The YELLOW KNIGHT 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
COPYRIGHT 1930
_by
The_ REILLY & LEE CO.
All Rights reserved
_Dear Boys, and Dear Girls_:
The tip top of the year to you!
Good times and wishes!
Grand fun and good cheer to you!
And in this new book
Full of merry Oz folks
You may read of the quest
Of Sir Hokus of Pokes--
Of a strange Yellow Knight
And Stampedro, his horse.
There's a wicked old Shah,
And a Princess, of course.
I know I'll enjoy
All the letters you'll write
When you've finished the tale
Of this jolly old Knight.
What ho and what hey!
For adventures, I say!
And I'll write you some more
In a year and a day. (Really.)
RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON.
254 S. Farragut Terrace, West Philadelphia, Penn.
This book is dedicated to
my very dear
and very little
Aunt Gertrude!
_Ruth Plumly Thompson, 1930_
CONTENTS
1 Sir Hokus Plans a Quest
2 The Knight's First Adventure
3 Queen Marcia of Marshland
4 Ploppa and Sir Hokus Escape
5 Concerning a Camel
6 Tuzzle at the Court of Oz
7 The Cruise of the Skyrocket
8 A Golden Princess
9 Sir Hokus Meets an Old Friend
10 The Deserted City
11 The Knight Loses His Camel
12 Camy at the Sultan's Court
13 King of the Quix!
14 The Enchanted Forest
15 Five Travellers Meet
16 Speedy in Samandra
17 The Restoration of Corumbia
18 The Return of the Yellow Knight
19 For the Hand of a Princess
20 The Marriage of Marygolden
CHAPTER ONE
SIR HOKUS PLANS A QUEST
"I am minded," said Sir Hokus of Pokes, drawing aside the green
curtains and looking out over the sparkling towers and spires of the
Emerald City of Oz--"I am minded to go on a quest!"
"Quest?" shouted Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, hand-springing over the
sofa, capering up to the Knight, and collapsing in front of him with a
giggle. "What manner of quest, Sir Knight? Request or conquest?
"Methinks we'll go upon a quest
East, North, or South, Sir Hoke, or West?
To slay a dragon? Or what ho!
What hey! What say? When do we go?"
"We!" Dropping the curtain, Sir Hokus looked sternly at the Patchwork
Girl, then striding over to a small sofa sat solemnly down beside
Dorothy, a little girl from Kansas and a Princess of Oz. The Knight and
several more of Dorothy's friends were spending the evening in her cozy
apartment in Ozma's palace.
"Wait till Monday," smiled Dorothy, looking up from a book she was
reading. "Wait till Monday and I'll go with you."
"Next week a questing we will go;
I'll break the news to those below,"
chortled Scraps with a gay bounce.
"Well, don't break all the furniture while you're about it," warned
Dorothy, as the Patchwork Girl vaulted easily over the sofa and fell
through the door.
"Oh, I do hope my blue dress will be finished in time," exclaimed Trot,
clasping her hands eagerly.
"Can I take Hank?" inquired Bettsy Bobbin, who was extremely fond of
the little mule she had brought from America. At this, Sir Hokus looked
thoughtfully at his boots.
"In my day," mused the Knight mournfully, "maidens remained quietly at
home, doing household tasks, embroidering, watching from towers, and so
on----"
"How stuffy!" sniffed Bettsy Bobbin, sliding carefully into his lap,
which his armor made rather hard and uncomfortable. "How old-fashioned.
Now don't be quaint! What fun is it watching from a tower? And this
embroidery and so on that you talk about ruins the eyes, and you know
it!"
"Well, well," rumbled Sir Hokus, looking uneasily into Bettsy's
bright eyes, "I see no signs of ruin here, but let us speak of this
to-morrow," and setting Bettsy gently on the floor, he bowed to all
three girls and went clanking down the gold-flagged hallway muttering
unhappily to himself. "Odds fish and funnels! Why did I ever mention
this quest? Before morning every man, maiden, child, and kitten in the
castle will know of it. Go to, now! It is too bad! Go _too_, now! Why,
that's just what they'll all want to do. 'Twill be a parade and no
quest at all. By my Knight shirt, it is too much!" Reaching his great
stone chambers, Sir Hokus leaned against his four-post bed and stared
gloomily at a picture of his friend the Scarecrow on the opposite wall.
And his fears, let me tell you, were well founded, for news travels
fast in the Emerald City, especially good news. In less than an hour
there was not a soul in that whole merrie castle who had not heard
from Scraps that the Good Knight of Oz was about to fare forth upon an
adventure.
In his tower room, Tik Tok, the machine man, marched sternly to and
fro, practising thrusts and parries with an old cane. The Soldier with
Green Whiskers began to brush his beard vigorously and try to recall
what he had done with his sword, his musket, and his military brushes.
The little Wizard of Oz, in his laboratory back of the throne room,
took down his bag and began rubbing his hands briskly as he sorted
out the magic appliances best suited to a perilous adventure. Even
Dorothy's pink kitten stopped washing her face long enough to decide
which bow she would wear upon this grand and exciting occasion.
