but at the second, every snakish branch began to sway and swing in
rhythm. At the third line, the serpent encircling Sir Hokus started to
unwind, moving in perfect time with the others. As the Knight felt the
loosening of the coils around his waist, he gave a joyous shout; then,
seeing the effect his song was having, he bawled as loud as he could.
With closed eyes the snakes now waved and rippled in time to the music,
and as he reached the last note of his war cry the one holding him
straightened out with a rapturous hiss and Sir Hokus fell crashing to
earth. He lost no time in rolling out of the tree's reach, and for some
moments lay panting and exhausted on the ground, while the snake tree,
suddenly deprived of its victim and no longer under the spell of the
song, began to snap, rattle, and hiss with fury. But Sir Hokus did not
even open his eyes.
Now, as it happened, the serpents were not the only ones who had heard
the good Knight's singing. Plodding wearily along through the dust,
another creature pricked up its ears as the booming notes rang through
the wood. Then, gathering up its long legs and hunching along in great,
awkward leaps, it ran straight toward the singer, so that by the time
Sir Hokus had struggled to a sitting position it had reached him, and
falling upon its knees, licked him frantically through the bars of his
helmet.
"Hokus, my dear discoverer, there you are, there you are at last!" it
gulped happily. "I had almost given up the search when I heard that
grand old song."
[Illustration: "'TIS CAMY HIMSELF."]
"Camy! By the beard of my father's goat, 'tis Camy himself!" And
sitting up joyfully Sir Hokus gave the Comfortable Camel a resounding
and affectionate thwack on the hump. Then, as the Camel, backing off
to have a better look at him, drew near the darting branches of the
serpent tree, he seized its bridle and jerked his thumb warningly in
the tree's direction. Camy looked inquiringly over his shoulder, then
gave a terrified bleat.
"For pity sakes, for pity snakes," he squealed, sitting down with a
thump. "What's this? What's this?"
"A good thing to keep away from," rumbled the Knight, "though I'm
minded to cut off every single branch to pay for the squeezing I've
suffered."
"Squeezing!" coughed the Camel, rolling its eyes wildly. "Oh, my dear
Hokus, what have you escaped? But I beg of you not to cut off those
serpents. How uncomfortable it would be if they were all loose and free
to chase us through the wood!"
"Methinks you're right!" sighed Sir Hokus, regretfully returning his
sword to its scabbard. "But let us be gone and away from this accursed
spot." Seizing hold of its bridle, he pulled himself erect, and walking
slowly at the creature's head related all that had befallen him since
he left the Emerald City. Then the Comfortable Camel told how it had
followed him on the very night of his departure.
"Fortunately I had on my trappings and saddle sacks," it confided, with
a satisfied sniff, "and spoke to no one of my purpose, for I knew you'd
not want the whole menagerie after you. But I did think you should have
something comfortable to ride." Looking up at the tossing seat on the
Camel's back, Sir Hokus sighed resignedly. Camel riding was not his
idea of comfort, but he would not hurt the faithful creature's feelings
by saying so.
"Did you come through the swamp?" he asked curiously.
"Went around," explained the Camel shortly, "and thought I'd lost you
till I heard that old song."
"Well, 'twas like to have been my last," admitted Sir Hokus, with a
grave shake of his head, "but tell me, how goes it at the capital?"
"They were still preparing for your quest when I left," chuckled the
Camel comfortably, "and probably haven't missed you, even yet. By the
way, where are we bound?"
"'Tis too dark to see, but on the other side of this wood stands a
splendid, tall castle. Methinks there I shall find a proper adventure."
"Then," decided the Comfortable Camel firmly, "we shall require rest.
Let us camp in this field for the night and pursue our journey in the
morning." They had, by this time, come safely out of the wood, and all
the other trees being of a usual and harmless nature, had experienced
no further difficulties.
"In my right hand saddle sack you will find a tent," announced the
Comfortable Camel quietly, "a tent, shawls, and other comforts."
"Hast, perchance, a sandwich or goodly tart?" inquired the Knight,
rummaging eagerly in the huge baskets that hung from the Camel's hump.
"I came just as I was," answered Camy regretfully. "I was afraid if I
stopped for supplies someone might suspect and follow me."
"Ah, well," said Sir Hokus, pulling out the tent, "an adventurer must
endure some hardships. Perchance a great feast awaits us in yonder
hall!"
