THE ROBBERY OF CAYKE THE COOKIE COOK
One more important theft was reported in the Land of Oz that eventful
morning, but it took place so far from either the Emerald City or the
castle of Glinda the Good that none of those persons we have mentioned
learned of the robbery until long afterward.
In the far southwestern corner of the Winkie Country is a broad
tableland that can be reached only by climbing a steep hill, whichever
side one approaches it. On the hillside surrounding this tableland are
no paths at all, but there are quantities of bramble bushes with sharp
prickers on them, which prevent any of the Oz people who live down
below from climbing up to see what is on top. But on top live the Yips,
and although the space they occupy is not great in extent, the wee
country is all their own. The Yips had never—up to the time this story
begins—left their broad tableland to go down into the Land of Oz, nor
had the Oz people ever climbed up to the country of the Yips.
Living all alone as they did, the Yips had queer ways and notions of
their own and did not resemble any other people of the Land of Oz.
Their houses were scattered all over the flat surface; not like a city,
grouped together, but set wherever their owners’ fancy dictated, with
fields here, trees there, and odd little paths connecting the houses
one with another. It was here, on the morning when Ozma so strangely
disappeared from the Emerald City, that Cayke the Cookie Cook
discovered that her diamond-studded gold dishpan had been stolen, and
she raised such a hue and cry over her loss and wailed and shrieked so
loudly that many of the Yips gathered around her house to inquire what
was the matter.
It was a serious thing in any part of the Land of Oz to accuse one of
stealing, so when the Yips heard Cayke the Cookie Cook declare that her
jeweled dishpan had been stolen, they were both humiliated and
disturbed and forced Cayke to go with them to the Frogman to see what
could be done about it. I do not suppose you have ever before heard of
the Frogman, for like all other dwellers on that tableland, he had
never been away from it, nor had anyone come up there to see him. The
Frogman was in truth descended from the common frogs of Oz, and when he
was first born he lived in a pool in the Winkie Country and was much
like any other frog. Being of an adventurous nature, however, he soon
hopped out of his pool and began to travel, when a big bird came along
and seized him in its beak and started to fly away with him to its
nest. When high in the air, the frog wriggled so frantically that he
got loose and fell down, down, down into a small hidden pool on the
tableland of the Yips. Now that pool, it seems, was unknown to the Yips
because it was surrounded by thick bushes and was not near to any
dwelling, and it proved to be an enchanted pool, for the frog grew very
fast and very big, feeding on the magic skosh which is found nowhere
else on earth except in that one pool. And the skosh not only made the
frog very big so that when he stood on his hind legs he was as tall as
any Yip in the country, but it made him unusually intelligent, so that
he soon knew more than the Yips did and was able to reason and to argue
very well indeed.
No one could expect a frog with these talents to remain in a hidden
pool, so he finally got out of it and mingled with the people of the
tableland, who were amazed at his appearance and greatly impressed by
his learning. They had never seen a frog before, and the frog had never
seen a Yip before, but as there were plenty of Yips and only one frog,
the frog became the most important. He did not hop any more, but stood
upright on his hind legs and dressed himself in fine clothes and sat in
chairs and did all the things that people do, so he soon came to be
called the Frogman, and that is the only name he has ever had. After
some years had passed, the people came to regard the Frogman as their
adviser in all matters that puzzled them. They brought all their
difficulties to him, and when he did not know anything, he pretended to
know it, which seemed to answer just as well. Indeed, the Yips thought
the Frogman was much wiser than he really was, and he allowed them to
think so, being very proud of his position of authority.
There was another pool on the tableland which was not enchanted but
contained good, clear water and was located close to the dwellings.
Here the people built the Frogman a house of his own, close to the edge
of the pool so that he could take a bath or a swim whenever he wished.
He usually swam in the pool in the early morning before anyone else was
up, and during the day he dressed himself in his beautiful clothes and
sat in his house and received the visits of all the Yips who came to
him to ask his advice. The Frogman’s usual costume consisted of
knee-breeches made of yellow satin plush, with trimmings of gold braid
and jeweled knee-buckles; a white satin vest with silver buttons in
which were set solitaire rubies; a swallow-tailed coat of bright
yellow; green stockings and red leather shoes turned up at the toes and
having diamond buckles. He wore, when he walked out, a purple silk hat
and carried a gold-headed cane. Over his eyes he wore great spectacles
with gold rims, not because his eyes were bad, but because the
spectacles made him look wise, and so distinguished and gorgeous was
his appearance that all the Yips were very proud of him.
There was no King or Queen in the Yip Country, so the simple
inhabitants naturally came to look upon the Frogman as their leader as
well as their counselor in all times of emergency. In his heart the big
frog knew he was no wiser than the Yips, but for a frog to know as much
as a person was quite remarkable, and the Frogman was shrewd enough to
make the people believe he was far more wise than he really was. They
never suspected he was a humbug, but listened to his words with great
respect and did just what he advised them to do.
