“Well, wouldn’t that curl your hair?” Pressing closer to the side of the vase, Kabumpo snapped his little eyes inquisitively at the retreating army and their fallen comrades heaped around the base of the curious stronghold.
“My mercy me!” puffed Jinnicky, taking out a small red note book and making excited entries and notes. “My mercy me! A mechanical army, as I live! I’m getting lots of ideas on this journey, lads, and a mechanical army is the best of them all. Conquer your enemies without loss or inconvenience and when the troopers wear out their coats and uniforms, just
give them a coat and trousers of paint. Clever, that.
Eh, Randy?”
“Wonder who owns them,” mused the boy, rubbing his sleeve against the glass so he could see better. “Look, here comes somebody now!” Stepping briskly across the plain was a tall, exceedingly fine looking fellow in a dashing, wide-brimmed hat and long, sweeping cape. As he came nearer he seemed very much shocked and surprised at the enormous vase and its occupants. At a safe distance he viewed it from all sides.
“Heave up this jug and I’ll shake some sense into the impudent rascal,” rumbled Kabumpo, beginning to swing his trunk angrily. But Jinnicky had a better plan. Climbing down the ladder he broke a large hole in the vase with his red umbrella. Tying a white handkerchief to the end of the umbrella, he thrust it through the opening and waited with scarcely concealed impatience for the enemy to approach. This the enemy did quite cheerfully, tramping unconcernedly over his fallen soldiers. For a long minute the stranger and the Red Jinn regarded one another but the stranger was the first to speak.
“I am Ozwoz, the Wonderful,” he announced in a pompous voice. “Who are you?”
“I am the Red Jinn of Ev,” answered Jinnicky,
with dignity.
“Imagine!” drawled Ozwoz, stepping back to have a better look.
“Imagine away, if you must, but take care; A Jinn who’s insulted is dangerous. Beware!”
“Well, thanks for warning me,” yawned Ozwoz, pushing back his plumed hat in a bored fashion. “I intended to have my army destroy you utterly, but since they have failed, let’s forget it and talk about something else.
“Your manners are atrocious, sir!” Kabumpo, unable to contain himself any longer, glared at the cloaked figure. “How dare you try to annihilate innocent travelers?”
“Oh, are you innocent travelers?” Ozwoz glanced curiously through the side of the vase at Kabumpo and Randy, and Randy, crowding close to the Red Jinn, spoke up boldly.
“Are you a wizard?” he asked sternly. “If you are, you’re breaking the law and you well know it. The practice of magic is forbidden in Ox.”
“Aha-but I am a wozard!” answered Ozwoz, with a superior smile, “And nothing has been said about
wozardry in the laws of the country. But come, let us cease this useless chatter. Since I have failed to capture you, let me captivate you. As a host you will find me amusing and gay and since night draws on, perhaps you will honor me with your company in my castle.
“Don’t do it,” warned Kabumpo in a hoarse whisper. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could fling a ton of gold bricks.” Jinnicky, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, considered the wozard’s invitation.
“Oh, come on, let’s go,” begged Randy, who was burning up with curiosity to know how Ozwoz operated his mechanical army. “I don’t believe he’ll try any more tricks. Besides, Jinnicky has plenty of magic himself.” Ozwoz had walked off a few paces and stood gazing indifferently at the skyline while the three travelers made up their minds. When Jinnicky, after a little argument with Kabumpo, called out that they would be pleased to accept his kind invitation, the wozard nodded amiably. Taking out a small metal instrument, he clicked it seven times. Instantly the soldiers who had fallen rose up and at another set of signals from the wozard, faced about and started to march stiffly toward a small park ahead. Unhurriedly Ozwoz stalked behind them. Then Jinnicky, tapping the vase with his umbrella,
dissolved the glass into smoke. He and Randy mounted the elephant and Kabumpo, very stiff and disapproving, followed the wozard to his Castle.
It was a small, cozy castle set in the center of a neat park. Beside the castle stood a huge wooden armory and into this the wooden soldiers solemnly marched themselves. Their comrades were already in and ranged in rigid rows in the huge barracks. Taking their proper places in the ranks the newcomers, after marking time for a few seconds, ceased all motion and Ozwoz calmly locked them up for the night. There were two thousand of the wooden warriors and Jinnicky could scarcely conceal his envy.
