L. Frank Baum - Oz 19 Read online

  Pajuka?”

  “They certainly did,” asserted the goose, settling down on the bench beside Snip. “Is it usual to knock down innocent travelers without reason or ceremony?” - “Is it usual to sit in the presence of a king?” retorted the Hooper stiffly. At this all his subjects began whooping faintly, “Bow down to Rollo the Royal, bow down to King Rollo the Worst!”

  “Oh, roll up!” said Snip scornfully. “You’re only a lot of live hoops anyway. Why should we

  bow?”

  “Leave the park instantly!” roared Rollo, bouncing up and down with rage.

  “Let’s,” said Snip, grinning over at Pajuka.

  “I’m ready,” agreed the goose, “but where’s Mombi?”

  “Here!” spluttered the witch, rolling out of a bonnet bush. “Any more nonsense from these creatures and I’ll turn them to breakfast rolls and eat them for supper.”

  “A witch!” whooped the King.

  “A witch!” coughed all the others and, seizing their toes, the whole company of them whirled off together and disappeared in a cloud of dust. So without further excitement, the three adventurers reached the other side of the Hoopers’ park and, opening a small gate in the fence that surrounded it, found themselves again on the zig-zag pathway. A large sign posted on one of the trees immediately attracted Snip’s attention.

  “Fifty leaps to the Corners,” announced the sign curiously enough.

  “Leaps!” gasped Snip, while Mombi pushed back her hat and stood on tip-toe to examine the crooked letters. “Must we leap all the way?”

  “Better look before we do,” chuckled Pajuka, scratching his head with the third toe of his left foot. “I’ve been in some pretty tight corners in my time, and prefer to go around the rest of them.”

  “We’ll go straight on. Who’s afraid?” sneered Mombi. Snip, thinking of the way she had hidden in the bonnet bush while he beat off the Hoopers, winked at Pajuka and Pajuka, with a little flutter of his wings, winked back. Then all three started along the narrow path together.

  CHAPTER 6

  In Catty Corners

  SUPPOSE the King were a goat, do you think you would still remember him?” asked Snip, as they zigzagged along the strange pathway.

  “Certainly!” honked Pajuka, fluttering down. “I’d know him in any shape. But why do you ask? What makes you think the King is a goat? Are there any goats around here?” Shooting out his neck,-Pajuka began peering this way and that.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Snip frankly. “I was just wondering.”

  “You talk too much,” snapped Mombi, stopping to pull up her stocking. “If I could remember. my magic I’d turn you to a parrot!”

  At this several of the trees that edged the -pathway burst into loud roars of laughter, shaking all over and clasping theinselves about the trunk with their branches. Snip was so astonished that he jumped backward and Pajuka, stepping on his own toes, fell forward on his head.

  “Oh, my dear Will, these are funny ones, chortled the first tree. “Look at that ridiculous bird and that squidgety old skumpus, and would you count the buttons on the boy’s suit. Oh! Oh! I shall die laughing!”

  Now Snip’s suit, like all the suits of the button wood boys, was generously trimmed with buttons. He had always considered it quite handsome, but now, as the trees continued to rock and roar with merriment, he began to feel uncomfortable and a little provoked.

  “Quit your laughing!” puffed Pajuka indignantly. “What right have trees to laugh at people?”

  “Every right in Oz,” chuckled the second tree, leaning down to tickle Mombi under the chin with one of its twigs. “We’re laughing willows, we are, always looking for a good joke, Hah! Hah! And the laugh is on us, Ho! Ho! Isn’t that funny, Tree He?”

  “Well, we’re not jokes,” said Snip stiffly. “Come on, Pajuka!” This set the willows to laughing so heartily that their leaves fell in perfect showers. Mombi, in a rage, clapped her hands to her ears and hobbled off and Snip, after a few more remarks which only made the trees laugh harder, ran after her.

  “I must say I prefer weeping willows,” wheezed Pajuka, catching up with Snip and smoothing out his feathers with his bill. One of the willows had actually had the temerity to tweak him by the tail.

