L. Frank Baum - Oz 36 Page 3

  “Say the word and I’m ready. You’ll find me a fairly good pilot,” crisply replied the boy, taking his place by the rail at the front of the deck.

  “It’s likely to be cold where we are going. You had better get a warmer coat,” advised Davy. “I don’t feel the cold; in fact, I have never felt the slightest shiver in my timbers. But you are made of raw meat, even if you are my cousin.

  After a quick search of the cabin Bucky returned with the pirate’s red coat. While looking for it, he had accidentally come across a powerful spy-glass. Opening the coat, he held it with the lining out, close to one

  of the whale’s eyes.

  “What do you suppose this is?” he asked.

  They were both puzzled by the coarse stitching worked in some kind of pattern; then, as the design became clearer, they saw to their great joy that it was a roughly sewn map of the Land of Oz. Someone who had been to the wonderland had stitched the chart.

  “Jumping Jingo! That’s what I’ve been looking for all my life!!” thundered the whale, spinning around in circles. “At last, at last, we are on the right track. Don’t lose that coat, whatever you do. If you lose it, we are lost, too.”

  Bucky shook his head: “I don’t see how I could be lost worse than I am, so it doesn’t make much difference. Let’s get started,” he said.

  “Righto! Hold tight!! All speed ahead!!! Here we go!” Like a streak of lightning, Davy churned toward the waterfall. He leaped into it, swimming faster than the swirling water fell. Up and up he leaped with tremendous effort until he slid over the high brink at the top of the highest mountain.

  The summit was covered with ice and snow, and not a drop of deep water, but Davy managed to slip easily over the frozen crust until they had reached the very highest point. From this height a beautiful hill sloped

  gently downward for miles and, as far as they could see with the naked eye, it was blanketed with snow.

  Davy’s wooden eyes fluttered with delight. Bucky was thrilled. Never had either of them seen such a dazzling land of snow.

  “What a honey of a hill to coast,” said Bucky as he studied the scene. “Eight miles, I bet, without a break.”

  “Let’s have another look at the map in your coat,” said Davy.

  Slipping off the garment, Bucky held it before the whale who carefully studied every stitch for a long time without saying a word. Then:

  “Kinda clumsy work, don’t you think?” Bucky

  asked.

  “It’s better sewing than I could do,” answered Davy, quietly examining every detail.

  “You may be able to check-up with this spy-glass,” suggested Bucky, extending the glass to its full-length and holding it to the whale’s eye. “Can you see anything?”

  “Oh! little Jonesie-my own dear cousin. I can see it all!” Davy answered, giving a great gulp.

  Taking his turn at the spy-glass, the boy stood still, amazed and entranced at the glittering radiance of the City-a gem of sparking green crystal.

  “You are right, Davy, old boy,” cried Bucky, slapping the whale’s side. “You win.”

  Far below, the edge of the snow mountain melted into a dense forest and beyond the dark mass of trees a river followed a direct course through brush and rough rocks to disappear from their sight. Broken, desolate country stretched for many miles and still farther away the solid ground became a wide desert that seemed to completely surround the land the travelers were seeking.

  Bucky spread his coat on the deck, looking carefully at every stitch in his endeavor to find out just where they were. He put his finger on the spot and showed it to Davy.

  “See-we have just passed through the Rose Kingdom and are now in the land of Ev. Straight ahead is marked ‘The Domain of the Gnome King’ and then -a deadly desert. That doesn’t look so good!”

  “Not thinking of turning back, are you?” Davy demanded.

  “Me? Turn back? Do I look like a pifflepuff? No! Let’s start!”

  “What on earth has happened?” fumed the whale as he humped his back and frantically twisted his body only to find himself stuck.

  At the same time the boy could feel that his feet

  were snow bound. Yank and strain as he would, Bucky remained firmly held to the spot with icy fingers.

  CHAPTER 6

  Over the Hump

  “MAYBE we have been a little impulsive, to come so far away,” Davy’s voice was anxious as he felt cold clutching fingers crawling up his sides, and saw them climbing up Bucky’s legs.

