The Giant Horse Of Oz Read online

  "Dorothy, Betsy and Trot," muttered the Soothsayer reading the names under the picture. "These little girls, though native Americans, now live in the Emerald City of Oz and are loved and honored by the entire populace." Akbad paused thoughtfully after reading this sentence, then tearing out the page stuffed the picture into his sleeve. "One will be quite enough," he remarked, with a little shrug of his shoulders, "and all that I have to do now is to reach the Emerald City." Standing before a huge map of Oz that covered one side of the wall, Akbad traced with his finger a line between Sapphire City and the capital. Not a great distance, to be sure, but to the old Soothsayer who had never been away from the Ozure Isles in his entire life, it seemed a long and perilous journey. Sinking into an easy chair he began tugging at his whiskers and pulling his long nose and soon a perfectly splendid plan popped into his turbaned head.

  "The pear!" puffed Akbad delightedly. "I will pick the golden pear and save myself and the entire Kingdom. " Jerking out his magic descriptionary, a booklet all soothsayers carry in their pockets, Akbad turned to the proper page though he knew almost by heart what it would say of the golden pear. "In the gardens of the King grows an emerald tree, bearing always one golden fruit. This fruit shall be plucked by the Prince of the realm in times of extreme danger or peril. It will immediately transport him wheresoever he desires to go.

  "If it transports a Prince it will surely carry a soothsayer," decided Akbad. "If the King is too stupid to bid Philador to pick the pear I myself shall pluck it from the bough and save the people from destruction."

  The King, as it happened, was at that very moment thinking of the golden fruit. "If nothing turns up tomorrow," yawned His Majesty, blowing out the tall candle beside his bed, "I shall command Philador to pick the magic pear. I have lived a long time and do not mind being destroyed, but he is too young to suffer destruction." Comforted by the thought that the little Prince, at least, would escape so hard a fate, Cheeriobed sank down among his silk cushions and was soon fast asleep. His slumbers would not have been so calm nor his dreams so untroubled had he seen the two figures that presently stepped out of his castle. One passed from the Eastern Gateway into the gardens, the other from the Western Doorway and, after looking all around to see that he was not observed, hastened down to the beach.

  In the moonlight the radiant capital of Cheeriobed floated like a City of dreams in a silver mist. Looking over his shoulder at its sparkling turrets and spires, Philador wondered if he should ever have the courage to leave so lovely a spot. Then catching a glimpse of the horrid head of Quiberon, rising suddenly above the waters of Orizon, the little Prince shuddered and gathering his cloak about him hurried down to the rocks. He wondered if the blue gull had kept her promise and looked anxiously up and down the deserted strand. There was no one in sight and dejectedly he was about to return to the castle when a low whistle from a nearby cave came floating up to him.

  Running down and into the cave, Philador stopped short in perfect astonishment. Crouched upon the rocks and regarding him with bright interested eyes was a giant blue gull twice as large as Philador himself. On its head, the feathers grew into a circlet that rested like a crown upon its brow.

  "You wish to leave the Ozure Isle?" asked the gull quietly. "Climb upon my back, then; you have been kind and gentle to my subjects, therefore I the grand Mogull, King of all the land and sea birds, will carry you wheresoever you wish to go.

  For a moment Philador was too startled to move. Then as a deep roar from the throat of Quiberon came reverberating through the grotto, he sprang upon the gull's back and clasping his arms around its neck whispered hoarsely, "Carry me to the Good Witch of the North!"

  With scarcely a flutter, the great gull rose, mounting higher and higher, till the Ozure Isles were no more than sparkling dots on the waters of the Lake. Akbad, standing under the magic tree in the King's garden, saw a great shadow cross the moon. Brushing his hand uneasily across his eyes he looked again, but this time the shadow had gone. Concluding that it had been but a dark cloud, the Soothsayer drew a deep breath and, leaning forward, broke the golden pear from the sacred bough. Now Akbad hardly knew what to expect, but the thing that did happen exceeded his wildest imaginings. The pear in his hands grew larger and larger, bursting finally with such a golden splutter and glare he was almost blinded. Stars! It was a pair of wings!

