"Udge! Budge!Go to Mudge!Udger budger,I'm a Mudger!"
"Udge! Budge!Go to Mudge!Udger budger,I'm a Mudger!"
"Udge! Budge!
Go to Mudge!
Udger budger,
I'm a Mudger!"
No sooner had he done so than Mustafa sprang into the air and all the Mudgers began roaring with fright and fury.
"He's discovered the secret of Mudge," shrilled Mustafa, pulling out a handful of his whiskers. "How dare you use our own privately patented, particular, magic transformation formula? Now you'll be wishing all sorts of people into the country!"
"He's a wizard!" screamed Panapee. "I told you he was a wizard! Twist his tail; off with his head; throw him to the lions!"
"Wait, let me explain," pleaded the clown, but his voice was drowned in the angry hubbub. Then all at once a gong at the back of the tent rang thunderously. Mustafa, who had already seized the tail of Notta's disguise, paused. So did the others. On a platform at the other end of the tent stood Tazzywaller, thumping the gong with all his might. The noise was so terrible that even Notta and Bob, frightened though they were, had to cover their ears. Not until Mustafa ran to the little platform and commanded Tazzywaller to stop, did the awful clangor cease.
"What do you mean by this impertinence?" panted Mustafa, seizing Tazzy's arm.
"It was the only way I could get your attention," said Tazzywaller calmly. "I have something important to say. Aboutlions," he finished meaningly.
"Well, what is it?" puffed Mustafa eagerly. "Be quiet!" he called to the Mudgers who were again closing in on Notta and Bob.
"That person," cried Tazzywaller, with a wave toward Notta, "is undoubtedly a wizard. Instead of snatching off his head, which will be of no use to us, even as an ornament, why not compel him to serve us? He is a wizard, or he would not be in Mudge. Well then, let him go to the Emerald City and bring back the Cowardly Lion!"
Mustafa stared at his former chamberlain in amazed admiration, then flinging both arms about his neck, hugged him almost to suffocation. Next instant he had clapped his hands and issued a dozen orders to as many little servitors. At the first the shouting Mudgers retired backward from the tent, at the second Panapee also retired, leaving Bob and Notta alone with Tazzy and their Majesties. Outside, the marching and countermarching of the blue guard could be heard as they surrounded the royal tent.
"The rules aren't working at all well, Bob," breathed Notta anxiously. Bob said nothing. He just clutched the clown's hand a little tighter and stared at Mustafa in open-eyed wonder.
"Now then," chuckled the monarch of Mudge, "now then, my handsome wizard, what do you call yourself?"
"Notta," began the clown, resolved to be polite as long as possible, "Notta Bit More."
"Notta!" coughed Mustafa, opening his eyes wide. "That doesn't sound like a name. It sounds like—"
"A joke," put in the clown, with one of his broad smiles, "a little joke on me. You see it is meant to be funny."
"Well, it doesn't amuse me at all." Mustafa stared solemnly into the clown's face. "Why are you so white? And why is his hair,"—Mustafa jerked his thumb at Bob—"so red?"
"For the same reason that your Majesty's whiskers are blue," replied Notta promptly. Mustafa did not quite like this answer.
"Your business?" he inquired next. "I suppose you deny being a wizard?"
"Oh, absolutely!" said Notta. "But my business, if your Majesty insists, is fun. I make people laugh and thus prolong their lives."
"A funny business," sniffed Mustafa, with a puzzled look at Tazzywaller. "Well, you will have to make me laugh to prolong your life, and the only thing that makes me laugh is lions!"
"Lions!" Notta wrinkled up his forehead. "I'm afraid lions are not in my line at all. You see I didn't work in that part of the show."
"You pretended to be a lion," interrupted Mustafa sternly, "and you have proved yourself a wizard. So unless you can capture the Cowardly Lion of Oz and bring him back to Mudge, you shall be thrown into the lion reservation, whereby nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lions will tear you to bits. Do you agree?"
"Tear me to bits!" gulped the clown. "My father often said I'd go to the dogs, but he never dreamed I'd be thrown to the lions. Say, is this Cowardly Lion very fierce?"
Instead of answering, Mustafa handed him Panapee's lion book, saying, "You may read that while I make preparations for your journey."
Smiling almost pleasantly, the Monarch of Mudge linked his arm through Tazzywaller's and disappeared behind the blue curtain at the back of the tent. Mixtuppa also drew in her head and Bob Up and Notta were left alone.
"Isn't it time to run?" asked the little boy anxiously. He had never in his whole life heard so much about lions. But Notta put his fingers to his lips and shook his head.
