In the Purple Forest
Snip thought of a great many things to tell Mombi as he was being
dragged along through the forest, but she ran so far and so fast that
by the time she stopped he was too bumped about and breathless to say
any of them.
"Now what?" puffed Pajuka, settling on the lowest branch of a purple
pine.
"Well, do you expect to find the King under the first tree we come
to?" panted the old witch, dropping down on a stump and mopping her
forehead with her apron. "Hand over that basket, you!" Before he could
comply, Mombi had snatched the basket from Snip and, loosening her hold
upon his arm, began rummaging among its contents till she found a small
purple scroll. "Keep your eye on the boy," ordered Mombi, snapping the
scroll open, "and if he tries to escape nip off his nose, d'ye hear?"
"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that," said Pajuka, fluttering his wings.
"He'd much rather come with us to find the King and share in the
reward, wouldn't you lad?"
Snip glanced fearfully around him. The shadows were growing longer and
longer, and in the dim purple twilight the forest looked so grim and
forbidding that he decided even bad company was better than none. So he
shook his head and swallowing the lump in his throat resolved to make
the best of things, and at the same time find out all he could about
this mysterious affair.
"What did I tell you," clucked Pajuka, preening his feathers. "I
shouldn't be surprised if he'd be a great help to us, Mombi!"
"Then let him begin by gathering some wood," grunted Mombi, "and none
of your tricks Snip my boy, or I'll turn you to a muffin and eat you
for breakfast."
"Is Snip your name?" asked Pajuka, waddling after the little button
boy. Snip nodded and began slowly picking up twigs and putting them in
a heap.
"A heartless old wretch," wheezed the goose, when they were out of ear
shot. "Don't mind her. She can no more turn you to a muffin than I can,
but she is the only one who can help me find the King so we must humor
her. Stick by me, Snip, and I'll stick by you. Is it a bargain?" In the
strange, silent forest, the white goose looked so big and friendly that
Snip dropped his twigs and flung both arms around his neck.
"I like you Pajuka," said the little button boy, giving him a quick hug.
"And I like you, Snip," replied the goose, snuggling close to him.
Then, as Mombi glanced up suspiciously, they both fell to gathering
twigs and in a few moments had enough for a fine fire. Mombi was still
poring over the scroll. Looking over her shoulder, Snip saw that it was
a map of Oz--such a map as he had often seen in his geoziphy books at
home. Mombi held the map close to her nose, for in the failing light
it was hard to see anything.
"If I could only remember! If I could only remember!" muttered Mombi,
rocking backward and forward on the stump. "What did I do with the
King? Where did I put him? What did I use--green magic or blue, word
magic or number magic, fire magic or smoke magic? Can't you remember
anything?" She whirled in great exasperation upon Pajuka.
"Well, not much," sighed the goose, rubbing his head with his wing.
"You see it was so long ago. I do remember we were in a small greenwood
near where the Emerald City stands to-day when you changed me to a
goose. But as you drove me away immediately, I never knew what became
of the King."
"Then it was green magic!" cried Mombi, springing up exultantly. "We
must go to the Emerald City and find that wood, for if the King was
transformed by green magic he must be restored by green magic, and the
only place where green magic takes effect is in and around the Emerald
City. Once there I will doubtless remember everything," chuckled
Mombi. "If I don't, I'll just steal some of Ozma's magic. I'll steal
the magic belt, restore the King to the throne and have my revenge for
all these weary years. I'll turn Ozma to a piano and thump her every
day," continued Mombi, rubbing her hands gleefully together. "I'll
turn everyone else in the palace to one object and then destroy that
object--"
"I object!" spluttered Pajuka, treading on the old witch's toes in his
excitement.
"So will they," grinned Mombi, showing her yellow tusks, "but it will
do them no good. Don't stand staring at me, simpleton. Light the fire."
Whirling upon Snip, Mombi raised her stick threateningly, and Snip,
who had been staring with open mouth (for he had never heard so much
badness in his whole life) made haste to do as he was told.
