The Indus Tree
At the officer's ringing words, King Dad lowered his paper, and as he
got a good look at the Hungry Tiger, his chair fell forward with a
crash.
"A tiger, Nance!" stuttered Dad, rolling his eyes wildly at the Queen.
"But it's tied," answered the Queen of Down Town calmly. "What are the
charges, officer?"
"Ninety-nine dollars and sixty-eight cents," answered the officer
hoarsely, and leaning over he handed Dad a long slip of paper.
"But we only wanted a little breakfast," began Betsy tremulously,
"and----"
"A little breakfast!" wheezed Dad, and putting on his specs started to
read off the list:
"Twelve roasts,
Four turkeys,
One spring chicken,
Three dozen tarts,
Fourteen doughnuts
One ham and twenty-four biscuits,
Three quarts of potato salad,
One six-pound sausage."
"Monstrous!" muttered the Queen, tapping her foot indignantly on the
floor. "They shall pay well for this."
"Why, that's a mere bite for a fellow like me," rumbled the Hunger
Tiger, impatiently, "and I ate most of it."
"Who--who are you?" demanded Dad, holding on to the arms of his chair
and blinking nervously at the great beast.
"I am the Hungry Tiger of Oz, and these are my friends. We are on our
way to the Emerald City. This little girl is Betsy Bobbin and allow me
to present the Vegetable Man and the Pasha of--"
"Your tale drags," yawned her Majesty, fanning herself with her
handkerchief. "Cut it short. Time is money down here and the thing for
you to do is to pay up and settle down."
"How clearly you put things," murmured Dad, looking affectionately
at his Queen. Betsy had been staring at Her Highness in perfect
astonishment, for she was made entirely of money. Her face and hair
were of purest gold, her hands and feet of silver and her dress was
made from hundreds of yellow bills that crinkled crisply when she
moved. Yet, with all her glitter and brilliance, she seemed to Betsy
the hardest and most disagreeable being she had ever met. Dad, himself
looked kind and care-worn, resembling vaguely many of the daddies Betsy
had known in the United States. If he had just decided things for
himself and not depended so much upon the Queen, Betsy would have liked
him better.
"Well, are you ready to pay up?" asked Dad, looking from one to the
other of the travellers. "Ninety-nine dollars and sixty-eight cents,
please."
"But we haven't any money," explained Betsy breathlessly. "We started
off in such a hurry and--"
"You should not have come Down Town if you had no money," muttered Dad
reprovingly.
"How dare you be without money?" cried the Queen, springing up in a
perfect fury. "How dare you come Down Town without money?"
"Now, don't get frenzied, Fi Nance," begged Dad, patting her anxiously
on the hand. "They can easily make some money, you know." His words
seemed to soothe the Queen.
"That's so," she mused thoughtfully. "Anybody can make money Down Town,
if they just try hard enough." Almost pleasantly she turned to Betsy.
"You, my child," purred the Queen, resuming her seat, "you, may start
as a cash girl. I myself was a cash girl once," she went on dreamily,
"and now look at me--Fi Nance, Queen of Down Town. I'm simply made of
money!"
Betsy looked, and shuddered a little as she did so. She was about to
tell the Queen that she had no desire to be a cash girl, when Fi Nance
haughtily held up her hand for silence. "The lad shall be an office
boy," she decided imperiously. "Who did you say he was?"
"A Prince," growled the Hungry Tiger.
"A dry goods store will be the best place for him," murmured Dad. "What
can you two do?" he demanded, looking over his specs at the barber and
sad singer of Rash.
"Anything! Anything!" whined the frightened prisoners, bumping their
heads together in their anxiety to please.
"Pooh!" sniffed Dad scornfully. "That means nothing whatsoever."
"Shampoo?" suggested the barber hopefully. "Let me give your Highness a
little shave and hair cut."
"Are you a barber?" asked Dad, looking at the Rasher with more
interest. "If you're a barber, you can stay and welcome. There's always
room for another barber, Down Town."
"Thank you! Thank you! If your majesty will permit--" The barber bowed
apologetically to the Prince of Rash, "I will remain here. I have
always wanted to make money," he acknowledged frankly.
"Me too!" gulped the sad singer eagerly.
"I've sung until I'm hoarse, in Rash,
And never earned a cent in cash!"
