"That's not it! That's not it!" cried Roger, flapping his wings triumphantly. "I know what's the matter. They want that baby back. You're probably making off with the Crown Prince of the Volcano. See that woman yelling louder than the others and holding out both arms? Well, look—she has a crown on her head and is likely the Queen. She wants her baby back."
"And she should have it, too," stated Ato, blinking his eyes at the frightful racket the Lavaland Islanders were making. "You can't steal people's children like this, Sammy, unless you're going back to buccaneering. It's just plain piracy."
"She threw it at us, didn't she?" muttered the Captain, who was unwilling to part with so valuable a specimen.
"It probably blew out of its cradle when the volcano erupted. Give it back to her, Sammy," begged Ato, who was determined to get rid of the terrible infant at any cost. "After all, she's its mother."
"But do you expect me to sail back there and endanger all of our lives?" Samuel jerked his head angrily. "And how else can it be done?"
"Er—er—let Roger carry it back in that old wire basket we use for clams," proposed the cook eagerly.
"Not on your life," protested Roger in a sulky voice. "The basket would grow red hot and burn my bill. Besides, I'm no stork. Tell you what we could do, though, and we'd better be quick before they start throwing things."
"What?" inquired the Captain, gazing uneasily at the infuriated Islanders.
"Why, simply shoot it back," Roger said calmly. "Stuff it in the port cannon and blaze away. You never miss your mark, Master Salt, and if you can't shoot that baby back into its mother's arms, I'll walk on my wings and be done with it."
"Why, Roger, how clever! The very thing!" rejoiced Ato. "I'll go fetch it with the fire tongs and you'll have to hurry, Sammy, or we'll be out of range."
"But it might injure the young one," objected the Captain of theCrescent Moon, shifting his feet uncomfortably.
"Nonsense, it'll be just like a ride in a baby carriage for that little rascal. Prime your gun, Sammy, while I get the child."
By this time the clamor from the Island had become so alarming that even Samuel realized something would have to be decided. So, somewhat mollified by Roger's compliment on his aim, he made ready to fire the port cannon. The baby, hissing lustily, was brought without accident from the galley. Ato held it gingerly before him, using the fire tongs, Roger following along to hold a lighted candle under the little fellow to keep him from going out before he was shot.
The baby fitted nicely into the cannon's mouth and stopped crying instantly. At the last moment Samuel almost lost his courage, but urged on to action by both Ato and Roger, he carefully made his calculations and then shutting both eyes pulled the cord that set off the gun. The terrible explosion shocked the Lavalanders into silence, and almost afraid to look, Samuel opened his eyes.
"Yo, ho, ho! Three cheers for the Skipper!" squealed Ato, snatching the towel from his head and waving it like a banner. "The neatest shot you ever made, Mate, and a lucky shot, too." The baby and the cannon ball which would have shattered a less durable lady had struck the Lava Queen amidships. Dropping the cannon ball carelessly into the crater, the giantess clasped her child in her arms, smiling and screaming her thanks across the tumbling waters.
"Well, was I right, or was I right?" chuckled Roger, teetering backward and forward on the rail and preening his feathers self-consciously. "And I've another idea just as good in case you should be interested."
"Oh, keep it till tomorrow," grumbled Samuel Salt, who felt terribly depressed at the loss of his rare specimen.
"But tomorrow will be too late," persisted Roger, settling on the Captain's shoulder. "Now, while these savages are in a good humor, let me fly over and drop another Oz flag on the Island. Maybe this time they'll let it stand and once it flies over the crater the Island is Ozma's."
"By the tooth of a harpooned whale, you're right! I'm forgetting my duty to Oz," breathed Samuel, straightening up purposefully. "But our kind of flag won't stand the climate yonder."
The Read Bird, however, had thought even of that. Taking a sheet of iron from the hold, the resourceful fellow stopped in the galley long enough to burn in the word OZ with the red hot poker. Then, thrusting the poker itself through two slits in his iron banner, he flew jauntily back to the Island.
"Ahoy, and there's a standard bearer for you!" Rubbing his hands together, Samuel strode to the rail. "Bless my buttons, the boy deserves a medal for this, and shall have one, too."
This time the Lavaland Islanders watched Roger's approach with quiet interest and as he hovered uncertainly over their heads held up their hands for the iron flag. But Roger, made daring by their friendliness, swooped down suddenly to the crater's edge, and jamming his banner between two smoking boulders soared aloft.
"Lavaland Islanders!" screamed the Read Bird hoarsely. "You are now under the protection and rule of Queen Ozma of Oz. Lavaland Islanders, you are hereby adjured to keep the peace and the law and LAV one another!"
His voice cracked from fright and excitement, but finishing triumphantly, he spread his wings and skimmed back to theCrescent Moon.
"Hung wung wah HEEE!" yelled the Islanders all together, nodding their heads and waving their arms cheerfully. "Hung wung wah HEEE!"
