“Mix-down,’ corrected Rhomba severely, as the Shah shook his head to show that the explanation was not satisfactory. Then, making several strange signals to his Headman, he tapped the earthworm with his heels and moved grandly and unconcernedly out of the square.
“Well?” inquired Speedy in a defiant whisper, as the Shah disappeared down a long, dim, blue
tunnel.
“He doubts the truth of all you say; But mend the sky and you can stay And work upon the realm’s defences-If not, you’ll take the consequences!”
“And what are the consequences?” asked Speedy in a faint voice, for he had no desire to work for this crude little King.
“Well,” answered Rhomba, with a careless wave of his hand, “we usually throw lawbreakers to the fire fish in Lava Lake, and I suppose sky breakers might be called lawbreakers, too.”
“Lava Lake!” exclaimed Speedy, beginning to feel downright frightened. “But see here, how am I going to mend a great jagged hole like that? Why, I can’t even reach it!” In his indignation he forgot to whisper, and at the terrible racket made by his voice the Subterraneans took to their gold heels. That is, all except Rhomba, who seemed to feel it his duty to remain.
“That’s your affair,” he muttered indifferently. “You broke the sky-now mend it!” Switching his stiff robes from side to side, the Shah’s Chief Headman followed the others, leaving Speedy all alone in the center of the square. His first impulse was to run, but a short dash down one of the tiled passageways convinced him that he would be lost in no time. Every few yards it turned and twisted and was intersected by other tunnels, and a body might as well have hoped to find his way out of a labyrinth. Picking his way slowly back to the square, Speedy was surprised to see one of the Shah’s subjects sitting on a green bench near the Skyrocket.
“My name is Zunda,” whispered the little fellow, coming eagerly toward Speedy. “Perhaps I can help you, but I beg of you not to shout. It is so-so shattering. Tell me,” he continued, before Speedy had time to say a word, “did you see anything of the other Underground Kingdoms on your way down? I have never traveled myself and am curious to know all.”
“Are there other Kingdoms?” asked Speedy in a depressed whisper. “I only saw a lot of roots, rocks, underground seas, and lava. Are there more countries down here?”
“Oh, yes! Yes, indeed!” And clutching Speedy’s arm, Zunda began to drone out like a schoolboy reciting a lesson: “The Underworld is divided into nine levels. First there is Neath and Underneath; then Low and Below. After that come Down, Upsidedown, Farther Down and Allthewaydown. Then Subterranea. We’re about as low as you can get,” he finished boastfully.
“Yes?” murmured Speedy, trying to appear interested. “But don’t you think we’d better talk about mending this hole in the sky?”
“What’s the use of talking about that?” answered Zunda, with a little shrug. “It just can’t be done. Now do tell me something about Upsidedown. I hear the earthscrapers are forty feet long.”
“How long will it be before-before
“Before you’re thrown to the fire fish? Oh, not till to-morrow morning,” Zunda assured him cheerfully. “That will give you time to see our city, the underwood and-”
“Stop! Isn’t there any way out of here?” Seizing the little Subterranean by both shoulders Speedy gave him a desperate shake. Zunda blinked but shook his head negatively. Speedy looked gloomily up at the great rent overhead, but climbing the stone pillars was perfectly impossible. The return rocket on the torpedo had been lost on the wild downward flight, and it did seem as if he never would escape from this queer and eerie Kingdom under the earth.
“Oh, come along,” urged Zunda comfortably under his breath, “You may as well see all you can before-before—” Feeling Speedy’s violent shudder, he tactfully did not finish the sentence, but drew the little boy hurriedly across the square.
CHAPTER 8
A Golden Princess
“I SUPPOSE you are wondering why our Shah never speaks,” murmured Zunda, as they came to the end of one of the twisting tunnels. Then, as Speedy, too worried to wonder, made no reply, he confided importantly, “He is saving his voice so he never uses it; and he wears masks to express pleasure or displeasure to save his face.’
