[Illustration: This Book Belongs to]
[Illustration: PRINCESS DOROTHY]
[Illustration: Kabumpo, the Elegant Elephant swayed along grandly after
the Prince—_Page 18_]
KABUMPO
IN OZ
BY
RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON
_Founded on and continuing the Famous Oz Stories_
BY
L. FRANK BAUM
“Royal Historian of Oz”
[Illustration: Publisher logo]
Illustrated by
JOHN R. NEILL
The Reilly & Lee Co.
Chicago
_Printed in the United States of America_
Copyright, 1922
By
The Reilly & Lee Co.
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
Dear Children:
Do you like Elephants? Do you believe in Giants? And do you love all the
jolly people of the Wonderful Land of Oz?
Well, then you’ll want to hear about the latest happenings in that
delightful Kingdom. All are set forth in true Oz fashion in “Kabumpo in
Oz,” the fifteenth Oz book.
Kabumpo is an Elegant Elephant. He is very old and wise, and has a
kindly heart, as have all the Oz folks. In the new book you’ll meet
Prince Pompa, and Peg Amy, a charming Wooden Doll. There are new
countries, strange adventures and the most surprising Box of Magic you
have ever heard of. Ruggedo, the wicked old Gnome King, does a lot of
mischief with this before Princess Ozma can stop him.
Of course Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Scraps, Glinda the Good, Tik-Tok, and
other old friends all are alive and busy in the new book. I am just back
from the Emerald City with the best of Oz wishes for everybody, _but
especially for you_.
Ruth Plumly Thompson.
Philadelphia,
Spring of 1922.
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
This book is dedicated with
all of my heart
To Janet
My littlest sister but biggest assistor
Ruth Plumly Thompson
[Illustration: LIST OF CHAPTERS]
LIST OF CHAPTERS
Page
1 The Exploding Birthday Cake 15
2 Picking a Proper Princess 30
3 Kabumpo and Pompa Disappear 44
4 The Curious Cottabus Appears 50
5 In the City of The Figure Heads 62
6 Ruggedo’s History In Six Rocks 78
7 Sir Hokus And The Giants 95
8 Woe in the Emerald City 105
9 Mixed Magic Makes Mischief 114
10 Peg and Wag to the Rescue 132
11 The King of the Illumi Nation 145
12 The Delicious Sea of Soup 160
13 On the Road to Ev 174
14 Terror in Ozma’s Palace 188
15 The Sand Man Takes a Hand 205
16 Kabumpo Vanquishes The Twigs 211
17 Meeting the Runaway Country 226
18 Prince Pompadore Proposes 240
19 Ozma Takes Things in Hand 255
20 The Proper Princess is Found 267
21 How It All Came About 281
22 Ruggedo’s Last Rock 292
[Illustration: Princess Ozma, of Oz]
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
Chapter 1
The Exploding Birthday Cake
“The cake, you chattering Chittimong! Where is the cake? Stirem, Friem,
Hashem, _where_ is the cake?” cried Eejabo, chief footman in the palace
of Pumperdink, bouncing into the royal pantry.
The three cooks, too astonished for speech, and with staring eyes,
pointed to the center table. The great, gorgeous birthday cake was gone,
though not two seconds before it had been placed on the table by Hashem
himself.
“It was my m-m-asterpiece,” sobbed Hashem, tearing off his cap and
throwing his apron over his head.
“Help! Robbers! Thieves!” cried Stirem and Friem, running to the window.
Here _was_ a howdedo. The trumpets blowing for the celebration to begin
and the best part of the celebration gone!
“We’ll all be dipped for this!” wailed Eejabo, flinging open the second
best china closet so violently that three silver cups and a pewter mug
tumbled out. Just then there was a scream from Hashem, who had removed
the apron from his head. “Look!” he shrieked. “There it is!”
Back to the table rushed the other three, Stirem and Friem rubbing their
eyes and Eejabo his head where the cups had bumped him severely. Upon
the table stood the royal cake, as pink and perfect as ever.
“It was there all the time, mince my eyebrows!” spluttered Hashem in an
injured voice. “Called me a Chittimong, did you?” Grasping a big wooden
spoon he ran angrily at Eejabo.
“Was it gone or wasn’t it?” cried Eejabo, appealing to the others and
hastily catching up a bread knife to defend himself. Instantly there
arose a babble.
“It was!”
“It wasn’t!”
“Was!” Rap, bang, _clatter_. In a minute they were in a furious
argument, not only with words but with spoons, forks and bowls. And dear
knows what would have become of the cake had not a bell rung loudly and
the second footman poked his head through the door.
“The cake! Where is the cake?” he wheezed importantly.
So Eejabo, dodging three cups and a salt cellar, seized the great silver
platter and dashed into the great banquet hall. One pink coat tail was
missing and his wig was somewhat elevated over the left ear from the
lump raised by the pewter mug, but he summoned what dignity he could and
joined the grand procession of footmen who were bearing gold and silver
dishes filled with goodies for the birthday feast of Prince Pompadore of
Pumperdink.
