L. Frank Baum - Oz 36 Page 4

  “How do you do?” asked Bucky, greeting the odd looking creature.

  “How do I do what?” grumbled Tickley.

  “Why-whatever you do do,” the boy answered, a little confused.

  “Just imagine such a question-how do I do whatever I do do? And why should I tell you what I do do -or don’t do?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you in the first place,” apologized Bucky, still more confused.

  “First place?First place? What’s that?”

  “I suppose the head of the river is the first place,” answered Bucky impatiently. “We expect to find out.”

  “I certainly am the head of the river, and anything else you’ll never find out. It’s none of your affair.”

  “Come, come-” joined in the whale, “this do-do talk is getting us nowhere.”

  “You are perfectly right,” gurgled the watery head as the water surged through his face and long whiskers.

  Several long, liquid fingers appeared out of the waves and began to tickle the whale in his ribs. But Davy only squirmed a little-not much-because the nerves in his wooden boards were not very sensitive.

  Tickley was enraged to see the whale take his tickling so calmly and he rose higher and higher, lifting Davy with him. His face turned into foam with the fury of the rising water rushing forward into a seething breaker. The gushing spray carried Davy forward with the speed of the wind.

  Bucky locked his arms tightly around the rail -“come what will, I’ll stick with Davy.”

  They began to fall. Down-down into a deep opening in the earth. The river roared with glee as it disappeared carrying them both into an underground cavern.

  Everything became dark and noisy. “Looks like nowhere,” snorted Davy Jones.

  CHAPTER 8

  The Army Resigns

  ALONG the broad boulevards of the Emerald City and through the smaller streets, the houses were awakening.

  Some stretched their tall chimneys like arms or widened their front doors to the breaking point in sleepy yawns.

  A crisp, green sparkle filled the air; happy people hurried along the streets. From the west a bright blue Scalawagon turned from Banana Boulevard into Pumpkin Place and came

  to a full stop before a quaint building bearing the sign OZ CREAM beside the door.

  An eager boy about twelve or thirteen years old stepped from the car.

  “You needn’t wait for me,” he said. “I’ll walk to the

  palace.”

  The intelligent, expressive eyes of the Scalawagon looked from its turret; one of them gave the boy an understanding wink. With a disappointed expression the Scalawagon moved slowly away. Nothing would have pleased it better than to carry this boy all day on his rounds.

  As the lad turned briskly toward the house, it drew itself up to full height with a welcoming gesture and opened its front door as he approached. His blue suit and blue shoes indicated that he came from the land of the Munchkins.

  The pleasant face of a young girl smiled from inside the entrance.

  “Oh, Number Nine, I’m so glad you came,” she exclaimed. “I wanted to tell you about Evangeline and our two Oz cream containers. The two ten gallon cans with the new bottomless supply may not be enough to serve all our customers and Evangeline. I was hoping you might find some way to get me two more cans. I wouldn’t have you think we had ever run

  short, but, since Evangeline, with her two mouths, drops in, we might not be able to fill orders. We are expecting her any moment now. She always comes early because she prefers my Oz cream parlor above all the others in the City.”

  “No one can blame her for that,” replied Number Nine. “I like it, too. Don’t worry your pretty head, for I met Evangeline yesterday. She spoke so highly of your place I told the Wizard about your possible difficulty before we quit work last night. Just to hear Evangeline tell how good your cream is has made me hungry for some ever since.

  “That’s what everyone tells me,” beamed the pretty shopkeeper. “Wait one moment till I get you some,” and the girl bounded back into the shop. Once behind the counter she uttered a pleased little shriek: “Glory be! Glory be! Now, isn’t that just like the Wizard!” Where the two cans had been, there were now four. Although it was impossible ever to empty a single can or even nearly to reach the bottom of it, the Wizard had doubled the supply.

  In Oz everything is so abundant that no one ever runs short, and never any charge for a single thing. Number Nine had been chosen to assist the Wizard of Oz in the endless details of City management as

  well as his work in the laboratory. His double duties kept him busy all day. No sooner had Number Nine begun to eat his cream than the soft voice of Evangeline was heard outside and her two monstrous heads looked through the window.

  “We just happened to be passing,” began the gentle voice of the first head, “and we thought we’d drop in for a little snack to cool our throats,” finished the second head. “Thanks to the soothing benefit of your cream our coughs have entirely disappeared. If you only knew how mortifying it has been to annoy our friends by coughing smoke and flame in their faces! It’s not polite.”

  “That’s splendid,” laughed Number Nine, “but you are always polite. In all of Oz, there is no Dragonette half as polite as you, so the Wizard has sent you two extra tubs of Oz Cream for your own special use. One is for Evan and one for Geline. I have never been able to tell you apart, so you will have to make your own selection of flavor.”

  “Horrors!” ejaculated one of the heads. “This may lead to a mixup—we don’t know which is which either.” Number Nine made a record of this difficulty in a small note-book. But the other head cried out:

  “Bless my claws and scales! Think no more of it dismiss the matter-and tell us how we can show our

  gratitude.”