"What do you make of that?" puffed Samuel Salt as Roger dropped breathlessly down on his shoulder. "Well, 'Hung wung wah HEEE!' it is. Let's give them a cheer for luck." Lifting his great voice, the Royal Discoverer for Oz, helped out by his two shipmates, sent the weird call booming back across the water.
An answering call came from the Island, and then, with a hiss and thud, a small glowing object fell on the deck. Fortunately the fire tongs were still handy and picking up the offending object before it could do any damage, Ato marched sternly off to the galley. Stopping long enough for another wave to the Island, which was growing smaller and smaller as theCrescent Moonsped away, Samuel hastened after his cook, jotting down hurried notes in his journal as to latitude and longitude as he ran along.
"There's something written on this piece of lava," announced Ato, who had dropped the smoking souvenir from Lavaland on the stove. Peering over his shoulder, Samuel could see queer raised symbols and signs on the sulphurous surface of the rock.
"There's something crawling on it, too," volunteered Roger, who was perched on the towel rack above the stove, and had a better view, "a golden frog or a lizard."
"Merciful mustard! What next?" groaned Ato.
"Why, this—this—" Samuel's voice quivered with excitement and disbelief, "this, Mates, is as fine a specimen of a Preoztoric Monster as a scientist could hope for; a real live salamander, a fire lizard, straight from the burning depths of yonder crater. Stars! Tar and Tarrybarrels! This is even better than the baby and will prove my point just as well."
"Does it have to live on my stove?" asked Ato ominously, as the Salamander slid merrily backward and forward over the red hot plates of the range. "Home on the range!" snickered Roger, winking at the Pirate.
"Just till I can fix up a hot box for it," apologized Samuel, "but don't fret, old Toff, it doesn't bite and if it falls on the floor, all you have to do is scoop it up and put it back before it goes out."
"Not only cook, mate and swab, but now I'm nursemaid to a fire lizard." Ato shuddered, and reaching for his tall cook's cap, jammed it down hard on his shiny bald head.
"You can keep it in an iron pot while you cook," suggested Roger practically, "and after all, King dear, it's the only Salamander in captivity. Here, Sally, here Sal—this way, my little crater critter." Tilting the pot on the back of the stove, Roger was delighted to find the Salamander quite willing to answer to her new name. As she slid adventurously into the small cooking vessel, the Read Bird quickly righted the pot and clapped on the cover. "There," he exclaimed with a satisfied nod at his Master, "how's that?"
"Well, I suppose I'll have to put up with it," sighed Ato resignedly. "But in some ways pirating was easier than discovering, Sammy. At least, we never kept the captives on the stove. And NOW—" Ato waved his arms determinedly. "Clear out, both of you. It's three bells and time to stir up the food. And just take that pesky rock along with you. I've meat to broil!"
"When this cools, maybe I'll be able to figure out the language," exulted Samuel, removing the offending piece of lava with a cake turner. "All in all, a most interesting and profitable day, eh, Roger? An island, a visit from a fire baby, and a real live Preoztoric monster."
"Not bad," agreed the Read Bird, transferring himself to the Captain's shoulder. Depositing the piece of lava on an iron hatchway to cool, Samuel strode happily along the deck, stopping to light the red lamps on the port and the green lights on the starboard. Roger himself had just hung a white light in the rigging when a lusty call from the galley sent him flying off to help Ato serve the dinner.
"What could be cozier than a life at sea?" he reflected, winging jauntily into the main cabin with a dish of roast potatoes. Ato puffed cheerfully behind, bearing a huge tray. On the tray a steaming tureen of soup, a pot of coffee, seven dishes of vegetables and two of smoking meats sent up tantalizing whiffs and fragrances. Later when the Read Bird brought in the pudding, he and Sammy soberly agreed it was the tastiest feast Ato had served on the voyage.
The main cabin of theCrescent Moon, with its red leather couches under the ports, its easy chairs and tables clamped to the floor to keep them from shifting, with its ship's clock and ship's lanterns, was a cheery place to be when the day's work was ended. There was a huge fireplace for foggy evenings and every visible space on the wall was covered with pictures of pirate ships, ancient sailing vessels and rough maps and charts of strange and curious islands. While Samuel and Ato sat at their ease to finish off the pudding, Roger took his upon the wing, darting in and out between bites to assure himself that all was well on deck. There was a tiny crescent moon sliding down the sky, and the slap of waves against the side of the ship and the wind creaking in the cordage made as pleasant a tune as the heart of a seaman could wish for.
"Now what could be better than this?" said Samuel Salt exhaling a cloud of smoke from his pipe and stretching his legs luxuriously under the long table. "A tidy ship, a good wind and the whole wide sea to sail on."
"Suits me!" grinned Ato scraping up the last of the hard sauce and settling back with a grunt of sheer content. "Did you mark up our volcano on the chart Sammy, and what are we calling it Mates? An island must have a name you know."