“Well, if I had a face like his, I’d not bother to save it,” said Speedy crossly, and as Zunda went on asking him questions and quite calmly of some way out of his dreadful difficulties. “These fellows aren’t very big,” he thought shrewdly, “and when they try to throw me in this Lava Lake, I’ll tackle them by two’s. I’ll scream like fury, for that seems to upset them, and maybe if I’m quick I can knock out this Shah and Rhomba and make the rest of them behave. Why, I might even become their ruler!” he reflected suddenly. “Then I can sit tight till somebody comes down here to rescue me.” Speedy felt sure that Uncle Billy would organize a search party and follow him down the great shaft cut by the Skyrocket. Immensely cheered, he began to look around with a little more interest. “I wonder what they eat down here,” he thought curiously, for if he was to remain any time this would be an important thing to know. As if to answer his question, a squat underground peddler, with a huge basket on each arm, turned in from another tunnel. Opening the lid of one of the baskets he proudly indicated the contents. It seemed several days since breakfast and Speedy, hoping it would be fruit or cakes, looked in eagerly. With a violent shudder he jumped back, for the basket was full of writhing, squirming, wriggling earthworms.
“Very tasty in a stew,” smiled Zunda, as the peddler held up two long and particularly curly ones. But Speedy shook his head and waving the peddler away hurried along the tunnel, his nose scornfully in the air. Along the edges of the strange passageway, flagstone trapdoors in the floor kept opening and shutting, and Zunda explained that these were the entrances to the underground homes of his kinsmen. As they marched along, inquisitive heads popped up like Jack-in-the-Boxes and some of the bolder Subterraneans came out altogether and pattered cautiously after them, so that by the time they had come to the end of the passage quite a crowd had collected. They seemed perfectly friendly so Speedy paid no attention to them. Besides, he was much more interested in the strange vista opening out ahead.
“The Royal Hunting Ground of his Supreme Lowness, the Shah!” exclaimed Zunda, with a sweeping wave of his left arm. “The deep, dark underwood where the gropers grope, the dragons drag, and Lava Lake boils on forever!” This last information, conveyed in a tense whisper, made Speedy decidedly uncomfortable, but to show that he was not easily frightened he stepped boldly into the underwood. Here the brown and green rock formations took the shape of gnarled and twisted trees. Phosphorescent material clung like vines to their trunks, shedding a weird, goblinish glow. Giant stone mushrooms thrust up their flat heads from the slimy ground, and in the distance Speedy could see a great lavafall tumbling smokily into the lake below.
“Well? Well?” barked Zunda, plucking nervously at his sleeve. “Have you seen enough? Come on out before a groper gets us.
“Groper?” queried Speedy, who did not want to turn back until he had seen the fire fish in
Lava Lake. “What’s a groper?”
“A groper is a blind dragon who lives in the dismal caverns of darkness, back of the underwood. They cannot see, but they can hear the faintest footfall, and unlucky persons carried off by gropers are never heard from again.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be any worse than being thrown to fire fish,” muttered Speedy gloomily. “I’m
going on.
“Don’t! Don’t, I beg of you! No one ventures beyond the lake. Why destroy yourself before your time?” warned Zunda, giving Speedy’s coat another tug.
“Just the same,” thought Speedy, as the little man continued to plead and pull, “it would be a pretty darn good place to hide; there might even be some way out on the other side. Thank goodness, I have my flashlight and could explore some of the caves. Why, I might even make some important scientific discove
ries. Geewhiskers, I wish Uncle Billy were down here!” With many backward glances he allowed himself to be drawn out of the Shah’s hunting grounds, and when they came again to the great square his mind was still full of the mysterious caves behind the underwood. Seated on one of the green benches, he paid little attention to the chatter of Zunda or the Subterraneans, who, going about their own affairs, pattered busily to and fro. Several times the Shah himself passed on his giant undulating earthworm and each time turned his frowning mask toward Speedy.
“Cranky old crumb!” exclaimed the boy under his breath, as the stiff, gold-clad sovereign went by for the third time. “Say, what’s the matter now?” for all the people in the square were scampering for shelter, tumbling down trapdoors, and even forgetting to lower their voices.
“Run! It’s going to subter-rain!” screamed Zunda, bounding off the bench and disappearing in three hops like a jack rabbit. Rhomba, the Rhymer, rushed by at a gallop.