  Thoroughly frightened, the soothsayer fell back against the tree, putting up both hands to beat off the whirling pinions. But it was no use. The great wings swooped down upon him and next moment had fastened themselves to his shoulders. His heart, as they lifted him into the air, dropped so suddenly into his boots both boots fell off. Motionless and helpless and just above the emerald tree he hung suspended, trembling so violently his turban came unwound and fluttered like a banner in the evening breeze. For about as long as you could count ten Akbad dangled limply between the golden wings. Then recovering a little of his courage he moistened his lips and muttered weakly.

  "Take me to the Emerald City of Oz." Next instant, another shadow had crossed the moon and Akbad, like some strange ungainly bird, was being borne swiftly and silently towards the South.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Strange Public Benefactor

  I N THE dusty shop of Dan, the second-hand man, there was no sound except the whirr of a rickety sewing machine in the back room. Dan bought old clothes which he mended and pressed and sold again to people who could not afford new ones. Usually he spent every evening in his dim little Boston shop, but tonight Dan's niece was to be married, and the old clothes man was hurriedly stitching up a rent in a dress suit he had bought that very morning from a dusky gentleman in Grant street. lt was worn and shabby, but surveying himself in the cracked mirror a few moments later Danny felt he would look quite as fine as the groom. Well pleased with his appearance he nodded to his reflection and taking down a second hand high hat from his shelf let himself out into the night.

  It was a warm starry evening in May and, coming to the end of the narrow street in which he lived, Dan struck out across a small park, whistling softly to himself. He would have preferred his pipe, but in honor of the grand occasion had purchased a handful of five cent cigars. Placing one between his teeth, he fumbled in his pocket for the box of matches he had surely placed there before starting. His fingers closed instead on a small leather book.

  "What's this?" exclaimed Danny in surprise and, stepping under a park lamp, he began fluttering over the pages. It was filled with closely written paragraphs in a strangely cramped hand. The words were no words Danny had ever heard or seen. To prove it he settled his specs more firmly and read a whole paragraph aloud, moistening his lips between the long hard sentences, and keeping his cigar in place in his mouth with great difficulty.

  "Well, did anyone ever hear the like of that?" chuckled Danny, winking up at the statue of a Public Benefactor who stood facing him in a small plot of grass. "What do you think of it yourself, old felly?"

  "I hardly know," murmured the Public Benefactor, letting the arm which had been stiffly extended fall heavily at his side. "I hardly know. You see, I've never thought before, and-"

  "Merciful mackerel!" The cigar fell from Danny's lips, the high hat from his head and hurling the leather book into, a clump of bushes, he turned and fled for his life, bumping into trees and benches and running in the opposite direction from the wedding.. In fact, I am not sure he ever did get to the wedding at all. The Public Benefactor watched him go with round unwinking eyes, then stepping down from his pedestal, picked up the high hat, fortunately an extremely large one, and placed it gravely upon his head.

  "Now for an umbrella," murmured the stone gentleman determinedly. "I must have an umbrella. What I've suffered all these years, rain and snow. Ah-hh." Catching sight of an old lady hurrying down one of the cinder paths, he called loudly. "Stop! Stop! Give me that umbrella!" For some seconds the old lady who was quite deaf paid no attention, but when, looking over her shoulder, she saw a gray stone gentleman in
a frock coat pounding after her, waving both arms, she picked up her skirts, jumped over a little hedge and fell face down among the pansies. Without feeling at all sorry, or stopping to help her to her feet, the Public Benefactor took the umbrella from her hand. Opening it with a little grunt of satisfaction and holding it over his head as he had seen other people do, he stepped carelessly over the old lady and continued down the cinder path. "I've always wanted to be like other people," mused the statue, striding along contentedly, "and now, I am. But I wonder why I never did this before?"