Now Oz, as nearly everyone knows, is the happiest Kingdom out of the
world, a Kingdom so unfashionable, informal and jolly, that Queen Ozma
thinks nothing of jumping rope, and even the most important court
officials play tag and croquet in the gardens after tea. Perhaps this
is because the Ruler of Oz is a girl, a fairy, to be sure, but such an
unassuming, gracious fairy that no one feels frightened or embarrassed
by her power or importance. Yet, Ozma of Oz is both powerful and
important. Important enough to govern the four great countries of her
realm wisely and well, powerful enough to overcome all her enemies
and keep her people contented and happy. Of all the fairy cities in
enchanted countries anywhere, there is none to compare with Ozma's
capital. Its streets sparkle and twinkle with emeralds; the towered
green castle, set in a lovely flowering park, shines and glows with
the same precious gems, casting a radiance that can be seen for miles
on all sides. And to her castle Ozma has called the most celebrated
and interesting of her subjects. In a magical country like Oz, where
wizards, witches, and fabulous monsters still abound, there are certain
to be unusual and amazing characters. But Ozma is fondest of Dorothy,
Bettsy and Trot, three young girls from the United States, who reached
the Emerald City at different times after bewildering adventures in
her fairy Kingdom. All three found life there so exciting and gay that
they have never returned to America at all, and living in the palace
with the Queen they advise her in all important matters of state, and
accompany her on all of her visits and adventures.
Dorothy, having come first, has had more strange experiences than
almost anyone else, and has discovered a great many of the Oz
celebrities. On her first trip she found the Scarecrow, a delightful
straw-stuffed person who spends half of his time in the capital and
the other half in a splendid corn-ear castle near the Royal Residence
of his friend the Tin Woodman. Nick is a woodman entirely of tin,
another of Dorothy's discoveries, and so kind and dependable that Ozma
has made him Emperor of the East and Ruler of the Winkies. Nick's only
worry is that his joints will rust, and no one thinks it odd that he
carries an oil can wherever he goes and often stops in the middle of a
conversation to lubricate his jaws. Tik Tok, on the other hand, is made
of copper and was manufactured by a firm of magicians to be a slave
to the King of Ev. The machine man is guaranteed to last a thousand
years and can walk, talk, think and do everything but live. Dorothy
found Tik Tok locked in a cave, and releasing the copper man, brought
him to the Emerald City, where he is greatly admired and respected.
Like Tik Tok, the Patchwork Girl is of magic origin, too, having been
intended for a servant by her owner. Made from an old patchwork quilt,
stuffed with cotton by a wizard's wife, Scraps was brought to life by
the wizard's Powder of Life. But so much cleverness and fun got into
Scraps' make-up that she refused to work and, taking an unceremonious
leave of her master, ran off to the capital. Wherever Scraps happens
to be, there is always plenty of fun and excitement. Then, along with
the interesting people in the Emerald City, there are many amazing
animals, every one of them able to talk as fast as you can. There are
the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger, an Iffin, a glass cat, and so many
more it would never do to start telling you about them. Indeed, when I
start talking about the celebrities at Ozma's court I never _do_ know
when to stop. To describe them all would take about three days and as
you probably have not that long to listen, and know most of them as
well as I do, I'll not try, but shall get back to Sir Hokus of Pokes
and his quest. Not much is known of the early history of this brave
Knight except that for five centuries he was imprisoned in the Kingdom
of Pokes, until he was rescued by Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion not so
long ago. Since then he has lived in the capital and has been of great
assistance to Ozma in the wars and uprisings that disturb her peaceful
Kingdom from time to time.
To some, five centuries might seem to make a man a bit ancient, but
in Oz, where no one ever really grows old, it is just middle-aged,
and Sir Hokus can hold his own with any of the young fellows in the
castle. Hearing a great buzz and clatter beneath his windows, the Good
Knight looked out and saw fifty of Ozma's gay courtiers drilling under
the lime-drop trees with more than half the palace servants treading
earnestly behind them. Learning from Scraps that Sir Hokus was about
to start upon a quest, they, too, had decided to accompany him. In the
royal stables the excitement was no less. The Sawhorse, Ozma's little
wooden steed, magically brought to life, was quite certain he would be
chosen for the Knight's charger.
"Who," whinnied the Sawhorse proudly, "can travel so fast or so
far as I, without food, rest, or water?" The Cowardly Lion and the
Hungry Tiger exchanged knowing glances, for they felt that Sir Hokus
would much prefer a soft seat upon their backs. Hank, Bettsy's mule,
explained to everyone in a loud bray that if Bettsy Bobbin were going
he was going, and the voices of the Comfortable Camel and the Doubtful
Dromedary grew positively shrill when anyone suggested that they might
be left behind.
"Hokus is our dear discoverer. He found and brought us to the Emerald
City and would not think of going on a quest without us," quavered the
Comfortable Camel, rolling his eyes appealingly at Hank.
"You eat too much," sniffed the little mule. "And hee, haw! Hee, haw!
You wobble too much!"
"You bray too much," put in the Doubtful Dromedary, coming to the
rescue of his friend. "And don't you get hee haughty with me, sir!"
And so they argued back and forth, till even the family of mice in the
hayloft knew Sir Hokus was going upon a quest, and the tiniest member
had resolved to slip in the Knight's boot and go, too.
Nothing else was talked of at dinner that night in the palace, and
so interested were Ozma, Dorothy, and the others, that they scarcely
noticed that Sir Hokus himself said never a word and ate hardly
a mouthful. Indeed, right in the middle of an argument as to the
advisability of taking water-proofs or just heavy coats, the Knight
tiptoed off to his own apartment and flung himself wearily down on a
stone bench.
"It's not that I don't want them!" groaned Sir Hokus sadly, "but how,
with an army like that, can I hope to rescue a damsel, slay a dragon,
or challenge a giant to mortal combat? And how shall I know that I am
still brave and fit to do battle with fabulous monsters? The Wizard's
magic will overcome all our difficulties, Scraps' verses will make even
the enemy laugh, and with so many maidens, how can I hope for a proper
fight? I would not mind just Dorothy or Ozma, but everyone in the
castle! Odds black and blue fish! It is too much!" Folding his arms,
Sir Hokus glared at a large calendar on his wall, then suddenly smote
his hands joyfully together. Three days before Monday, the day set by
Dorothy for the quest. Three days!