“Get under cover!” he directed breathlessly:
“When it rains in Subterranea, it pours down rays of sun, The deadly sun that poisons one! Be quick, I tell you, run!”
As Speedy sprang up uncertainly, a furious downpour of sunbeams almost blinded him. But instead of running away, he expanded his chest and took long deep breaths. Never had anything felt so good. The chill, heavy air of Subterranea seemed to clear and brighten. Speedy’s head cleared, too. Not an undergrounder was in sight, and resolved to make his escape before any appeared, he ran quickly through the sparkling shower. Even the underwood looked cheerful drenched by the friendly sun rays, and hurrying along under the twisted trees, Speedy Fervently hoped all the dragons were asleep or otherwise occupied. Just for a moment he paused beside Lava Lake, but when the fire fish, about the size of sharks, rose hungrily to the surface and snapped their flaming teeth at him, he ran off as fast as he could, never stopping until he came to the end of the underwood and stepped into the cavernous country on the other side. The sun storm made it quite light, and Speedy, hurrying along, kept a sharp lookout for gropers. Hot springs and small geysers bubbled up here and there between the rocks and reminded him not a little of the Yellowstone country and the Grand Canyon. But suddenly, as quickly as it had started,
the sun storm ceased, and without warning Speedy was left in a thick, choking darkness. At the same instant a low threatening growl rumbled over the rocks.
“Gropers!” gasped Speedy. Frantically feeling for his flashlight, he dashed headlong into the nearest cave, collided with a hard object in the center, and fell with a terrible thump to the floor. Rather slowly and doubtfully he sat up, and at last locating his flash pressed the button to see what under the sun he had bumped into. What he saw brought him to his feet in a jiffy. Lying on its side a short distance away was a solid gold statue, the statue of a quaint little Princess in a great stiff ruff. She was about a head taller than Speedy himself and her expression was so sweet and merry that he earnestly wished she were alive. Neither in face nor figure was she at all like the Subterraneans, and the little boy could not help wondering how the statue had come to this dark, dismal spot. Placing his flash on a ledge of rock so that it cast a good light, he tiptoed nearer and seizing the little gold hands of the Princess began to tug her to an upright position. He had succeeded in raising the statue about five inches when the Princess quite unexpectedly opened her eyes and smiled at him. Speedy was so startled that he let go her hands and she fell back with a hard bump on the rocks. Her smile changed to a look of bewilderment, and as Speedy, hastily recovering himself, seized her hands again a still more astonishing thing happened. Suddenly the hard, gold folds of her dress melted into rippling silken ones, the gold faded from her face and hands leaving them pink and rosy, the stiff, carved gold curls clustered round her lovely face lifted and lightened and began to dance and blow in the damp wind of the cave.
“Good-morrow!” said the Princess, as Speedy stared at her in open-mouthed wonder. “Are you going to help me up, or not?’ With a quick pull he had her on her feet; then seeing that her crown had rolled into a corner he quickly recovered it and held it out to her.
“I-I was sorta surprised when you came to life,” he explained, with an embarrassed swallow. “I’m awfully sorry I let you fall-but I didn’t know you were alive.”
“Alive?” laughed the little Princess, setting the crown carelessly on the back of her head. “Am I were alive?”
“Why-why-” stuttered Speedy, hardly knowing how to explain. “It’s what you are now, seeing, thinking, feeling, being the same as I am.
“Oh!” The Princess looked at him thoughtfully. “Are you alive, too? Well, then I shan’t mind it.” Speedy nodded. Everything about this Princess was so strange and puzzling that he scarcely knew where to begin his questions. “Have you a name?” he asked finally. Seeing by her bewildered expression that she did not know, he dropped quickly to one knee, for he had suddenly remembered that statues often have their names stamped on the base. Sure enough, still visible on the silken hem of her dress were two words, “Princess Marygolden.”
