L. Frank Baum - Oz 36 Read online

  Out of the ocean appeared the polished sides of an odd-looking fish. Number Nine thought it looked like a whale made of wood but before he could be sure it had dived beneath the pink water

  A small boy was hurled from the volcano into the

  sea.

  “Rough stuff, I’m thinking!” Number Nine muttered, watching attentively.

  The great head reappeared-yes, it was a whale. It was following the boy, who climbed onto the mouth after a vain struggle in the water. The volcano was belching vegetables from its crater.

  “Weird goings-on out there somewhere,” said Number Nine to himself, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “This ought to be looked into.”

  Late into the night a light in the Wizard’s tower could be noticed from the streets. Number Nine was still watching every move on the wild Nonentic Ocean.

  Early next morning the boy was back at the screen and all the time he could spare from his other duties he gave to observing the progress of this unusual looking monster carrying another boy about on his extended jaw.

  Suddenly he stiffened. “Hey there! You can’t do that!” he yelled into the tattlescope, and without any dilly-dally he banged through the astonished Ambassadoor at the end of the hall. “Take me to the Gnome King’s Dominion!” he commanded, and disappeared.

  A few minutes later he suddenly reappeared. For a time he anxiously studied the tattlescope. Then, suddenly remembering the Wizard’s instructions, he turned from the thrilling scenes on the screen to attend to his duties outside. Turning to the hall clock, he said, “Keep an eye on this tattlescope until I get back,” and locked the door carefully as he went out.

  It was a glad day for the people of the Emerald City, and it would have been so for Number Nine if he had not been so anxious about the unknown whale.

  His faithful Scalawagon was waiting at the castle

  steps. And, with a “Cheerio,” he hopped into the car, pressed a button inside for lunch and began his inspection while he ate.

  Around the entire wall, scaffolds and stepladders were erected, over which swarms of children were helping to put the last final touches to the paintings that were to be finished that afternoon. The entire city was doing its utmost to make the presentation a success.

  Each artist had been given a whole city block to decorate and every person and animal, both high and low, were working for dear life to have his picture finished on time.

  Kabumpo the Elegant Elephant was desperately covering vast surfaces, with Ojo sitting on his head adding a final touch where it was needed.

  Close by, Tik-Tok, with a brush in each hand and a ruler in his teeth, was finishing an elaborate mechanical drawing of wheels, cogs, pulleys, springs and keys. His helper was an elderly man in scraggy clothes who measured and corrected the work from beginning to end so that all the wheels moved together. It was Tik-Tok’s own idea.

  The patchwork girl had covered her space with patches that looked very much like herself. And on

  each patch she had written a rhyme. To a rubber ghost who had been covered with smelly fiabbergas, she wrote,

  “Persnickety Bellsnickle, Once you smelled not worth a nickel. Now you’re a rubber-out, You’re even useful here about.” Across another patch appeared,

  “In verse I tell you what I thunk, Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s punk.” She stood before her patches in deep thought, then dashed off the following,

  “I’m running out of bright idears With which to hail our royal peers.”

  Farther on were adventure pictures and others that were funny. The eyes of the Scalawagon danced with amusement at all the comical decorations. And Number Nine thought they were extraordinary.

  Captain Salt had made a beautiful blue ocean with pirate ships that sailed back and fofth, with sea gulls darting through the sky.

  General Jinger had cows and horses marching with

  wooden guns over their shoulders. She was seated on the Sawhorse about to attack a long row of red, white and blue crows sitting on a high fence.

  The Hungry Tiger had filled his space with a close-up portrait of himself, and the Cowardly Lion had entirely forgotten to put himself anywhere in his picture. By special invitation Rinkitink had come a long way from his kingdom, with a surly old goat, to do their bit. Trot and Jellia Jam had made an excellent drawing of the castle.