"Hah!" breathed the Knight gleefully, and again, "Hah!" Snatching up
his battle-axe and seizing his second best helmet from its hook behind
the door, he trod softly into the hall and down a little-used stairway
to the garden.
And while preparations for his quest went merrily forward, Sir Hokus
himself, without even one sandwich or extra suit of armor, marched
grimly through the night.
CHAPTER TWO
THE KNIGHT'S FIRST ADVENTURE
Walking rapidly, Sir Hokus soon reached the outskirts of the Emerald
City and paused on the edge of a small wood to consider the next step
of his journey. In which of the four countries of Oz would he be most
likely to find a maiden in distress, a monarch in need of his trusty
sword, or a monster ferocious enough to engage in mortal combat?
Should he go to the North, into the purple land of the Gillikins and
offer his services to Joe King, and Queen Hyacinth? Or into the red
Quadling Country where Glinda, the Good Sorceress, ruled over the
turbulent tribes of the South? To the West stretched the blue realm
of the Munchkins with its wonderful Sapphire City and newly appointed
sovereign, Cheeriobed the First. Should he go there? To the East lay
the yellow domain of the Winkies ruled over by the Tin Woodman, and
after looking thoughtfully in each direction, Sir Hokus turned his
steps toward the East. It was in the Winkie Country that he had been
first discovered by little Dorothy and in this strange and enchanted
Empire he hoped to learn something of his former history.
During his five century imprisonment in Pokes, Sir Hokus had lost
all recollection of his early life and since his residence in the
Emerald City he had been too occupied and interested to bother. But
now, treading through the starlit wood, he began to think of the long
ago days of his youth, to wonder whence he had come, who he really
was and what great purpose had sent him riding upon that first quest
on a far-away and but dimly remembered morning. Of his father or his
father's castle he could recall nothing. He only remembered meeting,
not far from the postern gates, a strange, black Knight who had
harshly challenged him to battle. Sir Hokus had accepted the challenge
at once and unseated the stranger with a clever thrust of his lance.
Instantly the black Knight had sprung up, and crying in a loud voice,
"Live, wretch, for centuries in the stupidest Kingdom in Oz," had
disappeared, and Sir Hokus himself, though of course that was not his
name at that time, had been immediately transported to Pokes and there
he had been held captive for long forgotten ages until Dorothy and the
Cowardly Lion had come there by chance and all three had managed to
escape together.
"Strange," mused the Knight, shaking his head sorrowfully, "strange
that I can remember nothing more of it." The longer he thought, the
less he could think of, and finally he gave it up altogether. "After
all, does it matter?" he murmured, throwing back his shoulders and
standing a trifle more straight. "A Knight's but a Knight and can but
be bold!" Cheered by the thought of his own boldness, he peered about
hopefully for signs of a dragon or stray gundersnatch. "What ho!" he
roared lustily, more to keep himself company than because he expected
any answer. "What ho, there! What HO!"
"What who?" quavered a shrill voice from the branch of a tree just
ahead, and a big, yellow owl blinked disagreeably down at him. "What
who-ooo are you, and what 'Ho' is this you are calling?" he demanded
sulkily.
"Ah, my good bird," Sir Hokus bowed politely, "perchance you can direct
me to a maiden in distress, a monarch in need of my sharp sword, or a
monster whose head I might haply dissever."
"Dissever?" screeched the owl, ruffling his feathers. "Well, did you
ever! There are no maidens, monarchs, or monsters in this wood, and I
advise you to go home and mind your own business."
"It is a Knight's business to render assistance to others," Sir Hokus
informed him sternly.
"Oh, you're a Knight are you?" The owl opened his eyes wider. "Well,
I'm a Knight, too, a night owl, and you may render me a service if you
will."
"Name it!" Eagerly Sir Hokus drew his sword.
"You can go away," sniffed the owl fretfully, settling down on the
branch. "Go away, go along with you!" And as Sir Hokus stood uncertain
whether to clip a few feathers from its tail to teach it a lesson
in courtesy or just go off, the bird closed its eyes. "Good-night,
Knight," it yawned sleepily.
"Good-night, night owl," answered Sir Hokus, deciding that after all
the creature was not worth a quarrel. "Odds bodikens! I might as well
be home in bed for all the adventures I'm having," he sighed, moving
mournfully along in the moonlight. "Not a wild beast has crossed my
path, not a witch, a robber, or even one little dragon! Hah, Hoh, HUM!"
With another great yawn, the Knight removed his heavy armor, hung it
on a nearby branch, and wrapping himself in his gray cloak lay down
under a tree and slept soundly till morning. The chatter of the yellow
birds awakened him about six, and buckling on his armor he quenched his
thirst in a clear forest brook. As there were no breakfast bushes or
afternoon tea trees about he marched resolutely onward. The forest grew
denser at every step and he was often forced to hew out a path with his
battle-axe, but about noon he came to a narrow footway shut in on both
sides by giant trees and heavy underbrush. Following this for several
miles, Sir Hokus was suddenly cheered by a bright shaft of sunlight
ahead. Hurrying forward joyfully, he was about to step out into the
open when a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder.
"Halt!" cried a deep voice. "Halt! Stop! And other words meaning
surrender!"
"Surrender?" bellowed the Knight, with a furious bounce. "Stand back,
knave! Unhand me, villain! Who dares cry 'halt' to Sir Hokus of Pokes?"
"Getsom and Gotsom!" answered the same deep voice. "Getsom and Gotsom!
Mud Guards to her Majesty, Queen Marcia of Marshland."