"No use," whispered the clown. "The tent's surrounded. We must pretend, my boy—pretend we are going to hunt this Cowardly Lion. Then, once out of the country, we'll take the first train home."
He sat down on a huge cushion and began turning the pages of the lion book, Bob Up looking curiously over his shoulder. They were both quite interested in a description of the Cowardly Lion and Princess Dorothy, when Mustafa came whirling back. He was followed by a small Mudger servant, with three white packets upon his head.
"Here," said Mustafa, with a wave at the packets, "are provisions for three days. Travel straight north until you reach a yellow brick road and follow that road till you come to the Emerald City. There you will find the Cowardly Lion."
"But, see here," began Notta, who had been doing some quick thinking, "why does not your Majesty transport this lion to Mudge by the magic verse?"
"For a wizard," sniffed Mustafa, "you are astonishingly stupid. That verse only transports people, and one must touch the person."
"Well then, why not send some of your valiant tribesmen to capture him? I, I am a stranger here and have never captured a lion in my life."
"Because it is written in the book of Mudge that any Mudger leaving his country will lose his head," droned Mixtuppa, thrusting her turban through the curtain. "And if you take my advice you will go at once. All this arguing keeps me awake, and when I'm awake I lose my temper, and when I lose my temper other folks lose their heads, and when that—"
"I'll go," sighed Notta, seeing that no sense at all was to be had from this ridiculous pair. He stepped out of his lion disguise and, rolling it up into a small bundle, thrust it into his trouser leg. Next he slung the three packets around his neck and, taking Bob's hand, declared himself ready to go.
Rubbing his hands gleefully, Mustafa led them out of the royal tent, through a double line of the Mudger Guard, to the great iron enclosure that surrounded his kingdom. The lions were snarling and quarreling among themselves, but as soon as Mustafa came in sight they began calling him names and screaming for their dinner.
"Be quiet, my little pets," chuckled the Monarch of Mudge good-naturedly. "This is not dinner, only a silly wizard."
"Give us the boy, then," roared the largest of the lions, licking his chops.
"Give us the boy," roared all the other lions immediately. Notta and Bob Up stared at Mustafa's pets in horror and disbelief, for neither had in their lives ever heard a lion talk before. Bob, especially, was terribly dismayed by the personal nature of their conversation. But, while they were still trembling, two heavy doors were slipped through the bars, about five feet apart, making a safe and narrow passageway through the enclosure. The gates on the inside and outside of the enclosure were unlocked and Mustafa waved imperiously for them to go. This Notta and Bob lost no time in doing.
"Remember," called Mustafa warningly, as they scurried through, "if you run away instead of hunting for the Cowardly Lion, I shall know of it. When a messenger disobeys me, my magic ring turns black. If it turns black I shall know you are deceiving me, and in that case"—Mustafa held up his thumb so that Notta could see his ring—"in that case I shall take it off, and if I take it off you will both turn as blue as my whiskers and find yourselves unable to move until you decide to do as I have commanded. Good-bye, my chalk-faced wizard, a pleasant journey and a swift return!"
Notta was too shocked and astounded to answer. Grasping Bob Up more firmly than before, he rushed out the iron gate and off through a field of blue daisies, until the dreadful roaring of the lions of Mudge could no longer be heard.
"And this," puffed the clown at last, sinking down under a great tree, "this is what comes of trying to be funny. Never try to be funny, my boy."
"No, sir," answered Bob, staring anxiously over his shoulder to see whether any of Mustafa's lions had followed them.
Two Cowardly Lion Hunters
For a time Notta and Bob Up sat quietly under the tree, each busy with his own thoughts. The clown was repeating to himself Mustafa's warning, and trying to recall some mention of such a country as Mudge in the geographies he had studied. The little boy was thinking that at this time yesterday he was calmly eating oatmeal and apple sauce, with nothing more exciting ahead than lessons and bed. Perhaps he was asleep, and dreaming about lions and blue whiskered Mudgers. He touched Notta experimentally, to see if he would disappear or turn suddenly to the harsh-voiced matron of the orphan asylum. But the clown only turned a neat somersault, walked a few paces on his hands and sat down again.
"Bob," asked the clown, tilting his cap forward so he could scratch his ear, "do I look like a lion hunter?"
Bob Up shook his head slowly and almost laughed. Something inside tickled tremendously, but he remembered, just in time, that laughing was against the rules of the orphan home, so he swallowed instead.