"I know." Samuel blew another cloud of smoke upward and cleared his throat. "If it's agreeable to all hands and Roger, I'd like to call it Salamander Island after Sally."
"Why not? There's a Sally in our galley and a real nice gal is Sally," warbled Roger, settling on the back of Samuel's chair and wagging his head in time to the music.
"Sing like a bird, don't ye?" muttered Samuel striding over to the map of Oz and surrounding countries and oceans that covered the west wall.
"I AM a bird," screamed Roger fluttering up to his shoulder. "'Bout here she would lie, Master Salt, sixty leagues from Octagon Island."
As Roger talked on, making numerous suggestions, the Captain of theCrescent Moondrew with red chalk a small but effective picture of Salamander Island showing the volcano in action and the Lavaland Islanders grouped around the crater's top.
"Taken this day without a shot or the loss of a single man," printed Samuel in neat letters under his sketch.
"Don't forget, you shot the baby," twittered Roger raising a claw argumentatively.
"Oh, we can't put in small details like that," sniffed the Captain stepping back to admire his drawing.
"Seems odd for us to be discovering and taking possession of islands for a country we know so little about," mused Ato, looking thoughtfully at the map on the west wall. "Why, we've only been to Oz once ourselves."
"Yes, but everybody knows about Oz," Samuel said putting the red chalk back in the table drawer. "Our business is with wild new countries that have never been seen or heard of. Besides, anyone can see that Oz is overpopulated and needs new territories and sea ports. And since Ozma is so clever at governing, and her subjects all so happy and prosperous, the more people who come under her rule the better!"
"Aye! Aye!" agreed Roger, peering with deep interest at the map. Small wonder the Read Bird was interested, for Oz is one of the most exciting and enchanting countries ever discovered. There are four large Kingdoms in Ozma's realm, the Northern Land of the Gillikens, the Eastern Empire of the Winkies, the Southern Country of the Quadlings and the Western domain of the Munchkins. Each forms a triangle in the oblong of Oz. The Emerald City which is the capital, is in the exact center where all these triangles meet. Each of these Kingdoms has its own ruler, but all four are under the sovereign rule and control of Ozma, the small but powerful fairy who lives in the Emerald City. On all sides, Oz is surrounded by a deadly desert and beyond the desert lie the independent Kingdoms of No-Land, Low Land, Ix, Play, Ev, the Dominions of the Gnome King, and many other strange and important Principalities. These countries form a narrow rim around the desert, and beyond this rim lies the Nonestic Ocean itself, stretching in all directions and to no one knows what far and undiscovered shores. Each of the four Kingdoms in Oz shown on Samuel's map was so dotted with smaller Kingdoms, cities, towns, villages and the holdings of ancient Knights and Barons, there was scarcely room for another castle. With young Princes growing up on every hand, Roger could well sympathize with the need of Ozma for more territory.
"Won't the Ozians have too long a way to come before they reach these new islands and countries we discover?" inquired the Read Bird, after staring at the map for some moments in silence.
"Not a bit of it!" Samuel dismissed Roger's objection with a snap of his fingers. "I hear the Wizard of Oz is working on a new fleet of airships, that will make crossing the desert and Nonestic a real lark and enable new settlers to reach these outlying islands in a day or less. So all we have to do is to proceed with our discovering. Ozma will attend to the rest. This volcanic island may not be as useful as some of the others, but one can never tell. How about picking up a few islands for you, Ato, as we ride along?" The former pirate dropped his arm affectionately round the shoulders of his Royal Cook.
"No, thanks," grunted Ato, rolling cheerfully to his feet. "One's enough. What would I want with any more islands? Why I'd never get off on a voyage. But pick yourself a couple, Sammy, why don't you?"
"Who, ME?" Samuel Salt shook his head emphatically. "A ship's all I can handle and I wouldn't trade you two buckets of sea water for all the islands in the Nonestic. One ship and one crew's enough for me, and since you're my crew, you'd better turn in—we've had a hard day and another one coming. I'll take first watch, Cooky, here, shall have middle, and you Roger can be the early bird on morning watch."
"Ho hum! I'm right sleepy at that," admitted Ato, starting to heap up plates. "Give me a lift with the dishes, Roger, will you?"
"Oh, throw 'em overboard," directed Samuel Salt recklessly. "There's plenty more in the hold and I'm agin all extry labor."
"Hurray!" screamed Roger seizing the coffee pot and winging merrily through an open port.