Now when Cayke the Cookie Cook raised such an outcry over the theft of
her diamond-studded dishpan, the first thought of the people was to
take her to the Frogman and inform him of the loss, thinking that of
course he would tell her where to find it. He listened to the story
with his big eyes wide open behind his spectacles, and said in his
deep, croaking voice, “If the dishpan is stolen, somebody must have
taken it.”
“But who?” asked Cayke anxiously. “Who is the thief?”
“The one who took the dishpan, of course,” replied the Frogman, and
hearing this all the Yips nodded their heads gravely and said to one
another, “It is absolutely true!”
“But I want my dishpan!” cried Cayke.
“No one can blame you for that wish,” remarked the Frogman.
“Then tell me where I may find it,” she urged.
The look the Frogman gave her was a very wise look, and he rose from
his chair and strutted up and down the room with his hands under his
coattails in a very pompous and imposing manner. This was the first
time so difficult a matter had been brought to him, and he wanted time
to think. It would never do to let them suspect his ignorance, and so
he thought very, very hard how best to answer the woman without
betraying himself. “I beg to inform you,” said he, “that nothing in the
Yip Country has ever been stolen before.”
“We know that already,” answered Cayke the Cookie Cook impatiently.
“Therefore,” continued the Frogman, “this theft becomes a very
important matter.”
“Well, where is my dishpan?” demanded the woman.
“It is lost, but it must be found. Unfortunately, we have no policemen
or detectives to unravel the mystery, so we must employ other means to
regain the lost article. Cayke must first write a Proclamation and tack
it to the door of her house, and the Proclamation must read that
whoever stole the jeweled dishpan must return it at once.”
“But suppose no one returns it,” suggested Cayke.
“Then,” said the Frogman, “that very fact will be proof that no one has
stolen it.”
Cayke was not satisfied, but the other Yips seemed to approve the plan
highly. They all advised her to do as the Frogman had told her to, so
she posted the sign on her door and waited patiently for someone to
return the dishpan—which no one ever did. Again she went, accompanied
by a group of her neighbors, to the Frogman, who by this time had given
the matter considerable thought. Said he to Cayke, “I am now convinced
that no Yip has taken your dishpan, and since it is gone from the Yip
Country, I suspect that some stranger came from the world down below us
in the darkness of night when all of us were asleep and took away your
treasure. There can be no other explanation of its disappearance. So if
you wish to recover that golden, diamond-studded dishpan, you must go
into the lower world after it.”
This was indeed a startling proposition. Cayke and her friends went to
the edge of the flat tableland and looked down the steep hillside to
the plains below. It was so far to the bottom of the hill that nothing
there could be seen very distinctly, and it seemed to the Yips very
venturesome, if not dangerous, to go so far from home into an unknown
land. However, Cayke wanted her dishpan very badly, so she turned to
her friends and asked, “Who will go with me?”
No one answered the question, but after a period of silence one of the
Yips said, “We know what is here on the top of this flat hill, and it
seems to us a very pleasant place, but what is down below we do not
know. The chances are it is not so pleasant, so we had best stay where
we are.”
“It may be a far better country than this is,” suggested the Cookie
Cook.
“Maybe, maybe,” responded another Yip, “but why take chances?
Contentment with one’s lot is true wisdom. Perhaps in some other
country there are better cookies than you cook, but as we have always
eaten your cookies and liked them—except when they are burned on the
bottom—we do not long for any better ones.”
Cayke might have agreed to this argument had she not been so anxious to
find her precious dishpan, but now she exclaimed impatiently, “You are
cowards, all of you! If none of you are willing to explore with me the
great world beyond this small hill, I will surely go alone.”
“That is a wise resolve,” declared the Yips, much relieved. “It is your
dishpan that is lost, not ours. And if you are willing to risk your
life and liberty to regain it, no one can deny you the privilege.”
While they were thus conversing, the Frogman joined them and looked
down at the plain with his big eyes and seemed unusually thoughtful. In
fact, the Frogman was thinking that he’d like to see more of the world.
Here in the Yip Country he had become the most important creature of
them all, and his importance was getting to be a little tame. It would
be nice to have other people defer to him and ask his advice, and there
seemed no reason so far as he could see why his fame should not spread
throughout all Oz. He knew nothing of the rest of the world, but it was
reasonable to believe that there were more people beyond the mountain
where he now lived than there were Yips, and if he went among them he
could surprise them with his display of wisdom and make them bow down
to him as the Yips did. In other words, the Frogman was ambitious to
become still greater than he was, which was impossible if he always
remained upon this mountain. He wanted others to see his gorgeous
clothes and listen to his solemn sayings, and here was an excuse for
him to get away from the Yip Country. So he said to Cayke the Cookie
Cook, “I will go with you, my good woman,” which greatly pleased Cayke
because she felt the Frogman could be of much assistance to her in her
search.