"We're both lion hunters," observed the clown reflectively, "and that being the case we had better start hunting at once, for it would never do for the lions to find us first. It's like a game of hide-and-seek, Bob. So long as we are hunting him, this Cowardly Lion is it. But if we stop hunting, then we'reit. In a game of hide-and-seek with a lion, it's your hide or his. Being it, means being et, hide-and-seek and all!"
Notta glanced slyly at Bob out of the corner of his eye to see whether he was going to smile. Bob was looking uncertainly at the forest, stretching so darkly ahead, and thinking he would just as soon not play this game of hide-and-seek at all. But as Notta had already started toward the forest, there was nothing for him to do but follow. The short, spring afternoon was drawing to a close and a round silver moon showed faintly over the tree tops.
"Things might be a lot better, and again they might be a lot worse," mused Notta, as they walked along under the trees. "Why, if you were in the home, you would probably be eating corn meal mush for supper and—"
"What are we going to have for supper, Notta?" asked Bob, looking up at the clown inquiringly.
"Well, hurrah!" shouted the clown, turning a rapid cartwheel. "You're getting on, my lad; called me Notta as natural as a brother. As to supper, that depends on Mustafa. Let's see what the old rascal has given us."
On a flat stump that happened to be near, Notta opened one of the packets and set out a regular feast. There were dozens of small meat sandwiches, there were ripe figs, a jar of honey, and a little jug full of blue tea, which they found most refreshing. After they had feasted, Notta carefully packed up the rest and, feeling more cheerful, the two cowardly lion hunters stepped along through the forest.
"I can't make out where we are, at all," said the clown presently, "but in a country where lions talk, and verses fling one about, it's safer to obey orders, don't you think so, Bob Up, my boy? So long as we travel towards this Emerald City we are obeying orders and are safe from Mustafa's ring. When we get there is time enough to worry about the Cowardly Lion. Now take an Emerald City, Bob; did you ever hear of such a place? Why, it's as strange as blue whiskers and cowardly lions. Everything's strange. In fact, I think we've fallen into one of these fairy tales. I always had a kind of notion they were true!"
"But the Cowardly Lion liked Dorothy," burst out Bob quite unexpectedly, "so maybe he will like us." He had been turning slowly over in his mind the few facts he had managed to read in the lion book.
"Why, bless my heart!" cried the clown, looking down at Bob admiringly, "so he did, and furthermore, didn't that book say Dorothy was from Kansas?"
Bob Up nodded solemnly.
"Well, then everything's clear as candy!" Notta turned a somersault from pure relief. "We'll go straight to this Emerald City and tell our troubles to Dorothy, and when she learns that we are from the United States, surely she will help us to get back, and if we could take a couple of talking lions along our fortune would be made. Why, even Barnum and Bailey never showed a talking lion."
Notta was so enthusiastic by this time that he fairly bounced along. But Bob was growing sleepy. He found it harder and harder to keep pace with Notta's long legs, and finally fell sprawling over the roots of a large tree. Notta had him up in a minute.
"Lights out?" chuckled the clown, touching Bob's eyelids gently. "Well, then, let's go to bed. It's too dark to go on, anyway."
"I don't see any beds," sighed Bob, leaning wearily against the clown's knee.
"Neither do I," admitted the clown, "but we'll just pretend we're flowers, and sleep on the ground." In a minute the clown had raked a pile of leaves together under the tree and placed Bob carefully in the center.
"Are there any bears in this wood?" asked Bob, looking around doubtfully. It was quite dark now, and the moonlight sifting through the leaves made queer shapes out of all the shadows.
"This isn't a bear forest," said Notta positively. "I think it's a fairy forest, Bob, and that reminds me of a song I used to know."
Reaching over, Notta pulled the little boy into his big, comfortable lap, and with a twinkle in his eyes he put his back against the tree and began to sing:
"Oh the moon's a balloonOn a silvery string,And the Sandman holds on to it tight!'Tis a ticklish task—What would happen, I ask,If he let it fly off some fine night?"But he knows that there areSeven points to a star,That might puncture the moon; and a steepleWould finish it quite!How we'd miss it at night,For the moon means so much to some people!"
"Oh the moon's a balloonOn a silvery string,And the Sandman holds on to it tight!'Tis a ticklish task—What would happen, I ask,If he let it fly off some fine night?
"Oh the moon's a balloon
On a silvery string,
And the Sandman holds on to it tight!
'Tis a ticklish task—
What would happen, I ask,
If he let it fly off some fine night?
"But he knows that there areSeven points to a star,That might puncture the moon; and a steepleWould finish it quite!How we'd miss it at night,For the moon means so much to some people!"
"But he knows that there are
Seven points to a star,
That might puncture the moon; and a steeple
Would finish it quite!