The royal guests were already assembled and just as Eejabo entered, the
pages blew a shrill blast upon their silver trumpets and the Prime
Pumper stepped forward to announce their Majesties.
“Oyez! Oyez!” shouted the Prime Pumper, pounding on the floor with his
silver staff, while the guests politely inclined their heads just as if
they had not heard the same announcement dozens of times before:
“Oyez! Oyez!
“Pompus the Proud
And Pozy Pink,
King and Queen
Of Pumperdink—
Way for the King
And clear the floor,
Way for our good
Prince Pompadore.
Way for the Elegant
Elephant—Way
For the King and
The Queen and the
Prince, I say!”
So everybody _wayed_, which is to say they bowed, and down the center of
the room swept Pompus, very fat and gorgeous in his purple robes and
jeweled crown, and Pozy Pink, very stately and queenlike in her ermine
cloak, and Prince Pompadore very straight and handsome! In fact, they
looked exactly as a good old-fashioned royal family should.
[Illustration: Pumperdink]
But Kabumpo, who swayed along grandly after the Prince—few royal
families could boast of so royal and elegant an elephant! He was huge
and gray. On his head he wore jeweled bands and a jeweled court robe
billowed out majestically as he walked. His little eyes twinkled merrily
and his big ears flapped so sociably, that just to look at him put one
in a good humor. Kabumpo was the only elephant in Pumperdink, or in any
Kingdom near Pumperdink, so no wonder he was a prime favorite at Court.
He had been given to the King at Pompa’s christening by a friendly
stranger and since then had enjoyed every luxury and advantage. He was
not only treated as a member of the royal family, but was always
addressed as _Sir_ by all of the palace servants.
“He lends an air of elegance to our Court,” the King was fond of saying,
and the Elegant Elephant he surely had become. Now an Elegant Elephant
at Court might seem strange in a regular up-to-date country, but
Pumperdink is not at all regular nor up to date. It is a cozy,
old-fashioned Kingdom, ’way up in the northern part of the Gilliken
country of Oz; old-fashioned enough to wear knee breeches and have a
King and cozy enough to still enjoy birthday parties and candy pulls.
If Pompus, the King, was a bit proud who could blame him? His Queen was
the loveliest, his son the most charming and his elephant the most
elegant and unusual for twenty Kingdoms round about. And Pompus, for all
his pride, had a very simple way of ruling. When the Pumperdinkians did
right they were rewarded; when they did wrong they were dipped.
In the very center of the courtyard there is a great stone well with a
huge stone bucket. Into this Pumperdink well all offenders and law
breakers were lowered. Its waters were dark blue and as the color stuck
to one for several days the inhabitants of Pumperdink were careful to
behave well, so that the Chief Dipper, who turned the wheel that raised
and lowered the bucket, often had days at a time with nothing to do.
This time he spent in writing poetry, and as Prince Pompadore took the
place of honor at the head of the table the Chief Dipper rose from his
humble place at the foot and with a moist flourish burst forth:
“Oh, Pompadore of Pumperdink,
Of all perfection you’re the pink;
Your praises now I utter!
Your eyes are clear as apple sauce,
Your head the best I’ve come across;
Your heart is soft as butter.”
“Very good,” said the King, and the Chief Dipper sat down, blushing with
pride and confusion. Prince Pompadore bowed and the rest of the party
clapped tremendously.
“Sounds like a dipper full of nonsense to me,” wheezed Kabumpo, who
stood directly back of Prince Pompadore’s throne, leisurely consuming a
bale of hay placed on the floor beside him. It may surprise you to know
that all the animals in Oz can talk, but such is the case, and
Pumperdink being in the fairy country of Oz, Kabumpo could talk as well
as any man and better than most.
“Eyes like apple sauce—heart of butter! Ho-ho, kerrumph!” The Elegant
Elephant laughed so hard he shook all over; then slyly reaching over the
Prime Pumper’s shoulder, he snatched his glass of pink lemonade and
emptied it down his great throat, setting the tumbler back before the
old fellow turned his head.
“Did you call, Sir?” asked Eejabo, hurrying over. He had mistaken
Kabumpo’s laugh for a command.
“Yes; why did you not give his Excellency lemonade?” demanded the
Elegant Elephant sternly.
“I did; he must have drunk it, Sir!” stuttered Eejabo.
“Drunk it!” cried the Prime Pumper, pounding on the table indignantly.
“I never had any!”
“Fetch him a glass at once,” rumbled Kabumpo, waving his trunk, and
Eejabo, too wise to argue with a member of the royal family, brought
another glass of lemonade. But no sooner had he done so than the
mischievous elephant stole that, next the Prime Pumper’s plate and roll,
and all so quickly, no one but Prince Pompadore knew what was happening
and poor Eejabo was kept running backwards and forwards till his wig
stood on end with confusion and rage.
All of this was very amusing to the Prince, and helped him to listen
pleasantly to the fifteen long birthday speeches addressed to him by
members of the Royal Guard. But if the speeches were dull, the dinner
was not. The fiddlers fiddled so merrily, and the chief cook Hashem had
so outdone himself in the preparation of new and delicious dainties,
that by ice-cream-and-cake time everyone was in a high good humor.