"Mud Guards!" sputtered Sir Hokus, staring at the two without
enthusiasm. "Well, in faith an' ye look it!" For Getsom and Gotsom were
so spattered with mud and streaked with mire that scarcely any of their
dark skin was visible. They wore rough swamp grass skirts and little
else, and their long hair was tangled and matted and hung half over
their sullen faces. As Sir Hokus continued to stare, the second Mud
Guard addressed him:
"Good-morrow!" he croaked, jerking his forelock. Then turning to his
companion he whispered hoarsely, "Be careful how you treat him, Getsom,
old fellow. Remember he is the King!"
"King!" exploded Sir Hokus, growing quite curious. "What merry nonsense
is this? I am a Knight, bound upon a curious quest."
"He'll do very well indeed, if we remove the shell," continued Gotsom,
eyeing Sir Hokus with frank approval. "How would you like to be Monarch
of the Marshes and King of the Stick-in-the-Muds?" he asked coaxingly.
"Our Queen has sworn to marry the first stranger who enters the
Kingdom; you are the first, so--"
"Hold, fellow!" Imperiously Sir Hokus raised his arm. "I would hear
more of this Queen."
"Well," admitted Getsom, looking uneasily at Gotsom, "she has one
wonderful eye."
"One wonderful eye!" gulped the Knight. "By my father's beard, it is
not enough! If I ever marry 'twill be a Princess with two wonderful
eyes and curly hair like little Dorothy's. But I am not minded to marry
at all. I crave adventure, conquest, and furious battle!"
"Marry Marcia, and you will have all three," promised Gotsom quickly.
"Oh, come on! You're wasting our time," grumbled Getsom, and pressing
forward impatiently the two Mud Guards made ready to seize the Knight.
But Sir Hokus had no intention of being taken. Striking two ways at
once, he felled Getsom with his sword and Gotsom with his battle-axe
and, leaping over their inert bodies, rushed impetuously forward.
Almost instantly he regretted this hasty action; for though he was
indeed out of the gloomy forest, in all directions stretched a wild
and desolate marsh, and scarcely had he run three paces before he
began to sink down into the treacherous, watery bog. Sir Hokus struck
out bravely enough, but what good is bravery in the mud? No matter
how brave you are, you still keep on sinking, and weighed down by his
heavy armor the Knight was soon in to his waist and going deeper every
minute. Indeed, if he had not snatched desperately at a scraggly little
tree, he would have disappeared altogether.
"Methinks," groaned the Knight regretfully, "methinks I had done better
to have gone with those muddy rogues and taken my chance with their
one-eyed Queen. They, no doubt, have a way of crossing this mire." But
the Mud Guards would not regain their senses for hours, and meanwhile
he could do nothing but cling to the tree. "What now? And what next?"
he muttered, looking around despondently. Then he took a firmer hold on
his sword. "Odds goblins!" breathed Sir Hokus, wrinkling his brows.
All around him giant bubbles were rising in the mud, and from each
bubble came a great green frog's head. Odd goblins they were, indeed!
Frog goblins, to be perfectly correct, and with hair-raising croaks and
screeches they pressed closer, trying to pull the Knight down into the
mire. Each frog goblin was about the size of a small child, and at
first Sir Hokus struck them lightly with the flat of his sword. But as
they came nearer and nearer, snatching with their long, skinny fingers
and trying to loosen his hold on the tree, he swung his sword with all
his might and brought it down with resounding whacks on their heads.
But as fast as he struck down four, a dozen others hurled themselves
upon him. Having only one hand free and being waist deep in the mud,
Sir Hokus fought them off as best he could, but there were so many it
seemed but a question of time before he would be pulled ingloriously
into the swamp and suffocated. Then, suddenly, right at the height of
the conflict, the frog goblins, with a hundred dismal croaks, dove into
the bog. Panting with exhaustion, Sir Hokus glared around to discover
the cause of their disappearance and saw a giant mud turtle plowing
determinedly toward him. Its jaws snapped, its eyes rolled, and it was
as large as an elephant flattened out.
"A monster!" puffed Sir Hokus. "At last, a monster! But I could wish
it had come at some happier moment, when I had more breath and better
footing!" Nevertheless, he pulled himself resolutely up out of the mud
and, raising his sword, calmly waited for the turtle to approach. When
it had almost reached his tree, the creature stopped, stretched up its
neck and regarded him long and searchingly, as if it were deciding upon
the best place to begin biting him. Sir Hokus endured this inspection
for several minutes in silence; then, as the monster made no move or
murmur, he called out impatiently:
"Quail, wretch! Quiver, or at least do something to show that you are
afraid!"
"I am not a quail," answered the turtle in a dignified voice, "and in
this shell, how could I quiver?"
"Well, do what you're going to do, then," shouted the Knight, "and be
done with it." Lack of breakfast and the discomforts of the past few
hours had not improved his temper. "Do something, d'ye hear?"
"I am," said the turtle, blinking its eyes solemnly. "I am admiring
you, dear brother. I have always suspected that somewhere a turtle
man existed and here, at last, you are! What a gorgeous shell, and
how perfectly it fits!" At these words, and seeing there was to be
no slaying, Sir Hokus returned his sword to its scabbard and looked
thoughtfully at the green monster.
"Dear, dear," it continued, rolling its eyes affectionately, "I dote
on you already. Can I catch you some nice little frogs, or would you
prefer a serpent for breakfast?"
"Neither," shuddered the Knight, "but you may carry me on your back,
an' you will." If the creature were really as friendly as it appeared
to be, he could stand being called its brother, at least until he was
out of the swamp. At his words the turtle gave a squeal of pleasure,
and hurling itself hit or miss through the mud, drew up like a
ferryboat beside him. Seizing hold of its strong shell, Sir Hokus
pulled himself thankfully up on its back.
