CHAPTER 9
Sir Hokus Meets an Old Friend
IT was a joy to be on firm land again, and after leaving Ploppa, Sir Hokus strode briskly across the yellow plain. At the first stream he stopped to wash the last of the swamp mud from his armor; then, throwing out his chest, he marched resolutely toward the strange, tall castle.
“Mayhap a true and Knightly adventure awaits me here,” he mused, surveying through half-closed eyes its glittering and distant spires. But the castle was a long way off, and thinking of this and that, but mostly of his queer encounter with the Marshlanders and the curious and kindly turtle, the Knight trudged cheerfully along, coming in the late afternoon to a little wood. Here he paused and sat down under a gnarled old tree to rest. Soothed by the rustle of the branches, he must have fallen asleep, for when he awakened it was almost dark and someone was shaking him violently. There was a strange hissing noise in his ears and a Feeling of suffocation in his chest. Blinking both eyes rapidly, Sir Hokus, now thoroughly aroused, found himself suspended in the air, held in the smothering coils of a huge green serpent. And more alarming still, all around him were other serpents, twisting and writhing and thrusting out their ugly flat heads. The tree under which he had fallen asleep was a serpent tree; each branch growing out of the scarred, scaly trunk was a green and glistening snake.
Now Sir Hokus, in the course of his adventurous life, had been in many tight places, but this was quite the worst. With both arms pinioned to his sides he was powerless to draw his sword, and only his heavy armor saved him from being utterly crushed, or poisoned by the darting tongues of the unsightly monsters.
“There is but one thing to do, odds buttons! One thing!” he panted, trying in vain to free himself from the choking embrace, “and that, to perish manfully and unafraid!” So, with what breath he had left, the valiant Knight burst into a defiant battle song.
“What HO! ‘Tis the challenge of good Knights and true, What HO! For the swords and the daggers! The lances that clash, the good steeds that crash, The tilting and jousting that staggers!
“What HO! ‘Tis the challenge all good Knights must heed,
What HO! ‘Tis the call of defiance,
In the furious fray
Ye shall perish this day
All ye despots, ye dragons, ye giants!’
To the first verse of this song the serpents paid small attention, but at the second, every snakish branch began to sway and swing in rhythm. At the third line, the serpent encircling Sir Hokus started to unwind, moving in perfect time with the others. As the Knight felt the loosening of the coils around his waist, he gave a joyous shout; then, seeing the effect his song was having, he bawled as loud as he could. With closed eyes the snakes now waved and rippled in time to the music, and as he reached the last note of his war cry the one holding him straightened out with a rapturous hiss and Sir Hokus fell crashing to earth. He lost no time in rolling out of the trees reach, and for some moments lay panting and exhausted on the ground, while the snake tree, suddenly deprived of its victim and no longer under the spell of the song, began to snap, rattle, and hiss with fury. But Sir Hokus did not even open his eyes.
Now, as it happened, the serpents were not the only ones who had heard the good Knight’s singing. Plodding wearily along through the dust, another creature pricked up its ears as the booming notes rang through the wood. Then, gathering up its long legs and hunching along in great, awkward leaps, it ran straight toward the singer, so that by the time Sir Hokus had struggled to a sitting position it had reached him, and falling upon its knees, licked him frantically through the bars of his helmet.
“Hokus, my dear discoverer, there you are, there you are at last!” it gulped happily. “I had almost given up the search when I heard that grand old song.
“Camy! By the beard of my father’s goat, ‘tis Camy himself!” And sitting up joyfully Sir Hokus gave the Comfortable Camel a resounding and affectionate thwack on the hump. Then, as the Camel, backing off to have a better look at him, drew near the darting branches of the serpent tree, he seized its bridle and jerked his thumb warningly in the tree’s direction. Gamy looked inquiringly over his shoulder, then gave a terrified bleat.
“For pity sakes, for pity snakes,” he squealed, sitting down with a thump. “What’s this? What’s
this?”
“A good thing to keep away from,” rumbled the Knight, “though I’m minded to cut off every single branch to pay for the squeezing I’ve suffered.”
“Squeezing!” coughed the Camel, rolling its eyes wildly. “Oh, my dear Hokus, what have you escaped? But I beg of you not to cut off those serpents. How uncomfortable it would be if they were all loose and free to chase us through the wood!”
“Methinks you’re right!” sighed Sir Hokus, regretfully returning his sword to its scabbard. “But let us be gone and away from this accursed spot.” Seizing hold of its bridle, he pulled himself erect, and walking slowly at the creature’s head related all that had befallen him since he left the Emerald City. Then the Comfortable Camel told how it had followed him on the very night of his departure.