How we'd miss it at night,
For the moon means so much to some people!"
There was another verse to the song, and Bob, leaning drowsily against Notta's chest, thought he had never heard anything so perfectly beautiful. He had never sat on a real lap before, nor had a song sung especially for him. So the little boy snuggled down contentedly, his eyes straying to the moon, just visible above the tree tops. Why, there was a string on it, a bright silver string, and a little, old man was holding to the end, just as Notta had sung!
"Fast asleep," muttered the clown, holding Bob a bit tighter. And so he was fast asleep and dreaming of the sandman's balloon. Notta meant to keep awake, for he was not so sure there were no bears in this dark forest, but the day's experiences had so tired him that, in a short time, he was sound asleep himself.
No sooner had Notta's eyes closed, than a little, bent fairyman came tip-toeing from behind the tree. He held his lantern close to Notta's face.
A little bent fairyman held his lantern close to Notta's face
A little bent fairyman held his lantern close to Notta's face
A little bent fairyman held his lantern close to Notta's face
"Such a beautiful voice," sighed the little fellow to himself. "It would be a shame to have it swallowed up by one of the forest creatures. And this must be a child." He held his lantern close to Bob's red head. He watched them for a while in silence, then pulling his silvery beard thoughtfully, set the little red lantern beside them and pattered off into the darkness.
Notta had been right. It was a fairy forest. Every forest in the wonderful land of Oz is a fairy forest, inhabited by strange creatures and peoples. But the clown's song had so pleased the old fairyman that he determined to protect the two strangers from all harm, and though many bears and other beasts came snuffling past, they dared not approach, for the red lantern told them plainly it was "Claws off." So grumbling and growling, they went searching further for their dinners.
The little lantern disappeared with the first ray of sunshine and, quite unconscious of the dangers they had slept through, Notta and Bob awoke almost at the same minute.
"Well," yawned Notta, winking the only eye he had open, "we're still here, I see." He rolled over and over and turned a dozen handsprings to get the kinks out of his back. "I've often wondered what made flowers so stiff and now I know. It's sleeping on the ground. I'm glad I'm not a flower, aren't you, Bob?"
Bob nodded and hopped up quite briskly. There was a fine breeze blowing, and the day was so sunny and bright that he felt ready for anything, and just to look at Notta made him feel happy.
"Do you think we'll find the Emerald City to-day?" he asked, skipping along beside the clown, who was making for a little brook just ahead.
"Well, according to Mustafa, it ought to take three days," answered Notta. "But Mustafa was never in a circus, and anyone who has been in a circus can travel three times as fast as other folks, so I shouldn't be surprised at all if we were to be eating our supper in this Emerald City to-night. If I had only wished old Billy along he could have carried us in style."
"The elephant?" exclaimed Bob, with round eyes. The clown nodded and, kneeling down on the edge of the brook, began to splash water on his face and hands. Bob did the same, and had just taken off his shoes in order to paddle properly, when a cry from Notta made him pause.
"Now I've done it," wailed the clown dolefully, jumping up and down.
"What?" asked Bob curiously.
"Washed my face." Notta pointed to his face, which was quite red and shiny from the cold water. "And I haven't any powder! Have you any powder, Bob? Oh, my! Cold pie! It's hard enough to be funny with a white face, but without one I simply could not joke at all. Whatever's to become of us? I'm no clown this way."
Bob was terribly distressed, for if Notta couldn't be funny nothing would seem the same. He felt hastily in his pockets—not that he expected to find anything, but because he didn't know what else to do—and in the last one his hand closed on a bag of candy the old gentleman had bought for him at the circus. It was squashed and sticky from being slept on, but mechanically Bob handed it over.
"Why, it's marshmallows!" cried Notta in delight. "Bob, you have saved the honor of my profession. We must preserve these carefully." He patted his face with a small sugary marshmallow and surveyed his reflection with pleased satisfaction. "I feel funny already," he announced cheerfully. Bob was much relieved and Notta did look more natural with his face whitened.
"Now for breakfast," said the clown, licking the sugar off his lips. It was great fun, Bob thought, washing in a brook and having breakfast under the trees. After finishing off some more of Mustafa's sandwiches, they started quite briskly through the forest.
"I think the rules are going to work better to-day," chuckled the clown, "I will use disguise number three. Number three's a bear, Bob Up. Now, here's our program, first disguise, then politeness, then joke and run. We shall get along famously." Notta sprang into the air and clicked his heels together for very light-heartedness.
