The Gillikin Country of Oz has always been a favorite retreat for
witches, wizards and sorcerers. Since the practice of magic has been
forbidden for everyone except Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South,
and the Wizard of Oz, a great many of the lesser wizards and magic
workers have retired to the mountains of the north to practice in
secret or study for their own satisfaction the ancient art of wizardry.
In a crystal cavern on the western slope of Zamagoochie lived Wumbo,
the Wonder Worker. In his youth, Wumbo had studied in the best schools
of sorcery and was not only an accomplished magician, but a lovable
and loyal citizen of Oz. Therefore, when Ozma passed a law against the
practice of magic, Wumbo withdrew to his favorite cave and quietly
and harmlessly continued his studies. Now, of all studies sorcery is
the most profitable. Being able to grant most of his own wishes, Wumbo
lived in the utmost comfort and contentment, his cavern being almost
as magnificent and luxurious as Ozma’s castle. From preference, Wumbo
lived by himself, but was seldom lonely, for when you can conjure up a
company of acrobats from a handful of pebbles, or an orchestra from a
few sticks and dried peas, you are always sure of entertainment. Long
after ordinary Oz folk were in their beds, Wumbo, in his crystal study,
would pore over his musty books of magic, trying out new spells and
charms for his own satisfaction and amusement.
He was especially fond of his book of Chants and Enchantments and, on
the evening I am writing of, sat beside his great crystal lamp, turning
over its leaves and humming cheerfully to himself.
“I think,” mused Wumbo at last, “I shall use the speech-giving chant,
to-night. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked with my furniture and
no doubt it has a lot to tell me!” Rubbing his hands gleefully, Wumbo
turned to page ninety-seven and, after reading the chant several times
to himself, walked over to his foot-stool and, touching it gently,
droned:
“Ooney, mooney, nooney nill,
Tell me foot-stool what you will.”
“I need re-covering,” creaked the foot-stool promptly. “And next time
you trip over me, I trust you will crack both shins.”
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“Ho! Ho!” roared the wizard, bending backward and forward with mirth,
“that’s nice of you. Anything else?” As the foot-stool made no further
remark, he walked to the mantel and touched the clock.
“Ooney, mooney, nooney nill,
Tell me, old clock, what you will.”
“Your wig’s on crooked,” ticked the clock critically, “and there’s a
smudge on the end of your nose.” Looking in the glass, Wumbo saw that
the clock, as usual, was telling the truth. Straightening his wig, he
went next to his favorite chair.
“Ooney, mooney, nooney nill,
Tell me, arm-chair, what you will!”
chanted Wumbo, putting both hands in his pockets.
“Somebody’s sitting on me,” complained the chair in a stuffy voice.
“Somebody’s sitting on you,” gasped Wumbo in astonishment. “Why, I
don’t see anybody!”
“Then feel ’em,” whispered the chair hoarsely. Putting out his hand
cautiously, Wumbo touched a long wispy beard and immediately jumped
back with a cry of alarm.
“Fold your arms! Fold your arms!” spluttered the Wonder Worker, rushing
back to the Book of Enchantments. The chair lost no time in obeying
this order. Instead of ordinary arms, Wumbo’s chair had real ones and
it clasped them about the invisible sitter, so that he could neither
move, scream nor scarcely breathe. Meanwhile, with trembling fingers,
Wumbo fluttered over the pages of the Chant Book, till he found the
exact one he was searching for--the chant to render visible the
invisible.
“Ominey, hominey, dominey deer,
I command you invisible one to appear!”
mumbled Wumbo, straightening his specs excitedly, for he had had no
visitors for seven years. Instantly the figure of a gray gnome appeared
in the arm-chair, kicking, struggling and sputtering with fright and
fury. As Wumbo continued to stare at him, the chair lowered one of its
arms, and Ruggedo, for, of course, it was the old Gnome King, jerked up
his head and roared loudly:
“Take me to the Emerald City! Take me to the Emerald City!”
“Are you addressing me?” asked Wumbo, dropping into a chair opposite
the gnome and regarding him attentively. “If you are, you may as well
save your breath. I have never practiced long-distance magic and could
not send you to the Emerald City, even if I wanted to.”
“Who wants your old magic,” sneered Ruggedo. “I’ve magic of my
own. Take me to the Emerald City. Take me to the Emerald City!” he
screeched, trying in vain to squirm out of the clutching arms of
Wumbo’s chair.
“You are evidently unfamiliar with one of the first and simplest of
magic laws,” observed the wizard reprovingly. “I see now that you are
wearing an invisible cloak, but two magic charms cannot work at the
same time and as I spoke first you will have to wait till my chant
wears off.”