“Fortunately I had on my trappings and saddle sacks,” it confided, with a satisfied sniff, “and spoke to no one of my purpose, for I knew you’d not want the whole menagerie after you. But I did think you should have something comfortable to ride.” Looking up at the tossing seat on the Camel’s back, Sir Hokus sighed resignedly. Camel riding was not his idea of comfort, but he would not hurt the faithful creature’s feelings by saying so.
“Did you come through the swamp?” he asked curiously.
“Went around,” explained the Camel shortly, “and thought I’d lost you till I heard that old song.
“Well, ‘twas like to have been my last,” admitted Sir Hokus, with a grave shake of his head, “but tell me, how goes it at the capital?”
“They were still preparing for your quest when I left,” chuckled the Camel comfortably, “and probably haven’t missed you, even yet. By the way, where are we bound?”
“‘Tis too dark to see, but on the other side of this wood stands a splendid, tall castle. Me thinks there I shall find a proper adventure.”
“Then,” decided the Comfortable Camel firmly, “we shall require rest. Let us camp in this field for the night and pursue our journey in the morning.” They had, by this time, come safely out of the wood, and all the other trees being of a usual and harmless nature, had experienced no further difficulties.
“In my right-hand saddle sack you will find a tent,” announced the Comfortable Camel quietly, “a tent, shawls, and other comforts.”
“Hast, perchance, a sandwich or goodly tart?” inquired the Knight, rummaging eagerly in the huge baskets that hung from the Camel’s hump.
“I came just as I was,” answered Camy regretfully. “I was afraid if I stopped for supplies someone might suspect and follow me.”
“Ah, well,” said Sir Hokus, pulling out the tent, “an adventurer must endure some hardships. Perchance a great feast awaits us in yonder hall!”
“Perchance,” yawned the Camel, kneeling awkwardly upon the ground and disposing himself for the night. It did not take Sir Hokus long to put up the tent, an embroidered, silken affair with a collapsible bamboo pole. Spreading some thick shawls on the ground and a pillow for his head, the Knight removed his armor, and being exceedingly weary after the adventures of the day, soon fell asleep. He dreamed he was in a splendid ship, sailing into the harbor of a crystal city. A golden-haired Princess waved to him from a crystal tower, and leaning over the rail of the ship to wave back, Sir Hokus bumped his head on his sword and awoke. Awoke to find himself really sailing, sailing through the air, the tent top snapping and flapping in the breezes.
“How, now! And what means this?” gasped the Knight, jumping up in alarm. A look through the tent flap was more astonishing still. There was Camy snoring calmly beside the tent; there was the tulip tree he remembered seeing before he retired-there, I say, was the field itself
, but not resting on the solid ground. No, odds whirligigs and kite tails! ‘Twas flying, flying like a magic carpet through the night. The stars twinkled up above, the lights from little towns and villages twinkled down below, and Sir Hokus, frantically clasping on his armor, thumped the Comfortable Camel hard upon the head.
“What’s up?” inquired the Camel, opening one eye and yawning tremendously. “What’s up?”
“Why we are!” exclaimed Sir Hokus, with an excited flourish of his sword. “Up and away through the sky and flying Oz knows where!” Opening the other eye, the Camel lurched unsteadily to its
feet,
“But we’re quite comfortable—” he muttered uneasily, “and-so-far—quite—safe. It must be one of those flying fields Peter was telling us about.” Now Peter, as many of you know, is a little Philadelphia boy who has visited Oz and spent many adventurous days with the celebrities.
“Oh, no, no, no!” said Sir Hokus, shaking his head positively. “Flying fields in America are not like this at all. Flying fields in America stand still and the airplanes do the flying and come to rest on the fields. But this field-this field is flying itself. Why, it may even carry us out of Oz!”
“Shall-shall we jump?” quavered the Comfortable Camel, bobbing his head nervously. Then, as Sir Hokus walked to the edge of the flying field and looked over, he gave a frightened scream. “Take care! Take care, or you’ll tumble off and break yourself!” he called anxiously, and seizing the Knight by the mail shirt-tail dragged him determinedly away. It was nearly a mile to the ground, and sitting down on a big rock in the center of the field Sir Hokus stared dizzily at the clouds whirling by, and at the stars shining unconcernedly over their heads.
“At this rate, we’ll be at the end of nowhere before we can stop ourselves,” groaned the Knight despondently. “Every time I fall asleep a disaster overtakes me.