Bob was thinking to himself that Notta's last disguise had not helped them much, but he was too polite to mention such a thing, and as there seemed to be no danger in sight he trotted along contentedly, stopping now and then to pick the bright blue flowers that grew everywhere under the trees. The forest was not so large as it had seemed in the night, and in an hour they had come to the end of it and started down a narrow lane.
"Well, we're still going north." Notta looked complacently at a large sign post that stood at the beginning of the lane.
"North Road to D," said the sign briefly.
"Wonder what D stands for?"
"Because it can't sit down." The sign snapped out the sentence so suddenly that Notta tripped and fell over a stone, and Bob simply gasped with astonishment.
"They didn't paint any line for it to sit on," explained the sign post patiently.
"Where does this lane go to?" gulped the clown, edging over and taking Bob's hand.
"It doesn't go any place. It stays where it is."
"See here," puffed the clown in exasperation, "I never heard of a talking sign post, but so long as youcantalk, you might give us a few directions."
"I only give one direction and that's north. You can take it, or leave it."
Notta tried the post with a few more questions, but it just sniffed sulkily, and seeing no more was to be got out of it, the two hurried on.
"Maybe D stands for Dorothy," said Bob, after a little silence.
"Maybe," mused the clown, looking uneasily over his shoulder, "but this is a strange country, and we'll have to take it as we find it. Hello, what's this?"
A sudden turn brought them up short, for the lane was closed off by a gray wall, so high one could not possibly climb over and so wide that it would take days to walk 'round. And in the wall were seven heavy oak doors.
"This is the Kingdom of Doorways," announced a large sign, posted half way up the walls. "Be sure to use the right door."
"But which is the right door?" gasped the clown, half expecting the sign to answer him.
"There are seven," exclaimed Bob, who had been counting them up on his fingers.
"And only one of them right," choked the clown anxiously. The two stood perfectly still, gazing in fascination at the seven doors.
"Which is the right door?" repeated Notta, scratching his ear doubtfully.
The Seven Doors
As Bob and Notta came closer, they noticed that each door had a brass plate nailed on the center panel, engraved with various names and instructions. "Keep out!" directed one shortly.
"Well, that surely cannot be the right one," exclaimed the clown, moving hastily to the next.
"Don't waken the baby," advised the second door. So Notta and Bob tiptoed carefully past.
"This way to the Dorms. No admittance till February," said the third door.
"And it's only May now. We cannot possibly wait that long." Notta took off his hat and made the door a polite bow. "Besides," he explained to Bob, who was slowly spelling out the words on the fourth door, "Dorms stands for dormitories and dormitories stand for sleep. Who wants to sleep?"
"King Theodore the Third," said the fourth door.
"Whew!" whistled Notta. "Another King! Come away, Bob Up, I don't trust these king chaps at all."
"The Queen," announced the plate on the fifth door proudly, "Adora the First. No one without a title need apply."
"Well, we may not be earls, but we're early," chuckled Notta, winking at Bob.
They hurried curiously to the sixth door. "Push!" said the plate.
"But would that be wise?" ruminated Notta, rubbing his forehead anxiously. "Let's try the last door, Bob."
"Don't try me too much or I'll fall on your head," wheezed a disagreeable voice. "Haven't you anything better to do than go trying poor hard-working doors?"
After a talking sign, Notta and Bob should not have been surprised. But they were—simply astonished—and for a moment could do nothing but stare.
"This door answers itself," said the plate on the seventh and strangest of all the strange doorways.
"No bread, no ice, no milk; and if you're selling brushes you might as well go at once," continued the door sulkily. "We don't need any."
"We're not!" interrupted Notta, in a slightly choked voice. "We just want to get in."
"What for?" asked the door stubbornly. "Is it a door matter? Have you cards of admission?"
"We're hunting Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion," volunteered Bob timidly.
"A likely story," sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to the other. "But what could one expect of people with curly ears."
"We have not curly ears," cried Bob, stamping his foot indignantly.
"Don't argue," said the door stiffly. "How's your temper—long or short?" It rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at Notta.
"What's that got to do with our getting in?" asked the clown impatiently.
"Short!" muttered the door triumphantly to itself. "No, you'd better stay out, I think. Her highness is very slammish to-day, and the last time I let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. That's the trouble around here—when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the door. Sometimes I almost wish I were a sofa cushion."
"I wish you were, myself," frowned the clown, "for then I'd toss you out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. Are you going to let us in or not?"
"Not!" snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. "And I don't care a slam what you wish."
"Bob," said Notta, turning his back on the door, "did you ever hear anything like that? Let's try Number Two. I'd rather risk wakening a baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself."
