"Why not cut it off?" inquired Prince Pompadore, with some difficulty controlling his chuckles.
"What? Cut off my beautiful whiskers? Why, why, I'd rather lose my head," moaned the Soldier with a horrified shudder. "How would I look? How would I fight? Oh! Oh! This is ridiculous!" Burying his face in his napkin, Ozma's distracted army rushed violently from the room.
"Red-iculous, if you ask me," observed the Scarecrow in his droll voice.
"No, no, it's MAGIC!" muttered the Wizard, stepping briskly down from his chair. "Wait, I must consult my book of red magic and portents."
"And I'll go with you," offered Jinnicky, rolling quickly out of his cushioned seat. "You know RED magic is my specialty." So, arm in arm, the Wizard of Oz and the Wizard of Ev bustled away together.
"Well, I can tell you what it means without consulting any books," said the Scarecrow as Ozma, looking rather troubled, again took her place and motioned for the others to do the same. "It is a warning," declared the Scarecrow, raising his arm stiffly. "Someone is coming to beard us in our den (pardon such an informal reference to your castle, my dear,)" he made an apologetic little bow to Ozma and then continued seriously, "a danger from without threatens the Kingdom of Oz."
"Who would dare threaten the sovereignty of our country?" demanded the Yellow Knight, brandishing his sword.
"What's up? What's up?" neighed Highboy, elevating himself so suddenly he cracked his head against the ceiling.
"You should know, being so high," chuckled the Scarecrow, who could not resist a joke even when he was most serious. "But calm yourself, my good horse, you are not in danger yet." Danger! The short, ugly word dropped like a bomb into that gay and carefree assemblage. Dorothy, with a little pang of dismay, saw the Cowardly Lion creeping under the table, and feeling in her pocket for her handkerchief drew out instead one of the Wizard's wishing pills. He had given it to her so she could visit the corn ear palace of the Scarecrow the following week and do it by simply wishing herself there instead of making the journey. Dorothy fingered the pill thoughtfully for a minute or two, then with a sudden quick motion popped the small tablet into her mouth.
"Whatever happens, help me to save Ozma and Oz," murmured Dorothy, and swallowing the pill, she looked sharply around the room for further signs of warning or disaster.
At first, everything seemed as usual. Then, turning to ask the Tin Woodman a question, Dorothy was annoyed to discover that his chair was pushed back and he was nowhere in sight.
"Oh, he's probably helping the Wizard," decided Dorothy, and had no sooner come to this comforting conclusion before she gave a second start of alarm. Glinda, the Good Sorceress, was no longer in her seat at the foot of the table, and running her eye hurriedly down the glittering board, Dorothy saw five more empty places. Pressing a finger to her forehead, Dorothy tried to remember who had been sitting in the five deserted chairs. Surely Joe King and Queen Hyacinth had been there between Bettsy Bobbin and Trot, while Prince Philador, Queen Orin and King Cheeriobed had been directly opposite.
"Good Gillikens!" gasped the little girl, jumping quickly to her feet. "The rulers of all four Oz countries are gone and Highboy's gone, too." And strangely enough, nobody seemed to have missed them. Instead, they were listening with broad smiles and appreciatively tapping toes to the loud and hilarious singing of the Patch Work Girl. Scraps, thinking it a shame to let a mere change of whiskers spoil a good party, was enlivening the company with her newest and most comical rhymes. So loud was her voice and the applause of the banqueters, Dorothy found it impossible to make herself heard, so, running around to the back of the Scarecrow's chair, she tugged him anxiously by the arm. "Scarecrow! Scarecrow!" whispered Dorothy hoarsely, "Where are the Four Rulers of Oz, and whatever can be keeping the Wizard so long?" Tearing his gaze reluctantly from the Patch Work Girl, the Scarecrow looked dreamily over his shoulder.
"WHAT WIZARD?" he inquired blankly.
"THE Wizard, OUR Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz." Dorothy stamped her foot and almost shouted with surprise and vexation.
"Never heard of him," declared the Scarecrow, smiling blandly down at her. "Now, why not sit quietly down and listen to Scraps? She's never been funnier. Ha! Ha! Ha! Never funnier!" Dorothy was so stunned and dumbfounded by the Scarecrow's statement about the Wizard, she opened and closed her mouth several times without saying anything.
"Mercy, I'd better tell Ozma about this," she thought distractedly, and swinging round abruptly she scurried along back of the diners till she came to the head of the table. "Oh, Ozma!" panted the little girl breathlessly—then stopped short. There was no one in Ozma's great dragon armed chair of state. The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompadore, who for the last course were in the seats of honor beside the little Queen, leaned unconcernedly across her empty place, engaged in a long, earnest argument about horses. They looked up in surprise as Dorothy, her crown by this time very much on the side, bounced suddenly between them. "Where's Ozma?" demanded the little girl, thumping her fist sharply on the table.
