The King of Cave City
The same morning that Philador was having his amazing experiences in
the Good Witch's hut and on Joe King's Mountain, Trot and her friends
were having some curious adventures in Cave City.
"Where are we going?" asked Trot, following the old mer-man cautiously
and once almost treading on his tail.
"To the King," answered the mer-man sadly.
"Do you call this a city?" sniffed the Scarecrow, looking scornfully
down the dim damp corridors opening to right and left and the muddy
stream of water flowing through the center.
"No, I don't call it a city," wheezed their guide resting for a few
moments on his crutches, "but you had better not let the cave men hear
you criticizing their town. It will go hard enough with you as it is."
Sighing to himself the old fellow went tapping along on his crutches.
"Wait till Silly sees you," he mumbled mournfully.
"Who's Silly?" inquired Benny, picking up a boulder and hurling it into
the center of the stream.
"The King," replied the mer-man without turning 'round.
"Humph!" chuckled the Scarecrow, winking at Trot, "I've known many
Kings who acted silly and who looked silly, but I have never met one
who called himself that. Do you mean to say you call him Silly right to
his face?"
"To his side face," answered the mer-man solemnly. "He only has half a
face," he added, stopping again. "That's all anyone has here. That's
all you'll have presently," he predicted gloomily.
"Half a face!" gasped Trot, putting one hand to her cheek and looking
around uneasily. "Why what do you mean?"
"Are you a Cave man?" demanded the Scarecrow, running around and
planting himself in front of the old mer-man. "If you're not, get us
out of here. My face may be funny, but I'm attached to it and it's
attached to me and nobody can have half of Trot's face either!"
"Nor mine!" panted Benny, bringing his stone heels together with a
resounding click. "Show us the way out of here or I'll tread on your
tail."
"There is no way out," quavered their guide, sitting down on a sapphire
rock and waving his tail about sadly. "I have been here for years, ever
since Mombi stole the Queen of the Ozure Isles and sent Quiberon to
plague the Islanders."
"Mombi! Why Mombi was put out two years ago," exclaimed Trot, dropping
down on another rock. "Do you mean to say she stole this Queen before
then? And were those the Ozure Isles we flew over this morning?"
"Were they jeweled islands?" inquired the mer-man eagerly, "and did
you see a City of Sapphires?" Trot shook her head quickly and the old
mer-man, covering his face with both hands began to rock to and fro
with grief. "If I could but see the Sapphire City once more, if I could
just see the jeweled rocks and the blue waters of Orizon," he mumbled
miserably.
"Then you're a prisoner, too?" asked Trot, leaning forward
sympathetically.
"Who are you?" demanded the Scarecrow again. "And how is it you still
have both sides of your face?"
"Because the blue ray could not destroy a waterman," said the old man
proudly, and sitting up he told them a strange story.
"My name is Orpah," he announced sadly, "and I was keeper of the King's
sea horses. Every morning I would drive them from the jeweled caverns
to graze upon the green plants at the bottom of the lake, bringing them
back when the King and his subjects wished to ride. Yes--For many years
I cared for the sea horses of Cheeriobed, who gave me not only every
thing I wished for but had these golden crutches made for me so I could
travel on land as well as in the water."
"Are all the inhabitants of the Ozure Isles like you?" interrupted
Trot, "or have they wings like the bird-man who brought us here?"
"I am the only mer-man in these parts and the other Islanders have two
legs like you yourself. I never saw any with wings," exclaimed Orpah,
regarding the little girl with a puzzled frown.
"Let him tell his story and then we'll tell ours," advised Benny, who
was extremely interested in the old man's recital.
"There isn't much more," sighed the mer-man gloomily. "Everything went
well and happily till the day the little Prince of the Ozure Isles was
two years old. Then Mombi suddenly appeared, snatched up her Majesty
and flew off. The same day Quiberon came roaring across the lake. One
by one, he devoured the herd of sea horses on which the Ozure Islanders
were accustomed to ride to the mainland. When I tried to defend them he
seized me and thrust me into his cave. Leaping through the water-fall,
I escaped to Cave City and have been a prisoner ever since. If I refuse
to obey the cave men, they shut me up without water. Without water
I cannot live, so as their slave I have been forced to work in this
dismal underground cavern."
"Just wait till Ozma hears this," cried Trot indignantly. "That monster
tried to catch us too, but he's caught himself now, and never _will_
get away."
"Do you mean it?" Orpah sprang to his crutches and looked joyfully from
one to the other. Trot hastily told him how the bird-man had carried
them from the Emerald City to Quiberon's cave, how they, too, had
escaped through the water-fall and how the great monster, rushing after
them, had become wedged in the narrow passageway.
"I wish the King knew about this. If Cheeriobed knew, he'd start at
once in search of the Queen," cried Orpah excitedly.