Mombi, still muttering and chuckling, began to lay out the chicken and
cheese upon the tree stump. Though the fire snapped merrily enough,
supper was not very cheerful for Snip, but he ate the chicken wing and
small bit of cheese that Mombi grudgingly gave him and broke up some
bread for Pajuka.
"Where've you been all these years?" asked the old witch, looking
curiously at the goose over her mug of coffee.
"Everywhere, everywhere in Oz, searching for you and the King," puffed
Pajuka. "I've lived with miserable barnyard fowls, eating farmers'
scraps, and in constant danger of the ax. You might have made me a wild
goose, then at least I should have had some fun. I shudder when I think
how near I've been to roasting."
"Well, didn't they roast you in the old days?" replied Mombi
unfeelingly. "Prime ministers are as often roasted as geese!"
"Yes, but not in the same way." Pajuka rolled his eyes sadly at Snip.
"Why didn't you tell Ozma or Glinda on her," asked the little button
boy boldly.
"Aha! Because he knew if he did he'd disappear entirely. That was part
of the trick," shrilled Mombi. "Wasn't it, old feather head?"
"Yes, it's better to be a goose than nothing at all," admitted Pajuka
mournfully. "But never mind, when we find the King, he will restore
Mombi's powers and she will restore my elegant figure and--"
"Oh, hold your bill," snapped Mombi crossly.
Looking very ruffled, Pajuka retired to the other side of the fire,
where he and Snip conversed in low tones, while Mombi cleared away the
supper and began her endless experiments in the old black frying pan.
"I should think in some ways, being a goose would be rather nice,"
observed Snip, looking inquisitively at Pajuka. "Having wings for
instance, and never needing to get undressed or have your hair cut."
"Well," agreed Pajuka slowly, "feathers are more convenient than
clothes and while the life of a goose is very simple, it is not all
unpleasant. I've enjoyed flying a lot, and I never need to worry about
rubbers or carrying an umbrella. But after all," Pajuka sighed and
gazed sadly into the fire, "after all, my boy, there is nothing like
being yourself."
Snip considered this for a little while in silence, trying to fancy
himself in Pajuka's place. "Well, what do you miss the most?" he
inquired suddenly. Pajuka had one eye shut and was preparing to close
the other, but at Snip's words both flew wide open.
"My pockets," gasped Pajuka, with a great groan. "What is a man without
his pockets? No place to put his hands or his bills!" Clapping his wing
to his side, Pajuka looked tragically at Snip, and Snip patting his
own bulging pockets--pockets full of cake crumbs, marbles, pencil stubs
and string--nodded sympathetically. "And not only that," continued
the goose in a grieved voice, "I waken at such ridiculous hours. Hah,
hoh! I find myself falling asleep." Pajuka paused here for a simply
tremendous yawn. "Right after supper, Hoh hum!" finished the goose
apologetically. Then, tucking his head under his wing and drawing up
one leg, he fell fast asleep before Snip could ask him another question.
Pajuka was so close to the fire that the little button boy was afraid
he would singe his feathers. So, picking him up carefully, he set him
back against a gnarled old tree and, curling up on a pile of leaves
beside him, lay watching old Mombi. The wind fortunately was blowing
away from him, or he certainly would have been choked by the awful
mixtures in the black frying pan. If he had not known positively that
her magic powers were gone, he would have taken to his heels at once,
for the monsters that Mombi was trying to conjure up out of the frying
pan, would have devoured him in a minute.
"Magicum squadgicum squidgicum squdge
I order a snooch to come out of this smudge!"
Mombi frowned darkly as she hissed this, but only a dense smoke rose
from the frying pan, and after listening nervously to ten separate
incantations and finding that nothing at all happened, Snip curled down
among the leaves and was soon as fast asleep as Pajuka--asleep and
dreaming he, himself, was a goose being chased up a pink mountain by a
giant with a blue ax.
Mombi continued her experiments with the frying pan long after Snip and
Pajuka were asleep, but finally she gave up in disgust and then she,
too, lay down for a nap, which lasted until dawn.