  Sir Hokus Pokus, assisted by Evangeline, the two-headed Dragonette, had completed an army of knights in armor, on beautiful white horses, charging through a field of red roses. All the students from the Woggle-bugs’ College had come to work on a field of various sporting events. Many other noteworthy decorations were there, but we haven’t the time to speak of them all. Number Nine, however, kept notes on every one.

  Two spaces were empty. One for the Tin Woodman, the other for the Scarecrow.

  Nearing the spot from which he had started Number Nine found Jack Pumpkinhead with a crowd of admirers gathered around him. Jack was a slow, painstaking creature but his picture was one of the best, most life-like and spirited. Standing on the back

  of the Sawhorse he was filling in, and touching up. His work was mostly boiling caldrons with sorcerers, witches and black cats, and poisoned fumes that turned into owls and pink bats.

  Few dreamed that Jack possessed so much talent-he didn’t know it himself. At the moment Number Nine arrived, he was finishing a life-sized portrait of an old witch who at one time had caused a lot of trouble in the Land of Oz. She wore a high pointed hat with a wide brim. Around her neck was a crinkley white ruff and she had large silver buckles on her square-toed shoes.

  Bending down, Jack asked the Sawhorse, “Can you remember the color of the lining in old Mombi’s cape?”

  The old Sawhorse stamped his feet, “Sure, I can remember. It was red. I’ll never forget that terrible hag. She was an old wretch if ever there was one.”

  Jack painted the lining red in the long black cape that reached her shoe-tops. The face he painted with a long hooked nose and beady black eyes shining with a wicked leer. A sharp chin stuck out with a determined expression that was true to life.

  Jack had plenty of reason to remember what this famous old witch looked like. For hadn’t she held him prisoner for seven years? Yes, for seven long years she had made him wash dishes and peel potatoes without one minute’s rest. All the time, for Jack never needed to sleep or eat

  “You are right, the old jade did have a cantankerous streak,” mildly answered Jack, as he finished the last brush stroke.

  Many words of praise for Jack’s work came from the crowd. “It’s excellent-amazing-a speaking likeness” was heard on every side.

  The expression on the portrait was so real it seemed to move slightly. Then the head actually turned and old Mombi glared at Jack.

  In a thin cackling voice she ordered him out of the way, at the same time freeing herself from the wall and expanding into her natural shape.

  Jack looked surprised in his own gentle manner, but saw no reason for her spoiling his picture, and asked her politely to get back where she belonged.

  At this Mombi pushed him to one side. “Wait until you are spoken to,” she piped. “My speaking likeness will do all the talking from now on.” Then she calmly stepped out and looked around.

  Another cackle and she whacked her broom over Jack’s head. “Old jade, am I? Take that, Lunkhead!”

  Then across the Sawhorse she laid another wallop. “Terrible old hag, hey? And old wretch?” she added,

  swinging her riding broom.

  The crowd was horrified and fled in every direction.

  Old Mombi’s eyes flashed suspiciously. “Am I alone? Am I safe?” she asked herself. “I guess I’d better hide until I settle a few old debts I have against that Queen Ozma. If only I could get my hands on her.”

  Her eyes snapped as she sniffed. “I smell strong magic,” she jabbered, and raised her nose to sniff again. Another poke was aimed at Jack Pumpkinhead, and she sprang over the castle wall, landing
on a balcony where she hid among the Queen’s favorite flowers.

  Then with leaps and bounds she mounted higher and higher until she reached the wizard’s tower. With clawlike fingers she forced open the small window and disappeared inside.

  Immediately a warning sounded from the bell tower and the bellmen spread an alarm that grew into a bedlam that threw the city into an uproar.

  Ozma and the Wizard, who had gone to the Quadling Country to bring Glinda for the opening of the wall pictures, were expected to come back at any time. Number Nine stood glued to the spot. Disaster stared him in the face. “Whatever can I say to the kind Wizard? If only there were some way to prevent further trouble,” he shuddered. Everything had happened so suddenly he was taken entirely by surprise.