"A fine Knight Errant I must appear," he sighed, regarding his muddy
armor ruefully. "No wonder it thinks I'm a turtle man! What ho, my good
creature," he called anxiously, "is it far to the edge of this marsh?"
"Far--far--very far, but not too far for Ploppa," wheezed the mud
turtle, looking fondly back at the Knight.
[Illustration: "PROCEED, PLOPPA!"]
"Then proceed, Ploppa!" cried Sir Hokus, chuckling in spite of himself
at the turtle's name. "Proceed, and let us make what speed we may!"
CHAPTER THREE
QUEEN MARCIA OF MARSHLAND
With his sword, Sir Hokus scraped some of the mud from his armor; then,
settling himself cross-legged on Ploppa's back, he looked about with
deep distaste.
"Are you sure you would not like to squirm along behind me?" inquired
the turtle, looking fondly over his shoulder. "The marsh is beautiful
to-day. Ah, to feel the delicious squg and glug of it," he murmured,
rolling his eyes rapturously.
"Nay, an' I care not for this glugging," shuddered the Knight, "so
splash along by yourself, dear creature." Taking some chessmen from his
boot, Sir Hokus set them out on the nicely marked squares of Ploppa's
shell and in the problems of the game tried to forget his hunger and
the strangeness of his situation. Several times Ploppa opened his mouth
to speak, for he felt extremely curious about this superior being he
was carrying, but the Knight seemed so engrossed moving the ivory
figures from place to place that he did not like to interrupt and
churned quietly along saying nothing. Now and then a frog goblin rose
from the mud, or a flock of wild geese flew screaming overhead, but for
nearly an hour they met no one. Then, glancing up suddenly, Sir Hokus
saw two giants striding across the marsh.
"What ho, and who goes there?" cried the Knight, thumping Ploppa on the
head with a red king.
"Oh, just a couple of Stick-in-the-Muds," answered the turtle
indifferently. "The marsh is full of them." Sweeping the chessmen back
into his boot, Sir Hokus sat up very straight to have a better look at
Queen Marcia's odd subjects. Their bodies seemed no larger than his
own, but their legs were long and stick-like and reached almost to the
tops of the trees.
"Why, they _are_ sticks," decided Sir Hokus, after a long, intent look
at the Marshlanders.
"Stilts," corrected the turtle composedly. "They use stilts to keep out
of the mud, you know."
"So that's how one manages," said Sir Hokus, tapping his nose
thoughtfully. He had once tried a smaller pair of stilts back in the
Emerald City and had fallen hard upon his helmet, and he could not
help but admire the clever way in which these fellows got about on
the unwieldy poles. Their dwellings were surprising, too, for the
Marshlanders lived in tiny mud-thatched houses built high up in the
trees. As Sir Hokus continued to watch, the two travellers, reaching
their own house, which was on an exact level with their feet, stepped
off their stilts and leaving them standing against the tree went in and
slammed the door. "Well done, by my head!" breathed Sir Hokus, settling
back with a little chuckle. "I must tell Dorothy about this. Hast ever
heard of Princess Dorothy, my good Ploppa?"
"Is she a turtle?" inquired the monster in a bored voice.
"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Sir Hokus with a little gesture of
distress, and immediately began telling the turtle all about the
Emerald City; about Ozma, Dorothy, Bettsy, and Trot, and the other
wonderful citizens of Oz.
The turtle listened attentively, and as Sir Hokus paused for breath,
turned his head.
"If everything is so squg," (and "squg," I must tell you, is
turtle-talk for cozy) "why did you ever come away from there?" he
inquired, reasonably enough.
"Well," muttered Sir Hokus, beginning to wonder a little himself,
"well!" Then recalling the high purpose of his journey, he braced up
and spoke most earnestly. "A Knight," stated Sir Hokus, raising his
sword solemnly, "must beware of squgness! A Knight must seek danger and
go upon curious quests in search of adventure. In other words, he must
fight!"
"I see," Ploppa shook his head knowingly. "By the way, have you met our
Queen?"
"No, but I've heard of her," admitted Sir Hokus, recalling his strange
encounter with Getsom and Gotsom. He had been so busy describing the
Emerald City to Ploppa that he had not remarked the change in their
surroundings. Ahead, like an oasis in a desert, lay a higher and dryer
bit of ground. In the exact center of this clearing rose a mud house
much larger and more pretentious than the tree dwellings of the other
Stick-in-the-Muds. Before the door stood six Mud Guards, their stilts
held stiffly before them. At sight of Sir Hokus, all six dropped their
stilts and stared at him so fixedly that his grip upon his sword
tightened and he quietly reached for his battle-axe.
"The Royal Hut of her Majesty, Queen Marcia," announced the turtle,
seeming to take no notice of the Guards.
"Yes? Yes, but let us make haste!" puffed Sir Hokus, thumping Ploppa
hard upon the shell. "I crave not to meet her muddy Majesty." But
before Ploppa could obey his instructions, they had come opposite the
hut; the six Guards darted forward, and jumping upon Ploppa's back,
dragged Sir Hokus triumphantly in to the Queen.
[Illustration: QUEEN MARCIA SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE FLOOR.]
"The King!" they shouted, all together. "Long live the King!" And
hurling the Knight upon the floor of the hut, they stood proudly
at attention. Queen Marcia sat cross-legged on the floor, eating
marshmallows from a large box at her side. She looked, at first glance,
like a South Sea Islander, with her dark skin and skirt of swamp grass.