"Perchance," yawned the Camel, kneeling awkwardly upon the ground
and disposing himself for the night. It did not take Sir Hokus long
to put up the tent, an embroidered, silken affair with a collapsible
bamboo pole. Spreading some thick shawls on the ground and a pillow
for his head, the Knight removed his armor, and being exceedingly
weary after the adventures of the day, soon fell asleep. He dreamed he
was in a splendid ship, sailing into the harbor of a crystal city. A
golden-haired Princess waved to him from a crystal tower, and leaning
over the rail of the ship to wave back, Sir Hokus bumped his head on
his sword and awoke. Awoke to find himself really sailing, sailing
through the air, the tent top snapping and flapping in the breezes.
"How, now! And what means this?" gasped the Knight, jumping up in
alarm. A look through the tent flap was more astonishing still. There
was Camy snoring calmly beside the tent; there was the tulip tree
he remembered seeing before he retired--there, I say, was the field
itself, but not resting on the solid ground. No, odds whirligigs and
kite tails! 'Twas flying, flying like a magic carpet through the night.
The stars twinkled up above, the lights from little towns and villages
twinkled down below, and Sir Hokus, frantically clasping on his armor,
thumped the Comfortable Camel hard upon the head.
"What's up?" inquired the Camel, opening one eye and yawning
tremendously. "What's up?"
"Why _we_ are!" exclaimed Sir Hokus, with an excited flourish of his
sword. "Up and away through the sky and flying Oz knows where!"
Opening the other eye, the Camel lurched unsteadily to its feet.
"But we're--quite--comfortable----" he muttered uneasily,
"and--so--far--quite--safe. It must be one of those flying fields Peter
was telling us about." Now Peter, as many of you know, is a little
Philadelphia boy who has visited Oz and spent many adventurous days
with the celebrities.
"Oh, no, no, no!" said Sir Hokus, shaking his head positively. "Flying
fields in America are not like this at all. Flying fields in America
stand still and the airplanes do the flying and come to rest on the
fields. But this field--this field is flying itself. Why, it may even
carry us out of Oz!"
"Shall--shall we jump?" quavered the Comfortable Camel, bobbing his
head nervously. Then, as Sir Hokus walked to the edge of the flying
field and looked over, he gave a frightened scream. "Take care! Take
care, or you'll tumble off and break yourself!" he called anxiously,
and seizing the Knight by the mail shirt-tail dragged him determinedly
away. It was nearly a mile to the ground, and sitting down on a big
rock in the center of the field Sir Hokus stared dizzily at the clouds
whirling by, and at the stars shining unconcernedly over their heads.
"At this rate, we'll be at the end of nowhere before we can stop
ourselves," groaned the Knight despondently. "Every time I fall asleep
a disaster overtakes me."
[Illustration: THE FLYING FIELD TILTED SIDEWAYS.]
"Disaster goes very fast," shuddered the Comfortable Camel, pressing
as close to Sir Hokus as he could, and for almost an hour they huddled
together as the field flew on and on over the hills and forests of Oz.
One by one the stars faded out and the first rosy streaks of morning
began to tinge the sky. Then, as the sun came up, the flying field came
down, swooping toward the earth with such speed and suddenness that Sir
Hokus was hurled off the rock and only saved himself by seizing hold
of a furze bush. The Comfortable Camel, flung against a tree, was kept
from falling in the same manner. But when it had almost reached the
ground, the flying field tilted sideways into a perfect precipice, and
Sir Hokus and the Camel rolled like cannon balls to the bottom, the
tent coming down hard upon their heads so that they did not see the
field straighten up and fly carelessly off without them.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DESERTED CITY
Untangling himself from the tent folds, Sir Hokus sprang to his feet
and looked eagerly around him. They had tumbled into the courtyard of
a tall, strange castle of gold, but grass grew a foot high between the
gold bricks in the court, the windows of the castle were all broken,
and birds flew twittering in and out, while the castle itself was
almost buried under a waving mass of vines. As Sir Hokus, pushing back
his helmet, squinted uneasily upward, three page boys, just visible on
the tallest tower, lifted their arms and blew three long, shrill blasts
upon their trumpets. As the clear silvery notes, leaving a hundred
rippling echoes in the still, morning air, finally died away, the
pages let their arms drop stiffly at their sides and stood as rigid as
statues, which was not surprising because they were statues--statues of
pure gold.
"Camy! Camy!" wheezed the Knight, dragging the rest of the tent off the
Comfortable Camel. "Dids't hear yon curious clamor?"
"Well," mumbled the Camel, heaving himself upward with a great creaking
of harness and saddlery, "I heard something. Maybe it's the call to
breakfast," he continued, sniffing the air hopefully. Then, as he took
in the perfectly deserted courtyard and forsaken castle, his eyes
bulged with disappointment and dismay. "Who blew?" he wheezed hoarsely.
