggest a way to locate the gnome and keep the boy from harm?
“Your dutiful and affectionate son Kuma.” Pushing his specs high on his forehead and knocking his wig sideways, Wumbo dashed over to his desk, and wrote:
“Send your arm to the Emerald City. The gnome has gone there wearing a cloak of invisiblity. Take a letter of warning to Ozma and find and hold the gnome till Ozma can by her magic overpower him.”
Folding the paper, he slipped it into Kuma’s hand. The hand closed over it at once and in a flash the arm swept out of the cave and away over the Gilliken mountains.
“Well,” sighed Wumbo, sinking into his chair, which immediately gave him a reassuring little hug, “that ought to help some. But the gnome certainly means to make trouble!”
Wumbo had never mastered long-distance magic and his spells and chants worked only when he was present, but feeling that he had done all that he could without breaking the law, and being fatigued by so much thinking before breakfast, he gently clapped his hands. In a flash an appetizing repast floated in on a golden tray and settled upon his desk. Pulling up his chair, Wumbo mumbled a few words over the pens and pencils scattered about his desk. Next instant they had rolled to the floor and straightened up into an orchestra of five pieces. Softly and sweetly they began to play an old Oz quadrille and, somewhat soothed and comforted, the Wonder Worker began eating his breakfast.
CHAPTER 17
Mystery in the Emerald City
“Of course,” said Dorothy, leaning down to tie her gold slipper, “of course, Ozma has only been gone since yesterday, but even so, I think it would be fun to have a party to welcome her home.”
“So do I! I love parties!” Clasping his knee with his clumsy, stuffed hand, the Scarecrow smiled down at the little girl. He had just walked over from his corn-ear residence and they were sitting cozily in a big swing on the front porch of the palace.
“Where did Ozma go?” asked the Scarecrow, taking off his hat and smoothing back the few wisps of straw that served him for hair.
“Just to spend the night with Glinda,” said Dorothy, picking up a book of party games and beginning to flip over the pages. “Ozma has her magic belt with her and is going to wish herself back at three o’clock. Why, what are you laughing at?” Putting down the book, Dorothy stared reproachfully at her companion.
“I’m not laughing,” said the Scarecrow solemnly, “but why pinch me that way? Of course, I have no feeling, but it’s not very polite.”
“I didn’t pinch you at all,” exclaimed Dorothy, sitting up very straight. The Scarecrow eyed the deep dent in his stuffed arm, looked suspiciously all round and then, seeing no one but Dorothy, moved quickly to the opposite end of the swing.
“What’s the matter?” rumbled a deep voice and, coming out from behind a gold pillar, the Cowardly Lion paused before the royal swing. The Cowardly Lion had come to the Emerald City with Dorot
hy on her very first adventure and is the biggest pet in the palace. He was a bit out of breath, for he had just been running a race with his friend the Hungry Tiger. “What’s the matter?” he panted anxiously, for Dorothy was frowning crossly and the Scarecrow, in spite of his painted smile, looked extremely sulky.
“While I was telling him about Ozma’s party, he laughed at me,” pouted the little girl, moving as far as she could from the straw man.
“But she pinched me,” explained the Scarecrow in an injured voice, “for no reason whatever!” It was so unusual for these two or for anyone in the Emerald City-to quarrel, that the Cowardly Lion could scarcely believe his lion ears and, when Dorothy began to protest angrily that she had not pinched the Scarecrow, he held up his paw pleadingly.
“Oh let’s talk about the party,” begged the lion in a shocked roar. “What were you planning, my dear?”
“Well,” said Dorothy, flashing an angry glance at the Scarecrow, first I was going to have a speech of welcome, then games and dancing and, after that, Ozcream and
“Ouch!” coughed the lion, interrupting Dorothy with an angry growl. “Who pulled my tail?” Rolling his eyes from one to the other he rose to his feet, trembling in every knee. “I’ve known you nearly all my life,” roared the Cowardly Lion, shaking his mane furiously, “but no one can pull my tail. Not even you, Dorothy.”
“Oh dear! Oh dear! I think you’re both perfectly horrid!” Throwing down her book, Dorothy jumped out of the swing, and dashed around the side porch, where she bumped violently into Sir Hokus, who was taking his morning turn on the veranda.
“Odds daggers!” ejaculated the Knight, straightening his shield and buckler.
“What’s wrong, maiden?”
“Everything!” wailed Dorothy, throwing her arms round his neck. “Just because I’m trying to plan a party everybody is fighting with me.”
“Fighting?” puffed Sir Hokus, brightening up at the mere sound of the word, for he did dearly love a battle. “Well, I’m on your side. Who dares to fight with Princess Dot?” thundered the Knight in his deep voice and, seizing her hand, stepped quickly around the corner of the porch. But when he saw the Cowardly Lidn and the Scarecrow simply glaring at one another, he paused in dismay. They were his oldest friends and never, since his arrival in the Emerald City, had he had a disagreement with either of them. Feeling that there must be some mistake, he strode hastily between the two celebrities and held up his hand. As he did, he received a staggering blow on the head that pushed his helmet well down over his ears.
“Odds dragons and flagons!” blustered the Knight, sputtering like a red hot coal.
“Have at you, villains! Varlets! Rascals and rogues!” Drawing his sword, he began slashing in every direction, but as his helmet was over his eyes, he fortunately did no harm.
Crouching behind the swing, Ruggedo, in his invisible cloak, rocked to and fro with silent merriment, holding his sides and shaking all over with malicious glee.