  “That is easy. Eat more Oz cream!” smiled Number Nine as he rose from the chair before his empty plate. At the door he waited until Evangeline had crackled and scratched her huge dragon body to one side. She was a great pet, humored by everyone in the Emerald City for her refined manners and her attention to etiquette.

  Before she had time to untangle herself and thank the boy again, he was half-way down the street. For Number Nine this was a busy day-with animal gardens to visit, public orchards to look over and bowers and snuggeries where free food was provided, to be inspected.

  All this he did, then took care that all the emeralds were properly polished and the hedges trimmed into the likenesses and shapes of the important people of the Kingdom.

  When he had finished his work, he found his way to the popular style shop. Jennie Jump, the chief stylist of the land, met him at the door. She and Number Nine were great pals for they had experienced many adventures together.

  “I hear you are having lunch with the Queen today,” said Jenny, her voice filled with excitement. “Let me

  see if you are presentable.” He turned around and around while she made a careful inspection. “No-there are wrinkles in your sleeve. Better let me fix

  them.”

  In a jiffy she put the boy through her magic turnstyle and turned him out in a snappy Oz green suit with silver buttons.

  “Dressed to the Queen’s taste,” she laughed and, with a pat on the shoulder, she sent him on his way to the palace.

  Near the castle gate Number Nine met a crowd of amused Ozians who apparently were watching something, for at intervals they burst into encouraging laughter and gay shouting.

  Scalagawons were dashing up and down the street. Groups of noisy youngsters ran in all directions with the green-whiskered soldier in hot pursuit. The children hid behind houses until the soldier had passed, or climbed into Scalawagons which took them to safety. But, with the soldier out of sight, they hurried back to the palace wall. Each child held a piece of chalk with which he drew pictures of the soldier on the smooth surface of the wall.

  This single soldier made up the whole army of Oz; he had all the dignity of a commanding general.
He thought the pictures lacked this dignity. He issued

  his own commands which he himself was compelled to obey.

  “Down with treason!” he squealed, rushing hither and yon after his tormentors. “Keep the royal peace! Suppress this mutiny and rebellion!!” he ordered himself.

  The children skeedaddled, shrieking with excitement.

  “Halt!” roared the army. Nobody halted, so he halted himself. “Brats!” he stormed as they all escaped.

  Number Nine watched the disturbance with a chuckle. He got his name from being the ninth child in a large family, so he knew what fun these youngsters were having.

  Smiling broadly, he mounted the grand stairway to meet the Wizard and together they passed down the long jeweled corridor that led to the Great South Hall.

  With one arm over the boy’s shoulder, the Wizard escorted him into the presence of the Queen.

  She was seated on the railing of the balcony outside the Hall and beckoned the Wizard to join her there.

  She was greatly amused and burst into peals of cheerful laughter.

  “Look,” she called and pointed down.

  Directly below, the army was again charging after the scurrying children who managed to slip away by the skin of their teeth to safety among the laughing spectators, whose hilarious mood added to the fun. “I notice our children are annoying my army again,” the Queen remarked gently with a roguish little twinkle in her eye. “Those little harum-scarums have been teasing that poor soldier all morning. Such skylarking has gone far enough.”

  With a gracious gesture, she slid from the rail and welcomed her guests to the royal lunch table.

  The meal over, the Queen, the Wizard and Number Nine got down to business without any frills. Many matters of public importance came up for attention. Large green envelopes containing reports floated through the air into the Wizard’s hand. When each case was disposed of, the envelope floated back to the filing cabinet in the Hall of Records. The last envelope was marked important.

  Opening it, the Wizard puckered his brow and adjusted his spectacles on his nose as he read:

  Last official report, Army of Oz 1St. Wore out twenty-two pair of shoes. 2nd. Smashed only musket in the Kingdom. 3rd. Army’s amiable temper ruined.

  4th. Not a prisoner taken.

  5th. Army disgusted. And resigns.

  “Harummp!” sputtered the little man and his glasses fell off. Looking into the distance with eyes filled with mild anxiety, he crammed the report back into the envelope and it floated away. “Well-well-” he drawled, “I don’t think we need consider the resignation part of it.”

  Ozma’s eyes twinkled as she ate another candied

  cherry.

  “We understand how our soldier with his green whiskers has done a lot of running around, but a few army maneuvers can’t possibly hurt him. He is only doing his duty in preventing those artistic little cubs from defacing the walls. It was amusing to watch them scamper, and I always dislike spoiling the children’s fun.” She was thoughtful for a while-then turned eagerly to the Wizard: “Why not get all our children together and direct their artistic energies to something useful. I will have them decorate the entire castle wall with their best pictures. Real scenes from the glorious history of Oz.” The Queen smiled broadly at her two companions. “It would keep them out of mischief and add to the beauty of the City, to say

  nothing of saving the amiable temper of our army.”

  The Wizard was delighted. “Your Gracious Majesty always amazes me,” he exclaimed, jumping up in surprise. “You took the words right out of my mouth. To decorate the walls!”

  “And you double surprise me,” said Number Nine, a little shyly. “I was just about to make the same suggestion.”