  “When I find the King, I’ll have you chopped down and up!” screamed Mombi, turning to shake her stick at the offending trees, but neither Snip nor Pajuka bothered to listen to her. They were staring ahead in great astonishment, for the last zig in the road had brought them quite suddenly to the edges of a sparkling inland sea.

  “Water!” exulted the goose, instantly restored to good humor. “Oh, let’s go swimming!”

  “Swimming!” shuddered Mombi, whirling around in a hurry. “Don’t you know water is death and destruction to witches?”

  “Is it?” asked Snip in pleased surprise, and secretly wondered whether he hadn’t better push Mombi in at once. But Pajuka, half guessing what was in his mind, shook his head reprovingly.

  “But how are we to get across?” demanded the goose. “I don’t see any boats or ferries and

  “It’s pretty wide to swim,” ventured Snip, shading his eyes with his hands and looking anxiously over the tumbling waves. Snip’s only experience with swimming had been in a small pool in the button wood and he was not at all sure he would ever reach the other side.

  “I could tug you across, ‘ said Pajuka, “but what about Mombi?”

  “Hold your bill!” snapped the witch in her usual pleasant fashion, and sitting on a stone she scowled down at the sandy beach. Then all at once she hopped up and, hobbling over to Snip, took the basket again.

  “Now what?” whispered the little button boy. Pajuka shrugged his wings and rolled up his eyes. but they had not long to wait or wonder, for Mombi, having found what she wanted, sprang on a big rock and hurled a small purple can as far as she could into the rippling blue waters. Then with a grunt of satisfaction, she resumed her seat upon the stone.

  “Well?” wheezed Pajuka inquiringly.

  “What are we waiting for?” demanded Snip.

  “For the sea to jell, idiot!” sniffed Mombi. “In that can is the strongest gelatin in Oz. It took me six years to refine and collect it. Watch the sea and we shall see.

  “It is jelling,” marvelled Snip, hopping up and down. “Look, Pajuka, the waves have stopped rolling!” This was quite true. The dancing blue waters, caught in their liveliest tumbling, had stiffened with their white frills still upon them and the whole sea was becoming smooth and glassy as a bowl of gelatin, only no gelatin Snip ever had seen was half so beautiful, for the blue sea, tinged in spots with purple and green, sparkled in the sunshine like some large and lovely amethyst.

  “Well, do I know any tricks or not?” shrilled Mombi, snapping her fingers under Pajuka’s bill. “Come on! Let’s cross!” She rose stiffly and Snip, taking up the basket, set one foot experimentally upon the jelly. It shook a little under his weight, but seemed firm and solid, so the three stepped out and were soon half way over.

  “How about the fish?” asked Pajuka, looking down through the clear, jellied water.

  “They’ll be jelly fish for a while,” snickered Mombi, who was in a fine humor at the trick she had turned. “I wish the Wizard of Oz could see this. I’ll wager I can get as much magic out of a cook book as he can out of a whole library of sorcery.”

  “It certainly looks good enough to eat,” admitted Snip. “Wonder if it is?” He scooped up a bit to taste, but it was so salty it choked him. If it was not good to eat it was surely fine to walk on and Snip, bouncing along beside Pajuka, was quite sorry when they reached the other side. “I think traveling’s pretty interesting,” observed the little button boy, looking back over his shoulder. “Don’t you Pajuka?”

  The goose sighed. “I used to think so, Snip, but I’ve traveled so far searching for the King, I’m homesick for my slippers, a quiet old castle and my pipe. Haven’t had a smoke since I was a goose,” mourned the poor prime
minister, rolling his eyes sadly. Snip couldn’t help thinking how funny Pajuka would look with a pipe and a pair of slippers. But he stifled this thought quickly.

  “Don’t you care!” he whispered comfortingly. “You’ll find the King and when we reach the Emerald City, I’ll tell Ozma all about you,” he promised, lowering his voice so Mombi could not hear. “I am sure she’ll help us.

  “What are you whispering about?” snarled the witch, glaring back suspiciously.

  “About a second,” whistled Pajuka, soaring into the air. “Hello, what’s this?”