"Ozma?" The Yellow Knight and Prince Pompa exchanged an uneasy glance. "Who is Ozma?" asked Prince Pompadore curiously.
"Oh! Oh, I think you all are perfectly horrid. Stop joking! Stop teasing me!" cried Dorothy, and as both Princes in frank amazement jumped up to try to comfort her, she rushed angrily from the room. As she fled along the green corridor she could still hear Scraps singing and the shouts and cheers of her listeners. "This is terrible—terrible!" wailed Dorothy, and running blindly down the long hall she burst through the swinging doors of the Wizard's laboratory. What she had expected to find Dorothy hardly knew. Really, she was hoping to see Ozma and the four other rulers grouped around the Wizard's green table. But only a blank suffocating silence answered her frantic call for the Wizard. Frightened into silence herself, Dorothy tiptoed from one end to the other of the long, curiously appointed apartment, peering into cupboards, under sofas and back of screens. Where was the Red Jinn? Where was the Little Wizard of Oz? Not here certainly. Not in the Banquet Hall. But the THRONE ROOM! THERE she would find all of her missing friends conferring with Ozma over the threatened danger to the realm. With a little gasp of relief, she darted across the corridor into the vast and magnificent Hall of Justice where Ozma received visitors, settled disputes, and carried on all the important business of governing.
They were not in the sumptuous presence chamber, but at least the throne was not empty. No—no, indeed! Dorothy looked once, rubbed her eyes—looked again, and then, giving a shrill scream of terror, flung both arms round one of the emerald studded pillars. An immense white horse was sitting on the throne of Oz. A great fat King was sitting on the horse, or rather, clinging desperately to his neck. Dorothy knew he was a King by the crown perched ridiculously on the side of his head. That crown seemed oddly familiar, and after another horrified glance Dorothy screamed again, for it was the splendid emerald circlet belonging to Ozma of Oz.
Her screams seemed to rouse the two occupants of the throne, who, to be perfectly frank, looked as dazed and stupefied as Dorothy herself.
"Go away!" sputtered the fat King, waving his arms irritably. "Go away, little girl, and don't bother me."
"And kindly bow as you leave," directed the White Horse, lifting one foot sternly. "You are looking at the Emperor of Oz and his Imperial Charger." Bowing more from astonishment than intention, Dorothy backed a few steps, then turned round and ran madly toward the Royal Banquet Hall.
"Here, give her water! Give her air! Stand back, everybody. Now, then, what's the matter, child?" The Scarecrow bent solicitously over the little girl who had rushed into the banquet hall screaming hysterically about disappearances and white horses and fallen breathlessly into the chair beside him. "Come, tell uncle all about it," begged the Scarecrow, patting Dorothy clumsily on the head.
"Tell you!" choked poor Dorothy, twisting her best handkerchief into a hard knot. "Do I have to tell you? Can't you see for yourselves that Ozma is missing, that the Wizard and Jinnicky are gone, that Glinda and the Tin Woodman, that the King and Queen of the Gillikens and the King and Queen of the Munchkins have vanished entirely! And yet, here you sit, singing and laughing as if nothing at all had happened. Can't you understand that something dreadful has happened to Ozma and that a big, fat, funny-looking man and a white horse are sitting on the throne of Oz?"
"Ozma, Ozma—who's she?" murmured the banqueters, looking vaguely at Dorothy and then at each other.
"She's feverish, that's what." Herby, the Medicine Man, leaned over to touch Dorothy expertly on the forehead. "I'd advise you to go upstairs and lie down, my dear."
"Yes, why don't you?" urged Bettsy Bobbin, coming over to put her arm around Dorothy's waist. "I'll go up with you and lend you my very best smelling salts."
"Lie down—with that big fat interloper on the throne of Oz!" wailed Dorothy. Squirming out of Bettsy's embrace, she started indignantly to her feet. "You must be crazy! Camy! Kabumpo! Snufferbux! Toto! You—you'll believe me, won't you?" Hurrying over to the second table, Dorothy looked pleadingly down the long board from the Hungry Tiger at the head to the Cowardly Lion at the foot.
"There, there," mumbled Kabumpo, lifting Dorothy up in his trunk. "Don't go on so, my dear, we all have these little funny spells. Here, sit up on my back so you'll have a good view of the Emperor when he arrives. Hi—there he comes now! Ray! Ray! Way for Skamperoo, Emperor of Oz!" Waving Dorothy in his trunk as if she had been a flag, Kabumpo plopped down on his knees and banged his big head three times on the polished floor. From her precarious position Dorothy saw the same fat imposter who had been in the throne room riding his white charger pompously into the Banquet Hall, the horse nodding to the left and right and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
Cheers, bows and a loud burst of applause and music made his entry so noisy Dorothy's angry protests and cries were entirely drowned out. Disgusted, confused and completely bewildered by the behavior of Ozma's subjects and her own best friends, Dorothy jerked away from Kabumpo and darted through a long French window into the garden. What could it mean? What could have happened? Had all her former memories of Oz been a dream? No, no! Violently Dorothy decided against such an idea. Rather was this fat emperor a dream—a maddening nightmare from which she would presently awaken. Leaning dizzily against a golden faun set near a crystal garden pool, Dorothy tried to find some reasonable explanation of the whole dreadful mixup. And here, several minutes later, Pigasus, the winged Pig, found her.