  Why indeed? Simply because he had never been alive before. The words in the little black book must have held some strange and mysterious force; the owner of Danny's dress suit must have been a powerful magician to bring this cold statue to life. And as he strode across the little Boston park, with Danny's hat upon his head and the old lady's umbrella clasped tightly in his hand, little boys who had come for a quiet game of marbles before bed time, men and women on their way home to tea, stared in perfect astonishment and then took to their heels, screaming hoarsely as they ran.

  "I'm acting just the way they are acting, and yet they run away," grumbled the Public Benefactor crossly. "What's the matter with them anyway?" He sank down on a park bench to puzzle it all out, but the bench, which had been built to hold only ordinary folk, crumpled like a match under his great weight. A tramp who had been asleep on the other end, wakened by the terrible tumble, took one glance at the stone man, then rolled into a clump of shrubbery where he lay trembling so violently leaves fell in showers to the walk. By the time the Public Benefactor had struggled to his feet a great crowd had gathered. At a safe distance they peered at him, waving their arms, shaking their heads and looking so frightened the Public Benefactor began to feel frightened himself.

  Turning his back upon them, he walked out of the park and straight into the middle of a busy crossing. Here he stopped to gaze at a winking electric sign when a dreadful thump almost knocked the umbrella from his hand, and a series of shouts almost raised the hat from his head. A motor truck going at a fast clip had run right into him! But instead of upsetting the stone man, the truck splintered to bits and lay scattered about the street like a broken toy! Surely a pleasant change from breaking up poor pedestrians. But the truck driver did not seem to think so. Separating himself from the wreckage, he advanced threateningly upon the Public Benefactor. But one good look at that calm stone figure seemed to be enough. A mounted policeman leaning down seized the high hatted gentleman by the arm, then feeling the hard stone beneath his fingers he reined back his horse and blew a shrill blast on his whistle.

  In less than a minute the street was a seething mass of men, women, little girls and boys, all striving for a glimpse of the man who had stopped a truck. Next someone turned in a fire alarm and the fire engines came clanging on the scene. The firemen not knowing what else to do turned their hose full upon the offending statue.

  Alarmed and disgusted, and protecting himself as well as he could with the old lady's umbrella, the Public Benefactor decided to return to his pedestal. But in the excitement he took a wrong turning. Then he began to run and the crowd to run after him-faster and faster and faster. His Stone feet, thudding upon the asphalt, shook the houses on both sides and, dodging as best he could the sticks, stones and other missiles of his pursuers, the poor bewildered statue ran on. Being very large and perfectly tireless, he soon out-distanced them and, looking over his shoulder to make sure, failed to notice the steep embankment ahead, till it was too late. The workmen themselves had not intended to blow such a terrific hole in the earth; a thin crust of earth at the bottom hid the yawning cavity from view. But the stone man, tumbling head over heels down the steep sides, crashed through this crust as if it had been paper and plunged into a damp darkness.

  "What now?" groaned the statue dismally, clutching his umbrella. "'Am I a bird? Why, oh why did I ever leave my pedestal?" But wishing made no difference at all and down he dropped to the very bottom of nowhere. Then all at once he crashed through a crust of blue sky out into the blazing sunlight and thumped down in the middle of a broad green field. Luckily he landed upon his feet, but so hard and so heavily that he went down to his knees in soft earth. For a few moments he stood perfectly still. Then, closing his umbrella, he pulled one leg and then the other out of the mud and took a few steps to shake the stuff from his stone shins.

  "It was night and now it is day. I was there and now I am here. What next?" he muttered uneasily. The country into which he had fallen so suddenly seemed safe enough. Green fields, dotted with feathery trees, stretched to the right and left. But after the dusty Boston park it seemed large and lonely. As he gazed about uncertainly, he noticed a blue figure, walking briskly along a yellow highway that ran through the center of the fields. He had never in his whole carved career seen a fellow like this and as the figure drew nearer he grasped his umbrella firmly and made ready to fight or run.