  “That being the case, the law is passed unanimously!” said the Wizard, pouring himself another glass of grape juice. “And the meeting is adjourned.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The CWO Painters’ Project

  NO sooner had the council come to an end than the patter of footsteps was heard in the hall. The door to the Council Chamber flew open with a bang and Princess Dorothy, Trot, Betsy and Jellia Jam ran excitedly into the presence of the youthful Queen.

  “Have you seen the soldier chasing the children?” they giggled, all out of breath. “It’s almost as good as a circus. And he hasn’t caught a single one yet”

  “You should see his funny long legs,” panted Trot “They were simply velocical.”

  Number Nine looked at the Wizard and the Wizard looked at Ozma. Velocical? They all wondered where Trot had picked up such a beautiful word.

  Raising her hand to quiet her impulsive friends, Ozma said:

  “Unfortunately you are two minutes late. The whole problem has just been settled.”

  Princess Dorothy looked surprised: “Well-” she

  began.

  “Well, what?” asked the Wizard a little impatiently. Before any explanation could be made, the corridor echoed with the rattle of more children’s feet. Into the Great Hall they rushed crowding the gallery and filling a large part of the Hall. Behind them resounded the grim footsteps of the soldier with the green whiskers.

  He stalked into the Hall, stopped before the Queen with a determined air and saluted her:

  “Will Your Majesty allow me to deliver all the monkey-shiners of Oz?” he paused. “For being monkey-shiners, they should be properly punished.” He saluted again.

  “You have done well to bring the children here. We were wanting them,” said the Wizard. He drew one little boy toward him and pushed back the touseled

  hair that fell in his eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked the child. The youngster was so impressed by this kindness from the great Wizard that he could not speak.

  “Whipper-snapper is a good name for him, if you ask me,” bellowed the angry soldier.

  “But I didn’t ask you,” quietly replied the Wizard as he led the little fellow to a table and handed him a glass of fresh grape juice.

  “If that doesn’t beat all!!” sputtered the army. Giving aid, comfort and grape juice to prisoners!!”

  He stormed around, stuffing his pockets with fruit and cookies from the table, then he stalked out of the Hall with his nose in the air.

  “He’ll get over his huff in four minutes,” said Number Nine, glancing at the clock. It was his work to investigate and suppress huffs. “It’s only a four-minute huff

  The Queen was speaking: “Now that we are all together and just in time to hear of our new project, I think our wonderful Wizard has more to tell you.” Ozma rested her arms on the table and smiled toward the great sorcerer.

  “We are thinking of having you paint the history of Oz on the castle walls,” the Wizard explained. “What do you think of the idea?”

  Dorothy’s eyes danced: “It’s magnificent!” she

  cried.

  “It’s the grandest idea I ever heard,” chimed in

  Jellia.

  “Splendid!” said the Wizard. “We’ll call it the CWO Painters’ Project. CWO stands for Castle Walls of Oz. You children shall do the painting, making a lasting record of the important events in the history of our great city. Dorothy, you can lay out the picture of your adventures. Betsy, Ojo, The Intelligent Scarecrow and the Kindhearted Tin Woodman can each do theirs. There will be plenty of help for you. Then, Kabumpo and Scraps and Tik-Tok, Jack Pumpkinhead-my goodness gracious!-and Jennie Jump -really, there is hardly any end to the interesting stories, and you’ve plenty of space to work on.”

  The plan was received with enthusiasm by all there, as well as by those who came hurrying into the Hall to learn what was going on. The Hungry Tiger, the Cowardly Lion, Sir Hokus, Captain Salt, General Jin-ger-and a long line still crowded the corridor.

  “I’m here to explain this” and the cheerful little Wizard laid out the details of the project to Princess Dorothy, and how it was all to be done. “I know you take pride in your City and want to make it more

  beautiful,�
�� he said at the close. A thunder of applause followed.

  “When do we start?” asked Kabumpo, the huge elephant who had been leaning against the throne.

  “We have already started,” said the Wizard as he wiggled his hand in the air and several large boxes floated toward him. “You now observe,” he continued, opening one of the boxes, “that the first step has been taken.” He held up a number of paint brushes.

  “Quaint looking things !” exclaimed Trot.

  “Yes, yes, my dear,” the Wizard answered. “It’s a novelty. Something new in paint brushes. They are designed to supply every color. You only need to turn the handles to get the shade of color you need. They cannot drip and you never need to dip them into a paint pot. I am sure you will find them perfect,” he added, passing them around for inspection. “And now that everything is settled, I am leaving the magic brushes in your hands. Let us see what you can do. You begin the big job tomorrow.”

  He sat down with a mild feeling of satisfaction as the children gathered together in little groups to work out their plans.

  Number Nine slipped away and hurried to the Wizard’s secret Laboratory in the high tower. He set to

  work sweeping the workshop and dusting the delicate machines. Then he tried a few experiments with long distance observations through the Ozmic Ray.

  “Jumping Jupiter!” he exclaimed after the first peep through the complicated lens. “Whoo - oo -what’s all this?”

  The tube crackled; darting sparks snapped out. The distant vision of a small volcano floating in a pink ocean was projected on the screen. Definitely the picture showed trouble of some kind. Little figures in white coats moved rapidly over the volcano’s sides swinging long weapons.