But when Sir Hokus, who had instantly sprung to his feet, gazed into
the face of this royal lady, he was too stunned to speak or even
stutter. Marcia had, indeed, one wonderful eye. It was large, brown,
and lively, turning in toward the nose. The other, which was small and
blue and turned impishly outward, did not count at all. The Queen's
hair had evidently never been combed, and Sir Hokus in his whole seven
centuries had not seen anyone so bewilderingly wild and ugly. As he
stood uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other, Marcia's dog,
a dingy little swampoodle, rushed out and snapped viciously at his
heels. But the Knight's armor served him well, and yelping with pain
and bad temper the swampoodle ran back to its mistress. The Queen had
been examining Sir Hokus quite as closely as he had been examining her,
and now, popping another marshmallow into her mouth, she spoke.
"Well, I'll be splattered!" mumbled her Majesty. "I'll be splashed
and splattered! What do _you_ think of him, Mira? My sister, the
Marchioness of Muckengoo!" explained the Queen, with a wave at the
dark-skinned lady at her side. Sir Hokus bowed in a dazed fashion and
Mira, who was weaving baskets from dried reeds, squinted critically up
at the Knight.
"Well," said Mira, after a long, earnest squint, "if you don't marry
him, sister, I shall!"
"But ladies!" protested Sir Hokus, backing away in great distress,
"this is impossible! I must go----"
"Silence!" roared Marcia, as well as she could with her mouth full of
marshmallows. "I have sworn to marry the first stranger who enters my
Kingdom, and marry you I will. Guards! Fetch the crown, bring on the
food, and summon the guests!"
"You always have the best of everything," pouted Mira, throwing
down her reeds. "You married the last stranger. This one is mine!"
Swallowing with great difficulty, the Marchioness of Muckengoo buried
her face in her handkerchief and sobbed as if her heart would break.
"But if your Majesty is already married," began Sir Hokus, stepping
forward hopefully, "how can you marry me?"
"Silence!" cried the Queen furiously. "Speak when you're spoken to, and
bow when you speak to me."
"The last King was a p--peer!" sobbed Marcia, coming out from behind
her handkerchief.
"Well, what became of him?" demanded the Knight, paying no attention to
Marcia's angry gestures.
"He--he disappeared!" confided the Marchioness, beginning to sob anew.
"Oh, I expect he fell off his stilts and was lost in the mud," sniffed
the Queen unfeelingly. "You must be careful with your stilts, fellow.
By the way, what is your name?"
"You see in me a Knight, bound upon a curious quest," announced Sir
Hokus, resolved to speak his mind and end this ridiculous discussion.
"You see----"
"That will do, Usee! Smirch! Conduct the King to his apartment and see
that he is served a portion of the royal duck." At the Queen's last
remark, Sir Hokus brightened visibly, for he had not eaten since the
night before.
"Duck!" muttered Sir Hokus. "Well, beshrew me now, after a portion of
the royal duck I'll be better able to duck this whole proceeding." A
glance at the door had convinced him that escape, for the time being,
was impossible. Ten Mud Guards had replaced the first six and at a
slight move in their direction all ten had brandished their stilts
threateningly. So, resolved to fall in with the plans of the Queen
for the moment and make off at the first opportunity, Sir Hokus
followed Smirch into a small, mean room at the back of the royal
hut. There was a rough table and chair, and a pile of grass in the
corner evidently served for a bed. While the Knight was reflecting
upon the very doubtful pleasures of being King of the Marsh, Smirch
brought in a heaping platter of duck and, retreating, locked the door
securely behind him. Almost never had anything tasted so delicious and
Sir Hokus, unmindful of his dreary surroundings and his approaching
marriage, fell upon the platter and soon reduced the duck to skin and
bones. Then, much refreshed, he rose up to see what was to be done. The
room's one window was high and barred, but by placing a chair upon the
table and standing on that, he could manage to see out. What he saw
filled him with new hope and courage. Asleep in the tall grass beneath
the window lay the giant mud turtle.
"Good, honest, faithful creature!" puffed the Knight, looking around
for something to throw at Ploppa. There was nothing in the room but the
knife, fork, and platter. The first two made no impression, but as the
platter splintered to bits on his shell, Ploppa raised his head.
"What ho! What ho, below!" whispered the Knight, so as not to arouse
the Guards.
"Oh, it's you, is it? Well, how are you enjoying the fighting? Is our
Queen not a famous fighter?" wheezed Ploppa, blinking his eyes in an
interested fashion.
"It is not seemly for a knight to fight with ladies," hissed Sir Hokus
earnestly. "And lest I forget I am a Knight, I must get hence. Get me
hence at once, my good Ploppa. Wouldst have me marry a wild-eyed witch
and break my head learning to stilt?"
"But they will follow us," panted the turtle, pulling himself erect. So
huge was the turtle that it towered above the house top and had to bend
down to look in the window. "The Queen will not let you go."
[Illustration: "BREAK ME THESE BARS."]
"Break me these bars," breathed Sir Hokus impatiently. "Break me these
bars and we'll go anyway. And if we are followed, I'll break a few
heads. Odds dragons! A few heads, and shins, and what nots!" As easily
as you or I would bend wax, Ploppa forced the window bars apart with
his strong claws; then, peering round to be sure nobody was looking, he
put his face close to the Knight's.
"I have just thought of something," confided the turtle hoarsely. "When
I return and call three times, be ready to jump!" Before Sir Hokus
could stop him or ask about his plan, the great mud turtle was flopping
at a great pace across the marsh.
CHAPTER FOUR
PLOPPA AND SIR HOKUS ESCAPE
Gloomily Sir Hokus climbed down from the table. If he jumped before
Ploppa's return, he could only reach the edge of the clearing and then
sink into the treacherous mud. But suppose the turtle was too late? In
great agitation he paced up and down the narrow room. Preparations for
the wedding were going forward briskly, judging from the thumps and
bangs and excited shrieks on the other side of the door.