"Thought a little fly over the tree tops might help your head," grunted Pigasus, looking unhappily down his pink snout. "Nothing like a little fly for a headache, my girl!"
"My head's all right," answered Dorothy sullenly. "It's the rest of you who have lost your heads or your senses. How in Oz you could stand in there cheering that big, fat fraud, I'll never, never understand. Piggins, Piggins, dear—" Dorothy bent coaxingly over him—"surely you remember Ozma and the Wizard and Glinda." Instead of answering at once, Pigasus stared thoughtfully at his reflection in the pool.
"Suppose you sit on my back and then we can talk without being heard," he suggested brightly. "Up in the air we can air our views in safety, as it were."
"To tell the truth, I don't much care where I go now," sighed Dorothy, seating herself disconsolately on the pig's broad back.
"Hey Hey, we're bewitched and enchanted, I knew it!With you on my back, I can think and see through it!"
"Hey Hey, we're bewitched and enchanted, I knew it!With you on my back, I can think and see through it!"
"Hey Hey, we're bewitched and enchanted, I knew it!
With you on my back, I can think and see through it!"
squealed Pigasus, and flapping his huge wings he soared high over the flowering plum trees in Ozma's garden.
"Of course Ozma's Queen, not this big SkamperooThe Ruler of Oz and the whole royal crewHave been kidnapped—bewitched, or put out of the way—We'll fly off for help and we'll start right away."
"Of course Ozma's Queen, not this big SkamperooThe Ruler of Oz and the whole royal crewHave been kidnapped—bewitched, or put out of the way—We'll fly off for help and we'll start right away."
"Of course Ozma's Queen, not this big Skamperoo
The Ruler of Oz and the whole royal crew
Have been kidnapped—bewitched, or put out of the way—
We'll fly off for help and we'll start right away."
"Oh, Piggins!" Dorothy threw both arms round the pig's neck and almost wept for joy:
"Oh Pigasus to think you remember them, too,But where have they gone? What in Oz shall we do?""We'll find them, wherever they are they'll be found,But we'd best make our plans with our feet on the ground,"
"Oh Pigasus to think you remember them, too,But where have they gone? What in Oz shall we do?"
"Oh Pigasus to think you remember them, too,
But where have they gone? What in Oz shall we do?"
"We'll find them, wherever they are they'll be found,But we'd best make our plans with our feet on the ground,"
"We'll find them, wherever they are they'll be found,
But we'd best make our plans with our feet on the ground,"
muttered Pigasus, looking below for a likely spot to land. There was one disadvantage about Pigasus, though some did not regard it as such. Like the winged horse Pegasus, whoever caught him and rode on his back at once became a poet and unable to speak anything but rhymes. The poetic pig could not only tell what they were thinking, but he often spoke his own mind in verse as well. At times this grew terribly tiresome, but except for his jingles, a more cheerful loyal little fellow could not be found in the length or breadth of the country. Raised and bred by the Red Jinn, he had been given to the Duke of Dork. The Duke had given him to the Philadelphia boy, Peter, who in the course of a voyage with Samuel Salt, the Pirate, had captured the Duke's splendid castle boat. The capture had been quite a social and friendly affair and the Duke had traded Pigasus for a Bananny Goat. Peter had later brought the flying pig to the Emerald City, where he was petted and admired by the whole court.
Now, slanting down into a quiet grove, Pigasus came to a gentle stop and Dorothy tumbled jubilantly off his back.
"Oh, Pigasus, isn't it lucky you were in the Emerald City? Nobody else can remember Ozma or the others at all."
"And I only remembered them because you sat on my back," confessed the pig, twitching his nose thoughtfully. "It was my thought-reading gift that did the trick, and I am more than ever convinced that we are under some mischievous spell or enchantment. What I don't understand, my dear, is how you yourself escaped or chanced to remember things as they were. You know, before I came out here, it seemed perfectly right and natural for that roly poly pudding of an Emperor to be sitting at the head of the table. I knew no more about Ozma, or Glinda, or my former master Jinnicky than a new-born baby. By the way, Jinnicky's gone too, isn't he?"
"Yes," Dorothy shook her head sorrowfully, "and without him or the Wizard to help we'll have a hard time, I guess. What shall we do first, Piggins?"
"How about having a try at some of the Wizard's magic?" proposed the pink pig, daringly, "then we might look in Ozma's magic picture and ask it to show us where all of our missing friends are now."
"Now, why didn't I think of that myself?" cried Dorothy, and springing up she started off on a run.
