THE GIANT HORSE OF OZ
By RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON
Founded on and continuing the Famous Oz Stories
_By_
L. FRANK BAUM
"Royal Historian of Oz"
_Illustrated by_
JOHN R. NEILL
The Reilly & Lee Co.
Chicago, New York
_Made in U. S. A._
Copyright, 1928
By
The Reilly & Lee Co.
All Rights Reserved
[Illustration: The Giant Horse of Oz]
_The Giant Horse of Oz_
[Illustration: WISHING PILLS]
Hello Girls and Boys, Hello!
Wherever you are, Hello!
Wherever you are and whoever you be
Here's the best of wishes from Oz and me!
Your letters have been so gay,
And so many have come this year,
Placed end to end they would reach
From the Emerald City to here!
And when you have read this book,
I know you will write again,
For I'd like to hear what you think
Of the Medicine Man and Ben.
And this latest happening in Oz.
High doings! High times, sky high!
Imagine a ride on a real HIGH HORSE!
Ever hear of one? (Neither did I!)
But the Prince of the Ozure Isles
And Trot galloped off on one,
And his legs stretched up and his legs stretched down
And _how_ that High Horse could run!
But so you can read it yourself,
I'd better stop now, and here.
Best luck to you all! Best love! and
I'll write a new book next year!
RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON.
110 Schoolhouse Lane, Ardmore, Pennsylvania
To my big--best and only brother
_Richard Shuff Thompson_
this book is affectionately dedicated.
Ruth Plumly Thompson
List of Chapters
1 The King of the Ozure Isles
2 The Golden Pear
3 The Strange Public Benefactor
4 Finding a Mortal Maiden
5 In the Cave of Quiberon
6 The Wicked Soothsayer
7 The Trials of Tattypoo
8 The Man in the Bottle
9 King of the Uplanders
10 High Times Up Town
11 The King of Cave City
12 Escape from Cave City
13 The Round-abouties
14 A Meeting of Celebrities
15 The Shutter Faces
16 The Lost Queen Returns
17 A Royal Welcome
18 The Tale of Tattypoo
19 Another Wishing Pill
20 Rulers East and North
CHAPTER 1
The King of the Ozure Isles
Far to the North, walled in on all sides by the craggy slopes of the
Munchkin Mountains, lies the great Lost Lake of Orizon. And glittering
on its blue bosom, like a large and lovely necklace, rest the Ozure
Isles of Oz. Now Oz itself, this mysterious land about which we read
and hear so often, is a large oblong Kingdom divided into four smaller
Kingdoms with the Emerald City in the exact center. Here dwells Ozma,
the present ruler, a little fairy of great gentleness and power. While
all the Kingdoms in Oz are subject to Ozma, each has its own special
sovereign.
For instance, the Northern Country of the Gillikens is governed by the
Good Witch Tattypoo; The Red Land of the Quadlings, by Glinda the Good
Sorceress of the South; the Western and Yellow Empire of the Winkies is
under the kindly control of Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman of Oz; the
blue Munchkin Country is governed by a King of whom nothing much has
been heard for many a long year. But be that as it may, it is in the
Munchkin Country that the great Lost Lake of Orizon lies.
The waters of Orizon are deep, salt and dashing, so that it is more
like an inland sea than a lake. On ancient Oz maps Orizon is marked by
a large blue circle, but so steep and impenetrable are the paths over
the mountains, so beset with dangerous beasts and yawning chasms, few
travelers have glimpsed its sparkling waters, or the islands rising so
dazzlingly from its center. On Oz maps to-day, Orizon is not shown at
all, and the Lost Lake and its jeweled islands have long since been
forgotten by the merry inhabitants of Ozma's Kingdom.
Except for the blue gulls that circle endlessly over the Sapphire City
of Cheeriobed, no one thinks of, or visits the Ozure Isles, at all.