"A pretty kettle of blue fish!" fumed Sir Hokus, who, like most of the
rest of us, had often dreamed of his own wedding and pictured an affair
of great pomp and magnificence. "Not a cake nor a castle in the whole
Kingdom. Like as not there'll be mud pie. Not a tune--not a dance step.
And such a bride!" Climbing on the table again, he stared anxiously out
of the window. All around the Queen's hut little black pigs grunted
and squealed. In the distance he saw several cows on stilts nibbling
hungrily at the tree tops, but nowhere in that whole dreary waste could
he catch so much as a glimpse of Ploppa. Sir Hokus tried to imagine
himself King of the Marshes, wobbling about uncomfortably on stilts,
pointing out the sights to Dorothy or Bettsy Bobbin, but the mere
thought of Marcia for a Queen made his heart thump so hard it rattled
all his armor. "As soon as that door opens, I'll make a dash for it,"
he decided desperately, "and woe to the man who stands in my way!" But
it was not a man who stood in the door when it did open, but Marcia
herself, surrounded by a bevy of marsh maidens. Her brown eye rolled
round and round with excitement, and in her arms she clasped a huge
bouquet of tiger lilies and cat-tails.
"Approach, Usee!" croaked this frightful apparition. "Approach and
salute your Queen!"
"Avaunt, woman!" rasped Sir Hokus, backing rapidly toward the window.
"Avaunt, wench, and come not near!" Though Marcia repelled him utterly,
the Knight could not bring himself to push her aside and fight his way
through the marsh maidens to the door. Queen Marcia had no such nice
feelings to hold her back and, infuriated by the Knight's remarks, she
rushed upon him and brought her bouquet down so hard upon his helmet
that tiger lilies and cat-tails flew in every direction. I am not sure
how long Sir Hokus would have submitted to her pummeling, or whether he
would not in time have broken his Knightly vows and struck out at this
marsh maiden, but at this instant three shrill calls sounded at the
window. In one leap he was upon the table, in another, on the chair.
[Illustration: "LADY, FAREWELL!"]
"Lady!" boomed Sir Hokus, pulling himself up on the ledge and kissing
his mailed glove to the Queen of the Marshes. "Lady, farewell!"
Headlong he dove through the window and, amid the screeches of the
Stick-in-the-Muds, disappeared. The shock of his landing on Ploppa's
hard shell rendered him speechless for several seconds, and by the time
he had regained his breath and his balance, Ploppa had reached the
edge of the clearing and plunged joyfully into the impenetrable swamp.
"A lucky and timely escape!" panted Sir Hokus, peering expectantly
around for signs of the enemy. "How, now? Does no man pursue?"
"Trust Ploppa for that," grunted the turtle, looking back with a
chuckle. "I've knocked down all the stilts for miles around and tramped
them into the mire. A fine time they'll have making new ones!"
"You did?" roared the Knight, feeling more really cheerful than he had
felt since he left the Emerald City. "Ho! Ho! Ho! This is capital,
my dear Ploppa! Excellent and grand." Sir Hokus bent nearly double
at the effort of a tree-dweller to draw his stilts out of the mud
with a fishing line. And it was comical indeed to see Marcia and her
court marooned on the tiny clearing surrounding her hut, making fierce
gestures and shouting for the Knight to return. From every tree-house
they passed, Stick-in-the-Muds screamed and scolded, but Ploppa had
done his work so well that they were forced to stick to their trees and
were powerless to prevent their new King from escaping.
"I could love you for this!" beamed the Knight, thumping Ploppa
affectionately on the shell.
"Then you won't leave the swamp?" cried the turtle, with a little
flounce of excitement. "Do say that you will remain. I'll find you a
dry spot for a hut, bring you all the frogs you can eat, carry you
everywhere on my back, and when you wish to fight there are always
Stick-in-the-Muds handy."
"Nay! Nay!" sighed Sir Hokus, growing sober at the mere thought of
such an existence. "I must go forward and never shall I rest till I
have saved a maiden, served a monarch, and destroyed a monster. I must
go on. On, and on, and on!" Ploppa made no answer, but two big tears
trickled down his cheeks and fell with a great splash into the bog.
"You come with _me_," begged the Knight in great distress. "Come with
me and see the world, dear Ploppa."
"Will there be plenty of mud?" choked the poor turtle, controlling his
sobs with difficulty.
"Well, that I cannot promise," sighed the Knight, shaking his head
doubtfully. "But there will be rivers and streams and plenty of fresh
showers."
"But I must have mud," insisted the turtle sorrowfully, "plenty of
good, thick, wet mud."
"And I must have adventure," declared Sir Hokus, looking with a shudder
over the cold foggy marsh filled with the dismal croaking of frog
goblins and the sigh of a desolate wind in the straggly trees. "I must
have adventure and the glitter and glory of strange, glamorous places."
"I must have mud and you must have adventure. Oh, why," wailed Ploppa,
with a smothered sob, "cannot people who like each other like the same
things? I long to go with you, but I cannot live without mud."
"Well, I hope there is more magic and less mud in the next country I
come to," said Sir Hokus, with a slight shiver. Now the next country,
as it happened, was quite close, only hidden by the thick fog from the
Knight's curious gaze. And presently Ploppa, dragging himself out of
the swamp, set him down on the edge of a wide yellow plain.
"Good-bye!" gurgled Ploppa, winking fast to keep from crying again.
"Good-bye! I'll never forget you."
"Nor I, you, my brave fellow." Leaning down, Sir Hokus gave the
slippery turtle a hug--or as much of a hug as he could manage with a
monster so huge and unwieldy. "Don't grieve," he begged earnestly, "for
I will return! I will return," he promised, raising his sword solemnly,
"anon!" Then, because he was not feeling any too cheerful himself, he
strode quickly across the plain, for in the distance he could just
descry the gleaming turrets of a strange, tall castle.