  He felt disgraced. “I know I am not fit to be an assistant,” he accused himself when he saw Mombi climbing out of the window, carrying the Wizard’s black bag which held many of his best magical tools.

  “Now everything is sunk,” he groaned. “Everything. I’m sunk for sure, and maybe the whole city.”

  The Wizard had mixed just enough magic in Mom-bi’s paint to keep her flying. But in possession of the magic black bag she was now in a position to do untold mischief.

  She knew this as she cruised slowly through the air with her head almost buried inside the bag examining every powerful instrument. Without warning two strong young arms caught Mombi in a desperate grip. From somewhere in the street below a figure had unexpectedly shot up and seized her.

  With his heart in his mouth, Number Nine recognized his closest friend, Jenny Jump.

  Using all her fairy gifts of eye, fingers, foot and her own ability, the girl battled gallantly to gain possession of the black bag. Old Mombi was fully determined to keep it herself, clawing and shrieking with all her old time fury.

  Swaying in mid-air, with the girl’s strong magic

  fingers locked in her hair, Mombi slowly yielded, and Jenny wrenched the bag from her grasp and let her get away. She flew due east and was soon lost in a Yellow blur.

  Meanwhile the royal Scalawagon was speeding up from the south, bringing Ozma and her friends for the official opening.

  Jenny settled back to earth with her hair askew and panting from her exertion, and took the black bag into her shop. The Cowardly Lion and Hungry Tiger were stationed outside the door. These two watchful guardians stood rigid and alert until the royal party dashed back to the city. Then everyone breathed easier with old Mombi out of sight.

  Meanwhile, though only a painted image of her former self, the desperate old mischief-maker made a beeline for the wastelands of the Winkie Wilderness. Here in the lonely mountain passes, so wild and hidden, bandit sorcerers and weird witches work their magic under cover. They have lived there for years waiting to ambush any wanderer.

  This wilderness was the first place old Mombi remembered where she could find a hiding place. Yet the refuge was no refuge at all. Only by several desperate encounters did she manage to escape being forced into slavery by wizards and witches just as cruel as

  old Mombi and even more powerful. Move on she must.

  Out and away she flew, across the yellow sands until she came to the Deadly Desert. Here she let out a screech, closed her eyes, and leaped the whole distance across the dangerous waste. Knowing she would be pursued, she was still driven to find a hiding place. Flying low over the bleak, empty land of the Kingdom of the Gnomes, she saw the sparkle of the water on Tickley Bender’s head as it rose up seething over a helpless wooden whale. Without hesitating, she swooped down close to the whale.

  “Do I see a door in that silly old fish?” she mumbled to herself. “Yes, I think I do!” She dashed toward it with the speed of the wind, slipped inside the cabin, and slammed the door. Safe inside, she stealthily peered around, poking into every corner. Finding the place empty she crawled under a low bunk and lay flat on the floor.

  With one wicked eye she could see every part of the cabin without being discovered. Then-her heart

  stood still–- everything began to sink-down-down

  -down-

  CHAPTER 10

  Kaliko in a Rage

  T ICKLEY BENDER saw old Mombi fly into the whale just as he dropped the Jones cousins into the underground cavern that led to nowhere, and he laughed and laughed.

  The huge whale drew his lower deck in close and set his jaw. Bucky held fast to the rail as they went, licketty-split, into complete darkness.

  The course of the river turned and twisted. Often Davy scraped his sides on the tunnel walls but soon learned to avoid the tight places at the sharp turns. Occasional flashes from Davy’s eyes lit the tunnel, but only for a moment. Beating their way the best they could they managed to steer clear of disaster. The rush of the subterranean river gradually subsided and Bucky’s confidence returned. Finally the water found its level and the roar died down. A faint glow from far ahead slowly grew bright enough to show high arches of beautiful carved stone between long stretches of carefully built masonry.

  “Looks as if somebody lived down here,” whispered Bucky as the light grew bright enough to show them where they were going.