  “Why, it’s the Corners,” cried Snip, running ahead to read a large sign suspended from a pussy willow under the great gray walls.

  “Catty Corners,” announced the sign, in black scratchy letters.

  “Catty Corners,” hissed the goose. “Well, this is no place for me. Let us fly at once!”

  “But I adore cats,” declared Mombi and, before anyone could stop her, she thumped hard upon the gates. The walls surrounding Catty Corners formed a huge triangle and were so high that even by bending backward Snip could not see the top. As he straightened up, a door in the gray wall flew open and a simply enormous Tabby Cat, dressed as a guard, seized Pajuka by the wing and Mombi by the arm.

  “No boys allowed!” bawled the guard, bristling his whiskers at Snip. Before the little button boy could even wink, the cat had dragged his two companions in and slammed the door. Snip could hear Pajuka hissing and Mombi protesting in a shrill voice and next instant the door flew open and he, himself,

  was seized by a cat guard and jerked through.

  “He’s my prisoner,” cried Mombi defiantly, as Snip was lined up beside her. She had no intention of letting Snip out of her clutches. He knew entirely too much for that.

  “Well, he’s my prisoner now,” snarled the guard, giving Snip a shake. Then, looking more closely at Mombi, his eyes began to sparkle with pleasure. “Who are you, beauteous being?” purred the cat, doffing his cap. Pajuka, though badly scared by his predicament, could not restrain a loud chuckle.

  “I’m a witch!” answered Mombi, drawing herself up proudly.

  “A witch!” cried the second cat guard, releasing his hold on Mombi’s arm. “Oh cousin, how splendid! The Queen must know of this.”

  Throwing back his head he began to yowl in a hundred piercing and alarming cat cries.

  “What’s he saying?” gasped Snip.

  “Sounds like cat fish to me,” gurgled Pajuka, ducking his head under his wing.

  At the cat guard’s call, hundreds of cats began to race toward the prisoners. They were as large as Snip himself, and of every kind and color imaginable. As soon as they saw Mombi, they began to purr with pleasure and delight, rubbing against her knees, knocking her hat sideways and pressing so close that Snip and Pajuka were almost suffocated. Then, forming a triumphant procession, they started for the center of Catty Corners. Mombi, like all witches, was fonder of cats than of anything else and walked along fondling first one and then another, while Snip and Pajuka, still in the clutches of the guards, followed in huge disgust. Several of the cats cast hungry looks at the goose, but most of them were too taken up with Mombi to even notice him.

  “Did you ever see such a place?” sniffed the little button boy scornfully. “Why, it’s all fences.”

  Even as he spoke, his cat guard sprang up on a white fence, dragging him along. It was so perfectly unexpected that Snip nearly fell on his nose but, glancing ahead, he saw Mombi nimbly walking the fence between two black cats. Pajuka had no trouble walking the fence either, though he was greatly inconvenienced by the guard who had hold of his wing.

  “If I just had a pair of clothes props,” sighed Snip, balancing himself precariously.

  “Take hold of my tail,” advised the guard gruffly, “and if you fall I’ll scratch you.”

  Another cat sprang up behind him and put one paw under his arm, so between the two Snip managed fairly well. He had to keep his eyes so closely on the fence that he did not see as much of Catty Corners as he otherwise might have. But he saw enough to interest him tremendously. A perfect network of fences divided this curious city into a great many little enclosures. Snip would have called them back yards. In each yard was a catnip bed, a pussy willow tree, and a lovely fountain of cream. They passed many ponds well stocked with fish, and Snip shivered uncomfortably as one of the Tabby Cats jumped down from the fence, snatched a gold fish from a pond, and began eating it as if it were a cracker, salting it generously from a shaker he carried around his neck.

  “Hateful things,” thought the little button boy, looking anxiously ahead to see how Pajuka was faring. “I hope we don’t have to stay here long.” A sudden yowling and waving of tails told him something

  was happening. Stretching his neck, he saw that Mombi had reached the Queen’s garden.

  “Are you prepared to meet The Imperial and Puissant Pussy?” asked the guard, looking severely over his shoulder.