“Who are you? Where am I? How dare you keep me here!” panted Ruggedo
furiously.
“You are in the Zamagoochie Country, in the humble cave of Wumbo the
Wonder Worker,” answered the old gentleman quite amiably. “And as you
came here yourself, why blame me for trying to entertain you as I see
best?”
“I knew it! I knew it!” raged the Gnome King. “This is Peter’s doing.
When I catch that boy I’ll turn him to a peach basket and jump on him!
And you, I suppose, are the father of that meddling Kuma Party?”
“Why, yes,” said Wumbo in surprise. “Have you met my son?” Ruggedo gave
a spiteful nod, and began to struggle anew with the arms of the chair.
“I command you to let me go,” puffed the Gnome King. “I’ve important
business in the Emerald City and must reach there to-night.”
“I’m afraid that will be impossible,” sighed Wumbo softly. “When my
chair takes a fancy to a person, it sometimes hangs on to him for days
and days. Why not sit still and rest yourself,” he suggested, folding
his arms comfortably. Seeing that for the present he was perfectly
powerless, Ruggedo lay back and glared at the old wizard, his red eyes
snapping with rage and resentment.
“I’ll report you to Ozma,” threatened the Gnome King darkly. “You know
perfectly well that you are breaking the law, having all this magic
furniture and stuff.”
“Take your feet off my rounds,” ordered the chair sharply, giving
Ruggedo a good squeeze.
“How about your magic cloak?” said Wumbo, smiling a little as Ruggedo
hastened to take his heels off the rungs of the chair, “and how about
turning a boy to a peach basket? That sounds like pretty bad magic to
me. Who is this boy? And why are you wearing a cloak of invisibility?”
“That’s my business,” muttered the gnome, looking uneasily around. “Are
you going to let me go or not?”
“That depends on where you are going and what you are going to do,”
answered Wumbo, clapping his hands three times. A box of chocolates
instantly appeared and tilted invitingly toward the wizard. Helping
himself, Wumbo offered a chocolate to Ruggedo, but the gnome shook his
head impatiently, so Wumbo clapped his hands again and the chocolates
disappeared.
“I am going to the Emerald City to report the discovery of a treasure
ship,” explained the Gnome King after a short silence. “I am going to
have Ozma transport the jewels and gold pieces to her own castle. I’m
making her a present of them,” finished Ruggedo virtuously.
Wumbo said nothing but, rising slowly, went over and stared into a
great crystal ball on his desk. “That, of course, is not true,” said
Wumbo, coming back to sit in his chair. “My crystal ball tells me that
much and my own eyes tell me that you are wicked and untrustworthy.
Therefore I shall keep you here until I find some way to warn Ozma of
your coming.”
At these words Ruggedo was simply beside himself. Kicking and screaming
and threatening Wumbo with every sort of death and destruction, he
writhed about in the chair. But Wumbo was not easily frightened and,
picking up the Book of Enchantments, began to read it to himself, while
the arm chair, indignant at the Gnome King’s bounces and screeches,
hugged him till he was forced to keep quiet. But sitting there in the
firelight, he did a lot of thinking, and as it grew later and later
and quieter and quieter in the great crystal cavern, the Gnome King’s
spirits began to rise. For Ruggedo was beginning to remember some of
his magic.
[Illustration]
“If he doesn’t try any more chants, the present ones will wear off in
four hours,” thought the old gnome craftily. “Four hours, and then for
the magic cloak!” Wumbo, himself, fully intended to keep a strict watch
over his visitor, but the heat from the fire and the drowsy chants in
the old book made him sleepier and sleepier. Besides, he had the utmost
confidence in his arm-chair and, not realizing that Ruggedo knew the
length of time the magic chants would take to run out, he felt sure the
old gnome would not try again to use his cloak. So he read on and on
and, while he was searching for the chant to force a person to tell the
truth, the book slipped from his knees and a loud snore issued from his
lips.
[Illustration]
“Wake up, Master! Wake up!” buzzed the clock, tilting forward in alarm.
“Wake up! Wake up!” scolded the arm-chair and foot-stool both together.
But before they could arouse the wizard, Ruggedo had vanished. Four
hours had passed to the very minute, the magic of the wizard’s chant
had worn entirely away and at a whispered command from the Gnome King,
the magic cloak had lifted him out of the imprisoning arms of Wumbo’s
chair and whirled him off and away. Over mountains, hills and valleys
flew the gnome in his invisible cloak, through the chilly mists of
early morning till, far below, he saw the flashing spires of the
Emerald City of Oz.
[Illustration]
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