But now, since the mighty Frogman had decided to undertake the journey,
several of the Yips who were young and daring at once made up their
minds to go along, so the next morning after breakfast the Frogman and
Cayke the Cookie Cook and nine of the Yips started to slide down the
side of the mountain. The bramble bushes and cactus plants were very
prickly and uncomfortable to the touch, so the Frogman quickly
commanded the Yips to go first and break a path, so that when he
followed them he would not tear his splendid clothes. Cayke, too, was
wearing her best dress and was likewise afraid of the thorns and
prickers, so she kept behind the Frogman.
They made rather slow progress and night overtook them before they were
halfway down the mountainside, so they found a cave in which they
sought shelter until morning. Cayke had brought along a basket full of
her famous cookies, so they all had plenty to eat. On the second day
the Yips began to wish they had not embarked on this adventure. They
grumbled a good deal at having to cut away the thorns to make the path
for the Frogman and the Cookie Cook, for their own clothing suffered
many tears, while Cayke and the Frogman traveled safely and in comfort.
“If it is true that anyone came to our country to steal your diamond
dishpan,” said one of the Yips to Cayke, “it must have been a bird, for
no person in the form of a man, woman or child could have climbed
through these bushes and back again.”
“And, allowing he could have done so,” said another Yip, “the
diamond-studded gold dishpan would not have repaid him for his troubles
and his tribulations.”
“For my part,” remarked a third Yip, “I would rather go back home and
dig and polish some more diamonds and mine some more gold and make you
another dishpan than be scratched from head to heel by these dreadful
bushes. Even now, if my mother saw me, she would not know I am her
son.”
Cayke paid no heed to these mutterings, nor did the Frogman. Although
their journey was slow, it was being made easy for them by the Yips, so
they had nothing to complain of and no desire to turn back. Quite near
to the bottom of the great hill they came upon a great gulf, the sides
of which were as smooth as glass. The gulf extended a long distance—as
far as they could see in either direction—and although it was not very
wide, it was far too wide for the Yips to leap across it. And should
they fall into it, it was likely they might never get out again. “Here
our journey ends,” said the Yips. “We must go back again.”
Cayke the Cookie Cook began to weep.
“I shall never find my pretty dishpan again, and my heart will be
broken!” she sobbed.
The Frogman went to the edge of the gulf and with his eye carefully
measured the distance to the other side. “Being a frog,” said he, “I
can leap, as all frogs do, and being so big and strong, I am sure I can
leap across this gulf with ease. But the rest of you, not being frogs,
must return the way you came.”
“We will do that with pleasure,” cried the Yips, and at once they
turned and began to climb up the steep mountain, feeling they had had
quite enough of this unsatisfactory adventure. Cayke the Cookie Cook
did not go with them, however. She sat on a rock and wept and wailed
and was very miserable.
“Well,” said the Frogman to her, “I will now bid you goodbye. If I find
your diamond-decorated gold dishpan, I will promise to see that it is
safely returned to you.”
“But I prefer to find it myself!” she said. “See here, Frogman, why
can’t you carry me across the gulf when you leap it? You are big and
strong, while I am small and thin.”
The Frogman gravely thought over this suggestion. It was a fact that
Cayke the Cookie Cook was not a heavy person. Perhaps he could leap the
gulf with her on his back. “If you are willing to risk a fall,” said
he, “I will make the attempt.”
At once she sprang up and grabbed him around his neck with both her
arms. That is, she grabbed him where his neck ought to be, for the
Frogman had no neck at all. Then he squatted down, as frogs do when
they leap, and with his powerful rear legs he made a tremendous jump.
Over the gulf they sailed, with the Cookie Cook on his back, and he had
leaped so hard—to make sure of not falling in—that he sailed over a lot
of bramble bushes that grew on the other side and landed in a clear
space which was so far beyond the gulf that when they looked back they
could not see it at all.
Cayke now got off the Frogman’s back and he stood erect again and
carefully brushed the dust from his velvet coat and rearranged his
white satin necktie.
“I had no idea I could leap so far,” he said wonderingly. “Leaping is
one more accomplishment I can now add to the long list of deeds I am
able to perform.”
“You are certainly fine at leap-frog,” said the Cookie Cook admiringly,
“but, as you say, you are wonderful in many ways. If we meet with any
people down here, I am sure they will consider you the greatest and
grandest of all living creatures.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I shall probably astonish strangers, because they
have never before had the pleasure of seeing me. Also, they will marvel
at my great learning. Every time I open my mouth, Cayke, I am liable to
say something important.”
“That is true,” she agreed, “and it is fortunate your mouth is so very
wide and opens so far, for otherwise all the wisdom might not be able
to get out of it.”
“Perhaps nature made it wide for that very reason,” said the Frogman.
“But come, let us now go on, for it is getting late and we must find
some sort of shelter before night overtakes us.”