"I'm not afraid of babies," said Bob following manfully. The knob of Number Two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush that both Notta and Bob fell through. At the first glimpse of that baby, Notta clapped his hand over Bob's mouth and, rising with quaking knees, pulled him toward the door. For you see it was a baby dragon—a snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. It gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and Notta and Bob sat down in a weak heap.
"Baby," choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon smoke. "Well, if that's the baby, preserve me from the rest of the family!"
"Will it come after us?" shuddered Bob, in a frightened whisper.
"How did you like our little doorter?" The seventh door looked sideways at the two and chuckled wickedly. "Still want to get in?"
"Certainly," said Notta, turning a dozen cartwheels to relieve his nervousness, "but not that way." He winked reassuringly at Bob. "Before I do anything else I must put on my disguise. No wonder things are going so badly."
"Don't you think you look silly enough?" wheezed the door rudely, as the clown drew out disguise number three. Notta paid no attention to this remark but, turning his back, struggled hastily into number three. Even Bob felt reassured, for this time Notta was disguised as a bear—a huge and terrible-looking bear. Grasping Bob's hand he rushed at the door marked "Push," with such a ferocious growl that Number seven shook like a leaf.
"Oh, my hinges," chattered the door, "that went through me like a sword." But immediately afterward it broke into derisive laughter. For no sooner had Notta and Bob pushed Number Six, than Number Six pushed back, and so hard that the two went flying into a clump of blueberry bushes.
"That's the door way to treat 'em, brother," roared Seven, and Notta picked himself up and straightened his bear skin.
"Now some people," muttered the clown, helping Bobbie out of the brushes and shaking his paw at the door, "some people would be discouraged. But no more side shows, Bob. Let's try the Queen's door, if we're to be thrown out it might as well be done royally."
There was a silver bell on the Queen's door and Notta rang it quickly, before either of them had time to change their minds. For a moment nothing at all happened. Then the door knob disappeared. But horrors! Next instant it shot out, seized the two in a terrible clutch, and dragged them through the keyhole. Yes, it really did!
Not only had they been pulled through the keyhole, but theyfeltas if they had been pulled through the keyhole. Even Notta had nothing to say. He just lay on his back and panted. Whether the keyhole had stretched as they went through or whether they had shrunk, I cannot say. I only know they went through somehow and were on the other side of the Queen's door.
"Cards, please!" A doorman in a handsome blue satin uniform was leaning over them. "Are you deaf?" he asked angrily. "Are you dumb?" He thumped Notta on the head with his silver card plate.
"Neither," groaned the clown. "What do you want?"
"Your titles," snapped the doorman, looking nervously over his shoulder. As he did so, a vase, three books and a pair of fire tongs struck the wall just above his head.
"Oh, the Queen is in a fury, whatever shall I do next," he mumbled to himself, dropping the silver plate and then picking it up again.
"Let's run," said Bob, pressing close to Notta. But the clown had already recovered his spirits and was fumbling in his pockets under his bear skin.
"There you are." He calmly dropped two large buttons on the doorman's plate. "Just lead us to her Majesty at once."
"Someone's been at the jam again," quavered the doorman without looking at the buttons. "Oh, the Queen's in a fury—a fury—a fury!" At each fury he gave a little hop.
"You said that before," observed Notta, looking around curiously.
"A fury! A fury! A fury!" persisted the doorman, continuing to hop, and as each hop carried him farther away he was soon out of sight.
"Wait!" cried Notta, lumbering after him, for his disguise made him clumsy.
"Wait!" cried Bob Up, running after Notta.
Down the long hall they both ran, and, turning suddenly, found themselves in a large, impressive throne room. The entire wall space was taken up by doors of every size and shape imaginable and before each door stood a doorman similar to the one they had already seen. In the center of the room were two magnificent thrones. On the first sat a large, handsome Queen and on the second a small nervous King. The King's crown was entirely made of china door knobs, mounted on gold bars, while the Queen's was made of many gold door keys. The Queen was looking at the buttons as Bob and Notta entered.
"Buttons!" hissed her Majesty contemptuously. "What do buttons stand for?"
"Us, your Highness!" replied Notta, bowing as low as his disguise would permit, and drawing Bob forward.
The King twiddled his thumbs and recited:
"B stands for buttonsAnd B stands for bears,B stands for buttons and boy—Bring two chairs!"
"B stands for buttonsAnd B stands for bears,B stands for buttons and boy—Bring two chairs!"
"B stands for buttons
And B stands for bears,
B stands for buttons and boy—
Bring two chairs!"