Yet in the whole curious Land of Oz is no Kingdom more interesting or
delightful. There are five of the Ozure Isles, each small and sparkling
with flashing cliffs of iridescent gems and shores honeycombed with
caves and jeweled grottoes. Instead of pebbles, the beaches are strewn
with precious stones, opals, rubies and amethyst, turquoise and
pearls, but more numerous than any other of the precious stones are
the glittering sapphires that color the whole island realm with their
dazzling blue light, and from which Cheeriobed, the King, has fashioned
his capital City.
The Ozurians number one thousand and seven and are a tall fair haired
race of Munchkins. In olden days they were the happiest, most care-free
people in Oz, but that was before Mombi, the wicked witch of the North,
stole the young Queen and sent the monster Quiberon to guard the waters
of Orizon. Since then, the good King and his subjects have been virtual
prisoners on the islands. The great flock of sea horses on which they
were wont to ride to the mainland have been destroyed by this pitiless
monster and only when Quiberon is sleeping dare the inhabitants venture
down to the shore. You see in aquariums, the sea horses that abound in
our own tropical waters. Well, the sea horses of Orizon were like that,
only as large as Arabian steeds, with flashing manes, great winged fins
and powerful shining tails. To ride upon their backs must have been
more pleasurable than anything I can imagine and their loss was one of
the greatest griefs this island monarch had suffered. One would wonder
that so unfortunate a King could endure life at all.
But Cheeriobed was so kind and gay and so naturally merry that even
in the face of all his misfortunes he was calm and uncomplaining and
often had whole days at a time when he forgot to be unhappy. Upon his
shimmering islands grew everything necessary for comfort and ease and
his subjects were light hearted and industrious and always obedient to
his desires. Then, to see the sun flashing on the jeweled rocks and
sparkling shores of the Ozure Isles by day and the moon silvering the
spires of the Sapphire City by night would lift the heaviest heart. To
further lighten the sorrows of this good King, there was Philador, his
son. Nowhere in the four Kingdoms of Oz lived a gayer, handsomer and
more companionable little fellow. Then too, Cheeriobed was fortunate
enough to have at his castle a juggler who could balance ten chairs and
some more things upon his chin, a minstrel who knew a thousand songs,
and a carpet that could beat itself. So on the rare occasions when
Quiberon lay dozing, life was gay and happy in the blue castle.
On one such calm and sunny morning, Cheeriobed, his throne drawn close
to the great windows, was gazing dreamily off toward the Munchkin
Mountains. He was thinking of the old happy days and only half
listening to the strumming of Umtillio, the minstrel. At his side,
Toddledy, faithful scribe and Prime Moneyster was balancing the castle
accounts, while Palumbo, the court juggler, balanced seven books, three
ink wells and a gold chair on the tip of his nose.
"Has your Highness ever considered," panted Palumbo, speaking with
difficulty because of the books and ink bottles--"Has your Highness
ever considered how the noses and chins in this Kingdom have been
neglected? With a little training, I could teach the Islanders to carry
their entire possessions in this careless and interesting fashion.
Take your own nose for instance--" The King passed his hand uneasily
over his nose and Toddledy looking up from his accounts began to mutter
crossly under his breath. "Take your own nose," continued Palumbo
persuasively, "with a little practice you could balance the fire tongs,
the screen and the sapphire clock itself upon the tip. We'll begin with
a few simple exercises."
Paying no attention to Toddledy, the Court Juggler set down the books
and ink bottles and lifted the huge clock from the mantel. "Now then,"
he puffed earnestly, "if your Highness will kneel and turn the head
to the left." Cheeriobed with a resigned wink at his Prime Moneyster
had just got down upon his knees, when a shuddering explosion shook
the castle. The jeweled chandeliers rattled like castanets, ornaments
left their accustomed places and flew through the air, chairs slid into
corners, and the carpet that could shake itself, shook off three tables
and a chair and rolling up so rapidly it caught Umtillio unawares,
reared stiffly on end and stood in a corner. Cheeriobed had fallen
heavily to the floor and small wonder. At the first tremor Palumbo had
dropped the sapphire clock upon his head and taken to his heels.