“The cake, my good Eejabo! Fetch forth the cake!” commanded King Pompus,
beaming fondly upon his son. Nervously Eejabo stepped to the side table
and lighted the eighteen tall birthday candles. A cake that had
disappeared once might easily do so again, and Eejabo was anxious to
have it cut and out of the way—out of _his_ way at least.
Hashem, looking through a tiny crack in the door, almost burst with
pride as his gorgeous pink masterpiece was set down before the Prince.
“Many happy returns of your eighteenth birthday!” cried the Courtiers,
jumping to their feet and waving their napkins enthusiastically.
“Thank you! Thank you!” chuckled Pompadore, bowing low. “I feel that
this is but one of many more to come!” Which may sound strange, but
Pumperdink being in Oz, one may have as many eighteenth birthdays as one
cares to have. This was Pompa’s tenth and while the courtiers drank his
health the Prince made ready to blow out the birthday candles.
“That’s right, blow ’em all out at once!” cried the King. So Pompa
puffed out his cheeks and blew with all his might. But not a candle
flickered. Then he tried again. Indeed, he puffed and blew until he was
a regular royal purple, but nary a candle flame so much as wavered.
“Stubbornest candles I ever saw!” blustered King Pompus. Then _he_
puffed out his cheeks and blew like a porpoise; so did Queen Pozy and
the Prime Pumper; so did everybody. They blew until every dish upon the
table skipped and they all sank back exhausted in their chairs, but the
candles burned as merrily as ever.
Then Kabumpo took a hand—or rather a trunk. He had been watching the
proceedings with his twinkling little eyes. Now he took a tremendous
breath, pointed his trunk straight at the cake and blew with all his
strength.
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
Every candle went out—but _stars_! As they did, the great pink cake
exploded with such force that half the Courtiers were flung under the
table and the rest knocked unconscious by flying fragments of icing,
tumblers and plates.
“_Treason!_” screamed Pompus, the first to recover from the shock. “Who
dared put gunpowder in the cake?” Brushing the icing from his nose, he
glared around angrily. The first person to catch his eye was Hashem, the
cook, who stood trembling in the doorway.
“_Dip him!_” shouted the King furiously. And the Chief Dipper, only too
glad of an excuse to escape, seized poor Hashem. “_And him!_” ordered
the King, as Eejabo tried to sidle out of the room. “_And them!_” as all
the other footmen started to run. Forming his victims in a line the
Chief Dipper marched them sternly from the banquet hall.
“Oyez! Oyez Everybody shall be dipped!” mumbled the Prime Pumper, feebly
raising his head.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Nothing of the sort!” snapped the King, fanning poor
Queen Pozy Pink with a plate. She had fainted dead away.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” shouted Pompus, his anger rising
again.
“How should I know?” wheezed Kabumpo, dragging Prince Pompadore from
beneath the table and pouring a jug of cream over his head.
“Something hit me,” moaned the Prince, opening his eyes.
“Of course it did!” said Kabumpo. “The cake hit you. Made a great hit
with us all—that cake!” The Elegant Elephant looked ruefully at his silk
robe of state, which was hopelessly smeared with icing; then put his
trunk to his head, for something hard had struck him between the eyes.
He felt about the floor and found a round shiny object which he was
about to show the King when Pompus pounced upon a tall scroll sitting
upright in his tumbler. In the confusion of the moment it had escaped
his attention.
“Perhaps this will explain,” spluttered the King, breaking the seal.
Queen Pozy Pink opened her eyes with a sigh, and the Courtiers, crawling
out from beneath the table, looked up anxiously, for everyone was still
dazed from the tremendous explosion. Pompus read the scroll to himself
with popping eyes and then began to dance up and down in a frenzy.
“What is it? What is it?” cried the Queen, trying to read over his
shoulder. Then she gave a well-bred scream and fainted away in the arms
of General Quakes, who had come up behind her.
By this time the Prime Pumper had recovered sufficiently to remember
that reading scrolls and court papers was his business. Somewhat
unsteadily he walked over and took the scroll from the King.
“Oyez! Oyez!” he faltered, pounding on the table.
“Oh, never mind that!” rumbled Kabumpo, flagging his ears. “Let’s hear
what it says!”
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
“Know ye,” began the old man in a high, shaky voice, “know ye that
unless ye Prince of ye ancient and honorable Kingdom of Pumperdink wed
ye Proper Fairy Princess in ye proper span of time ye Kingdom of
Pumperdink shall disappear forever and _even longer_ from ye Gilliken
country of Oz.
_J. G._”
“What?” screamed Pompadore, bounding to his feet. “Me? But I don’t
_want_ to marry!”
“You’ll have to,” groaned the King, with a wave at the scroll. The
Courtiers sat staring at one another in dazed disbelief. From the
courtyard came the splash and splutter of the luckless footmen and the
dismal creaking of the stone bucket.
“Oh!” wailed Pompa, throwing up his hands. “This is the worst eighteenth
birthday I’ve ever had. I’ll never have another as long as I live!”
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]