"He has a voice like a horse," whispered Dad, in a loud aside to the
Queen.
"He sings like a jack-ass!" agreed Her Majesty readily. "But let him
stay. Any kind of a noise goes, Down Town. Now as to these others?" She
rolled her golden eyes in perplexity and disapproval at the Vegetable
Man and the Hungry Tiger; then evidently giving them up, cried in a
loud voice, "The audience is over and the prisoners are discharged. Let
them make some money, pay up and settle down."
"Well, good-bye!" smiled Dad, picking up his paper with a sigh of
relief. "If you don't like the positions we have chosen for you, go
down to the square and choose some others. Take them to the public
square!" he ordered, waving at the officers.
So, much to Betsy's and the little Prince's amusement, they were all
hurried into the elevator, out of the bank and marched along the
streets of the city. A curious sign on the first corner puzzled Betsy
very much.
"Down Town belongs to the Daddies," said the sign severely, "No aunts,
mothers or sisters allowed."
"Why, anybody can go down town at home," exclaimed the little girl in
surprise.
"I noticed there were no ladies about," observed Carter in an amused
voice. "The Daddies have it all their own way here."
As they passed along, Betsy looked curiously in the windows of the
shops and offices and saw that everywhere the Dads were making money.
Some were making money out of leather, some were making money out of
oil and some were even making money out of old papers and rags. It
looked quite simple.
"But there must be some trick to it," she whispered hurriedly to the
Prince of Rash. "I hope we don't have to stay here long. I won't be a
cash girl."
Prince Evered nodded emphatically, for he had no intention of becoming
an office boy. Just then they came to the public square and were
marched solemnly through the gates.
"Pick your tools and get started," ordered the first officer gruffly,
and grumbling a little among themselves, because the prisoners had got
off so easily, the twenty tall Downsmen tramped noisily back to their
station. As soon as they had gone, the barber, with his razor, released
the Hungry Tiger from the net.
"I wonder what they meant about tools," murmured Betsy, staring all
around her. "Why what an enormous tree!" It stood in the center of
the square, spreading out in every direction, its branches weighted
down with a most curious collection of objects. There was a small
notice tacked on the trunk and Evered and Betsy Bobbin hurried over to
investigate.
"Indus Tree," read the sign. "Pick your trade, business or profession
here."
"Well, I've often heard of the big industries," gasped Carter Green,
squinting up through the branches, "but I never knew they looked like
this. If we are to stay Down Town, I suppose we had better pick our
business at once."
"Stay if you want to," rumbled the Hungry Tiger impatiently. "My
business is to see that Betsy Bobbin gets safely back to Oz and to
restore Reddy to his throne. I, for my part, am going to leave as soon
as I can find an exit."
"Maybe they won't let us," faltered Betsy, looking uneasily over her
shoulder. But the Daddies were not paying the slightest attention to
the little group in the square and, greatly relieved, they turned back
to the Indus Tree.
"Some of these things might prove useful, even if we did not remain
here," muttered Carter.
"Why, there's a razor!" shouted the Rash barber in delight, and
springing into the air, he snapped it off the lower branch and began to
finger it lovingly.
"I'd take that harp, if I could just reach it," sighed the sad singer,
looking wistfully aloft.
"I'll pick it for you," offered Prince Evered obligingly, and swinging
up into the tree he broke the harp from its stem and dropped it into
the singer's arms.
"See anything you want, Betsy?" called the little Prince, and pushing
aside a cluster of paint brushes, he peered down at her expectantly.
But with so many things to choose from, it was hard to decide. There
were thimbles and shears, bottles of ink, hammers, saws, buckets and
mops, brooms and hoes, music rolls, miners' caps, rolling pins, cook
books, compasses and ship models--everything in fact that a body would
need to work with.
While Reddy was waiting for Betsy to make up her mind, his curiosity
carried him higher and higher into the branches. Carter, too, walked
round and round the base of the tree, shaking his head and exclaiming
from time to time with surprise and astonishment. But the Hungry Tiger
had small use for a tree that produced nothing to eat, nor was he
interested in money or making money. So, while the others examined
the marvelous tree, he began looking for a way out, and presently was
rewarded, for in the far corner of the square were steps leading down
into what seemed to be a tunnel. Stretching his neck cautiously about
the doorway, the Hungry Tiger spied some directions.