"Wait! Wait!" grunted Pigasus, pattering breathlessly after her. "Remember, we must be very careful, my dear. No questions about Ozma, no remarks that will arouse the anger of this scalawag Emperor, or we'll both be clapped in a dungeon. We must pretend that we have forgotten, too, and get away quietly later tonight."
This seemed so sensible a plan, Dorothy readily agreed to it, and without attracting any attention at all they re-entered the palace and hurried immediately to Ozma's small sitting room. But if they expected the magic picture to solve their problem they were soon doomed to disappointment. The picture was gone from its accustomed place and the safe where Ozma kept her magic treasures and other valuables was wide open and quite empty. A quick search of the Wizard's laboratory proved equally discouraging. The Wizard's famous black bag was nowhere in sight, the little hanging closet where he stored his transformation powders and wishing pills was bare as the cupboard of old Mother Hubbard.
"Whoever planned this thought of everything," wheezed Pigasus, sitting heavily back on his haunches. "There is nothing here for us, Dorothy. If I were you, I'd get a few things together and we'll leave right away before anyone misses you." From the cheers, shouts, and hilarious singing coming from the banquet hall it seemed probable that the celebration would go on for hours. No one in that gay and foolish company even thought of or missed the little girl and the pink pig stealing so quietly through the dim halls of the palace.
"Ozma's palace," reflected Dorothy, looking resentfully over her shoulder; but now it seemed strange, alien and completely unfriendly. With a little shiver Dorothy drew her cloak more closely about her and stepped resolutely out into the night. Pigasus pattered on ahead, snorting a bit from sheer nervousness.
"Maybe we'd better fly," he grunted uneasily as Dorothy caught up with him. "It's safer and it's faster, and the faster we get away from here the better, I'm thinking."
"I've been thinking, too," answered Dorothy in a low voice, "perhaps only the people in the Emerald City are under this forgetting spell, Pigasus; perhaps if we fly to the Winkie Country, the Winkies will remember their Emperor, the Tin Woodman, and will help us raise an army so we can come back, conquer this old Skamperoo, and make him tell where he has hidden all the proper rulers of Oz and the other celebrities."
"That's the talk! That's the talk!" approved the pig, twinkling his little blue eyes joyfully. "Up with you, up with you, my girl, but remember, if you grow sleepy, let me know at once, so I can descend. If you fall asleep, you might fall off my back, and think how I'd feel then."
"Think howI'dfeel!" laughed Dorothy, her spirits lifting a bit at the pink pig's comical conversation and enthusiastic seconding of her plans. Seating herself carefully on his plump back, she quickly gave the signal to start. Then up soared Pigasus, over the palace garden, over the City Walls and away toward the East and the Yellow Lands of the Winkies.
"Oh, I believe everything is going to be all right," thought Dorothy, settling herself cozily between his wings.
"So do I," sniffed the pink pig, peering mischievously over his shoulder.
"I forgot you could readAll the thoughts, Goodness Gracious!Of those on your back,Do you mind it Pigasus?"
"I forgot you could readAll the thoughts, Goodness Gracious!Of those on your back,Do you mind it Pigasus?"
"I forgot you could read
All the thoughts, Goodness Gracious!
Of those on your back,
Do you mind it Pigasus?"
"Not when they're nice thoughts like yours," puffed the little pig in answer to Dorothy's surprised rhyme, and winking his eye jovially he zoomed like a small pink Zeppelin through the sky.
For several hours Pigasus flew without slackening his pace. Then, as several suspicious little yawns and sighs floated past his keen upstanding ears, he solemnly slanted downward. If he had chosen it on purpose he could not have found a more comfortable place for Dorothy to spend the night. They had already crossed the border and penetrated far into the Land of the Winkies, and were now landing in the quiet garden of a prosperous Winkie farmer. Set in the center of a dancing bed of yellow daffodils and tulips stood a small summer house, and with Dorothy rubbing her eyes sleepily, Pigasus trotted briskly into the rustic cottage. The door was invitingly open and the moon lit up its cozy one-roomed interior. Snorting with satisfaction, Pigasus pattered over to a broad couch piled high with yellow cushions and, rolling drowsily from his back, Dorothy burrowed contentedly into the center of them, falling asleep before the pig reached his own bed, a soft woolly rug on the hearth.
Pigasus slept lightly but well, and waking around six began to gaze rather anxiously at the round yellow farm buildings just visible from the door. The pink pig had had several unfortunate experiences with farmers. They had a way of looking at his plump body that seemed to reduce him at once to slices of bacon and sides of ham. One enterprising fellow had actually caught him and shut him up in an untidy pen. From this foolish prison Pigasus had escaped by spreading his wings and flying away, but the mere mention of farmer gave him the shivers. So now, moving impatiently about the little room, he waited for Dorothy to awaken, and as she continued to slumber on, he flew up over the mantel and swept a large yellow jug to the floor with his wing. The crash of the falling jar aroused Dorothy at once, and without stopping to explain, Pigasus suggested that they start off, and Dorothy, not even noticing the broken jug, readily consented.