  It was a Scarecrow, a live, jolly, sure enough straw stuffed Scarecrow. As he came opposite he took off his hat.

  "Good after-night," said the Scarecrow politely. The Public Benefactor made an unsuccessful effort to remove his own hat, but he had jammed it down too hard.

  "I suppose you mean good morning," he remarked stiffly, returning the Scarecrow's bow.

  "Have it your own way," smiled the Scarecrow, with a carefree wave, "and speaking of ways, where are you going?"

  "I'm not going, I'm coming," announced the Public Benefactor sulkily. The experiences of the past few hours had made him suspicious of every place and everybody. The Scarecrow considered his answer for a few seconds in silence, then stepping closer inquired earnestly, "Tell me, are you a person?"

  "Are you?" At this quick and unexpected turning of his question, the Scarecrow threw back his head and laughed heartily.

  "I don't know," he admitted merrily, "whether I'm a person or not, but I do know that I'm alive and it's great fun to be alive!"

  "Is it?" The Public Benefactor looked dubiously into the Scarecrow's cheerful cotton countenance. "I'm not sure I like it," he sighed, shaking his head ponderously.

  "Oh, you'll get used to it." Clapping on his hat, the straw man regarded his companion attentively. "You're the only live statue I've ever seen," he observed at last. "How do you happen to be alive?" There was something so jolly about this queer fellow, the poor statue began to feel a little happier.

  "First," he began slowly, "I was quarried, then I was hacked and hewn into my present shape. For many years I stood on a pedestal in a little park in the city of Boston. While I could neither move nor talk I could see and hear all that went on about me. And what I saw and heard was interesting enough. I watched the children sail their boats in the small pond, listened to the band on warm summer evenings and observed the strange habits of the men and women who walked about under the trees. If I had just had a hat or umbrella to protect me from the rain and snow, I could have been perfectly happy."

  "You must be perfectly happy now," put in the Scarecrow slyly, "for I see you have both." The Public Benefactor shook his head impatiently at the interruption.

  "Once a year, he continued pompously, "a crowd of citizens came and hung wreaths around my neck, and in long tedious speeches which I could not understand referred to me as a great public benefactor. Do you know what a Public Benefactor is?" he inquired curiously.

  "Well," answered the Scarecrow cautiously, you probably founded a school or a library or gave large sums of money to the poor. What was your name anyway?"

  "I never knew," replied the gray stone gentleman sadly. "It was carved on the base of my pedestal and as I was unable to bend over I could never discover this interesting information."

  "Then I shall call you Benny," decided the Scarecrow cheerfully, "short for pulic benefactor, you know. Do you look like the person you're supposed to be?"

  The statue shook his head. "I don't know that either," he admitted gloomily.

  "Oh, never mind that," said the Scarecrow, sitti
ng down on a nearby tree stump. "You are a speaking likeness of somebody, but how did you come to life?"

  "I was coming to that," exclaimed Benny quickly, and in short excited sentences he told how an old Irishman in evening clothes had stopped under the park lamp and read some strange words from a little black book and how he immediately felt a desire to step down from his pedestal. "So I did," he went on mournfully, and proceeded to relate his terrifying experiences and his final fall into this strange land. "It is very queer," he finished in a depressed voice. "When I was uninteresting and unalive, people treated me with respect and hung wreaths around my neck, yet when I came to life they turned a hose on me and even hit me with bricks."

  The Scarecrow shook his head. "There's no accounting for mortals," he explained solemnly, "but now that you are in the fairy Kingdom of Oz, things will be different. Anyody can be alive here, and no questions asked. They even let me live!" he concluded gaily.

  "Is it a republic?" asked Benny, eyeing the Scarecrow with new interest.

  "Indeed not!" exclaimed the straw man loftily. "We are a magic monarchy under the beneficent rule of a little fairy and there" he waved proudly to the left, "lies the capital. If you wish, I will take you to the Emerald City at once and present you to the Queen. What would you like to be now that you are alive?" he asked curiously.