[Illustration: HE STRODE QUICKLY ACROSS THE PLAIN.]
"Anon! He will return anon!" strangled poor Ploppa, settling with a
tired flop into the mud. "Anon? Anon? How long is that, pray?"
CHAPTER FIVE
CONCERNING A CAMEL
"Any tidings, Tuzzle?" Pushing back his yellow turban, the Sultan of
Samandra looked anxiously at his Grand Vizier. Without speaking, Tuzzle
shook his head. "What? No tidings!" yelled the Sultan, half rising from
his great cushioned throne. "Then woe is me--she, you, her, it, us, and
them!" The Sultan's voice rose to a shrill scream, and sinking back on
his embroidered cushions he began to rock to and fro and beat himself
violently on the chest. "Woe! Woe! Woe, I tell you!"
"I am not a horse and cannot whoa, but I will do anything else that
your Majesty suggests," murmured Tuzzle, folding his hands calmly on
his broad stomach.
"Then summon that scoundrelly Seer and fetch the Imperial Puppy!"
commanded the Sultan in a choked voice. Tuzzle inclined his head
grandly, for he was a very Grand Vizier, so grand, in fact, that he
never did anything himself, but clapped his hands twice and, to the
small slaves who appeared, communicated the orders of the Sultan.
In five shakes of a yellow fez the slaves returned, one ushering in
Chinda, the Seer, the other bearing upon a satin cushion Confido, a
tiny Pekinese and the Imperial Puppy of the Realm. The sight of the
proud little dog seemed to calm the Sultan considerably. Holding it
close to his round, moon-like face, he whispered excitedly into one of
its long, silky ears. The little dog nodded understandingly from time
to time but said nothing, partly because it had nothing to say and
partly because it could not talk, even if it had. Though Samandra is in
the wonderful Kingdom of Oz, the animals there do not have the gift
of speech like animals in most other Oz countries, and unfortunately
cannot converse at all. Perhaps this is why the Sultan made the little
dog his sole confidant, told it all his worries, secrets of state, and
plans. An excellent idea, when you come to think of it, and one many a
monarch might follow with good results, for secrets one tells a dog go
no further, and Confido never betrayed his Royal Master's confidences.
After whispering earnestly, the Sultan set the dog on his knee and
glared fiercely down at Chinda, the Prophet.
"So!" he hissed contemptuously. "You call yourself a Seer and yet for
ten years you have been seeking my lost camel without success. Acting
upon your misguided advice we have sent couriers here, there, and
everywhere, searching for this valuable creature and still, still,
he is lost to us! Never had I so comfortable a steed, so beauteous a
beast. He was a very King of Camels; not one in my whole herd compares
with him, and yet you, Chief Prophet and Seer of Samandra, allow him to
be lost in a sand storm and never recovered at all."
"The sand storm was not my doing," observed Chinda stiffly. "I am a
Seer and not a weather prophet, your Highness."
"A Seer, a _Seer_! Why, you sere and cast-off yellow leaf of a dead and
blighted tree, have you nothing more to say for yourself?"
"Your Majesty seems to have covered the situation," answered Chinda,
drawing his cloak about him with a dignified gesture. "Though why the
loss of one wretched camel should cause you such unhappiness is a
mystery to your humble servant. Have you not held undisputed sway over
the great Kingdom of Samandra for seven centuries? Did you not, five
hundred years ago, by a magic unrevealed to your illustrious advisors,
conquer the neighboring Kingdoms of Corabia and Corumbia? Verily, the
Corabians and Corumbians are no more; all their land and treasure are
added to your riches, and yet, for the last ten years, you have done
nothing but grieve for a miserable, moth-eaten, wobbly-kneed camel!
And I," Chinda thumped himself gloomily upon the chest, "how _I_ have
suffered! My left eye has a permanent squint from staring through the
magic telescope for signs of this tiresome creature. My right ear has
become flattened out and uncurled listening to the undeserved and
continuous abuse of a once kindly sovereign. I beg that your Excellency
will permit me to retire and go to some far country where I may never
hear the word 'camel' again. But before I go----" Chinda raised his
voice defiantly, "before I go, let me say this: The camel you seek is
in the Emerald City in the Royal Stable of Queen Ozma of Oz. Scarce ten
minutes ago I saw him through a new lens in my magic telescope."
"Emerald City! My dear, dear fellow, why did you not say so before?"
Tucking the Imperial Peke under his arm and fairly rolling down the
steps of his throne, the Sultan flung both arms around Chinda and
hugged him heartily. "You are a Seer among seers, a wiz among wizards,"
panted the little monarch joyfully. "I hereby promote you to Magician
Extraordinary and Grand Bozzywoz of the Realm." While Chinda was
recovering from the shock of his sudden promotion, and feeling his ribs
to see that none were cracked, the Sultan spun round like a fat little
top.
"Prepare for a journey at once," he commanded, waving his scepter at
Tuzzle. "Order the Royal Sampan! You sail at dawn down the Winkie River
to the capital of Oz. Have the Chief Camel Driver give you a golden
halter to bring the good beast home, and moreover and furthermore," the
Sultan's voice rose to an anxious squeak "see that he is wearing the
same harness and saddle sacks that he wore when he left us, especially
the saddle sacks!" finished his Excellency, shaking his finger under
Tuzzle's nose.
"Very well, your Highness," sighed Tuzzle resignedly, "but I will
require a gold embroidered robe and twenty slaves to wait upon me that
I may properly represent the Sultan of Samandra at the Court of Oz."
"Twenty fiddlesticks!" fumed the Sultan, stamping his foot. "Be ready
to sail at dawn or I'll set you to work in the sulphur mines."