"We'll probably find a much better place to have breakfast as we fly along," murmured Pigasus as Dorothy seated herself between his wings, holding her small basket of supplies in her lap.
"Would it do any harm to stop at the farmAnd enquire about Ozma and spread the alarm?"
"Would it do any harm to stop at the farmAnd enquire about Ozma and spread the alarm?"
"Would it do any harm to stop at the farm
And enquire about Ozma and spread the alarm?"
asked Dorothy, who had rather counted on a cheerful breakfast at the farm house.
"No, it wouldn't do any harm," answered Pigasus, rising in a straight line from the tulip bed and winging rapidly over the yellow fields and fences, "but neither would it do any good. Farmers never know what's happening or going to happen. I tell you, though, we'll ask the first person we meet."
"Who would we meet in the air but a bird?Now really Pigasus, that's simply absurd."
"Who would we meet in the air but a bird?Now really Pigasus, that's simply absurd."
"Who would we meet in the air but a bird?
Now really Pigasus, that's simply absurd."
"Some of the smartest people I know are birds," insisted the pig stoutly. "Take Roger, for instance, he knows more than most of us have forgotten. But look! A brook, a quiet wood! Stop! Listen! Look! For I crave food!" Making a swift downward curve, Pigasus landed cleverly by a rippling stream edged by some tall butternut trees. There were yellow raspberries along the bank and the berries, with some of the sandwiches Dorothy had brought with her, washed down by cool water from the brook made a splendid breakfast.
"I wonder whether they'll have the tableaux and pageant without me," sighed Dorothy, biting slowly into a sardine sandwich, "and how'll they manage the circus without you, Piggins, or the picnic supper without Ozma, or the magic and fireworks without the Wizard."
"They've probably forgotten all about today's doings," mumbled Pigasus, nosing busily among the leaves for ripe butternuts. "They'll probably spend the time bumping their noses on the floor when that fat Emperor comes waddling through the palace, and bending the right knee every time his white horse sneezes or coughs. Pah!" Choking with indignation, Pigasus began gobbling up so many butternuts, Dorothy feared he would never be able to fly or walk again.
"Let's stay on the ground for awhile," she proposed, eyeing him rather nervously as she packed the remaining sandwiches neatly back in the basket. "I believe there's a path beyond those trees. Maybe it leads to a town or village where we may meet someone who can tell us what we want to know."
"You don't expect to find out where Ozma and the others are hidden—straight off, do you?" Rubbing his back lazily against one of the butternut trees, Pigasus looked quizzically at his earnest little companion.
"No, I don't really expect that," said Dorothy, slipping the basket over her arm, "but it would be pretty nice if we met somebody who even remembered them, after all we've been through."
"I can hardly remember them myself unless you are sitting on my back," admitted the pink pig, trotting soberly along at her side. "This Emperor's magic must be strong medicine. Hello! Here comes a fisherman." Pigasus pricked up both ears and his wings. "Shall I question him or will you?"
Without bothering to answer, Dorothy ran eagerly toward the tall Winkie who was coming leisurely along the path. He carried a basket and had a fishing rod over his shoulder, and though his clothes were rough, Dorothy could tell by his manner and bearing that he was a person of some importance.
"Oh, please, Mr. Winkie," cried the little girl as he nodded politely and would have passed them without stopping, "could you tell us who is King here?"
"King?" answered the fisherman, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking kindly down at his small questioner. "Why, no one in particular, my dear, but of course, we Winkies and the inhabitants of the three other countries of Oz are governed from the capital by Emperor Skamperoo, a great fellow, our Emp, and have you seen his white horse?"
"Yes, I've seen it," said Dorothy, shutting her mouth rather grimly.
"But I thought Ozma was Queen?" wheezed Pigasus out of breath from running after Dorothy and too many butternuts.
"Ozma? What a curious name," mused the fisherman, looking pensively at the winged pig. "What gave you the idea that Ozma was our ruler? Perhaps you are strangers here?"
"Well, it would seem so," puffed Pigasus, sitting down and panting a little from sheer discouragement.
"Oh, you'll get used to us," laughed the fisherman with a breezy wave. "Fine country, this; sorry I can't show you 'round, but as I've promised my wife some fish for dinner, I'll have to be moving along. Good day to you. Good day, little girl!"
"Good day," echoed Dorothy in a rather flat voice, as the fisherman, lifting his hat, strode briskly into the wood. "You see!" she groaned. "Even here everyone is bewitched. Oh, Piggins, what'll we do? No one in Oz will help or believe us."
"Goose-tea and turnips! What if they don't!" Pigasus shook his head impatiently. "There are other countries, aren't there? Take Ev, for instance, or Rinkitink, or the Rose Kingdom. Why, there are lots of places whose rulers will remember Ozma, my poor old friend Jinnicky and the others. Come along, my girl, we've only just started.