Ozwoz, now that he had given up all idea of destroying them, proved extremely likeable and friendly and did everything in his power to amuse them. While the wozard and Jinnicky discussed magic and sorcery, Kabumpo and Randy had a swim in the private pool of the palace. Then, greatly refreshed and as hungry as bears, they joined the two necromancers in the spacious dining hall. The wozard’s servants were noiseless and invisible and served the dinner with such skill and dispatch that Kabumpo could not help feeling a grudging admiration for their master. They had thoughtfully supplied him
with crushed raw vegetables and hay and he enjoyed his dinner quite as much as Randy and Jinnicky enjoyed the roast chicken and candied vegetables, strawberries and Ozade. Altogether it was a gay and memorable evening.
After dinner Jinnicky did some magic transformations. These Ozwoz followed with some amazing tricks of his own and finally, after much arguing and coaxing, agreed to trade one of his wooden soldiers for the cooky jar that never was empty. When the great fellow, in answer to the wozard’s summons, tramped stolidly into their presence, Randy could hardly contain himself. Ozwoz carefully explained how he worked. All his troopers, he told them, were named John and numbered from one to two thousand.
“Then I hope you have given us a low number,” laughed Jinnicky, “for how would it be to call ‘Forward march, John One Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine?’” Ozwoz smiled at this and confessed that the soldier’s name was John-one or Johnwan. The name, Randy decided, suited him very well. Johnwan’s face was round and pleasant with a small brown painted moustache. His uniform was purple and white with twenty wooden buttons on the trousers and coat. A tall shako hat of white fur and real purple leather boots lent him dignity and importance.
He carried his rifle, a magic, self-loading and cleaning affair, with careless assurance and grace and at a double click from the wozard, smartly saluted his new owners. Johnwan could obey seven commands. At one click of the starter he marched forward, at two, he faced about and marched in the opposite direction. At three, Johnwan halted, at four he fired off his gun, at five, he seized the enemy in his arms and held him till wanted. At six, he dropped his captive and at seven picked himself up if he had fallen. Even Kabumpo felt that the Red Jinn had made a good trade. He longed for the moment when he would march into Pumperdink with the giant wooden soldier tramping beside him.
The swim and excellent supper had put the Elegant Elephant in a high good humor and before long he was telling Ozwoz the whole curious story of their adventures, for by this time they had entirely forgiven and almost forgotten the wozard’s attempt to destroy them. Ozwoz was deeply interested in the King’s enchantment and after referring to his maps told Kabumpo they were but three hills and a forest from their goal.
After Jinnicky had sung a number of songs at his own request, after Kabumpo had rendered a few selections
on the wozard’s gold harp and Randy had
showed Ozwoz the Gilliken clod and hop, they all retired and slept soundly and well till morning. Then,
having eaten a hearty breakfast they bade Ozwoz
a regretful farewell and in good spirits set out for
Pumperdink. For a long time the wozard watched
them marching across the purple plain. Then, as he
had some new magic experiments to perfect, and
wished to practice using his new cooky jar, he went
&nbs
p; into his castle and closed the door.
CHAPTER 18
The Elegant Elephant Uses His Head
SO as not to waste any time, or take any wrong turnings, Kabumpo had again donned the Jinn ‘s red looking glasses. Jinnicky rode high and comfortably on his wicker seat; Randy, perched on Kabumpo’s head held the metal controller that guided the action of Johnwan the soldier.
Johnwan marched precisely and well, stepping so high that he seldom tripped and as he never talked back, argued or made foolish suggestions, he was an excellent addition to the party. Indeed, the Red Jinn was so delighted with Johnwan that he planned to build a wooden army of his own when he returned to Ev.
“Then you may have Johnwan for a bodyguard,” he promised generously, “but first I must use him for a model.”
“Well, he certainly is a model soldier,” chuckled Kabumpo, staring approvingly at the huge wooden figure tramping along just ahead of him. “He may be mighty useful when we reach Pumperdink.”
