Ozma's Odd Home-Coming
While the dummy King and his friends were making their way to the
Emerald City from the North, Ozma and her faithful followers were
plodding wearily up from the South through a lonely section of the
Quadling Country. The red house in the hunting park had been totally
deserted but the Scarecrow, climbing an old wind-mill nearby, had seen
dimly through the tree-tops the glittering spires of the capital.
Considerably cheered therefore, the little party had continued its
journey home.
At about the time Kabumpo was making his grand entry into the city,
Scraps, turning to ask Sir Hokus a question, noticed that the Knight
was fidgeting about in an extremely odd and alarming manner. They were
a bit ahead of the others and for a time Scraps regarded her companion
with her head on one side. But silence is not one of the Patch Work
Girl's strong points and as the Knight continued to squirm and bounce,
she stopped short in the road.
"Why do you jump from side to side and rattle about like a salt shaker?
Have you fleas?" inquired Scraps, looking sharply at Sir Hokus. "Is
there an ant in your armor, or what?"
"Something--something's tickling me," confessed the Knight, wriggling
his shoulders desperately. "Something like--like a sparrow. Ouch!"
gasped Sir Hokus, giving himself a shake that unfastened the top buckle
of his mailed shirt.
At Sir Hokus' cry, Scraps, too, gave a startled shriek, for out of the
Knight's shirt sped the golden goose feather he had tucked there for
safe-keeping. Before either of them had recovered from their surprise
it poised in the air and began to write furiously on the Knight's
burnished shield, while Scraps and Sir Hokus watched breathlessly.
"The King of Oz is in the palace," announced the feather with a
flourish, then fluttered down lifelessly in the dust.
"Odds blood! It thinks I'm a blackboard," grunted Sir Hokus
indignantly, and nearly bending double to get a glimpse of the writing.
"Ozma, Betsy, Trot, Wizard, come quickly!"
At the excited cries, the others, who were just around a bend in the
road, broke into a run. Sir Hokus, puffing and still indignant, pointed
to his shield. The second message of the magic quill was as amazing as
the first, which had sent them to Morrow.
"Well, that saves us hunting for him," observed the Scarecrow,
cheerfully picking up the goose quill. "He must have found himself, you
know. Shall I keep this my dear?"
"Please do," sighed Ozma, staring hard at the message, which the Knight
was vainly trying to rub from his shield, "and let's hurry. Just think,
my father is in the castle! Hurry! Hurry! We're almost home!" And
setting an example herself, the little fairy girl fairly flew down the
road.
"I for one shall not recognize this King," shouted Scraps, running
awkwardly after Ozma.
"I wonder whether he'll let us live in the castle?" puffed Trot, who
was running hand in hand with Betsy Bobbin. "I kinda wish he'd never
turned up, don't you?"
Betsy nodded emphatically, and it must be confessed that all of the
others shared Trot's wish. But as Ozma herself seemed so happy at her
father's restoration, such thoughts seemed almost treasonable and no
one but Scraps voiced his real opinion.
Ozma, being a fairy, did not tire as easily as the rest, but even Ozma
had to slacken her pace before they came to the Emerald City. Indeed,
it was a hard two-hour journey before they reached the outskirts of the
capital. Hot, tired and dusty, they hurried through the quiet streets.
No one in the city had discovered Ozma's absence, for the searchers in
the palace had gone off without notifying anyone, so they stared in
surprise at the breathless little company. Without stopping to explain,
the royal party hurried on to the palace itself, for was not the King
already there and waiting for them?
Sir Hokus was the first to burst through the tall hedge enclosing the
royal residence. He paused, brushed his mailed fist across his eyes
and then fell with a crash to the jewelled walk. The Scarecrow, close
behind, promptly fell on top of him and Scraps, the Wizard and the
little girls, bumping into the two, stopped short in their tracks.
For where the castle had stood, there was nothing at all excepting a
stretch of lawn, a little greener, perhaps, than in other parts of the
garden, but so smooth, no one would have suspected that a castle ever
_had_ stood there!
"The King is in the castle, but where is the castle?" groaned the
Scarecrow, raising his head and peering over the Knight's shoulder.
"Gone!" wailed the little Queen, rushing forward in dismay.
"Everything's gone!" And overcome by the fatigues and disappointments
of the day, Ozma threw herself down upon the grass and wept as if her
heart would break. Betsy and Trot did their best to comfort her, but
what could they say? What could anyone say in the face of so amazing a
calamity?
"Come out you villain King and thief!
Bring back our home, you robber Chief!"
screamed Scraps, making little dashes backward and forward. Of course
Scraps did not expect the King to come out but, as if in answer to her
call, there was a shudder and rumble below.
The rumbling continued, grew worse and worse and finally, with an
explosion like forty-nine roman candles going off at once, the towers,
turrets and gleaming roof of the castle burst through the earth and,
impaling the frightened company upon its spires, carried them kicking
and struggling into the air. Up, up, and up shot the castle, till the
entire structure was standing on its proper foundations. The flag pole
had caught Sir Hokus between his mailed shirt and his armor and the
Knight was spinning around like a weather cock in a gale. Ozma and the
little girls had fortunately been carried aloft on one of the rounded
domes and while their position was extremely precarious it was at least
comfortable. Scraps hung limply over a filigreed balcony, the Wizard
beside her, and the Scarecrow dangled from a spire.
"Wait! Don't move any of you," coughed the straw man. "Wait, I'll fall
down and get a ladder!"
And down he plunged!