"Avast! Avast there! Not my coffee pot!" pleaded Ato, making after the Read Bird with surprising speed considering his tonnage. "Stop you great Gossoon! How many times must I tell you I'm boss of the galley?" Catching Roger by the leg just as he reached the rail, Ato snatched back his precious coffee pot and hugged it protectively to his bosom. "Why I've just got this contraption broken in proper," he panted indignantly. "A coffee pot's like a pipe, it's got to be sweetened and seasoned. Heave over the plates and cups if you like," he went on, relenting a bit as he noted the keen disappointment on Roger's face, "but save the soup tureen. I'll wager there's not another that size on the ship and the Captain must have his soup. What a splendid pot of soup THIS would make," murmured Ato looking dreamily down at the sea, "a bit salty, perhaps, but full of snapper and porgy and tender young sea shoots. Why that foam's as near to whipping cream as anything I've ever gazed on."
Tearing himself reluctantly from the appetizing sight, the Royal Cook padded off to put the galley in order for the night, while Roger with loud squalls of glee dropped the plates and saucers one by one over the side. In this way the dishes were soon done, the cabin tidy and shipshape, and by eight bells the King and the Read Bird were sleeping soundly and Samuel Salt had the ship to himself.
First, he made a complete round of all decks, glanced at the barometer and compass, and furled the fore and mizzen topsails. Then he took the cooled piece of lava down to the hold. The strange signs and symbols had hardened, and labeling it carefully with the date and name of Salamander Island, Samuel placed it on his shelves for further study. Then returning to the main deck he set a portable ship's lantern on a coil of rope and settled down to fix a hot box for the Salamander. Selecting from the material he had brought from the hold an iron box with a glass lid, he covered the bottom with sand and pebbles. Knowing salamanders require hot water as well as hot air, he placed a tiny flat pan of water in the corner of the box to serve as a swimming pool. A burning glass in the day time and an alcohol lamp under the box at night would supply the necessary heat, and setting the whole contrivance on an iron tray in the cabin, Samuel went joyfully off to fetch the fire lizard.
The Salamander was still in the pot on the back of the stove, and giving her an experimental poke with his finger, Samuel was astonished to find her quite cool to the touch. This was surprising considering she could only live in the most intense heat. But without stopping to figure it out, the Captain picked her up between thumb and forefinger, carried her to the cabin and popped her into the iron box. He had already lighted the lamp under the box so that everything was red hot and cozy for her. The small captive seemed to appreciate her new quarters, wriggling over the hot pebbles and sand, then splashing gaily in her swimming pool.
"Quite a girl!" sighed the pirate, resting his elbows on the table and gazing happily down at the first prize of the voyage. "You're going to be great company for me, Sally." As if she really understood, the lizard gave a squeak and tapped loudly on the glass lid with her tail. The pipe almost dropped from Samuel's mouth at Sally's strange behavior, and lifting the lid he peered inquisitively down at her. Before he had a chance to clap it shut, the Salamander hurled herself upward, landing smartly on the bridge of the Pirate's nose, from where she slid cleverly into the pipe itself.
"Well I'll be scuppered!" gasped the Royal Explorer looking slightly cross-eyed down the bridge of his nose as Sally coiled up comfortably in the bowl of the pipe. "The little rascal wants to keep me company, and so she shall, bless my boots, so she shall! Why this is plumb cute and cozy and something to write in my journal." Puffing away delightedly Samuel stepped out of the cabin and all during his watch, the little Salamander rested contentedly in his pipe. Sometimes she peered up inquisitively over the edge, but mostly she lay quietly on the smoking tobacco, looking with calm interest at the sky and the rippling sails over her head. Not only did she keep his pipe from going out, but never had it drawn so well. So, filled with a vast wonder and content, Samuel strode up and down the deck. Not till midnight when he roused Ato could he bear to put Sally back in her box and only then, after he had promised her another ride in the morning. But when morning came, Samuel had no time to keep his promise, for while Ato was cooking breakfast and the Captain himself catching forty winks in the cabin, the raucous voice of the Read Bird came whistling down from the foremast.
"Land Ho! Land! More Land. Island tuluward, Captain!"
"All hands on deck! Come on! Comeon!" yelled Samuel Salt running past Ato's galley dragging on his clothes as he ran. "There's an island tuluward, you lubber."
"Well, 'tain't a flying island is it?" Ato stuck a very red face out the door. "I guess it'll stay there till I turn the bacon, won't it? No cause to burn the biscuits just 'cause an island's sighted is there?" But in spite of his pretended indifference, the ship's cook shoved all his pans on the back of the stove and hurried out on deck. "Rich and jungly, this one," he observed, resting his arms comfortably on the rail, "and from what I can see a good place to grow bananas and whiskers. Look, Sammy, even the trees have beards."
"Moss," muttered Samuel Salt striding over to the wheel. "Fly ashore Roger and see whether there's a good place to put in."
Twittering with importance and curiosity, the Read Bird flung himself into the air. In ten minutes he was back to report a wide river cutting through the center of the island from end to end. The foliage was so dense, Roger had not been able to discover any signs of habitation, but after viewing the mouth of the river through his glasses, the Captain decided to take a chance, and sail through.
