“Has your Highness no word of welcome or commendation for me?” complained Tuzzle, limping aggrievedly beside the Sultan. “Do you not desire to hear of my reception at Ozma’s court and of the masterful manner in which I was finally able to restore this long missing miscreant to your Majesty’s stable? Have I sought out and captured this capricious Camel by main strength only to be ignored and stepped upon?” “Posh! Bosh! And a pound of teal” sputtered the Sultan, waving him carelessly aside, and bidding all of his advisors return to the palace he proceeded joyfully to the stall set aside for the most important member of his herd. There, tied fast to an iron ring in the side of the wall and facing a heaping measure of dried peas and rice, the Comfortable Camel’s usual good judgment and temper returned to him. Sir Hokus and Peter, he felt sure, would soon come to his assistance. Meanwhile, he might as well make the best of things and enjoy what he could of the experience. Nibbling daintily at the peas and rice, he paid scant attention to the Sultan, who had dismissed the attendant and was standing on a small ladder at his side. Tossing everything out of the left hand saddle sack, the Sultan suddenly gave such an exclamation of fury that the Comfortable Camel turned his head. The fat little ruler, coming to the bottom of the sack, had found the secret compartment open and the precious package he had been so long seeking and so anxiously waiting for-gone! “Great, lazy, stupid son of a cow!” bellowed the Sultan, dancing up and down like a dervish on top of the ladder. “What have you done with my dates? Who has taken the dates?”
“Aha!” mused the Camel to himself. “So he is at the bottom of this date magic. It’s the dates he wants, and not me at all.” And as the enraged Sovereign continued to dance and scream, he went calmly on with his lunch.
“Son of a scorpion,” hissed the Sultan vindictively. “Cousin to a cougar and uncle of a goat, how dare you come back without those dates?” Hammering the Camel with both fists, he nearly cried with rage.
“Why, he’s even better at calling me names than he used to be,” marveled the Camel, paying no heed to the thumps, which hurt him hardly at all, “I must remember all this to tell Hokus-that is, if I can ever talk as I used to do, I’ll tell him. Heigho, there goes the fat pest, and good riddance.” For the Sultan, seeing nothing was to be got out of the Camel, had finally stopped hammering him and gone away.
Racing back to the palace he sought out Chinda and started to shake the Grand Bozzywoz with all his strength.
“What now?” groaned the astonished Seer, clutching his turban, which was tossing like a ship
in a hurricane, “Have you not got your precious Camel back again? Is this gratitude? Is this
thanks-or–— ”
“That silly Camel is of no use to me,” screamed the Sultan angrily, almost, in his excitement, revealing the secret of the magic dates. “There was a package of great value in his left hand saddle sack. It has been lost-or stolen!” he panted desperately. “And I must have that package
at once, at once, do you hear me?”
“Package?” repeated Chinda dully. ‘Well, why did your Excellency not say so in the first place? All these years I have been seeking a Camel, and now you tell me it is a package and not a Camel you desire.”
“Silence!” shrieked the Sultan, beginning to shake him again, and in the next breath, “Speak, fellow, have you nothing in your head at all?”
“The telescope!” puffed Chinda, jerking away from his tempery little master. “Let us consult the magic telescope and see what it can tell us of this strange matter.” For ten minutes in his tall, glass-enclosed tower, the Chief Seer and Grand Bozzywoz of Samandra gazed through the magic lens of his huge telescope; then, turning to the Sultan, who was stamping anxiously up and down the laboratory, he spoke:
“You will find part of what you seek in the middle of the night,” he announced solemnly.
“In the middle of the night?” gasped the Sultan. “But where, how, and what night?”
“More I cannot tell you now, but if your Highness will depart and leave me, I will go into a great silence and endeavor to discover the exact location of the missing package.” Far from satisfied, but not knowing what else to do, the Sultan returned reluctantly to his throne room. There, clutching Confido to his breast, he whispered long and anxiously to the Imperial Peke and waited impatiently for nightfall.