"While people roar for the EmperorWe'll seek our rightful rulerFrom coast to coast from door to doorThough foes grow cruel and crueller!
"While people roar for the EmperorWe'll seek our rightful rulerFrom coast to coast from door to doorThough foes grow cruel and crueller!
"While people roar for the Emperor
We'll seek our rightful ruler
From coast to coast from door to door
Though foes grow cruel and crueller!
"What we need is some magic," finished Pigasus shrewdly. "Know a good place to look for some?"
"The Gnome King has plenty of magic," reflected Dorothy, leaning thoughtfully against a tree, "and Ozma and I really helped put him on the throne, so surely he'll help us."
"Well, maybe, but I don't set great store by gnomes. They're tricky, nevertheless we'll go to Ev and everywhere else till we restore this country to its proper rulers." Pigasus looked so impressive with his chest and cheeks puffed out with purpose, Dorothy gave him a quick hug. "Down with the Emperor!" snorted Pigasus, though almost suffocated by Dorothy's embrace. "And up with you, my patriotic young Princess."
"Now you make me feel like a real one. I'd almost forgotten I was a Princess," smiled Dorothy, climbing obediently on his back. "I believe everything will be better from now on."
"Well, it could be a lot worse," chuckled Pigasus, and flapping his wings in a business-like manner, he rose gracefully into the air and headed for the east. Rolling hills dotted with castles, villages and towns, valleys, farm lands and forests flashed in an ever-changing pleasant panorama below. At noon they came down beside the Winkie River, finished up the rest of the sandwiches for lunch, and then looked eagerly around for someone else to question. But the yellow-bearded ferryman who presently came into sight poling his old-fashioned raft across the turbulent river knew no more of Ozma and the other rulers of Oz than the fisherman. But he told them many long and boring stories of Skamperoo and his white horse Chalk. Dorothy and Pigasus had to make such an effort to listen politely they were relieved when he finally shoved off and began poling himself back to the other side.
"Have you any idea how far we've come?" asked Pigasus, rolling over and over in the cool grass as Dorothy made a face at the ferryman's back.
"Yes," said Dorothy, dropping full length beside him. "This river is in about the center of the Winkie Kingdom, so we are easily half way. We could reach the Deadly Desert by night, fly over tomorrow morning, and either go North to Ev or stop at the underground castle of the Gnome King. Even if Kalico won't lend us his army, he might lend us some magic."
"Speaking of armies, they must have whisked the soldier with the green whiskers off with the others. I don't remember seeing him after he left the banquet hall, do you? Which just goes to show this Skamperoo must be a stranger in Oz, for who else would have been afraid of our precious old army? Why, he wouldn't even tread on a caterpillar. By the way, has Kalico any magic that might tell us where to look for our vanished friends and rulers?"
"I'm not sure of that," Dorothy told him dubiously, "but he has a wizard, and Ruggedo who was King before Kalico had many magic treasures and powers. He could make floors and walls spin round and round, open yawning caverns at your feet or drop rocks down on your head without even moving."
"Sounds lovely," sniffed Pigasus, coming to his feet with a short grunt. "Say, haven't we trouble enough at home without going to look for it? Do you really propose to visit this tricky little metal monarch?"
"But Kalico is not nearly so bad as Ruggedo." Dorothy sat up and smoothed her dress earnestly.
"Well, just as you wish," Pigasus shrugged his wings, "with me, people are like eggs, either good, or bad. There's no such thing as a nearly good egg, it's got to be completely good or it's just as bad as a bad egg. D'ye see? And if this Gnome King is only as good as a nearly fresh egg, I wouldn't trust him with my second best tooth brush. My idea would be to go to the ruler of Ev."
"That's Evardo, a boy King. Ozma helped him, too," Dorothy explained importantly. "But I tell you, Piggins, let's not decide till we cross the Deadly Desert. Something might turn up before then. You never can tell."
"No," agreed the pig, shaking his head sagely. "In Oz, you never can. Suppose we continue a ways on foot? My wings are a bit stiff and we really should be on the lookout for a friendly house or castle where we could have supper and spend the night. I could eat a peck of spinach or a bushel of apples right now, so hop up, my dear, and I'll stretch a leg for the good of the coz and Oz!" Chattering away like the good fellow he was, Pigasus trotted briskly across the fields and presently came to a deep rustling forest. "Shall we fly over or walk through?" questioned the pig, sniffing appreciatively the cool air drifting out to them.
"Let's go through it, in a woodThere might be witches, some are good,A good witch with her magic powersCould solve this mystery of ours!"
"Let's go through it, in a woodThere might be witches, some are good,A good witch with her magic powersCould solve this mystery of ours!"
"Let's go through it, in a wood
There might be witches, some are good,
A good witch with her magic powers
Could solve this mystery of ours!"
"But suppose we meet a bad one," muttered Pigasus, stepping gingerly into the forest and picking his way with great care between the giant trees.