  Desperately he wrenched himself this way and that, giving impotent grunts. In vain they struggled. Both were frost bound.

  “No use to flutter, big boy,” whined a chilling voice from a flurry of snow. “You are now in the power of the Zerons. Don’t try to tear yourselves apart in that absurd manner. Just consider yourselves ice-olated forever, both of you.”

  Drifts of Zerons piled around them; nipping, pinching and biting cold Zerons!

  “Fairly and squarely you’ve been caught. Stop that squirming or we’ll freeze you stiff,” the Zerons called as they stung Bucky.

  “I’ll be jiggered if I let a lot of little jiggers like you freeze me out of Oz,” bellowed the whale.

  “Quiet!” ordered the Zerons in icy tones. “You are ice-olated now, you big fish, not jiggered.”

  Every moment the adventurers’ plight became worse. Davy was nearly covered with the frosty little snow-men. Bucky felt their cold fingers pinching his ears and nose. His arms were stiffening, making him powerless to brush off the Zerons.

  Try as they would to break away, they could not succeed. Each was equally helpless. The boy cast a despairing look at Davy whose big eye winked playfully and whose broad mouth stretched into a wide grin. The whale took a deep breath.

  From the top of his head a heavy stream of water spouted and fell over the Zerons in a warm shower. Instantly every Zeron melted away. With a nervous shrug the big whale broke loose, and Bucky was also freed. Slowly they began to slide down the side of the mountain in the direction of Oz.

  “Boy-Oh boy!” shouted Bucky as their speed increased by leaps and bounds.

  The gentle, gliding motion was a glorious sensation. With never a jolt to break the rhythm, it felt like flying through the air. It would be a long slide and they kept headed in the direction of the river. Over slightly raised humps they cleared the ground and

  landed each time in the drifts below, gaining speed with every leap.

  Striking a more elevated ridge, they cleared it and came down with a bump. Then another, and another, each a little longer. Each time the whale uttered a loud “Ooomph” when he landed with a thud twenty feet below.

  Their mad rush soon increased to a breakneck speed. To slow down or stop was beyond their power. The sudden bumps became more violent. Bucky could hear the plates smashing and rattling inside the cabin.

  “Oh, for an anchor,” he thought, seeing danger ahead. “Steer to the right!” he screamed as they approached the edge of a high cliff.

  Not a second too soon the bulky whale veered to one side, then shot along the dangerous edge to a more gradual slope.

  “Let me pilot you,” insisted Bucky when he had caught his breath after that scare. “Now ease to the left; that’s enough!”

  He directed as they continued their way safely along the foot of the cliff, avoiding many dangerous crashes.

  By going Quiggley-Diggley back and forth, they checked their perilous descent yet still went along at a good, fast clip. Passing the half-way point, they zig-zagged safely from side to side. Under perfect

  control, they skimmed the deep snow, eyes set on the river below.

  It took exactly eleven minutes to make the slide which covered nearly eight miles.

  One final lurch-a hissing splash-and they were safe in the river. The whale breathed a deep sigh of relief and held it for a long time.

  “Umph!!” he finally blew it out. “Rough road-very rough road. There is nothing like a nice soft river u
nder you, I’m finding out.”

  “I prefer a nice soft bed-dry and warm,” said Bucky with a yawn.

  “Suit yourself,” replied the whale gaily, “so long as you aren’t looking for it on the other side of the snow mountain. Though it was bumpy in spots, it’s easier sliding down than climbing back.” He rested a little on the smooth water. “That mountain must be three miles high,” Davy continued, turning one eye back over their tracks. “Do you see what I see?”

  “If you see giddyheads, I see them too. And they are following us!” answered Bucky in despair.

  Sure enough, skiing on their fish-tails came the Dollfins-Evidently the whole school was taking a holiday. With shrill peals of laughter they swayed over the light snow, leaping high into the air or spilling into

  drifts, but always following the definite trail big Davy had left behind.