  “What’s all this?” Davy sputtered, as they approached a broad lake where a warning sign was carved in the rock. It read:

  NO PLACE FOR FISH, CHICKENS,

  Children or Ex-Kings.Kaliko King of the Gnomes.

  “It’s too late now to pay any attention to that,” said Bucky, as they barged swiftly past the warning into the quiet lake.

  All around the lake were built galleries of colored stone. Immense cut rubies and diamonds with other precious stones were set in such a manner that they reflected beams of light from the farthest corner to the high, vaulted roof.

  The clang of a hundred hammers could be heard where twisted little workmen were to be seen, beating metals into various beautiful forms.

  At sight of the newcomers the liftle gray men stopped their work and stared in amazement. Only for a moment did they pause, then darted through the galleries, spreading the alarm. Throughout the whole underground kingdom excitement spread. The Gnomes hurried back to their smoking forges and the ring of little hammers against anvils began again; with lightning speed they were forging long chains. From the edge of the lake, the Gnomes threw these

  chains around the whale until they had him so entangled he could not break away.

  “Of all the star-spangled nerve!” yelled Bucky. “What in blazes do you fellows think you are doing?”

  “Fishing!” answered a hairy little Gnome. The other Gnomes were convulsed with mocking laughter.

  From an upper gallery one powerful Gnome succeeded in looping a line around the whale’s tail and pulled it tighter with a double hitch. With a shout of glee a company of bow-legged Gnomes soon had the whale hauled out of the water. They dragged him by the tail into a brightly lighted cavern.

  “We’ll take him to King Kaliko,” they shouted.

  “Blithers and blisters! What next?” thought Bucky as he vainly tried to free himself from the strong golden chains that bound him to the whale.

  Meanwhile, more wiry gray Gnomes had come up from underground mines carrying pickaxes and shovels.

  “Take him to the King!” they yelled, joining the procession.

  The King sat on his ruby throne munching a sandstone sandwich.

  “Now what?” he groaned in a tired voice. “Get out!”

  A hairy old Gnome stepped forward and bowed low. “We have caught a fish for Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Will you have it fried for supper? Or baked?”

  “Don’t bother me,” complained the little King. “I don’t care what you do with the bung-eyed monster. Eat him yourselves,” he grumbled, lolling flat on his back and swinging a skinny leg over the ruby throne.

  “I prefer this cup of hot quicksilver,” he whimpered as he gulped the sizzling hot liquid and smacked his lips with satisfaction. “Now I feel better,” he sighed, sitting up straight and casting a suspi
cious glare at the captives.

  Sliding timidly down from his high throne he stepped gingerly around the chained prisoners. On hands and knees, he crept close to the whale, looking slyly beneath the huge body, and he began to tremble.

  “Are you alone?” he stuttered, his round eyes staring in alarm.

  “I won’t tell you-you should have questioned us before you chained us up,” Bucky answered quickly.

  “You haven’t, by any chance, met a mean old fellow named Ruggedo hanging around outside?” the King asked.

  “No!” replied the boy.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive!”

  “Then why in bluster and blazes do you come bothering me?” snapped Kaliko, peevishly.

  “You don’t think, for one moment, we wanted to come to this awful place. Do you?”

  At this remark of Bucky’s, Kaliko flew into a rage. “So that’s what you think of my priceless possessions,” he screamed, staggered by the boy’s frankness.

  “That’s not half of what I think !”

  “Of all the cool insults to the richest kingdom in the world,” raved Kaliko, thinking of the untold treasures he had stored in his caves.

  “It’s a fine kingdom to get chained up and dragged around in. I don’t think you are half-civilized!” Bucky retorted.

  Kaliko turned to his head digger: ‘Quiggeroc, take this big toad-fish out of my sight, and put that boy to work in your deepest mine,” said the King taking a step toward Bucky and swinging his jeweled sceptre threateningly.

  At the same moment a clear voice filled the cavern: “Be very careful, Kaliko!”