CHAPTER 13
King of the Quix!
AND now, leaving the Sultan and the Comfortable Camel to their own devices, let us see what has been happening to Marygolden and Speedy. Fortunately for its two passengers, the parashuter struck a dry and sandy section of earth so that they were neither crushed by falling rock nor scalded by boiling lava. Whistling like a roman candle and forced upward by the rocket set off when Speedy touched the button in the handle, Uncle Billy’s strange invention shot upward so fast that the boy lost all sense of time, space, and distance. And just as he was deciding they would never reach the upper regions at all, the steel
umbrella burst through the top crust of earth, fluttered a few feet in the air and then dropped heavily to the ground.
“Are-we-still-alive?’ inquired Marygolden in a faint voice.
“I-I think so,” mumbled Speedy, who had bumped his head pretty hard on the handle of the parashuter.
“Sometimes it hurts to be alive,” sighed Marygolden, looking reproachfully over at him, for the little Princess had come down hard in the middle of a rocky path. Both adventurers were covered with dirt and grime, and had their umbrella-like contrivance not travelled with such lightning speed they would probably have been suffocated as well. As it was, they were perfectly exhausted and lay for several minutes where they had fallen. Then, rolling over, Speedy unfastened the straps that bound him to the handle, and giving himself a little shake, stood up.
“Well, I hope this time we’re in America,” he breathed anxiously, leaning down to untie Marygolden. The golden Princess winced a bit as Speedy helped her to her feet, and afraid that she might cry, he patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, But Marygolden straightened up like a soldier and the boy could not help feeling proud of the way she was taking their strange experiences. “Anyway, we’re out of Subterranea and we’ve escaped from that awful old Shah!” he exclaimed, beating the dust from his leather jacket.
“Yes,” agreed Marygolden gravely. “We’re away from the Shah, but who are these?”
“These?” cried Speedy, whirling round. “Well, curses macorangejuice!” This was a favorite expression of the boy’s, but even this did not seem surprising enough For the strange figures racing toward them. There were twelve, and their long, thin legs, long, thin arms, long, thin bodies, long, thin faces, and long, thin hair gave them an unreal and comical appearance. They were dressed in silver cloth jackets and hose and pointed hoods, and when they reached Speedy and the Princess they took hands and danced round and round them so fast that the two could do nothing but blink and gasp and draw in their toes to keep from being stepped on. The twinkle of the sun on their silver hoods was making Speedy dreadfully giddy, when all twelve suddenly stopped, and the tallest of the company, drawing a long scroll from his coat, cried loudly:
“The prophecy has been fulfilled. Behold our King!”
“Nonsense!” blustered Speedy, trying to push his way out of the ring, “Nonsense, I’m a Republican!” Then, as the holder of the scroll began to read the strange document, his curiosity got the better of him.
‘I, Hurreewurree the Worst, Chief Counsellor of the Quix, do hereby pronounce you King,” boomed the silver-clad leader impressively. “Our humble sovereign having run away, it has been prophesied by the Book of Stars that our next ruler would burst from the earth, as you must admit you have done, that our next ruler would be young and exceeding quick, quick to fight, quick to run, and quick to lose his temper-” (“Well, all that’s true enough,” thought Speedy, with an amused chuckle, as the Chief Counsellor looked at him over his specs.) “And his name shall mean Swift,” continued Hurreewurree. “What is your
name?’ he inquired solemnly, holding his finger on the scroll to keep his place.
“Speedy!” answered the boy, without giving himself time to think.
“Speedy!” exulted the Chief Counsellor, waving the prophecy over his head. “Do you hear that? Three cheers for Speedy, King of the Quix!” With three hilarious cheers, the long-legged strangers closed in. Speedy had just time to grasp Marygolden’s hand before they were seized on all sides and hustled forward. Soon they were flying along so fast he had not breath enough to ask even one question.
“To keep things running here you must keep moving,” puffed Hurreewurree, “and as soon as we catch the castle you’ll be crowned.”