"Now, Sammy, let's not do anything hasty," begged the ship's cook lifting his floury hands in warning, "nor try to conquer a country on an empty stomach. This may be an important island, so after we eat, let us put on our proper clothes and plant the Oz flags with dignity and decorum."
"Spoken like a King and a seaman," approved Samuel Salt, "and if my eye does not deceive me, I'll have the ship in the river as soon as you have the coffee in the pot. Then we'll ride in with the tide, put on our discovering togs and proceed with the business of the day."
So while Ato returned to his galley and the Read Bird to his post in the foremast, Samuel swung theCrescent Moonin toward the island. Each felt a slight twinge of uneasiness as the ship left the open sea and began to slip rapidly up the broad new and unnavigated jungle stream. Vine covered trees pressed close to the banks, and birds and monkeys in the branches kept up an incessant screech and chattering. A flock of greedy pelicans flopped comically after the ship and as they penetrated deeper and deeper into the jungle it almost seemed as if they were entering some dim green land of goblins.
"A fine target we make for anyone who cares to shoot at us," moaned Ato, as he waddled backward and forward between the cabin and galley with cups and covered dishes. "Ugh!"
"Yes, I wouldn't be surprised to feel an arrow in my back any minute now," assented Samuel Salt brightly, "though I must say I'd much prefer a fried mackerel in my stomach."
"Come on then," shuddered Ato, in no wise cheered by Samuel's remarks, "breakfast's ready and we may as well eat before we die."
"Now never say die!" roared the Royal Explorer of Oz, touching the buttons to furl sail and yelling to Roger to let go the anchor. "Never say die—say dee—dee-scovery is our aim and purpose, Mates. Dee-scovery with ahi de di dide di dough!" sang Samuel vociferously to keep up his own spirits. Finally with the ship motionless amidstream the three shipmates sat down to breakfast. Their nerves were tense and their ears cocked for signs of approaching natives, but except for the noise of the birds and monkeys and the occasional splash of some river creature, there was no sound to indicate the ship had been sighted by the islanders.
"Nobody's home," concluded Samuel, finishing off his third cup of coffee at one toss and hurrying off to his cabin. Roger, having only Oz flags and no shore togs to bother him, generously offered to clear away the dishes and amused himself by throwing scraps and the rest of the biscuits to the pelicans. He had just tossed over the last biscuit when Ato appeared in a grand satin coat and breeches, long cape and three-cornered hat. The elegance of his apparel was somewhat marred by the bread board he had belted round his middle and the bread knife and blunderbuss he had stuck through his sash.
"Ha, hah!" roared Samuel Salt, giving the bread board a resounding whack. "Something to stay your stomach, EH?" Samuel himself was as stylishly attired as the King, his three-cornered hat at a dashing angle. Under his arm he had two pairs of tremendously long stilts. "No need for us to get all grubby lowering the boat. We'll wade ashore this time," explained Samuel as Ato's eyes grew round and questioning. "Easy as walking on crutches; just watch me, Mate."
Now Samuel, it must be confessed, had been practicing stilting on Elbow Island, so naturally it came easy to him. First he put his stilts over the side, then vaulting the rail, he seized the tops and settled his feet in the cross pieces at one jump and started walking calmly up and down gleefully calling for Ato to follow. It all looked so simple, Ato handed the basket of lunch he had packed to Roger, and seizing his stilts began anxiously feeling around for the river bottom. Satisfied that it was solid, he climbed boldly up on the rail.
"That's it! That's it!" applauded Samuel. "Now grab the tops, Mate, and start coming."
"Chee tree—tee—hee—!" screeched the monkeys derisively as Ato clung precariously to the rail with one hand and maneuvered his stilts with the other. By some miracle of balance the fat King actually managed to mount and hold on to his perilous walking sticks. Then with a long quivering breath he heaved one forward. He was about to take another step when a desperate scream from Roger almost caused him to topple over backwards.
"'Gators!" croaked the Read Bird, beating his wings together violently. "Watch out for those 'gators."
"Why bother him with gaiters at a time like this? They look perfectly all right to me." Samuel Salt frowned up at Roger.
"Nothisgaiters, river 'gators, alligators, CROCODILES!" wailed Roger, beginning to fly in agonized circles. "Crocodiles and WORSE."
Samuel, eyeing what he had supposed to be a pile of rotten logs on the river bank, saw dozens of the slimy saurians slide into the water and come savagely toward them.
"Back to the ship! Back to the ship!" babbled the Read Bird, clutching Ato's collar with a frantic claw. But the King was too frightened to move. The sight of the bleary-eyed river monsters made him tremble so violently his stilts twittered and swayed like trees in a hurricane. He could not for the life of him take a step in either direction. With a loud cry Samuel started to help him, but a crocodile reached Ato first. Its jaws closed with a vicious snap on the King's left stilt and with a heart-rending shriek Ato plunged into the slimy river.