  Bucky watched their descent with growing alarm as he nervously paced the deck.

  “I do not intend to be a plaything for a lot of wooden headed dolls!” he exclaimed. “I’d rather risk the burning desert! Yes!! Twenty burning deserts! Ahoy! Let’s be on our way at once.”

  Without another word they started down the stream. They bumped over hidden rocks, squirmed through seething rapids and wriggled themselves across shallow stretches before they floated peacefully at last in the quieter bosom of the river that carried them into the dense forest. Here they were hidden from view.

  “I hope those giddyheads get back to school before nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” said Davy as he settled himself in a little cove, to close his eyes blissfully and doze off into a snooze after all his exertion —leaving Bucky, the pilot, in charge of the expedition.

  CHAPTER 7 Beginning a Long Journey

  FINDING himself alone in command, Bucky decided to get under way again and soon discovered a simple way to steer the whale. By stepping either to the right or to the left, his weight caused the sleeping fish to turn in the desired direction.

  He worked out of the cove and into the narrow part of the river where he had no trouble navigating. As far as he could see there were no boats to dispute his right-of-way.

  All he had to do was let the current carry them along. The afternoon drifted away. The only sound that Bucky heard was the drowsy voice of Davy occasionally murmuring snatches of sea songs in his sleep. Other than that, no excitement came to break the monotony of drifting down the dreamy river.

  Then Bucky noticed a large bubble floating toward

  him.

  When it came quite close, it burst; and as it burst, it uttered the word “Stop!”

  “Just an empty word,” thought the boy and continued on his course.

  His serenity was interrupted by the sight of four larger bubbles floating straight toward him.

  In quick succession each one exploded, popping with a commanding ring, and each uttered a different

  word-“Final-warning-turn-back!”

  “Quite impossible,” answered Bucky and let the whale drift.

  From somewhere ahead a whole string of bubbles quickly appeared, larger and more determined bubbles, bursting with warning and threats.

  “Heave to! Stop! Go no farther! Or else—” These sharp, explosive words awoke the whale. When he slid open his eyes, he realized that something was amiss but he did not allow the disturbance to halt him.

  More and more bubbles rose to meet them, popping and sputtering sharp commands. Still they kept going ahead until they were surrounded on every side and finally were completely covered. This dimmed their light and shut off all view of the river. They were compelled to stop. Both Joneses were speechless with surprise while the bubbles piled over them.

  Without any particular reason, Bucky began to answer the bubbles and noticed he had started them sputtering a lot of trifling talk, using empty words that exploded themselves into nothing and out of the way.

  Davy, noticing this also, joined with Bucky and gaily had his say. This added to the gabble of popping words. With every word the boy and the whale uttered, a bubble answered and left an empty space where it had been. The faster they jabbered, the faster the empty gabble disappeared. Word for word they exploded hundreds of hollow words with all the empty talk that came into their heads. This battle of words became a din of long-winded jabber without much meaning.

  “Bam-Bam~puff-” burst the glib words into nothing. Bucky and Davy were gaining ground, using so many words that they popped and puffed a clear space in front of them. They talked faster, blowing up bubbles faster than they came to replace the ones already exploded. Presently this continual talk cleared the air enough that the journey could be continued.

  “We talked them down all right,” said Bucky.

  “Talked them hollow,” chuckled Davy.

  Coming again into the open spaces, they noticed two bright bubbles following them. Davy slowed down to wait. When at last the bubbles had caught up with the whale and come close enough so that their voices could be heard, they called out.

  “Good-bye!” they puffed and were gone.

  “Good-bye-and bless your hearts-and thank you. You are the only sensible words I have heard so far!” Davy called back as they started off again at a good

  smart speed.

  “I wonder where all that vacant talk came from,” remarked Bucky.

  “Some talkative sorceress, I suppose, who has learned to boil her idle conversation in a witch’s caldron and put it on the air for anyone within hearing.”