Without speaking, Sir Hokus waved his sword at the golden statues.
"No!" murmured the Camel, flattening back his ears and wriggling his
nose very fast. "Great grandmothers! In a mere moment the inhabitants
may fall upon us with swords, spears, and daggers!"
"Methinks," sighed Sir Hokus, walking slowly toward the castle,
"methinks we'll find here neither friend nor foe. What ho! What
ho, within!" he called loudly, but only his own voice came echoing
sadly back to him, so pushing open the gold studded door he stepped
cautiously inside, the Camel treading timidly at his heels. But though
they walked through all the grand rooms, upstairs and down, they
found no one. The furniture, being solid gold, had happily withstood
the ravages of time, but the curtains and tapestries had crumbled to
powder, and the dust blown in through the windows lay so thickly on
the floors and sills that flowers had taken root there and grew as
luxuriously inside as out. Rabbits and other small forest creatures
peered out anxiously as the Knight and his Camel went thumping through
the halls. Sir Hokus tried to extract some information about the former
owner of the castle from a tiny fawn he cornered in the dining hall,
but if the little fellow could talk he did not choose to, and with one
bound leapt out of the window.
"Some mighty monarch, mayhap, lived here," mused the Knight, leaning
thoughtfully against the great mantel, while the Comfortable Camel
nibbled the top of a young tree that had grown up in the fireplace.
"But what boots it? He is not here now. What a curious quest this is
turning out to be, Camy. I seek a maiden to rescue and find a swamp
witch determined to marry; I seek a monster to slay and am seized by
a snake tree; I search for a monarch to serve and find only his empty
castle."
"Yes, but wouldn't you call the way we reached this castle an
adventure?" observed the Camel, speaking a bit indistinctly because his
mouth was full of leaves. "Not many have travelled on a flying field,
Hokus, and there may be a dragon lurking in these very forests, for all
we know."
"A dragon! Odds thumpenny! Why, so there may! I'll slay me a dragon
yet! How you comfort me, Camy. And perchance I'll find a breakfast,
too." Completely cheered, Sir Hokus strode briskly toward the door and
down the golden steps.
"Which would you rather find first," inquired the Camel, ambling slowly
after him, "the breakfast, or the dragon?"
"The dragon," answered the Knight promptly. "One can eat any time, but
to slay a dragon!--Ah! how that would refresh me!"
"These leaves refresh me more," said the Camel calmly. "Too bad you
cannot enjoy some of these nice, tender twigs." Sir Hokus nodded
absently.
"'Tis strange, most strange, about yon trumpets," he mused, looking
thoughtfully back at the deserted castle.
"Everything's strange," admitted the Camel readily, "but that's what
we're seeking, isn't it? Perhaps those trumpets go off like the burglar
alarms in our castle at home when strangers tread in the courtyard."
"But there's no electricity here," objected the Knight. "This castle is
centuries old, Camy, and so is this city."
"And so is this forest!" exclaimed the Camel, peering uncertainly into
the tangle of vines and trees ahead. "Shall we go on?"
"Most certainly. Hast forgotten the dragon?" Rushing ahead, Sir Hokus
forced his way between two giant oaks, and stepped into a great,
rustling, green forest. Moving cautiously between the mighty trees,
many times having to slash a path for the Camel and himself with his
sword, Sir Hokus looked sharply about for signs of a dragon or a
breakfast. But after an hour's tramp he had found neither, and weary
and somewhat downhearted seated himself beside a silvery forest stream
and tried to forget how ravenously hungry he was. Camy, after quenching
his thirst and storing up a vast quantity of water for future use,
knelt down beside the Knight and was soon asleep. Sir Hokus, sitting
with his back against the smooth trunk of a lyre bush, was presently
aware of faint music, strange old tunes he had not heard since he was
a boy, seven centuries ago. He jumped up, and parting the branches of
the bush looked all around for signs of the singer, but could see no
one. But as soon as he sat down the music began anew. It seemed to
come from the bush itself. "Odds pasties! I'm dreaming!" muttered the
Knight, starting to walk briskly up and down the banks of the little
river. "There's no one here to sing!" Great green willows dropped their
branches into the stream, and as Sir Hokus paused under one of the
largest and loveliest, the willow began to weep in real earnest and big
tears splashed down upon the Knight's armor. Its long feathery arms
touched him on the cheek and rested gently on his shoulders, and Sir
Hokus could have sworn he heard a voice sorrowfully calling him.
[Illustration: THE WILLOW BEGAN TO WEEP IN REAL EARNEST.]