"There, there! Now you've done it!" sobbed Roger. "Fed the kindest soul who ever served a ship's company to a parcel of crocodiles!" Dropping the Oz flags and lunch basket, he made an unsuccessful grab for his Master's arm. But even if he had caught it, Ato's great weight would have pulled them both under, and now only a circle of bubbles showed where the luckless explorer had disappeared. Firing his blunderbuss to frighten off the rest of the crocodiles, Samuel, striking left and right with his stilts, propelled himself forward, while Roger pecked futilely at the monster that had felled his Master. But just as Samuel, after boldly driving off the dragon-like creature, prepared to dive in and save Ato or perish with him, a dripping head appeared above the water.
"Thank you. Thank you very much!" murmured a mild voice. "I haven't had as nice a present as this since I was an itty bitty baby. Now what can I do for YOU?" Neither Samuel nor Roger could speak a word, for where the King had gone down, a tremendous hippopotamus was coming up, the lunch basket hanging carelessly out of a corner of its mouth. For a wild moment Samuel thought his enormous friend and shipmate had been transformed by some witchcraft into this ponderous beast. He even imagined he caught an expression of Ato's in the monster's moist eye. But this gloomy idea was soon dispelled, for, as the creature rose higher out of the water, they could see a desperate and bedraggled figure sprawled across its slippery back.
"Ahoy, Mate!" choked Samuel, his heart thumping like a trip hammer. "Is it really you? Are you safe, then?"
"Safe!" quavered the half-drowned and mud-covered King of the Octagon Isle. "SAFE?" He peered dizzily at the churning crocodiles just a boat's length away, and his voice cracked and broke. "I never felt safer in my life. What am I riding, a whale or an elephant?"
"A river horse," explained the hippopotamus, looking kindly over her shoulder. Then, as the crocodiles began to hiss and roar and come rolling toward them, she gave a ferocious bellow and snort. "Away with you! Be off, you river scum!" she squealed viciously. "These travelers are MINE. Shoot your fire stick, Master Long Legs. That will fix them." For a moment the crocodiles held their post, then, as Samuel fired his gun repeatedly, they began to slide sullenly across the river to the opposite bank. "Hold fast, Master Short Legs, and I'll soon have you ashore," wheezed the hippopotamus, speaking out of the corner of her mouth so as not to drop the picnic basket.
"Yes, yes, but what then?" shuddered Ato, trying to get a finger hold on the monster's slippery neck.
"Why, then, we'll both tell our stories, and after that I'll eat," snorted the river horse, paddling joyously toward the bank.
"You'll EAT!" groaned Ato, ready to roll back into the river. "Oh, my father and mother and maiden aunts!"
"Did you hear that?" Dropping to Samuel's shoulder, Roger whispered fiercely. "Quick now, a shot behind the ear, before it gets any further. Are you going to do nothing while this ravenous monster carries off my poor Master?"
"Sh-hh!" warned Samuel, holding up his finger. "These creatures do not eat meat or men. They're herbivorous, my lad, and this one seems uncommonly kind and friendly. But what puzzles me—" the Royal Explorer looked intently into the face of the Read Bird. "What puzzles me is to find this one talking our language. To my knowledge, only animals in Oz, a few in Ev and you on the Octagon Isle have the gift of speech. And I tell you, Mate, this is a valuable discovery, and a simply splendid specimen of a pachydermatous talking aquatic." Whether the last few words in this sentence or a stone in the river bottom tripped up the Captain, Roger never knew, but without any warning Samuel turned a sudden back somersault into the river, going under as completely as Ato had done.
"Ugh—gr—ugh!" he gurgled, coming up full of mud and disgust. "How did that happen?"
"Stilts!" sniffed Roger, whose wings had saved him from going down with Samuel. "A splendid way to get ashore, Master Salt, so neat and tidy. And a fine Discoverer you look now."
Sighing deeply, Samuel watched his stilts floating out of reach, then shaking his head violently to get the water out of his eyes, he swam thoughtfully after the hippopotamus. As he dragged himself up on the bank, a monkey swinging by its tail from the lower branches of a tree snatched his three-cornered hat and scittered all the way to the tree top, at which all the other monkeys let out shrill hoots of mocking merriment.
"Ah! The welcome committee!" sniffled Ato, rolling off the hippopotamus. "Well, Sammy, wherever it is, here we are and a nice mess you've made of the landing. Clothes ruined, weapons gone," (Ato felt his middle dejectedly for his bread knife and blunderbuss), then hitching up the bread board at his waist looked long and accusingly at the Leader of the Expedition.
"Now you mustn't mind a little mud," said the hippopotamus, setting down the picnic basket and gazing from one to the other with frank interest and curiosity. "Mud is beautiful and SO healthy."