"Nonsense!" thundered the Queen. The doormen hastily brought two chairs and Bob and Notta sat down.
"I think he'll appreciate rule two," whispered the clown. "He's quite polite himself."
"Theodore," said the Queen, her face beginning to work curiously, "Theodore, I believe they stole the jam. Bears and little boys are always stealing jam. And what right have they here without titles? Where are their titles?"
"Adorable Queen," said the clown, half rising and pointing with his paw to the buttons, "those are the badges of our order. We belong, your Highness, to the ancient and honorable Order of Bachelors, and are at present lords of all we survey."
"Do you believe that?" The Queen turned and squarely faced the King.
"No!" said Theodore emphatically, turning to squarely face the Queen. "How could I, when there is no such place. Where is this All-we-survey?" he asked sternly. "Is it in Oz?"
Notta was so surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken that he sat down with a thump.
"He's a dorm!" screeched the Queen, her voice rising higher and higher. "He's a dorm—that's what he is!"
"What's a dorm?" gasped Bob, so surprised that he forgot to be frightened.
"A dorm is an animal that lies dormant in cold weather, like a bear or a 'possum, my dear Buttons," explained the King, shaking his finger at Bob, "but he's got no business here now."
"I see it all," panted the Queen beginning to wave her arms. "He didn't come here to sleep but to steal! Theodore, he has stolen the jam!"
The King wagged his head from side to side as he repeated this verse:
"He's come without reasonAnd quite out of season;I agree with you, Ma'am,He has stolen the jam!"
"He's come without reasonAnd quite out of season;I agree with you, Ma'am,He has stolen the jam!"
"He's come without reason
And quite out of season;
I agree with you, Ma'am,
He has stolen the jam!"
"Put out your tongue!" commanded the Queen, waving a bunch of keys at Notta. This Notta was unable to do, for his bear head had no tongue.
"You see!" shrilled the Queen triumphantly, "he is afraid to put out his tongue. Slammer," she called, turning to a huge doorman, who stood behind the throne, "what is the punishment for door jam stealing?"
The doorman whisked a little book from his pocket and, after flipping over a number of pages, read in a high nasal voice, "Any one caught stealing the Queen's door jam shall have his knob twisted and every door in the kingdom slammed on him besides."
"How fearfully unhealthy," muttered Notta, rising to protest his innocence. But the Queen waved him back, and banging her keys on the arm of her throne called loudly, "Slammer, carry out the sentence!"
Slammer immediately blew a sharp whistle and every doorman in the room sprang toward the trembling Notta.
"Stop!" cried Bob, doubling up his fists. "He didn't steal your old jam. 'Tisn't a bear at all, it's Notta!"
"Notta?" gasped the King, rubbing his watery blue eyes, and leaning forward.
"Not a bear!" puffed the clown, hastily snatching off his bear head, just as the first of the doormen grasped him by the shoulders.
The Escape From Doorways
"What do you mean by standing there and telling us you're not a bear?" puffed the King, as soon as he had got his breath.
"It was a mistake, I see that now," said the clown, hastily stepping out of his disguise. "If your Highness will overlook it this once, it will never occur again."
"Shall we overlook it?" asked the King, turning to squarely face the Queen.
Adora was staring in amazement at the clown, and being a very curious Queen she decided not to have the intruder slammed till she found out all about him. "We will overlook it for the present," she answered haughtily, waving the doormen back to their places.
The King smiled and chanted this couplet:
"She'll overlook it for the present;Be seated, please, and both look pleasant!"
"She'll overlook it for the present;Be seated, please, and both look pleasant!"
"She'll overlook it for the present;
Be seated, please, and both look pleasant!"
Bob sat down with a sigh of relief. What queer beings this King and Queen were! Everything was queer, but for some reason or other Bob rather enjoyed it. King Theodore was not nearly so fierce as Mustafa, and his singular habit of breaking into verse simply fascinated the little boy.
"This brings us to rule three," confided Notta in a hoarse whisper. "Joke and run, you know!"
"When is a door not a door?" asked the Queen, pointing her finger suddenly at the clown.
"When it's adorable, like your Majesty," replied Notta with a grin. "Or when it's a jar of door jam, like the one your Highness has just lost!"
Before Adora had recovered from her surprise, Notta pointed his finger at the King and shouted, "Why is a tomato like a book?"
"Because it grows on a vine," answered King Theodore sulkily, "and you needn't scream at me like that!"
"Wrong!" said Notta triumphantly. "A tomato's like a book because it's red through."
"Do you believe that?" asked the King, turning to squarely face the Queen.
"No!" said her Majesty shortly, "I don't."