“Your name’s Marygolden,” announced Speedy, jumping up in great relief, “and now “The Princess looked at him expectantly, but before he could finish his sentence there came a scraping of claws on the rocks outside and a great, green, scaly dragon hurled itself through the opening of the cave. Speedy, snatching his flashlight, clutched Marygolden and backed as far away as he could. The dragon, lifting his ugly head, moved it slowly from side to side and gave three furious sniffs that filled the air with smoke and sulphur. Then it was that Speedy saw it had no eyes. It was a groper, and could not see them at all. As the monster came toward them, the little boy flattened himself against the rock wall, and as soon as it was out of the mouth of the cave he rushed wildly through the opening, pulling the Princess along. Guided by the faint glow from his flashlight, he stumbled over rocks and ridges, sometimes escaping ghastly crevices and boiling springs by mere inches. Marygolden had changed all of his plans. It was all very well for a boy to go exploring through a lot of dungeony caverns, but for a Princess to be chased by
deadly dragonish monsters was not the thing. So Speedy decided to return and throw himself on the mercy of the Shah. Perhaps the little sovereign could even explain the strange coming-to-life of the golden statue. He, himself, might, perhaps, be regarded as a hero and a rescuer and not thrown to the fire fish, after all. Marygolden, holding tightly to his hand, ran nearly as fast as he did, and in almost no time they had left the cavernous country behind and stopped to rest under a pink stone tree in the underwood.
“Is this-being—alive?” puffed the Princess, taking off her crown and using it for a fan.
“Well,” admitted Speedy judicially, “if we hadn’t run like that the groper would have caught us and we wouldn’t have been alive long after that. But we don’t have to run all the time,” he went on hastily. “Sometimes we walk, like this-see!” Taking her hand again, Speedy started slowly through the underwood. Marygolden fell in step quite easily, and looking up at his lovely companion Speedy smiled encouragingly. “She’s older than I am but knows nothing at all,” thought the boy complacently. “I’ll just have to take care of her till something turns up.” Something, as it happened, turned up very soon, for as Speedy and Marygolden entered the public square of Subterranea, a crowd of undergrounders, catching sight of them, forgot to whisper and burst into earsplitting shrieks and yells. Waving their arms and pointing accusingly at the Princess, they ran screaming for the Shah. Speedy looked nervously around for Zunda, who seemed to be the only friend he had. But instead of Zunda, the Shah himself, supported on each side by a slave, came panting on the scene. While the Subterraneans continued to shout with anger, the Shah snatched mask after mask from his attendants and held them up toward Speedy. The first was a growling lion, then came a fierce tiger, next a horribly scowling goblin, each mask growing more ferocious than the last. Convinced that the Shah was frightfully displeased, Speedy tightened his hold on M
arygolden, and making a dash for the Skyrocket jumped in; pulling the Princess after him, he slammed down the top. Marygolden, more interested than alarmed, pressed her pretty face against the window glass, but Speedy, as the undergrounders with bars and clubs fell upon the torpedo, began to feel terribly anxious. The Skyrocket could not withstand their blows forever and when it did give way what would happen to them? Staring around desperately his eye lighted on the lever that controlled the parashuter.
“But that goes down,” groaned Speedy, “and gosh knows, we’re down far enough now!” Then, remembering that the Skyrocket itself, while made to go up, had travelled quite successfully in the other direction, he pushed back his leather helmet and dropped to his knees. If he released the parashuter and pointed it up, why would it not carry them aloft through the shaft cut by the torpedo? Whether it would or not, it was their only chance, and pulling the lever Speedy released the strange apparatus, fastening one strap around Marygolden and one around himself. Then, clasping the hands of the little Princess around the handle, he pressed the button in the top, seized the handle himself, and with a violent effort pointed the parashuter straight up. The first pull of the lever had opened a trapdoor in the roof of the Skyrocket, and as the Subterraneans, with little shouts of triumph, swarmed around the opening, the parashuter burst out, scattering them in every direction. Safely it shot through the gash in the blue stone sky, but missing the tunnel cut by the Skyrocket, began tearing its own way through earth, rock, and sand. “It’s a good thing we’re tied on,” thought Speedy, gritting his teeth. He tried to call something reassuring to Marygolden but the awful speed of the parashuter made that impossible, and not sure whether they would be crushed by falling rock or scalded by boiling lava, Speedy clung doggedly to the bone handle of Uncle Billy’s remarkable umbrella.
L. Frank Baum - Oz 24 Page 5