"Quiberon!" quavered Toddledy, rushing over to the window and drawing
aside the blue curtains, "Great Totomos--what does he want now?"
As if to answer the old Prime Moneyster the castle rocked more
violently than ever. The waters of Orizon below began to toss and
bubble, and presently from their churning depths rose the frightful
head of Mombi's monster. No sea serpent was ever uglier than Quiberon,
fire shot from his eye and smoke from his nostrils. He had the head
scales and talons of a dragon and the long hideous body of a giant
fear-fish. As Toddledy clutched at the curtains to keep from falling,
Quiberon sent a great cloud of smoke upward. It twisted, curled and
spiraled, forming itself finally into a long black sentence, the words
hanging like a dark threat in the clear morning air.
"Send a mortal maiden to wait upon me or in three days I will destroy
you utterly!" As Toddledy with smarting eyes read this monstrous
message, Quiberon showed all of his red tusks and dove beneath the
waves. At the same instant Akbad the Soothsayer came tearing into the
throne room.
"Dunce!" shrieked Akbad, shaking his long finger under Toddledy's nose,
"why do you stand there idle when the whole Kingdom is in danger? The
King is in danger, the Prince is in danger, I, Akbad the Soothsayer,
am in danger of being destroyed utterly. Utterly! Utterly! Utterly!"
Racing around in a frenzied circle, Akbad began to tear out handfuls
of his hair and cast it upon the floor. His loud outcries aroused the
unconscious monarch. Rubbing the lump that the sapphire clock had
raised upon his forehead, Cheeriobed rose and unsteadily made his way
to the window. The black sentence was growing fainter but was still
legible. After reading it twice, the unhappy monarch groaned heavily
and dropped his head upon the sapphire sill. "Where are we to find a
mortal maiden and even if we do find one, who would condemn her to such
a fate?" mourned the King.
"Here comes Jewlia," panted Toddledy, ducking his head as a small
Ozurian came sailing through the window. Each of the Ozure Islanders
took turns serving Quiberon and the last to take charge of his cavern
was Jewlia, the Court Jeweler's daughter. Not caring for land food
Quiberon had never molested the keepers of his cavern. So far, he had
satisfied himself with devouring the sea horses, preventing any of the
Ozure Islanders from leaving the Islands and shaking them up whenever
he wished to amuse himself. His treatment of Jewlia was therefore all
the more alarming. While the King continued to groan and Akbad to tear
out his hair, Toddledy hurried anxiously over to the little maiden.
"My child!" stuttered Toddledy touching her gently on the arm--"What
has happened, are you hurt?"
"I was only telling him stories," wailed Jewlia, wiping her eyes on her
blue silk apron.
"A pernicious and wicked habit," fumed Akbad, shaking his finger at the
trembling little girl. "What kind of stories, may I ask?"
"Stories about Ozma of Oz and the three little mortal maids who have
come to live in the Emerald City," sobbed Jewlia. "I found them in an
old history book in my father's shop, and when I finished the last
story--" Jewlia paused to wipe her eyes--"Quiberon rushed out of the
cave, and when he came back, seized me in his talons and hurled me
through this window." Burying her head in her hands Jewlia began to
weep afresh.
"There, there," begged Cheeriobed, patting her kindly on the shoulder.
"Don't cry, my dear."
"Let her cry!" roared Akbad, stamping furiously up and down. "The
mischievous wench, with her tales of mortal maidens, has ruined
us all. Nothing can save us now." As if to emphasize his gloomy
prediction, the castle began to tremble violently. Holding to his crown
with both hands--it was inset with cobble stones which are extremely
rare on a jeweled island--Cheeriobed sat down hard upon his throne.
"I must think!" muttered the King in a faint voice.
"Think if you can!" sniffed the Soothsayer, hooking his arm around a
pillar. "Can you think a mortal maid into the monster's cave? Can you
think of a way to leave the islands, even?"