"Then we'll say goodbye and simply fly," laughed Dorothy, snapping her fingers joyfully.
"Yes, but flying would not be so easy in here," objected Pigasus with a troubled glance aloft, "these branches are interlocked so closely I'd stick in a tree like a kite."
"Oh, we probably won't meet anyone," said Dorothy. Slipping off his back, she walked along beside him, one arm flung cozily around his neck. She was rather tired of making verses and thought she could think better if her head were not continually buzzing with rhymes. After the hot sunny meadows the cool shade of the forest was very welcome, but as they advanced farther and farther into the shadows, it grew so dark and grim the two began to look at each other in real alarm.
"Must be a squall or thunder shower brewing," observed Pigasus in a faint voice.
"Yes, it couldn't be night time so soon," agreed Dorothy, looking fearfully over her shoulder. The crackling of twigs as some large animal made its way through the brush sounded like gun fire, and while they were trying to make up their minds whether to run back or push forward, a long hollow roar sent them scittering forward practically as one. Missing trees by mere inches, they pelted at breakneck speed into the dense and even gloomier stretch of woodland ahead.
"B-b-b-better climb on my back," directed Pigasus, halting at last from lack of breath rather than inclination.
"But where are you? I can't even see you!" wailed Dorothy, feeling about wildly.
"Here, here," grunted the frantic pig, making short dashes in four or five directions and finally bumping violently into the groping little girl.
Snatching at a wing, Dorothy pulled herself thankfully up and clasped both arms round his neck. In a tense and breathless silence they waited for it to grow lighter. They could not see even an inch before their noses now, and the darkness and silence grew more oppressive and unbearable every minute.
"J—j-j-just a cloud passing over," croaked Pigasus, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "J-j-j—j-j-j—say, what's that? Dorothy, do you hear anything? F—f-footsteps—not four, TWO. Someone's coming. Hello, there. Who are you? Watch out now, we're here."
"I see you," answered a flat, matter-of-fact voice.
"Oh! He sees us yet we can't see him,I'm frightened deaf and dumb,Oh, try to fly, Pigasus, whyOh why'd we ever come?"
"Oh! He sees us yet we can't see him,I'm frightened deaf and dumb,Oh, try to fly, Pigasus, whyOh why'd we ever come?"
"Oh! He sees us yet we can't see him,
I'm frightened deaf and dumb,
Oh, try to fly, Pigasus, why
Oh why'd we ever come?"
"That's what I'd like to know," went on the voice sternly. "Now, then, will you come quietly or must I drag you along?"
Dorothy and her companion were too stunned to answer, and in two thumping steps the owner of the voice was upon them.
"Do you dare to defy a member of the Invincible Black Watch?" breathed the stranger, grasping Pigasus roughly by the right wing.
"No! No! We don't exactly defy you," squealed the pig, flapping his other wing frantically, "but how can we follow a blackguard whom we cannot even see?"
"Then how do you know I am a blackguard?" demanded their captor suspiciously.
"From your voice," screamed Pigasus, jerking this way and that way in an effort to free himself. "I'd know you for a blackguard anywhere. Unhand me, you surly black monster."
"You talk a lot for a fellow who cannot see," scoffed the Guard, tightening his grip on the pig's wing. "Is the girl blind too?"
"We're not blind at all and why should we be,In this horrid black forest how could we see?"
"We're not blind at all and why should we be,In this horrid black forest how could we see?"
"We're not blind at all and why should we be,
In this horrid black forest how could we see?"
cried Dorothy, her indignation getting the better of her fright.
"Well, what color are your eyes?" Dorothy felt the hot breath of the Guardsman on her neck as he leaned over to find out for himself. "Blue!" he murmured in evident puzzlement. "And the pig's eyes are blue, too. Sothat'sthe reason."
"What has the color to do with it?" grunted Pigasus, growing a little calmer as the conversation progressed without either of them coming to actual harm.
"Everything," explained the Guard impressively. "In the Black Forest one must have black eyes to see. See? Even a pig should know that."
"Well, I suppose I could run into a tree and black my eyes," sniffed Pigasus bitterly. "But thank you, no. I prefer blue eyes and, now, if you will kindly conduct us to the edge of this deep, dark, dangerous and disgusting domain, we'll be delighted to go, leave, depart, and bid you farewell forever."
"Oh, keep all that for Gloma," drawled the Guard indifferently. "I'm a plain man and prefer plain language. Furthermore, no one leaves this forest unless they break the black laws. If you break the law you are cast out into the utter and awful light of eternal day. Now, then, come along!" and giving the pig's wing a cruel tweak, he tramped doggedly forward. Pigasus to save his precious feathers was obliged to come, suiting his gait to the guard's strides.
"The best thing for us to do is to break the law at once," he whispered mournfully to Dorothy as he blinked about in a desperate effort to penetrate the gloom. Dorothy was too depressed to answer, and after clearing his throat several times the Blackguard began to question Pigasus.