Arriving at the palace early that morning, the Gnome King had immediately ordered the cloak to carry him to the royal apartment. But Ozma, to his great disgust and disappointment, was not there. Neither was his belt, nor any of the little Queen’s magic appliances, for she had taken them all with her to Glinda’s castle. Until he had the belt, Ruggedo was perfectly powerless and, after his first disappointment had worn off, he determined to wait for Ozma’s return, seize the belt as soon as she appeared and at once destroy the Emerald City and all of its inhabitants.
While he waited, Ruggedo had run here and there about the palace, amusing himself in his own spiteful fashion. Now that he had learned from Dorothy the exact time of Ozma’s return, he fluttered off to the kitchen to steal some breakfast and plague the cook Meanwhile Sir Hokus had tripped over a flower pot and fallen flat, while the Cowardly Lion and the Scarcrow had retreated behind two porch pillars. Dorothy, terribly alarmed at the serious turn the quarrel had taken, rushed hurriedly forward. Now that Ruggedo had gone, the whole thing seemed silly and ridiculous.
“Let’s make up,” begged Dorothy, helping Sir Hokus to his feet. “I’m sure it’s all a mistake.”
“Well, it was a great mistake to pull my tail,” rumbled the Cowardly Lion, coming out very slowly and majestically, “but I’ll overlook it this once.” He blinked suspiciously at the Scarecrow, but the Scarecrow was helping Sir Hokus with his helmet and did not even notice.
“Who thumpst me again-” panted the Knight, pointing his forefinger furiously downward-“who thumpst me again - d-ies!”
“But nobody will!” Dorothy hastened to assure him. She looked pleadingly at the Scarecrow, who she felt must be responsible. “Let’s forget all about it and think about the party,” she proposed brightly. “Now, who’ll make the speech of welcome?”
“Let Scraps do it,” muttered the Cowardly Lion, licking his paws sulkily. “She’s clever at speeches and makes short ones, too. I’ll go find her,” he offered in a little more cheerful voice. “Haven’t seen her since yesterday, but I s’pose she’s around somewhere.”
“All right,” smiled Dorothy, as the Cowardly Lion thudded across the porch.
“Now, who’ll help me decorate the banquet hall?” Sir Hokus had taken off his helmet and was rubbing his head wrathfully. At Dorothy’s words he glanced across at the Scarecrow, but the straw man’s painted eyes met his so frankly and innocently that he impulsively put out his hand. Certainly the Scarecrow’s flimsy arm could never have dealt him such a blow.
“We’ll help you,” said the Knight, taking the Scarecrow’s arm. ” ‘Twas that villain lion who thumped me,” he whispered as they started for the banquet hall.
“Here come Betsy and Trot,” cried Dorothy, forgetting all about the quarrel.
“Maybe they will pick some flowers for the table!” Betsy and Trot, as many of you already know, are two little mortals like Dorothy, who have been invited by Ozma to live in the royal palace. Both reached Oz after ship-wrecks and many trying adventures and they found life in the capital so exciting and gay that they have never wished to return to the United States. They were delighted at the prospect of a party, and so was the Hungry Tiger, who had come up just behind them.
Putting a huge flower basket on his back; the two little girls ran gaily down the palace steps.
“I’ll have a strawberry sandwich,” purred the tiger, looking over his shoulder at Dorothy. “Be sure to have strawberry sandwiches!”
“I never heard of a strawberry sandwich,” laughed the little girl, shaking her head dubiously. “Well, there always has to be a first,” chuckled the tiger, trotting after Betsy.
Dorothy, looking a little puzzled, waved after him and, well pleased with her plans, ran into the castle to ask the Wizard of Oz to think up some new tricks to entertain the guests, and to confer with the cook about refreshment. Soon the palace began to hum with activity. The banquet hall, under the skillful hands of the Scarecrow and Sir Hokus took on a truly festive air. Messengers and pages ran hither and thither with invitations, while the Royal band, tuning up on the castle lawn, added its strains to the general gaiety.
Indeed, from the preparations for her return, one would have thought Ozma had been gone a year instead of a day, and Ruggedo, fluttering here and there in his invisible robe, chuckled with amusement and malice.
“Work away,” muttered the Gnome King darkly. “At three o’clock I shall send you all to the bottom of the Nonestic Ocean, transport my gnomes here and enjoy this party my own self.” At first, Ruggedo had continued his pinchings and punchings and hair pullings but, at last, fearing detection, he had stopped his mischievous teasing and seated himself calmly in Ozma’s chair at the head of the banquet table. In this position it would be a simple matter to unclasp his magic belt as soon as the little fairy made ready to take her place. The patch, which was the only visible thing about Ruggedo, was now on the seat of the chair, so did not show and, quite unconscious of their dreadful peril, Dorothy and her friends went on with thei
r preparations for the party, while Ruggedo, fidgeting with impatience, kept his eyes fastened upon the emerald clock.
Twenty minutes of three! Twenty minutes, and then-! The little gnome fairly hugged himself with wicked anticipation. Ten minutes of three and now everything was in readiness. Dorothy and Betsy, giggling together, were putting the finishing touches to the table. The Scarecrow and Sir Hokus, between them, were composing a speech of welcome, for, of course, the Cowardly Lion had not been able to find the Patchwork Girl.
Ranged about the walls in pleasant anticipation stood the courtiers and dear old celebrities of Oz. Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman, summoned from his palace by the Wizard’s magic, stood conversing in a low tone with Pastoria, Ozma’s Royal Father, about his crop of tin cans, which were larger this year than ever before. The little Wizard of Oz, himself, was whispering to Tik Tok, the machine man, some of the tricks he was planning for the company’s amusement and the metal man was chuckling with mechanical mirth. Hank, Betsy’s mule, Toto, Dorothy’s little dog, the Saw Horse, Ozma’s Royal Steed, and all of the other palace pets were sitting expectantly at their own special table.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 21 Page 11