"'Tis hunger that makes me imagine all this!" puffed the Knight,
uneasily wiping away the tears. "When the stomach is empty the head
is full of fancies." But the tears were certainly real tears, and
extremely upset and puzzled, Sir Hokus started back toward the
Comfortable Camel. Several horse chestnuts, as he passed under their
branches, shook themselves violently so that a shower of chestnut burrs
pattered down upon him, almost, thought Sir Hokus, as if they were
trying to attract his attention. Leaning against the Comfortable Camel,
the Knight mopped his brow, and turning his back upon the willows
fixed his gaze upon a gaudy vine that clambered riotously over a dead
tree. It was covered with bell-like flowers that rang and jingled
pleasantly in the wind. Birds, after resting among its pink blossoms,
began immediately to laugh, chatter, and fairly rock with merriment.
"Funny!" thought Sir Hokus as two crows, alighting on the vine, burst
into loud haw haws and then flew screaming away over the tree tops.
"I'm feverish!" panted the Knight, feeling his pulse anxiously. "Odds
goblets, I've heard crows caw but never haw before. I'm feverish and
starving by inches." Falling upon the Comfortable Camel's saddle
sacks he began burrowing wildly among their contents in search of a
stray cracker or jar of jam left from some palace picnic. It seemed
to the Knight that the birds perched upon the gay vine laughed more
hilariously than ever as he rummaged through the great basket-like
containers, almost as if they were making fun of him, but the
Comfortable Camel never awakened at all, snoring peacefully through the
whole performance. There was nothing eatable in the right hand saddle
sack, and Sir Hokus, after emptying the left, had about given up in
disgust, when he discovered a tiny catch, and turning the catch found a
hidden compartment in the bottom of the sack. In this compartment were
two fat packages wrapped in silver paper. Sir Hokus had the cover off
the first in no time. Inside lay six large, fat figs, and without delay
he popped one into his mouth, then another, and another, and another,
till the whole six were gone. Feeling a little better, but far from
satisfied, he now opened the second package. This contained six large
dates, and settling back with a contented sigh the famished Knight
tried one of the dates. Both figs and dates were dry and hard and had
evidently lain in the sack for a long, long time, but to Sir Hokus
they tasted perfectly delicious. A company of jays were now swinging
on the vine and laughed so saucily at the Knight that when he finished
the date he sent the date seed spinning into their midst. With little
shrieks and chatters, the jays flew into the air, but the vine--swords
and swordfish!--the vine gave itself a brisk shake that set all the
pink bell-flowers ringing merrily, and then slowly began to unwind.
Now it twisted and whirled and spun till Sir Hokus could see nothing
but a flying blur of pink and green. Dropping the package of dates, he
rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure he had seen aright, and
as he did so the whirling ceased, and where the vine had been stood a
mirthful and care free person in a belled cap. He seemed as puzzled as
Sir Hokus and after blinking at him a moment in silence, remarked in a
confidential aside to himself:
"A Knight, a Knight, as I live! So I am to begin the day with night--
The day is young, the Knight is old; now is he brave, and is he bold?"
"Never mind that!" blustered Sir Hokus, hopping up in great excitement.
"Who are you and how came you here?"
"Can't you guess?" With a delighted bounce, the fellow shook his belled
stick:
"I'm just a jester gesturing
To keep the company gay,
I'm just a jester gesturing
My whole long life away!
"As a matter of fact," he continued, sobering down suddenly, "I think
I've been enchanted. I seem to have been a funnysuckle vine and my
head's still full of twits and twitters. Even as a funnysuckle vine I
still could be gay. Did you hear the birds laughing at my riddles?"
"So that's what made them laugh!" roared Sir Hokus, slapping his knee
and then rubbing the side of his hand where the armor had bruised it.
"A funnysuckle vine, and when I flung the date seed you became----"
"Myself!" announced the jester, with a sweeping bow. "And as my
beneficent restorer, I thank you upon bended knee."
"Go to, now! Go to!" puffed the Knight, pulling the fellow to his feet.
"And a bother on this bended knee stuff. Cans't tell me aught of yon
golden castle?"
"Castle?" murmured the jester, shaking his head with a puzzled frown.
"Castle? I remember no castle!"
"But you must have lived in a castle," insisted Sir Hokus, "and if you
were enchanted, so must the others have been. What country is this, and
what King did you serve?"
"King? Country? Faith, and I remember nothing! Nothing!" Shaking his
head again until all the bells on his cap tinkled, the jester looked
uneasily at the Knight. "I've been a vine so long I guess I'm still
twisted," he admitted regretfully. "But come, there are other Kings,
and other castles; the sun shines and the sky is blue. Let us forget
the past and address ourselves to the future. You, being a Knight, must
serve some King. Let me go back to his court with you!"