"Has your Majesty forgotten the golden pear?" Swinging backward and
forward on the window curtains as the castle rocked to and fro,
Toddledy peered out inquiringly at the King.
"The pear!" chattered Cheeriobed. "No one must pick the golden pear.
That is for Prince Philador and to be picked only in times of extreme
danger."
"What do you call this?" demanded Akbad indignantly. "Are we to be
destroyed without lifting a finger to save ourselves?"
"Philador? Where is Philador?" groaned Cheeriobed, putting both hands
to his ears, as Toddledy and Akbad began to scream hoarsely at each
other. "Send for the Prince!" Glad to escape from the confusion, and
keeping her footing with difficulty, Jewlia ran off to search for
the little Prince. By the time she reached the beach, the islands
had stopped quivering. Breathlessly Jewlia hastened to the hidden
cove where Philador was usually to be found sailing his toy fleet.
At the first quake, he had thrown himself face down on the rocks.
But so accustomed was Philador to the tempers of Quiberon that he
thought nothing of the terrible quakes that rocked the islands from
time to time. When the shaking had ceased, Philador jumped up and was
unconcernedly feeding the blue gulls as Jewlia came running over the
shining sands. As quickly as she could, Jewlia told him of Quiberon's
latest demand and of his dark threat to destroy the Kingdom. Then arm
in arm they made their way back to the castle. The carpet that could
shake itself had unrolled, and Umtillio, looking terribly tossed and
ruffled, was sitting in the center, plucking out a sad tune upon his
harp. He nodded mournfully as the two children came tip-toeing into
the throne room. Akbad was feverishly thumbing over an old book of
Necromancy and Toddledy and Cheeriobed were conversing in subdued
whispers.
"The only one who can help us is the Good Witch of the North," mused
Cheeriobed, as Philador sank down at his feet and rested his head
affectionately against his father's knee.
"Let me go to her," begged the little Prince eagerly. "Surely she will
help me find my mother and destroy Quiberon before he destroys us."
Cheeriobed shook his head quickly and decidedly. "No! No! It is too
dangerous. Besides, there is no way to cross the lake. We must think
of something else." Taking off his crown, Cheeriobed gazed sadly off
into the distance. Long ago, word had been brought by the blue gulls
of the capture of Mombi, the wicked witch of the North, by Tattypoo,
who now ruled in her stead. Great had been the rejoicing on the Ozure
Isles and hopefully Cheeriobed had waited for Tattypoo to restore his
Queen and deliver him from the cruel clutches of Quiberon. But time
had passed and nothing had happened. Much of Mombi's mischief had been
remedied by the Good Witch of the North, but many of Mombi's misdeeds
were not known to her or anyone else in the Land of Oz, so not knowing
of Cheeriobed's misfortunes, Tattypoo had done nothing to help him. But
the good King always felt that some day Tattypoo would find out about
Quiberon and come to his rescue. As he continued to gaze unseeingly
straight ahead, as Akbad continued to mutter and Toddledy to groan,
the little Prince grew more and more miserable and unhappy. Finally he
slipped unnoticed from the throne room and, running down to the shores
of the lake, cast himself gloomily on the sapphire rocks. Surely it
was sad to live on the loveliest islands in Oz and never to be safe or
happy.
"If I could just find a way to cross the lake," muttered Philador,
feeling in his pockets for some crumbs to throw the gulls, "then I
could find the Good Witch of the North." The gulls were his constant
and never failing friends and, as one and then another settled down on
the rocks beside him, he told them of Quiberon's demand for a mortal
maiden and his threat to destroy the Kingdom. In Oz, as you all know,
the birds and beasts can speak and the blue gulls not only listened
sympathetically to the little Prince but talked among themselves of
Quiberon's cruelty.
"Come back, Princeling, when the moon is high," whispered a little blue
lady gull, when the others had flown away. "Come back when the moon
is high. I have thought of a way to help you!" Comforted in spite of
himself, but resolved to say nothing at all to the King, Philador crept
quietly back to the castle.