"We'll tell him as soon as we're out," proposed the Scarecrow
cheerfully, "and help him find the Queen besides."
"But how are we to get out?" groaned the mer-man dismally. "I've been
here for twenty years."
"I will fight these cave men," declared Benny, picking up a rock and
glancing belligerently from left to right.
"Hush," warned the Scarecrow in a low voice. "We are being shadowed."
"What's that?" shivered Trot, as a cold damp wind went whistling past
her ears and a long series of wails came echoing through the cavern.
[Illustration: "HUSH," WARNED THE SCARECROW]
"The cave men," whispered Orpah, quickening his pace. "They are coming
to get you."
"They won't get me," blustered Benny, brandishing his umbrella in one
hand and the rock in the other.
"Why, they're shadows!" cried Trot, seizing the Scarecrow's arm. "Live
shadows."
"Silhouettes," corrected the mer-man, placing himself boldly in front
of the little girl.
Rushing along both sides of the wall, came the cave men, shouting and
yelling and waving their shadow swords and clubs. You have seen the
pictures of Egyptian silhouettes carved on old tombs and walls? Well,
the cave men were like that, except that they could move and talk.
"Pooh! Who's afraid?" stuttered Trot, as the threatening shadows swept
along each side of the cave.
"Surrender!" called a blue shade, armed with a long spear. "Surrender
in the name of King Silly the Second."
"Nonsense!" puffed the Scarecrow, shaking his cotton fist at the
shadow, while Benny let his rock fly directly at the speaker. It struck
the wall with a terrific thud, but the silhouette did not even seem to
notice it. At the same time, the three travelers felt an irresistible
force pushing them forward. The cave men themselves were moving
backward.
"You are summoned into the Presence of the King!" announced a pikeman
in a high thin voice.
"Well I'll be pebbled," panted the stone man. For even Benny's great
weight could not withstand the relentless force that was dragging them
along with the shadow army. Orpah tried to comfort them, but there was
little the old man could say in the presence of this cruel and ghostly
company. When at last they reached the King's cavern, even Benny felt
dismayed. King Silly the Second was so immense he took up one entire
side of the royal cave. He was sitting sideways, like all of the other
shadows, upon a throne roughly drawn on the rocks. His one eye rolled
angrily around at the intruders and as his subjects grouped themselves
around the throne, he called loudly.
"No bodies allowed here. How dare you clutter up my Kingdom with your
miserable bodies?"
"We can't help being ourselves," faltered Trot, eyeing his Majesty
nervously, "and if you'll tell us the way out of your Kingdom, we'll go
immediately."
"Faster than that, even," added the Scarecrow, looking 'round with a
shudder.
"Hold your tongue," advised the King sharply. "Since you are here, you
might as well be silhouettes too. I need some new slaves. Pray stand
against that wall yonder with your best sides out and I'll have you
melted down to shadows."
"I won't be a shadow!" cried Benny, stamping his foot determinedly. "I
am going to the Emerald City so I can be a real person."
"You'll make an excellent shade," muttered the King, resting his chin
upon his arm.
"But look here," protested the Scarecrow, waving his hat to attract his
Majesty's attention, "you can't do this. We are important subjects of
Ozma of Oz and when we fail to return she will come here with her army
and destroy you."
"She can't fight shadows," answered the King calmly. "Fetch the blue
ray, Ozeerus."
Backing along the wall, the blue shade thus addressed left the cavern,
returning presently with a flaming blue torch. As the weird blue light
danced all over the ceiling and walls, Trot seized her two friends by
the hands.
"Run!" panted Trot frantically. But at their first step, the same
invisible force that had swept them into the King's presence, thrust
them back against the left wall of the cave.
"This ray," explained the King, smiling icily, "will destroy those
clumsy bodies of yours and transform you into fine, useful shades.
Quick, best sides out."
"Am I to become a shadow before I become a man?" groaned Benny,
glancing about desperately.
"Will I be the shadow of myself?" moaned the Scarecrow, putting both
hands before his face and crouching back against the wall.
"Never mind," comforted Trot. "Maybe it won't hurt much and we won't
have to be shadows long, for Ozma will soon miss us and then this silly
old King will be sorry as well as silly."
"Who is to be first?" inquired the monarch, giving no heed to Trot's
remarks. Benny glanced from the blazing blue torch to Trot and then
quickly stepped forward.
"I will be first," announced Benny, "but beware, when I become a
shadow, I'll toss you off the throne, I'll hammer you to shadow bits,
I'll--" Benny got no further, for at this juncture, Ozeerus turned the
blue torch full upon him. There was a sparkle and flash as the blue
flame sprayed against the wall and then such a roar and grind that the
Scarecrow toppled over like a ten-pin and Trot clapped both hands to
her ears.