“Disaster goes very fast,” shuddered the Comfortable Camel, pressing as close to Sir Hokus as he could, and for almost an hour they huddled together as the field flew on and on over the hills and forests of Oz. One by one the stars faded out and the first rosy streaks of morning began to tinge the sky. Then, as the sun came up, the flying field came down, swooping toward the earth with such speed and suddenness that Sir Hokus was hurled off the rock and only saved himself by seizing hold of a furze bush. The Comfortable Camel, flung against a tree, was kept from falling in the same manner. But when it had almost reached the ground, the flying field tilted sideways into a perfect precipice, and Sir Hokus and the Camel rolled like cannon balls to the bottom, the tent coming down hard upon their heads so that they did not see the field straighten up and fly carelessly off without them.
CHAPTER 10
The Deserted City
UNTANGLING himself from the tent folds, Sir Hokus sprang to his feet and looked eagerly around him. They had tumbled into the courtyard of a tall, strange castle of gold, but grass grew a foot high between the gold bricks in the court, the windows of the castle were all broken, and birds flew twittering in and out, while the castle itself was almost buried under a waving mass of vines. As Sir Hokus, pushing back his helmet, squinted uneasily upward, three page boys, just visible on the tallest tower, lifted their arms and blew three long, shrill blasts upon their trumpets. As the clear silvery notes, leaving a hundred rippling echoes in the still, morning air, finally died away, the pages let their arms drop stiffly at their sides and stood as rigid as statues, which was not surprising because they were statues, statues of pure gold.
“Camy! Camy!” wheezed the Knight, dragging the rest of the tent off the Comfortable Camel. “Didst hear yon curious clamor?”
“Well,” mumbled the Camel, heaving himself upward with a great creaking of harness and saddlery, “I heard something. Maybe it’s the call to breakfast,” he continued, sniffing the air hopefully. Then, as he took in the perfectly deserted courtyard and forsaken castle, his eyes bulged with disappointment and dismay. “Who blew?” he wheezed hoarsely. Without speaking, Sir Hokus waved his sword at the golden statues. “No!” murmured the Camel, flattening back his ears and wriggling his nose
very fast. “Great grandmothers! In a mere moment the inhabitants may fall upon us with swords, spears, and daggers!”
“Methinks,” sighed Sir Hokus, walking slowly toward the castle, “methinks we’ll find here neither friend nor foe. What ho! What ho, within!” he called loudly, but only his own voice came echoing sadly back to him so pushing open the gold studded door he stepped cautiously inside, the Camel treading timidly at his heels. But though they walked through all the grand rooms, upstairs and down, they found no one. The furniture, being solid gold, had happily withstood the ravages of time, but the curtains and tapestries had crumbled to powder, and the dust blown in through the windows lay so thickly on the floors and sills that flowers had taken root then and grew as luxuriously inside as out. Rabbits and other small forest creatures peered out anxiously as the Knight and his Camel went thumping through the halls. Sir Hokus tried to extract some information about the former owner of the castle from a tiny fawn he cornered in the dining hall, but if the little fellow could talk he did not choose to, and with one bound leapt out of the window.
“Some mighty monarch, mayhap, lived here,” mused the Knight, leaning thoughtfully against the great mantel, while the Comfortable Camel nibbled the top of a young tree that had grown up in the fireplace. “But what boots it? He is not here now. What a curious quest this is turning out to be, Camy. I seek a maiden to rescue and find a swamp witch determined to marry; I seek a monster to slay and am seized by a snake tree; I search for a monarch to serve and find only his empty castle.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t you call the way we reached this castle an adventure?” observed the Camel, speaking a bit indistinctly because his mouth was full of leaves. “Not many have travelled on a flying field, Hokus, and there may be a dragon lurking in these very forests, for all we know.”
“A dragon! Odds thumpenny! Why, so there may! I’ll slay me a dragon yet! How you comfort me, Camy. And perchance I’ll find a breakfast, too.” Completely cheered, Sir Hokus strode briskly toward the door and down the golden steps.
“Which would you rather find first,” inquired the Camel, ambling slowly after him, “the breakfast, or the dragon?”
“The dragon,” answered the Knight promptly. “One can eat any time, but to slay a dragon!-Ah! how that would refresh me!”
“These leaves refresh me more,” said the Camel calmly. “Too bad you cannot enjoy some of these nice, tender twigs.” Sir Hokus nodded absently.
Tis strange, most strange, about yon trumpets,” he mused, looking thoughtfully back at the deserted castle,
“Everything’s strange,” admitted the Camel readily, “but that’s what we’re seeking, isn’t it? Perhaps those trumpets go off like the burglar alarms in our castle at home when strangers tread in the courtyard.”