“By the way, have you planned any course of action when we do reach there?” inquired Jinnicky, noting with satisfaction that they had put one hill behind them. “Before I restore the Royal Family I must find the vanishing point, in other words, the exact spot on which each of them disappeared. My famous yellow incense will then do the rest, but we must be careful not to fall into Faleero’s clutches or get ourselves captured or enchanted.”
“Is the blue incense all gone?” asked Randy, looking rather worried.
“Every grain,” answered Jinnicky, “and it’s too bad, for that would have overcome Faleero and the whole population and given us plenty of time to work out our magic. My mercy me! How these hill roads do joggle one. There goes Johnwan over a tree stump.” Randy hastily clicked the controller, brought the wooden soldier to his feet and headed
him in the right direction, as Kabumpo thoughtfully mounted the second hill. He was not sure himself just what he would do when they reached Pumperdink. Perhaps if they rushed pell mell into the royal city and took Faleero by surprise, Jinnicky could work his magic before the old fury had time to try any witchwork, so, when Jinnicky asked him again what he planned to do, he merely flapped his great ears and informed him solemnly that he intended to use his head.
“Very good,” approved Jinnicky, clasping his hands over his middle. “Use your head by all means. It’s big enough to serve all four of us. In fact I never saw a more long-headed creature in my life:
“Long-headed, bee, hee! And three hearty ho, ho’s ! It’s three yards from his eyes To the tip of his nose.”
“This is no time for joking,” said Kabumpo, looking back severely at Jinnicky. “Besides, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“That’s so,” agreed the Jinn quite amiably. “Are you referring to my glass palace or my jar?”
“Oh, look!” put in Randy, anxious to change the
subject before his two best friends got into a serious quarrel. “We can see the towers of Pumperdink’s castle from here. Only one hill and a forest to go now!” Taking off the looking glasses long enough to assure himself that the towers showing above the tree tops were really those of the King’s palace, Kabumpo with a long sigh of satisfaction clapped them on again and headed recklessly down the hill. The rest of the journey took barely an hour. The forest was the most difficult, for Johnwan kept bumping into trees. Randy found that if he walked beside the wooden warrior he could guide him easily around them, though he had to run to keep up with Johnwan’s long strides. But fortunately the forest was small and when at last they stepped out they found themselves on the King’s Highway that led directly into Pumperdink. It was a little after noon, and Randy rather nervously wished Kabumpo and Johnwan were not so big and conspicuous.
“Maybe we’d better wait till night,” suggested the boy, mounting Jinnicky’s ladder and seating himself on Kabumpo’s head. But Kabumpo shook his head.
“The people of Pumperdink will know I have come to help them,” he stated calmly. “When they get a glimpse of Johnwan and our friend yonder,” Kabumpo
swung his trunk carelessly in Jinnicky’s direction, “they will fall in behind us and by the time we reach the palace we’ll have a regular army of rebellion.”
Kabumpo was right. No sooner had they entered the gates of the city than the Pumperdinkians gathered around them in huge crowds, and throwing fear and discretion to the winds, shouted their welcome at the top of their voices. Those in their houses, looking out to see what the commotion was about, hastily joined the others and seizing sticks, brooms, spades and umbrellas, ran joyfully after Kabumpo and Johnwan. Most of them were a dark purple from frequent dippings in the royal well, but Kabumpo and Randy, Johnwan and Jinnicky put new courage and confidence into Pompus’ downtrodden and sorely abused subjects. Yelling threats and defiance they proceeded boldly to the palace. The guards, brandishing their pikes, fell in step with Johnwan and by the time Faleero, followed by her three old ladies in waiting, heard the deafening uproar and rushed out to see what was the matter, the rebels were already mounting the steps of the imperial palace. Faleero, astonished by the unexpected appearance of Kabumpo and the giant soldier and the extreme suddenness of the uprising, gave a howl of anger and
in high, indignant screeches ordered the crowd to disperse.