“Catch the castle?” panted Speedy. “Does that run, too?” Nobody bothered to answer his question, but when they came to Quick City he saw what Hurreewurree meant, for all the houses and buildings rolled about like taxis. ‘Why, this is worse than New York!” marvelled Speedy, as they were almost knocked down by a barber shop. “Why, instead of running down to the bank, the bank runs down to you. Gosh!” gasped the boy, as a teller leaned out of the window of a passing bank building and took a roll of quicksilver from Hurreewurree. All the inhabitants of this curious city dashed by as if they were running races, and when one of Speedy’s guards tried to stop a Quick and introduce him to the new King, the fellow burst into tears.
“Don’t stop me!” he cried fretfully. “Can’t you let me eat this piece of taffy before I’m too old to enjoy it?” And now Speedy noticed another queer thing about the Quix. Even while he was looking at them they changed and grew older. Hurreewurree, who had been quite young and handsome when he read his proclamation, was becoming more bent and feeble at every step and when they finally did catch up with a tidy silver castle, the Chief Counsellor had hardly enough strength to stagger up the steps. The other Quix were old men, too, and with a great effort tugged Speedy and Marygolden into the royal dwelling. Speedy was so weary from the long run, and so astonished by the change in his companions that he sank thankfully down upon the silver throne and tried to smile encouragingly at Marygolden, who had been placed in a silver chair at his side.
”We don’t have to stay unless we want he whispered, as Hurreewurree, taking a silver hood from an ancient servitor, tottered uncertainly toward him.
“With this Lively Hood, I crown you King of the Quix!” quavered Hurreewurree, snatching the leather helmet from Speedy’s head and dropping the Hood in its place. “What are your Right Royal Commands?”
“Nothing right now,” panted Speedy, in as imperious a pant as he could manage. “As soon as they go, I’ll leave,” he decided quickly to himself. “They needn’t think I’m going to spend the rest of my life running like a jack rabbit, dodging barber shops and telegraph poles. Why, it’s ridiculous-everything’s ridiculous!” he concluded with a slight shudder, as the castle coasted down a steep street and just missed a stone wall at the bottom. Still another shock awaited him when he turned his gaze from the windows back into the throne room. Hurreewurree and his companions were growing young again, and as Speedy and Marygolden simply stared at them, their long silver whiskers fell away, their crooked legs straightened and presently they were young men. But Speedy had no sooner grown used to this than they grew younger still, and pretty soon they were all sitting on the floor in silver rompers playing with blocks. Much to his surprise he wanted to play, too, but when he tried to step down from his throne he fell off and bumped his head so hard he began to cry bitterly. Marygolden it was who picked him up, and he A could only stare at her with round eyes for she seemed like a giantess now, for he was only ten months old. But this lasted scarcely ten minutes or so, and then he found he could walk, and scrambling down from her lap he got into an exciting game of tag with his subjects. Speedy could not imagine why Marygolden was crying. He stopped to comfort her and was soon tall enough to get back on his throne. But it was terribly confusing, for in ten minutes the little Princess as crying again.
“Look! Look!” she wailed, pointing to his chin; and putting up his hand fearfully, Speedy discovered that he had a long silver beard. His voice, when he tried to speak, was so high and shrill that it startled him; his knees felt stiff, and his head ached!
“Why, I’m a Quick,” groaned poor old Speedy, looking anxiously at his thin hands. “I’m a Quick, and I’ll have to spend the rest of my days shooting up and down like an elevator. Gosh, what’ll I do?” As he started to grow younger, his thoughts became clearer. “It’s the Hood,” he decided frantically. “If I take off this Hood I’ll be all right, but then suppose I take it off when I’m old, then I’ll be all wrong. Gosh! Golly, what a fix to be in!” By this time he was a little boy again, and before he could explain to Marygolden, he was a baby. And not until he had shot up to young manhood could he make the little Princess understand what to do.
