THE UNHAPPY FERRYMAN
Leaving the grove where they had slept, the Frogman and the Cookie Cook
turned to the east to seek another house, and after a short walk came
to one where the people received them very politely. The children
stared rather hard at the big, pompous Frogman, but the woman of the
house, when Cayke asked for something to eat, at once brought them food
and said they were welcome to it. “Few people in need of help pass this
way,” she remarked, “for the Winkies are all prosperous and love to
stay in their own homes. But perhaps you are not a Winkie,” she added.
“No,” said Cayke, “I am a Yip, and my home is on a high mountain at the
southeast of your country.”
“And the Frogman, is he also a Yip?”
“I do not know what he is, other than a very remarkable and highly
educated creature,” replied the Cookie Cook. “But he has lived many
years among the Yips, who have found him so wise and intelligent that
they always go to him for advice.”
“May I ask why you have left your home and where you are going?” said
the Winkie woman.
Then Cayke told her of the diamond-studded gold dishpan and how it had
been mysteriously stolen from her house, after which she had discovered
that she could no longer cook good cookies. So she had resolved to
search until she found her dishpan again, because a Cookie cook who
cannot cook good cookies is not of much use. The Frogman, who had
wanted to see more of the world, had accompanied her to assist in the
search. When the woman had listened to this story, she asked, “Then you
have no idea as yet who has stolen your dishpan?”
“I only know it must have been some mischievous fairy, or a magician,
or some such powerful person, because none other could have climbed the
steep mountain to the Yip Country. And who else could have carried away
my beautiful magic dishpan without being seen?”
The woman thought about this during the time that Cayke and the Frogman
ate their breakfast. When they had finished, she said, “Where are you
going next?”
“We have not decided,” answered the Cookie cook.
“Our plan,” explained the Frogman in his important way, “is to travel
from place to place until we learn where the thief is located and then
to force him to return the dishpan to its proper owner.”
“The plan is all right,” agreed the woman, “but it may take you a long
time before you succeed, your method being sort of haphazard and
indefinite. However, I advise you to travel toward the east.”
“Why?” asked the Frogman.
“Because if you went west, you would soon come to the desert, and also
because in this part of the Winkie Country no one steals, so your time
here would be wasted. But toward the east, beyond the river, live many
strange people whose honesty I would not vouch for. Moreover, if you
journey far enough east and cross the river for a second time, you will
come to the Emerald City, where there is much magic and sorcery. The
Emerald City is ruled by a dear little girl called Ozma, who also rules
the Emperor of the Winkies and all the Land of Oz. So, as Ozma is a
fairy, she may be able to tell you just who has taken your precious
dishpan. Provided, of course, you do not find it before you reach her.”
“This seems to be to be excellent advice,” said the Frogman, and Cayke
agreed with him.
“The most sensible thing for you to do,” continued the woman, “would be
to return to your home and use another dishpan, learn to cook cookies
as other people cook cookies, without the aid of magic. But if you
cannot be happy without the magic dishpan you have lost, you are likely
to learn more about it in the Emerald City than at any other place in
Oz.”
They thanked the good woman, and on leaving her house faced the east
and continued in that direction all the way. Toward evening they came
to the west branch of the Winkie River and there, on the riverbank,
found a ferryman who lived all alone in a little yellow house. This
ferryman was a Winkie with a very small head and a very large body. He
was sitting in his doorway as the travelers approached him and did not
even turn his head to look at them.
“Good evening,” said the Frogman.
The ferryman made no reply.
“We would like some supper and the privilege of sleeping in your house
until morning,” continued the Frogman. “At daybreak, we would like some
breakfast, and then we would like to have you row us across the river.”
The ferryman neither moved nor spoke. He sat in his doorway and looked
straight ahead. “I think he must be deaf and dumb,” Cayke whispered to
her companion. Then she stood directly in front of the ferryman, and
putting her mouth close to his ear, she yelled as loudly as she could,
“Good evening!”
The ferryman scowled.
“Why do you yell at me, woman?” he asked.
“Can you hear what I say?” asked in her ordinary tone of voice.
“Of course,” replied the man.
“Then why didn’t you answer the Frogman?”
“Because,” said the ferryman, “I don’t understand the frog language.”
“He speaks the same words that I do and in the same way,” declared
Cayke.
“Perhaps,” replied the ferryman, “but to me his voice sounded like a
frog’s croak. I know that in the Land of Oz animals can speak our
language, and so can the birds and bugs and fishes; but in MY ears,
they sound merely like growls and chirps and croaks.”
“Why is that?” asked the Cookie Cook in surprise.
“Once, many years ago, I cut the tail off a fox which had taunted me,
and I stole some birds’ eggs from a nest to make an omelet with, and
also I pulled a fish from the river and left it lying on the bank to
gasp for lack of water until it died. I don’t know why I did those
wicked things, but I did them. So the Emperor of the Winkies—who is the
Tin Woodman and has a very tender tin heart—punished me by denying me
any communication with beasts, birds or fishes. I cannot understand
them when they speak to me, although I know that other people can do
so, nor can the creatures understand a word I say to them. Every time I
meet one of them, I am reminded of my former cruelty, and it makes me
very unhappy.”
“Really,” said Cayke, “I’m sorry for you, although the Tin Woodman is
not to blame for punishing you.”
“What is he mumbling about?” asked the Frogman.
“He is talking to me, but you don’t understand him,” she replied. And
then she told him of the ferryman’s punishment and afterward explained
to the ferryman that they wanted to stay all night with him and be fed.
He gave them some fruit and bread, which was the only sort of food he
had, and he allowed Cayke to sleep in a room of his cottage. But the
Frogman he refused to admit to his house, saying that the frog’s
presence made him miserable and unhappy. At no time would he look
directly at the Frogman, or even toward him, fearing he would shed
tears if he did so; so the big frog slept on the riverbank where he
could hear little frogs croaking in the river all the night through.
But that did not keep him awake; it merely soothed him to slumber, for
he realized how much superior he was to them.
Just as the sun was rising on a new day, the ferryman rowed the two
travelers across the river—keeping his back to the Frogman all the
way—and then Cayke thanked him and bade him goodbye and the ferryman
rowed home again.
On this side of the river, there were no paths at all, so it was
evident they had reached a part of the country little frequented by
travelers. There was a marsh at the south of them, sandhills at the
north, and a growth of scrubby underbrush leading toward a forest at
the east. So the east was really the least difficult way to go, and
that direction was the one they had determined to follow.
Now the Frogman, although he wore green patent-leather shoes with ruby
buttons, had very large and flat feet, and when he tramped through the
scrub, his weight crushed down the underbrush and made a path for Cayke
to follow him. Therefore they soon reached the forest, where the tall
trees were set far apart but were so leafy that they shaded all the
spaces between them with their branches. “There are no bushes here,”
said Cayke, much pleased, “so we can now travel faster and with more
comfort.”