"Not for me," frowned Samuel Salt, endeavoring to remove the thick green slime from his hair and ears with his damp silk handkerchief. "But I suppose we'll dry off in time and—"
"Proceed with the business of the day," finished Ato sarcastically, as he squeezed the water out of his silk pantaloons and coat tails. "But I hope you don't mind my saying that a seaman should stick to his boats, Samuel. If I had not fallen in with this kind and obliging hippopotamus, I'd have been a crocodile's lunch by this time."
"Oh, I'd have got you out somehow," muttered Samuel, smoothing back his hair sulkily. "And those stilts really saved your life. Suppose that animal had bitten your leg instead of your stilt? By the way, what's the name of this island, Mate?" Anxious to change the subject, Samuel turned to Ato's tremendous rescueress.
"Mate?" repeated the hippopotamus, wiggling her ears inquiringly, "What may that mean?"
"It is what a seaman calls his crew and his friends," explained Samuel, grinning in spite of himself.
"Seaman? Mate?" mused the hippopotamus in a rapt voice. "How cozy, how beautiful!" Overcome with emotion, the mighty monster leaned forward and lapped up the picnic basket, Oz flags, lunch and everything. "I shall remember this as long as I live," she assured them with a gulp as one of the flags went sideways down her throat. "Nikobo, Little Daughter of the Biggenlittle River People, bids you welcome to Patrippany Island."
"Little daughter!" exclaimed Ato in a smothered voice. "Ha, ha! Patrippany Island. Ho, ho! This is interesting. I knew there was a trip in it somewhere, a wet trip for us, eh, Samuel?"
"But what I don't understand," said the Royal Explorer of Oz, briskly massaging his beard with his handkerchief, "is how you happen to speak our language. Do all the creatures on this Island talk? I don't mean that monkey chatter above."
"No, none of the other creatures here speak the language of man," answered Nikobo solemnly. "I never knew I could speak it myself till five moons ago last Herb Day."
"Herb Day? Dear, dear and dear! How confusing it all grows," sighed Ato, emptying the water out of his hat which had somehow survived his river ducking. "Do you suppose she means Thursday? Roger! ROGER! Keep away from those monkeys. Do you wish to lose all your tail feathers?"
"Oh, it's all very simple," Nikobo rolled her eyes from side to side. "One day I eat herbs and that is Herb Day. One day I eat twigs and that is Twig Day, and one day I eat grass and that is Grass Day, and—"
"And one day you eat lunch baskets and Oz flags, and I suppose that makes it Flag Day," chuckled Roger, coming down from a little excursion in the tree tops. "She's swallowed the Oz flags, Skipper, and if that doesn't make her a citizen of Oz, I'll eat my feathers."
"Go ahead, if it will keep you any quieter," said Samuel Salt, who did not want this interesting conversation interrupted by Roger's nonsense. "So you only began to speak our language five moons ago last Herb Day? What made you do that?"
"A boy," confided Nikobo with a ponderous wag of her head.
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." Feeling in his pocket, Samuel pulled out a small note book and pencil, still damp but usable. "Was it a native boy?" he asked eagerly.
"No, no, certainly NOT." The hippopotamus panted a little at the very idea of such a thing. "The Leopard Men speak a strange roaring language I have never been able to make head or tail of. Besides, to speak to them would not be safe nor desirable. The Leopard Men have long tusks and spears and—"
"Leopard Men!" yelled Ato, flinging both arms round the trunk of a tree. "Oh! Oh! and OH! I wish we were safely back at pirating, Sammy. Here we are marooned on this miserable monkey island, inhabited by Leopard Men, surrounded by crocodiles and no way of getting back to the ship."
"You forget me," murmured the hippopotamus. Lumbering over to Ato, she gave him a gentle nudge with her moist pink snout. "Nikobo, Little Daughter of the Biggenlittle River People, will carry you anywhere you wish to go."
"Not yet, not yet," protested Samuel Salt as Ato made a clumsy attempt to mount the hippopotamus. "Why, we've only just come, Mate. We can't go without seeing these Leopard Men and this strange boy who speaks our language."
"Oh, CAN'T we?" Drawing in his breath, Ato made a flying leap at Nikobo, and this time managing an ear hold, pulled himself determinedly up on her moist, slippery back. "Goodbye, Samuel," said the King with a firm wave of his hand. "If you bring any Leopard Men back to theCrescent Moon, you can discover yourself another cook. No Leopard Men. Mind, now!"
"Oh, you needn't worry about that." The hippopotamus closed one eye and smiled knowingly to herself. Thoroughly annoyed by the desertion of Ato and the superior grin of the river horse, Samuel snatched a long rapier from his belt and glowered belligerently around him.
"Shiver my timbers! You think I'm not strong enough nor smart enough to fight these savages? HUWHERE are these Leopard Men?" roared the former Pirate in such a reverberating voice the monkeys fled silently to the tree tops, and even Roger put his head under his wing.