"But a book couldn't grow on a vine," objected Bob Up mildly.
"My books do," insisted Theodore, pursing up his lips.
"Where were you brought up?" asked the Queen, staring at Bob severely.
"You needn't answer if you don't want to," whispered the King, as Bob squirmed uneasily around in his chair. "The main thing is, what brought you up here?
"If it's a story, rise and speak.What do you want? Whom do you seek?"
"If it's a story, rise and speak.What do you want? Whom do you seek?"
"If it's a story, rise and speak.
What do you want? Whom do you seek?"
"Itisa story," said Notta, springing up quickly, and glad of this opportunity to tell their strange adventures and to ask a few questions about the Emerald City. "A long story, your Highness," continued Notta. In as few words as possible he told of his former life in the circus, of their flight to Mudge, of Mustafa's determination to have them capture the Cowardly Lion.
As Notta paused for breath, the King said, "Shall we let them pass through Doorways, my love?" Instead of answering the Queen leaned over and whispered in Theodore's ear.
"Her Highness wishes to be amused," announced the King, straightening up. "You said in this circus it your business to make people laugh. Well, if you can make us laugh you may continue your journey. You may begin now and you may have three trials."
The King folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back vastly pleased with himself. Notta's forehead wrinkled anxiously, for Queen Adora looked as if she had never laughed in her life. But with a wink at Bob the clown began. First he let out an ear splitting screech that so alarmed the King his crown fell off. Then he turned a complete somersault, chair and all, ran across the room on his hands and cartwheeled back so fast one could not have told whether he was a person or a pinwheel. Next he bent double, seized his ankles with his hands and jumped in this singular position entirely over Bob, finishing with a neat bow before the Queen's throne.
"Do you think that's funny?" puffed the Queen, turning to squarely face the King, who was mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief.
"No—no!" stuttered Theodore, in a slightly cracked voice. "It quite upset me, my love. Slammer, where's my crown?" Slammer recovered the King's crown and then both their Majesties stared solemnly at Notta. The clown stared back, a puzzled expression on his round jolly face. Then, dragging a huge handkerchief from his pocket, he whirled it over his hand and instantly it tied itself into a foolish rag baby, which the clown clasped to his bosom, crooning:
"I love my baby, 'deed I do,Indeed, indeed I do!He has no hair upon his head,But neither, Sir, have you!"But his will grow, it will, I know,As soon as he is big,But yours will never grow—and soYou'd better buy a wig!"
"I love my baby, 'deed I do,Indeed, indeed I do!He has no hair upon his head,But neither, Sir, have you!
"I love my baby, 'deed I do,
Indeed, indeed I do!
He has no hair upon his head,
But neither, Sir, have you!
"But his will grow, it will, I know,As soon as he is big,But yours will never grow—and soYou'd better buy a wig!"
"But his will grow, it will, I know,
As soon as he is big,
But yours will never grow—and so
You'd better buy a wig!"
"Wh—at!" screamed King Theodore furiously, and Notta, dropping the handkerchief baby, noticed for the first time that the King's head was entirely bald. Bob Up was holding himself together and smiling into his collar.
"Shocking!" coughed Adora, looking at the clown through her eye glasses.
"I was singing about Slammer," gulped Notta, noting in an instant that the chief doorman was bald too. "Now just let me tell you a little joke. There was once a triangular pig, who could dance a triangular jig, and—"
"Do you believe that?" shrilled King Theodore, again turning to face his Queen.
"No," snapped the Queen, shutting her lips very tight. "How could I?"
"Then, if the clouds rolled away, would they be mist?" roared Notta, before they could continue their disagreeing. He bounced four feet into the air and pointed playfully at the King.
"I wouldn't miss 'em," replied the King sullenly. "Do you thinkthat'sfunny?" Again he turned to the Queen, who shook her head emphatically.
"Well, I think it's funny!" said Bob, jumping out of his chair. He looked indignantly from the King to the Queen.
"Then why don't you laugh?" asked the King accusingly. Poor Bob couldn't explain that laughing was a hard matter for an orphan, so he sat down rather suddenly, while Notta began looking all around as if he were hunting something. He searched on each step of the King's throne, then he looked into his Majesty's lap and, finally, running around to the back peered under Theodore's collar.
"What's the matter?" asked his Majesty irritably. "What are you looking for now?"
"My joke," sighed the clown, "I'm looking for my poor little joke. It was lost on you. When I asked, 'If the clouds rolled away, would they be mist,' you should have said it's according to the way you spell 'em—see?"
"No," said Theodore, sternly, "I don't,