Randy, closely watching Johnwan mount the steps, made ready to halt the giant soldier the minute they reached the top. But as Johnwan, closely followed by Kabumpo, stepped up on the broad flagged terrace before the palace door, Faleero flung up her arms and hissed three shrill magic incantations. Kabumpo, in the act of snatching the old fury, was halted so abruptly that he turned a complete somersault, hurling Randy and Jinnicky to the ground. Randy, shocked by the fall and without intending in the least to do so, clicked Johnwan’s controller five times and the wozard’s wooden soldier, whom magic could not stop or injure, obeying the order to seize the enemy, grasped Faleero in his wooden arms, marched straight through the front door of the palace and out of the back, on and on, tramping steadily and calmly through the park, the fields beyond and finally disappearing over a purple hilltop. As soon as Johnwan had seized Faleero the whole company, which had been halted by her magic, found themselves able to move again. Kabumpo, who was quite ridiculously standing on his head, quickly assumed a more usual and dignified position. Randy,
not realizing that he had given Johnwan the signal to seize the enemy, now jumped up and ran wildly after him.
“Stop! Come back! Johnwan! Johnwan!” he called frantically. But Johnwan was already far away and could neither hear nor obey him. Suddenly remembering the metal controller, Randy rushed back to look for it. But when he was flung from Kabumpo’s back it had rolled out of his hand and though he searched and searched he could find no trace of it. The Pumperdinkians, overjoyed at the disappearance of the evil old Queen were hugging one another, dancing jigs and in vociferous shouts and songs expressing their satisfaction and approval. Jinnicky, who had landed flat on his nose in the palace doorway, now rolled over and as Randy came hurrying breathlessly toward him pulled himself up by the gold door jamb.
“My mercy me!” he spluttered, looking reproachfully at Kabumpo. “I’m cracked, jarred and positively jellied. You told me you intended to use your head, old Gaboscis, but I never expected you to stand on it. My mercy me! Travel is very broadening, very broadening indeed!” He rubbed his nose tenderly, for it had suffered a complete flattening. “Where is that old woman and what happened?”
“Johnwan has her!” panted Randy. “And he’s marching on and on and dear knows where to. I’ve lost the metal signal and we’ll never see him again.”
“You must have given him the command to seize the enemy when you fell,” wheezed Kabumpo, straightening his jeweled headpiece. “And a grumpy good thing, too.”
“But who’s to stop Johnwan and what will become of him?” wailed Randy, staring disconsolately at the Jinn. “Will he just march on till he falls into the sea or is burned up on the Deadly
Desert?”
“I suppose so,” sighed Jinnicky, taking off his lid and scratching his red head sorrowfully, “and it’s a mean shame, for now I shall have no mechanical army. But never mind. He has served us faithfully and well in carrying off Faleero, for remember, wherever he goes, she goes too. Do speak to your countrymen, El, old fellow. Tell them if they return quietly to their homes I will restore their rightful sovereigns as soon or sooner than possible.” This Kabumpo was only too glad to do, and with repeated bows to the Red Jinn and resounding cheers the crowd began to move off, and, much relieved, the rescue party hurried into the palace. The servants and courtiers had seen Faleero carried off by the
giant soldier and knowing they had nothing to fear
gave Kabumpo and his friends a rousing welcome
and did everything they could to help with the disenchantment.
Going immediately to the royal dining
hall, Kabumpo had footmen place chairs in the exact
places where the King, Queen, Prince Pompa, Princess
Peg Amy and the little Princess had sat at the
illfated dinner. Finding the exact spot on which the
Prime Pumper had stood was more difficult. But as
Kabumpo remarked to Randy, the old goose had so
little wit and was of so little importance, it would
be no great matter if he stayed out of sight forever.
The Red Jinn had now taken out his bottle of yellow incense and after sprinkling a few grains on each chair and the approximate spot where Pumper had stood, began whirling round and round like a top, mumbling an indistinguishable jargon of magic words and sentences. Randy was so interested that he almost forgot to breathe and Kabumpo, his ears fairly quivering with suspense and excitement, kept his eyes glued on the empty chairs. The servants and courtiers had been sent from the room, but through the curtains and cracks in the doors they peered with eager interest and curiosity. After whirling for three full minutes, Jinnicky came to a standstill, calling in a loud imperious voice:
L. Frank Baum - Oz 26 Page 11