"Gone, all gone!" explained Nikobo as she started calmly down toward the river bank.
"You mean there are no Leopard Men on this Island now?" Looking with horror and aversion at the crocodile-infested river, Ato began tugging at Nikobo's ear. "Not so fast, my good creature! Wait a moment, my buxom lass! Perhaps I'll stay with Sammy after all."
"Well, just as you say." With scarcely a pause in her stride, the hippopotamus turned round and waddled amiably back to the strip of sand where Samuel Salt stood staring sternly into the jungle beyond.
"This is a great disappointment to me, Mates," sighed the Captain of theCrescent Moonmournfully wringing out the lace ruffles of his cuffs. "To have taken a Leopard Man back to the Court of Oz would have been an achievement worth the whole voyage."
"Now there's where we're different," murmured Ato, settling into a more comfortable position on the back of the river horse. "I myself would rather be disappointed than speared by a savage, and I don't care how many Leopard Men I miss seeing. Rather be spared than speared, ha, ha! Tee, HEE, HEE!" Ato chuckled from sheer relief.
"Shall I fly back to the ship for some more Oz flags?" Roger flapped his wings inquiringly. "If the Leopard Men are really gone, then Patrippany Island is ours without a spear thrown."
"That's so," mused Samuel Salt, thrusting his rapier back into its sheath and beginning to show a little interest in the island itself. "Fly ahead, my Hearty."
"And bring back some ship's biscuit," called Ato. "All this diving and mud turtling has left me weak as a fish. And while we're waiting for Roger, perhaps Nikobo will tell us a little about these Islanders. Were they little or big, black or brown?"
"Yellow," answered the hippopotamus gravely. "Big and yellow with brown spots all over their hides. They had brown hair, mane and eyes, and rough snarling voices. They used neither huts nor shelter, but roamed like the animals through the jungle, hunting, fishing and fighting. They had hollowed out logs for use in the water and last Twig Day every Leopard man, woman and child climbed into the long boats and paddled out to sea. Shortly afterward—" Nikobo's eyes grew round and shiny at the mere memory, "shortly afterward a great hurricane arose and my family and I, watching from the mouth of the Biggenlittle River, saw the boats and men swept under the waves. Some of the logs floated back to the islands, but the Leopard Men and women we never saw again."
"Not even ONE?" exclaimed Samuel peevishly.
"Not even one," Nikobo assured him solemnly. "And to tell the truth," the hippopotamus flashed a sudden and expansive sigh, "it is much better and safer without them. The one problem is the boy, and I've been feeding him myself."
"Oh, yes, the boy who speaks our language," mused Samuel, still lost in bitter reflections of the Leopard Men he should never see face to face.
"What've you been feeding him?" asked Ato, suspiciously. "How would a hippopotamus know what to feed a boy?"
"I do the best I can," said Nikobo in a hurt voice. "Every day I collect fresh roots, herbs and grasses for him."
"Roots, herbs—grasses! Merciful Mustard! A boy's being fed on roots, herbs and grasses, Sammy. Did you ever hear of anything more ridiculous in your life?"
"No worse than spinach," mumbled Samuel Salt. "But SAY, look here—" The Royal Explorer of Oz raised his arm imperiously. "What is a small boy doing on this island? How'd he get here in the first place, and where is he now?"
"Follow me," directed Nikobo in a dignified voice. "Follow me and you shall know all." As Roger appeared at that moment with the Oz flags and biscuits, the little procession immediately got under way, Ato calmly riding behind.
On her many visits to the strange boy, Nikobo had worn a path through the tangled growth of vines and bush. Tenuous trees dropped their branches over this path and stretched out their gnarled roots to trip the unwary traveler. Several times Roger let out hoarse squeals as a huge snake coiled along the limb of a tree, thrust out its ugly head. Gaudy flowers from the vines that closely entwined every tree, filled the air with a damp sleepy fragrance, and Samuel Salt, darting his eyes left and right, held his blunderbuss ready for any savage beast that might spring upon them. But the jungle creatures, thinking the Leopard Men had returned, slunk further and further into the green shadows and without any mishaps or encounters, Nikobo brought the explorers to a small clearing in the whispering tangle of green.
Here they were suddenly confronted by a stoutly built cage, its bars constructed of saplings set scarcely an inch apart. On a heap of grass in a corner of the cage crouched the lonely figure of a little boy clothed in a single leopard skin.
"Well, goosewing my topsails!" panted Samuel Salt, deceived at first by the leopard skin. "A little wild man, a Leopard boy, as I'm a salt sea sailor!"
"It's nothing of the kind," Nikobo contradicted him sharply. "Can't you see he is white and has teeth as straight as your own instead of tusks? He's not like the Leopard Men at all."
"But who put him in this cage? What's he done, and what's he doing here?" Slipping off Nikobo's back, Ato pressed his face close to the bars of the strange prison.