“As soon as I look the way I did when you first saw me, pull off this Hood,” he begged eagerly, “and do be careful, Mary dear, not to make me any older than I am. I don’t want to miss half my life and all the fun of college.’ Marygolden nodded and watched Speedy solemnly as he grew older and older, and still more solemnly as he grew younger, and as the boy reached the exact age he had been when he plunged into Subterranea, the clever little Princess pulled the Lively Hood from his head and threw it as far as she could, With one bounce Speedy was off the throne.
“Girl, that was neat!” he whispered, looking thankfully in the mirror over the mantel. “Why, you couldn’t have done any better if you’d been a boy. Now, as soon as these fellows grow down a bit further, we’ll run.” Hurreewurree and the other boys were so engrossed in a marble game that they did not notice their new King tiptoeing toward the door. And by the time Speedy and Marygolden were scampering down the steps of the moving castle, they and all the other inhabitants of Quick City were infants again. “You certainly have to think and step quick in this country, ‘ puffed Speedy, as they ran hand in hand down the main street of the town. Having had a lot of practice dodging motors, he managed to keep out of the path of the whirling houses and shops, and by the time the Quix were growing up again, he and Marygolden had left the city far behind them. Even in the fields and orchards on the outskirts of the town the curious nature of the country persisted. Flowers grew up and wilted under their feet. Fruit ripened and fell from the trees before they could eat it. After several unsuccessful attempts to pick some peaches, only to have them rot in his hands, Speedy gave up. Indeed it was with something like relief that they came to a cool, deep forest, where trees neither shot up nor down, and everything was pleasantly quiet and still.
“We’ll stop here a long, long time,” sighed Speedy, sitting down under a great oak. “Then I’ll try to find you something to eat and discover where we are. I’m sure it’s not America, for things like this couldn’t happen in America. Say, I wonder why those fellows wanted me for King! Can you imagine being King of a place like that?”
Marygolden shook her head and smoothed out her dress. “I like it better here,” she said contentedly.
“Well, I do too, but I don’t think I’m going to like growing old very much. It felt awful.” Speedy rubbed his knees reminiscently and wondered what Uncle Billy would think of his adventures. “I’m certainly having a lot of experiences,” he muttered reflectively. “And you know,” he turned thoughtfully to look at the little Princess sitting so quietly at his side, “you’re the very strangest of them all. I can’t make you out in the least, Marygolden. If you were just a statue, and were never alive before, how is it you can talk, and know how to act? And now that you are alive, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do everything you do,” announced Marygolden calmly.
“Gosh!” breathed Speedy, rather frightened by the responsibility of such a thing. “Then I’ll have to be pretty careful about everything I do, won’t I?”
“Yes,” smiled the Princess, folding her hands serenely in her lap. Speedy was about to explain that she, being a girl, could n
ot possibly do all the exciting and adventurous things that he, as a boy, could do, but she seemed so pleased and happy that he decided to let the matter rest for a while.
“She’s certainly done everything I’ve done so far,” he reflected slowly, “except grow whiskers! And she didn’t cry when we fell, either. You’re all right!” he announced emphatically, and leaning over he gave her a real boyish handshake. “You’re all right, and a real good fellow!”
CHAPTER 14
The Enchanted Forest
AFTER the rush and hurry of Quick City, both travellers were glad enough to rest quietly under the oak tree. Leaning back with his head against the broad trunk, Speedy tried to puzzle out and explain to himself the queer happenings of the morning. But there seemed no reasonable explanation of Subterranea or Quick City, or the curious coming to life of Marygolden, and with a little sigh he finally stopped bothering and turned his attention back to his companion.
“Do you ever remember seeing that Shah, or any of those people before?” he inquired
earnestly.
“I don’t remember anyone but you,” answered Marygolden, fixing her eyes dreamily on the bit of sky just visible above the tree tops.
“Well,” pondered Speedy, “if you were alive before, you must have lived in some old, old country. You know, you’re dreadfully old-fashioned, Marygolden.”
L. Frank Baum - Oz 24 Page 8