“But there’s no electricity here,” objected the Knight. “This castle is centuries old, Camy, and so is this city.”
“And so is this forest!” exclaimed the Camel, peering uncertainly into the tangle of vines and trees ahead. “Shall we go on?”
“Most certainly. Hast forgotten the dragon?” Rushing ahead, Sir Hokus forced his way between two giant oaks, and stepped into a great, rustling, green forest. Moving cautiously between the mighty trees, many times having to slash a path for the Camel and himself with his sword, Sir Hokus looked sharply about for signs of a dragon or a breakfast. But after an hour’s tramp he had found neither, and weary and somewhat downhearted seated himself beside a silvery forest stream and tried to forget how ravenously hungry he was. Camy, after quenching his thirst and storing up a vast quantity of water for future use, knelt down beside the Knight and was soon asleep. Sir Hokus, sitting with his back against the smooth trunk of a lyre bush, was presently aware of faint music, strange old tunes he had not heard since he was a boy, seven centuries ago. He jumped up, and parting the branches of the bush looke
d all around for signs of the singer, but could see no one. But as soon as he sat down the music began anew, It seemed to come from the bush itself. “Odds pasties! I’m dreaming!” muttered the Knight, starting to walk briskly up and down the banks of the little river. “There’s no one here to sing!” Great green willows dropped their branches into the stream, and as Sir Hokus paused under one of the largest and loveliest, the willow began to weep in real earnest and big tears splashed down upon the Knight’s armor. Its long feathery arms touched him on the cheek and rested gently on his shoulders, and Sir Hokus could have sworn he heard a voice sorrowfully calling him.
‘Tis hunger that makes me imagine all this!” puffed the Knight, uneasily wiping away the tears. When the stomach is empty the head is full of fancies.” But the tears were certainly real tears, and extremely upset and puzzled, Sir Hokus started back toward the Comfortable Camel. Several horse chestnuts, as he passed under their branches, shook themselves violently so that a shower of chestnut burrs pattered down upon him, almost, thought Sir Hokus, as if they were trying to attract his attention. Leaning against the Comfortable Camel, the Knight mopped his brow, and turning his back upon the willows fixed his gaze upon a gaudy vine that clambered riotously over a dead tree. It was covered with belllike flowers that rang and jingled pleasantly in the wind. Birds, after resting among its pink blossoms, began immediately to laugh, chatter, and fairly rock with merriment. “Funny!” thought Sir Hokus as two crows, alighting on the vine, burst into loud haw haws and then flew screaming away over the tree tops. “I’m feverish!” panted the Knight, feeling his pulse anxiously. “Odds goblets, I’ve heard crows caw but never haw before. I’m feverish and starving by inches.” Falling upon the Comfortable Camel’s saddle sacks he began burrowing wildly among their contents in search of a stray cracker or jar ofjam left from some palace picnic. It seemed to the Knight that the birds perched upon the gay vine laughed more hilariously than ever as he rummaged through the great basketlike containers, almost as if they were making fun of him, but the Comfortable Camel never awakened at all, snoring peacefully through the whole performance. There was nothing eatable in the right-hand saddle sack, and Sir Hokus, after emptying the left, had about given up in disgust, when he discovered a tiny catch, and turning the catch found a hidden compartment in the bottom of the sack. In this compartment were two fat packages wrapped in silver paper. Sir Hokus had the cover off the first in no time, Inside lay six large, fat figs, and without delay he popped one into his mouth, then another, and another, and another, till the whole six were gone. Feeling a little better, but far from satisfied, he now opened the second package. This contained six large dates, and settling back with a contented sigh the famished Knight tried one of the dates. Both figs and dates were dry and hard and had evidently lain in the sack for a long, long time, but to Sir Hokus they tasted perfectly delicious. A company ofjays were now swinging on the vine and laughed so saucily at the Knight that when he finished the date he sent the date seed spinning into their midst. With little shrieks and chatters, the jays flew into the air, but the vine-swords and swordfish! —the vine gave itself a brisk shake that set all the pink bell-flowers ringing merrily, and then slowly began to unwind. Now it twisted and whirled and spun till Sir Hokus could see nothing but a flying blur of pink and green. Dropping the package of dates, he rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure he had seen aught, and as he did so the whirling ceased, and where the vine had been stood a mirthful and carefree person in a belled cap. He seemed as puzzled as Sir Hokus and after blinking at him a moment in silence, remarked in a confidential aside to himself:
L. Frank Baum - Oz 24 Page 6