"I serve Queen Ozma of Oz, but I am now bound upon a quest to render
assistance to a maiden, slay a monster, or serve a monarch."
"Maidens, monsters, monarchs," chanted the jester, counting them off
on his fingers, "how I dote upon all three. I, too, will go upon this
quest and make the going merry, be assured of that; most merry."
Turning a somersault, the jester winked mischievously at Sir Hokus, but
the Knight, with a little frown, was looking for the package of dates.
Some mysterious power was in that date seed and if one enchantment had
been broken, so reasoned Sir Hokus, might not others be dispelled? Why,
he might even discover the King of the Golden Castle! But though he
kicked aside the leaves and went carefully over every inch of ground
where he had been sitting, and where the funnysuckle vine had been,
there was not a trace of the dates anywhere. The jester, meanwhile,
delighted to find himself alive, skipped and danced from tree to tree,
seeming to care nothing for his former life or master, and when, with
a sigh, Sir Hokus finally gave up searching for the dates, he tugged
him impatiently by the arm.
"Let us be off and be gone," he begged earnestly. "This forest is
enchanted and if we tarry here we may be caught in some evil spell.
To horse! To horse, good Knight! Let us be away and seek our fortunes
elsewhere!" Then, his eye falling for the first time upon the sleeping
Camel, he gave a great bounce and burst into such a roar of laughter
that Camy awoke with a startled grunt of surprise. "Since when!"
shrieked the jester, holding both his sides. "Since when have Knights
ridden camels?" Without bothering to explain, Sir Hokus hurried over to
the Comfortable Camel and quickly told him all that had happened. The
Camel, after an amazed glance at the jester, lurched hurriedly to his
feet.
"The fellow is right," he snorted anxiously. "This forest is bewitched;
let us get off before we take root and turn into turnips."
"Many happy returnips!" chuckled the jester, jumping over a tree stump.
"To camel! To camel, good Knight! Will you never be moving? Come on,
Comical," he roared, snatching the Camel's bridle and giving it a
playful twist.
"Mind what you're about," said Sir Hokus in a vexed voice, for he was
not going to have Camy insulted. Then, as the strange murmuring of
the forest was beginning to oppress him terribly, he started to walk
rapidly along the banks of the little stream, for this, he felt, would
sooner or later lead them out into the open.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE KNIGHT LOSES HIS CAMEL
They had gone but a few yards when the jester, capering along ahead,
turned round and leapt three times into the air.
"Stop!" he called imperiously. "Stop! I've just remembered something."
"How now, and what is it?" demanded the Knight, rushing forward
impetuously and hoping it would be something about the golden castle
and its owner.
"My name!" exulted the jester, tossing his cap into the air and
catching it on his belled stick. "My name is Peter Pun."
"Oh bother your name," fumed Sir Hokus in a disappointed voice. "That's
not important."
"Well, it's important to me," insisted the jester, hopping across the
stream and back for pure joy:
"Peter Pun gives everyone
A taste of jollity and fun."
"I'd rather have a taste of biscuit, or bacon and eggs," sighed the
Knight. "Six figs and one date make a poor enough breakfast for a
fighting man."
"Date!" chattered the Comfortable Camel, taking several quick steps and
resting his head on the Knight's shoulder. "Do you realize you've eaten
a magic date, Hokus, and may turn into something else any minute?"
"He's turning! He's turning!" yelled Peter Pun, pointing his finger
warningly.
"Turning!" groaned Sir Hokus, clapping his hand to his forehead.
"Turning round," laughed Peter, hopping behind a tree to escape the
Knight's long arm.
"You're a fool," hissed the Camel angrily. "Can't you understand that
this is serious?"
"How can a fool be serious?" inquired Peter, tickling the Camel on the
nose with a long branch.
"There's really no harm in him," whispered Sir Hokus in Camy's ear.
"And methinks all the magic in the date rested in the seed I flung at
the funnysuckle vine."
"Methinks you're right, Good Knight! Good Knight!
We'll solve the riddle later;
At any rate, you ate the date,
And now are full of dayter!"
"Data," corrected Sir Hokus. "Odds pasties, I would I had the rest of
that package!"
"Well I don't," said the Comfortable Camel, compressing his lips
severely. "We've trouble enough with this one fellow without
disenchanting any more. Much better to have left him a vine. Can't
you walk along sensibly and stop climbing every tree you come to?" he
snorted fretfully, as Peter swung along from branch to branch more like
a monkey than a person.