It is hard to say who was more astonished, when Scrapper opened
the door of the sitting room and ushered in Peter and Ruggedo. The
Patchwork Girl, who had been expecting a rescue party headed by the
Scarecrow or some of her other old friends, stared in disbelief and
horror at the King of the Gnomes. Ruggedo was so surprised to see
Scraps outside of the Emerald City, and so disconcerted to know that
she was the Queen on whom he must depend for favor, that he nearly ran
out of the room. Scraps knew all about the wicked little gnome, and
had even been present when he was banished to Runaway Island. Peter
thought of all the curious people he had met so far, and this Queen was
the most curious and comical. But as they all kept their thoughts to
themselves, Scrapper noticed nothing amiss.
“Kindly entertain this customer until I return,” ordered Scrapper and,
with a curt nod at the Queen, went out and locked the door behind
him. For a second longer Scraps and the Gnome King stared fixedly at
one another. Then the Patchwork Girl, snatching off her steel-rimmed
spectacles, groaned:
“Ruggedo, as I live, Oh my land!
How’d he get off of that island?”
“That’s my affair,” answered the Gnome King in a surly voice. “How do
you happen to be Queen of Patch, I should like to know?”
“That’s my affair,” sniffed Scraps haughtily. “But I know you are up to
some mischief. Boy,” she demanded, turning severely to Peter, “where
did you meet this robber and what is he planning to do?”
Peter shuffled his feet uncomfortably, hardly knowing what to say. He
was anxious for the magic cloak to be mended, for how else was he to
reach the Emerald City and warn Ozma of her danger. If he told the
whole truth they might both be thrown into prison, or so thought Peter
then. Ruggedo was waiting nervously for his reply, and as the little
boy mumbled out a few words about being lost and trying to find his way
back home, the Gnome King sighed with relief.
“Why get so excited?” wheezed Ruggedo in a conciliatory voice. “I
merely want to have my cloak mended and was told it could be done here
better than anywhere else. What’s wrong about that?”
“It’s wrong for you to be off the island,” insisted Scraps. “You know
perfectly well you were banished forever. Oh, for an egg! For a dozen
eggs!” At the mention of eggs, Ruggedo turned quite pale under his
wrinkled grey skin and, as Peter looked at the two in perplexity,
Scrapper returned bringing an old Quilty grandame with him. She was
angry to be summoned at so late an hour and, grumbling crossly,
snatched the cloak from Ruggedo’s hand. Seating herself in a low chair
by the candle, she opened her sewing box and began to stitch so rapidly
that her needle fairly flashed through the air.
“Now then,” murmured Scrapper, smiling in satisfaction, “as to the
price?”
“I command you to arrest this creature,” interrupted the Patchwork
Girl, rushing up to the Chief Scrapper. “Don’t you realize that he is
the former King of the Gnomes and that he has tried to capture Oz at
least a dozen times?”
“A king?” exclaimed Scrapper, clasping his hands rapturously. “Why, how
we are honored! Have a chair, your Majesty! Have a cushion! Have--”
“Oh, have some sense!” screamed Scraps, while Ruggedo sidled closer to
the old woman who was mending his cloak. “If you let him go he’ll try
to capture the Emerald City. He always does.
“He’s mean, he’s cruel, he’s dangerous,
He’ll ruin Oz and all of us!”
“Nonsense!” sniffed Scrapper, giving the Patchwork Girl a push. “He is
our honored customer, and you may be the Queen here, but remember, I’m
the boss. Keep quiet or I’ll send for the Scissor Bird.”
“Wouldn’t this make your ear ache?” Peter jumped at the new voice
and, peering around in the direction it had come from, saw a little
bear peeking out of a chest. It was Grumpy, of course, and, as Peter
continued to stare at him, he retired into the chest and closed the
lid. But the Gnome King, encouraged by Scrapper’s treatment of the
Patchwork Girl, puffed out his cheeks quite cheerfully.
“You are a man of judgment,” he observed in a flattering tone. “Be
assured that I will remember this kindness, but what can I do to repay
you for mending the cloak?” Scrapper looked thoughtful for a moment
while the Patchwork Girl continued to mutter and scold under her
breath.
“Is this your slave?” he inquired at last, turning inquisitively to
Peter. Ruggedo seemed a little surprised, but to Peter’s disgust and
astonishment immediately nodded briskly.
“Well, then,” said Scrapper, “suppose you give us the boy in payment
for mending the cloak. Our Queen is not quick enough to do all the work
here and he looks strong and willing.”
“I’m not his slave!” burst out Peter wrathfully. “I’ll not stay here,
you old simpleton.” But the more he shouted the more Ruggedo nodded and
smiled at Scrapper.