"Take the subway here for Up Town," said a sign.
"Here! Here! I've found a way out!" roared the Hungry Tiger joyfully.
"What kind of a way?" cried Carter, stumbling over the wheel-barrow he
had just plucked from the Indus Tree.
"A subway!" puffed the tiger. "Tell the rest of 'em, quick!"
"Come on! Come on!" cried Carter waving to the others. "The Hungry
Tiger has found some way out."
"I said, 'subway!'" growled the tiger a bit temperishly. "Are you going
to take that thing along with you?" The Vegetable Man looked lovingly
at the wheel-barrow.
"It was the nearest thing to a cart I could find," he murmured sadly,
"and will come in very handy if I pick up some vegetables or fruit. So
will this." He patted a small spade that had grown on the same branch
with the wheel-barrow. "Hello, here they come now!" At Carter's cries,
the little Prince of Rash, who had been trying to decide between a
policeman's club and a sword, plucked the sword and came crashing to
earth, followed by several bottles of ink and an ironing board.
"I may have to fight for my Kingdom," he told Betsy importantly, "and
this sword will help." Betsy nodded understandingly, and without
waiting to pick anything for herself she ran over to the Hungry Tiger.
They were all anxious to leave Down Town, and when Betsy told them
a little about subways (she had often been in subways in the United
States) the Hungry Tiger gave the signal to start.
"We've forgotten the barber and the singer," exclaimed Betsy, pausing
suddenly on the top step. But just then the two Rashers came hurrying
over, and when the Hungry Tiger announced that they were going Up Town
and from there back to the Marvelous Land of Oz, both drew back.
"I've had enough ups and downs in my life," sighed the barber, "and
will remain here and make my fortune. By that time Prince Evered may,
perchance, be restored to his throne. Then and then only will I return
to Rash." The singer, after one look into the gloomy opening, declared
that he too, preferred to stay Down Town.
"With this harp and my beautiful voice, I will soon be a rich man,"
he assured them earnestly, and with many goodbyes and good wishes the
four travellers left them to make their fortunes. Long after they had
descended the steps and entered the subway itself, they could hear the
plaintive wails of the sad singer and the thrum of the harp he had
picked from the Indus Tree.
It was dim and mysterious in the underground passageway, and after
looking in vain for a car or train to carry them Up Town, Betsy began
following the arrows painted on the white washed walls.
"There ought to be a car somewhere," panted the little girl, after they
had made at least fifty turns.
"Try mine," invited Carter, and with a tired smile Betsy dropped into
the wheel-barrow. Reddy was riding the Hungry Tiger, and after they had
proceeded for more than an hour, the arrows stopped altogether.
"Well, this isn't like our subways at all," exclaimed Betsy in disgust.
"When you take a subway at home, you get somewhere."
"Isn't this somewhere?" asked Carter, stooping a little so he could
enter a rough stone cavern at the end of the tunnel. Whistling
cheerfully, he trundled Betsy through the low doorway. The Hungry Tiger
followed, sniffing the air suspiciously, and it must be confessed that
the little rock chamber did not look very inviting. The walls were of
jagged gray stone, the floor damp and slippery and the whole place
dismal and chilly as a vault. A feeble light flickered down from an
opening in the ceiling and after a discouraged look round, Betsy shook
her head.
"We'll have to go back Down Town," she sighed sadly. "I'll have to be a
cash girl after all!"
"No you won't!" called Reddy. He had jumped off the tiger and gone to
examine the back of the cavern. "Here's a door!" Hurrying over, the
others saw that the little Prince was right.
"'Cave Inn,'" roared the Hungry Tiger, reading the door plate over
the little boy's shoulder. "'Knock three times.' Why, that's fine! If
it's an Inn, they'll surely have something to eat. We can't get out so
we might as well go in," he finished with a playful wink at Carter.
Stepping back a few paces, the Hungry Tiger ran at the door and bumped
his head three times against the brass plate. At the third bump, the
door of Cave Inn flew open, the floor of the cave itself, tilted
forward and the four adventurers fell through. Stones and dirt rattled
down after them and the Hungry Tiger's growls mingled with the screams
of Betsy and Evered, as they went tumbling down into the darkness.