  “Another cat?” groaned Snip.

  “Scratch him,” hissed a big grey Tom, but the Tabby Cat merely reached down, and clutching Snip by the front of his jacket, jumped down from the fence.

  Her Majesty lay luxuriously under a catsup tree. Ten small kittens fanned her with large leaves and there was a Tabby Cat Guard in every corner of the garden. There was not room for all the other cats, so they ranged themselves expectantly on the surrounding fences while Mombi, Pajuka and Snip were brought forward. The Queen, a sleek maltese, opened her eyes languidly as they approached, but at sight of Mombi she sprang up so impulsively, she bumped her head on a catsup bottle.

  “Why, you dear, beautiful, dreadful old thing!” purred the Queen, clasping her paws delightedly.

  “Dear, beautiful, dreadful old thing!” purred all the other cats, waving their tails approvingly.

  “You shall stay and bewitch us forever,” murmured her Highness, stroking Mombi’s wrinkled cheek affectionately. “But who let this boy in?” she screamed furiously, catching a glimpse of Snip.

  “Mean, horrid, naughty little wretch, puller of tails and thrower of stones!” Her eyes flashed so threateningly Snip was really alarmed and began to look around for some way to escape.

  “He never pulled a cat-tail in his life,” blustered Pajuka indignantly, “except in a swamp!”

  “In a swamp?” shrieked the Queen. “What right has he to pull cat-tails in a swamp. Who are

  you?”

  “A Prime Minister when I am myself,” answered Pajuka promptly, “but unfortunately just now I am not myself.”

  “A goose!” purred the cat Queen, licking her lips hungrily. “Ah, it’s years since I’ve tasted a goose. How old are you? How much do you weigh? Are you tender?”

  At each dreadful question, her Maltese Majesty drew nearer to Pajuka. Snip looked appealingly at Mombi, but the old witch had forgotten them both and was seated blissfully under the catsup tree, her lap full of kittens.

  “As a man I was in my prime, but I’m a very old goose,” panted Pajuka, edging nervously away from the greedy Queen.

  “I don’t believe it,” said her Majesty, giving Pajuka a playful poke. “What fun! A guest! A prisoner and a dinner! The witch shall stay, the boy shall be publicly chased and scratched and the goose, ah the goose shall be eaten! You may kiss my paw!” purred her Highness, advancing graciously toward Snip.

  “Mombi! Mombi! Do you hear that?” screamed Pajuka wildly. “I’m to be served up for

  dinner!”

  “Serve you right,” yawned the witch drowsily.

  “I’ll not let them eat you!” shouted Snip, brushing aside the Queen’s paw and struggling to free himself from the cat guard.

  “Take them away!” commanded the Queen, with a wave of her tail. “And keep tabs on them until wanted.”

  “You’ll be sorry for this!” honked Pajuka. “I’m very bad for cats. If you eat me I’ll give you

  fits.”

  “Hush!” hissed her Highness haughtily. “You a
re now the dinner and the dinner is not supposed to converse.”

  “Come along, dinner!” said the guard gruffly, and dragging Pajuka by the wing and Snip by the arm, he marched them sternly away, while all the inhabitants of Catty Corners howled with derision and delight.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Magic Pudding

  SNIP,” wheezed Pajuka mournfully, “when I am cooked and eaten, will you save a few of my feathers for Ozma? And if you find the King will you tell him that old Pajuka was faithful to-to the last?”

  In spite of himself the poor goose’s voice broke and ended in a great gulp.

  “When they get through with me there’ll be just enough feathers left to stuff a pillow,” choked

  Pajuka.

  “Don’t!” begged the little button boy, flinging his arms around his friend’s neck. “Besides, if I’m to be chased and scratched by all those cats, there won’t be anything left of me at all.”

  “I’ll nip off their tails, I’ll snatch out their whiskers!” raged Pajuka, thrusting his bill through the bars of their prison. The two had been thrown unceremoniously into a small summer house at the end of the Queen’s garden. It was surrounded by cat guards, so their chances for escape were cut off on every side.