“Never mind,” whispered the Patchwork Girl, as Peter, on his way to
the door, bumped into her, “never mind, I’ll help you.” And with this
assurance he was forced to be satisfied. Realizing that Ruggedo meant
to keep none of his promises, Peter tried to plan a way to get hold of
the cloak first. But the Gnome King, pressing close to the old Quilty
seamstress, waved him jealously away, and Scrapper, jerking him roughly
by the arm, whirled him off into a corner.
And now the cloak was mended. Shaking the threads from its folds the
old grandame held it out to Ruggedo. As she did so, Peter rushed
forward impetuously, but the gnome was too quick for him. Flinging on
the magic garment, Ruggedo vanished from view, only the blue patch on
the back of the cloak showing he was still in the room. Scrapper and
the others screamed out in alarm, but Peter, throwing up his arm, cried
out loudly, “Take him to Zamagoochie!” In a flash the Gnome King was
gone, at least the blue patch was gone, and Peter, stamping his foot
angrily, turned to the foolish old Quilty. “Now you’ve done it!” panted
the little boy.
[Illustration]
“I told you not to help him,” cried Scraps, coming over to stand beside
Peter. “You’ll be sorry for this.”
“Oh, keep quiet!” mumbled Scrapper, mopping his forehead with his
patched hanky. To tell the truth, the sudden disappearance of the Gnome
King had upset him terribly. “I don’t see what you’re fussing about,”
he finished fretfully. “Here you have a nice new slave to work for you.
Out of my way there!”
Taking the old Quilty woman by the arm, he brushed rudely past Peter,
unlocked the door and went out. As the key clicked in the lock, Peter
sank down on the floor, the picture of discouragement.
“Why did you say that about Zamagoochie?” asked Scraps, dropping down
beside the little boy and regarding him curiously.
“Because it was the first place that came into my head,” explained
Peter. “Jimminy, but I hope it’s a long way from the Emerald City, and
I hope something happens to keep him there.”
“Will the cloak take him anywhere he wants to go?” demanded Scraps.
Peter nodded gloomily.
“Then good-bye to the Emerald City and Ozma!” moaned Scraps. “Good-bye
to all of us.”
“Yes, but what’s to be done with the slave?” Grumpy had lifted the lid
of the chest again and was regarding Peter with great interest.
“He’s not a slave!” exclaimed Scraps scornfully. “I can tell by his
looks, he’s a mortal child like Dorothy and Betsy. How did you find
your way to Oz, boy?” Peter was anxious to escape from the castle, but
when Scraps assured him that there was no present hope of such a thing,
he told her all that had happened since the balloon bird carried him
off from Philadelphia. As the story progressed, Grumpy climbed out of
the chest and sat as close to Peter as he could possibly squeeze.
“Tell him about us!” urged the little bear, as Peter wound up his story
with a description of Kuma Party and his guiding hand. Scraps shook
her head impatiently, but when Peter added his voice to Grumpy’s she
introduced the pet of the former Queen and gave a brief description of
herself and her happy life at the capital. When Peter heard how she had
been kidnapped and forced to do all the castle work, he shook his head
sympathetically.
“We’ll both run away,” declared Peter, resolutely, “and as you know
more about Oz than I do, perhaps we’ll reach the Emerald City ahead of
Ruggedo.”
“But first you must escape from the castle,” the little bear reminded
them sagely. “How will you do that?”
[Illustration]
“I wish there had been a little more magic in that casket,” sighed
Scraps. “All you have left is the emerald. Let me see the emerald,
Peter.” Peter pulled out the sorcerer’s stone and handed it over to
Scraps and, as he did, felt the note that Kuma’s hand had thrust into
his pocket. Opening it eagerly, Peter followed the Patchwork Girl to
the light. But as they reached the center table, the candle which had
been burning lower and lower gave a final sputter and went out, leaving
them in total darkness.
“Botheration!” cried Peter in exasperation. “Now what shall we do?”
“Go to sleep,” yawned the little bear. “Whenever you don’t know what to
do, go to sleep. That’s my advice. Here, lean on me.”
[Illustration]
“Why don’t you?” suggested Scraps, feeling her way carefully back to
the rocker. “Mortal folk need rest, but as I do not, I’ll sit and plan
our escape.”
Grumpy’s advice did seem sensible and, as Peter was very tired, he
curled down beside the little bear and soon did go to sleep, his head
resting comfortably on Grumpy’s soft shoulder. In his hand he grasped
Kuma’s note, and in his dreams imagined himself already in the Emerald
City, fighting to defend the little Queen of all Oz.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]