"Why the wings?" he asked inquiringly. "I've seen many a farmyard creature in my day, but never a pig with wings. Are you a pig or a kind of balony bird? What right has a pig to wings?"
"Let go and I'll show you," puffed Pigasus, hoping the fellow's curiosity would cause him to loosen his hold. But the Guard only laughed at such an idea.
"Let you go? I should say not," he exclaimed with a little chuckle. "You can show all your little tricks to Gloma and she can decide whether to ride or roast you. This girl on your back will make a splendid slave."
"Slave!" shrilled Pigasus, stumbling angrily along in the dark. "I'll have you know that she is a Princess of Oz and lives in the palace of Ozma of Oz."
"Then why did she not stay there?" observed the Guard reasonably enough. "Anyone coming into this forest comes under the rule of Gloma, Witch of the Black Forest."
"Witch?" coughed the pig, as Dorothy, tightening her clutch on his neck, almost choked him.
"Yes, witch," repeated the forester calmly. "Now, then, hold up your heads, you pale and pinky skins, for you are in for a good blacking." And before Pigasus knew just what WAS happening the ground slipped away from under him and he and Dorothy were plunged into the rough chilly waters of a tumbling forest stream. Striking out with all four feet, Pigasus managed to breast the flood, when he felt himself and Dorothy being forced completely under. As a matter of fact, the Guard swimming beside him had simply put his hand on Dorothy's head and pushed her and the squealing pig beneath the surface. As they rose, gasping and sputtering, he again seized Pigasus by the wing and pulled him quickly to shore.
"There, now you're all right," he boomed heartily as Dorothy rolled off the pig's back and began shaking the water from her eyes and hair and wringing out her dripping skirts. "Just blot yourselves on the bank!"
"Bl-blot ourselves?" gurgled Pigasus, giving himself a violent shake. "Do you take us for letters? You—you'll be sorry for this!" But right in the middle of his angry sputters he gave a loud and astonished squall. "Dorothy, Dorothy, I can see!" panted the pink pig exultantly.
"So can I," cried Dorothy, running excitedly toward him. "But everything looks black—everything IS black, even you. Oh, Oh! You're perfectly coal black, Piggins, am I black too?"
"Of course," answered the Guard in a bored voice, "and much better so. Since you are black yourselves, you can see in the dark like the rest of us, and what do you think of our forest now?" But Dorothy, instead of telling him, held up her shiny black hands, touched a few strands of her perfectly black hair, and then dropping her head on the pig's shoulder began to weep bitterly. Like drops of ink the tears coursed down her ebony cheeks, and though Pigasus did what he could to comfort her, she continued to sob as if her heart would break.
"Well, I must say I call this ungrateful," the Guard shifted from one foot to the other. "What's the matter with you, anyway? Black is a splendid color, doesn't show dirt, doesn't fade or streak. Besides it's against the law to be any other color in this forest."
"How dare you blacken us against our will?" burst out Pigasus furiously. "Wait till I get loose, I'll—why, I'll tear you to pieces and pitch you into a tar barrel."
"Oh, don't make me snort!" The huge Black Forester stared contemptuously down at the winged pig, and now that Pigasus had a better look at him he saw the folly of his threats, for the Black Guard was well over six feet and lean and tough as black leather. Evidently feeling he had wasted enough time on the pair, he gave them a very black look and, jerking the pig's wing roughly, started walking stolidly through the forest. Never had Dorothy felt so blue, or rather so black and blue—so wet, so discouraged, so thoroughly miserable! And when, sticking out her tongue to see if it was still pink she discovered that it, too, was black, she began sobbing softly to herself.
"No one will know us any more," she decided dejectedly. "We're as badly off now as Ozma and the others. Why, oh why, did we ever come into this terrible forest?" She could feel Pigasus sniffing with sympathy, and suddenly realizing that she was not behaving very well, she straightened up. After all, she still was a Princess, even though she was black. Princesses did not cry even when they were captured and enchanted. Ozma was probably in a worse fix than this, and if Ozma was being brave, she would be brave, too. So, with a great effort, Dorothy stifled her sobs and began to look around her. To her surprise and astonishment she discovered that the Black Forest was not dark and gloomy as it had seemed before, but really quite beautiful. There were many shades and degrees of blackness in the trees and flowers that thickly carpeted the ground.
Black birds twittered musically in the branches overhead, and every now and then a deer peered timidly out at her from the woodsy depths between the tree trunks. The Guard, glancing over his shoulder and catching her interested expression, ventured a smile.
"Why, he is not bad looking at all," thought Dorothy, with a pleased start. "And maybe this witch may be a good witch—her name sounds rather pretty." Quite comforted by these reflections, Dorothy whispered a few rhymed remarks in the pig's ear. Pigasus, it must be confessed, was as interested in what he saw as Dorothy, and when a sudden break between the trees revealed a great black circular wall with a hundred black flags floating from its many turrets, he gave an involuntary grunt of admiration.