  “Why should anyone do such a useless thing?” Bucky wanted to know.

  “How should I know?” the whale answered wearily. “You’ll find the woods are full of half-cracked-jim-cranks. That’s the reason the practice of witchcraft and sorcery is forbidden by the Rulers of Oz.” The whale’s voice brightened. “I haven’t the slightest doubt but what we’ll meet others before we reach Oz. But we can thank your lucky stars that we are on the rivers instead of the mountains, for the mountain witches are the worst.” Davy grinned at his companion. “Go inside and get another handful of crullers. That may cause you to think of Oz where anything you desire you can have by just wishing for it.”

  “That seems altogether too easy,” mused Bucky.

  “Of course, but nobody is going to make you wish for anything if you don’t want to. You can suit yourself. Everyone who gets there stays forever.” As he spoke, the whale swung around a curve of the river away from the bank to avoid the branches of a drooping willow that brushed the water.

  “It may be a very swell place,” admitted the puzzled boy, “But you can bet your boots I won’t stay forever-”

  “I’d take that bet if I needed boots. You know, I wasn’t built to wear such things. Let me tell you, Little Jonesie, it’s much more difficult to get into Oz than it is to get out. Especially an individual of my size,” the whale answered with a note of misgiving in his voice.

  “Never mind, big boy, I’ll stay with you to the end or die in the attempt.”

  “Die? What do you mean? Nobody ever dies in Oz. You live forever-”

  Bucky scratched his head and was thoughtful: “That’s good news! Very good!”

  The trailing boughs from the trees along the shore became thicker; wisps of mist and little flickers of light shone through the leaves. Strangely enough, they had not seen a single dwelling.

  “Kind of a lonely place, don’t you think so, Davy?”

  “I’ve been in much lonelier places than this; many and many’s the time.”

  “What are Oz prisons like?” Bucky asked. “Prisons!!!” exclaimed the astonished whale bursting into a roar. “Please get this straight. In the Emerald City they never heard of a prison. The City is ruled by Queen Ozma, the kindest and most thoughtful ruler in the world. The great Wizard is her most trusted adviser and on special occasions the powerful Glinda is ready to help. All they think of is how to make everybody happy. You’ll see for yourself.”

  “Where does this wonderland begin? So far, I haven’t noticed much kindness in the
people I’ve met; except you, of course,” said Bucky, trying impatiently to free himself from a long willow wand that had looped itself around his neck.

  “You must remember,” began Davy, “that we are now in the wildest wilderness of all Oz and may have to overcome a few obstacles. I recall stories the pirates used to tell-wild stories-I didn’t believe them at the time but-” he paused.

  “But what?” questioned Bucky.

  Davy never finished the story, for the shadowy willows made a swoop with their long loops across the deck. Bucky was too quick for them as he took a firm hold on a branch and broke it off.

  On both sides of the river, the willows began to weep and wail, swinging out toward them with long, clutching arms.

  “Send them to Tickley Bender!!” they shouted, and

  shoved the whale down the stream. From tree to tree Davy was propelled with violent pushes. “Wait till Tickley get you-Ohoo-Ohooo,” wept the willows swaying closer to the travelers to give them one last violent shove. And the great fish with his lone passenger was swept out of the woods.

  They came out into a land of dry rocks and low

  bushes.

  The current of the river seemed suddenly to stop flowing. Then, just as suddenly, it started again. At times they would stand still for a whole minute, then shoot forward when a huge wave rushed them.

  The willows had stopped weeping and begun to laugh. “Wait till Tickley gets you,” they cried. “He’ll tickle you plenty!”

  “He seems to tickle you more than he does us!” yelled Bucky as a parting shot. The wave that carried the whale grew higher and higher.

  It rose to such a height that it was ready to break and crash into a breaker but instead of doing that, the frothy spray formed itself into a head. The water was so clear that Davy and Bucky could see fish swimming and darting about inside of the watery skull.