On The Road To Ev
In their journey to Ev, Peg and Wag had a night’s start of Kabumpo and
Prince Pompadore, but towards morning Wag’s ears began to droop with
sleep.
“Gotta natch a sap, Peg,” Wag muttered thickly, as they halted on a
little hill.
“Natch a sap? What’s that?” asked the Wooden Doll anxiously. Wag made no
answer—just flopped on his side and in a minute was asleep and snoring
tremendously.
“Oh!” whispered Peg, pulling herself gently from beneath the sleeping
rabbit. “He meant snatch a nap.”
She laughed softly and seated herself under a small tree. The birds were
beginning to waken and their singing filled Peg Amy with delight. “How
wonderful it all is,” she murmured, gazing up at the little ruffly pink
clouds. “How wonderful it is to be alive!”
“Hello! Mr. Robin!” she called gaily, as a bird flew to a low bush
beside her. “Are your children quite well?”
The robin swung backward and forward on his swaying branch; then burst
into his best morning song.
“Oh!” cried Peg Amy, clasping her wooden hands, “I’ve heard that before!
But how could I?” she reasoned, “I’m only a Wooden Doll and this is the
first morning I have been alive. But then, how did I know it was a
robin?”
Peg rubbed her wooden forehead in perplexity, for it was all very
puzzling indeed. Below their little hill stretched the lovely land of
the Winkies, with its great green forests and little yellow villages.
The wind sent the leaves dancing above Peg’s head and the early sunbeams
made lovely patterns on the grass.
“I’ve seen it before!” gasped the Wooden Doll breathlessly. “The trees,
the birds, the houses and everything!” Springing to her feet she ran
awkwardly from bush to tree, touching the leaves and bending over the
flowers as if they were old friends. Had it not been for the squeaking
of her wooden joints, Peg would almost have forgotten she was a Wooden
Doll, for at the sight of the lovely green growing things something warm
and sunny seemed to waken in her stiff wooden breast. “I’ve been alive
before,” said Peg Amy over and over.
Suddenly, through the still morning air, came a loud, shrill laugh. Peg,
who had been standing with her cheek pressed closely against a small
tree, swung around quickly—so quickly in fact that she fell over and lay
in a ridiculously bent double position before the new-comers.
It was Kabumpo and the Prince of Pumperdink. Traveling by the same road
Wag had chosen but much more rapidly, the Elegant Elephant had come at
sunrise to the little hill. He had been watching Peg for some time, and
when he saw her dance awkwardly over to the tree, he could no longer
restrain himself.
“Get out your mirror!” roared Kabumpo, shaking all over with mirth.
“Here is your Proper Princess, Pompa, my boy—as royal a maiden as the
country boasts. Ho, ho! Kerumph!”
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Pompa, looking down curiously at the
comical figure of Peg Amy.
“But she’s so funny!” gasped Kabumpo, the tears rolling down his big
cheeks.
“Who’s funny?” demanded an angry voice and Wag, who had been awakened by
Kabumpo’s loud roars, hopped up, his ears quivering with rage.
“I’ll pull your long nose for you!” cried Wag, advancing threateningly.
“Don’t you dare make fun of Peg. What are you, anyway?”
“Great Grump!” choked Kabumpo, without answering Wag’s inquiry. “What
kind of a rabbit is this?”
“A clawing, chawing, scratching kind—as you’ll soon find out!” Wag drew
himself up into a ball and prepared to launch himself at Kabumpo’s head,
when Peg straightened up and caught him by the ear.
“Don’t, Wag, please,” she begged. “He couldn’t help laughing. I am
funny. You know I am!” she sighed a bit ruefully.
“You’re not funny to me,” blustered Wag, still glaring at Kabumpo. “Who
does he think he is?”
“I?” sniffed Kabumpo, spreading out his ears complacently, “I am the
Elegant Elephant of Pumperdink. Notice my pearls; gaze upon my robe.”
“You don’t look very elegant to me,” snorted Wag. “You look more like a
tramp. Says he’s a lelegant nelephant from Dumperpink,” he whispered
scornfully to Peg.
“And what’s that you’ve got on your back?” he called, with a wave of his
paw at Pompa. “A dunce?”
“Dunce!” screamed Kabumpo furiously. “This is the Prince of Pumperdink,
you good-for-nothing lettuce-eater! What do you mean by laughing at
royalty?”
“Royalty! Oh, ha, ha, ha!” roared Wag, rolling over and over in the
grass. “But he’s so funny!” He paused to take another look at the
Prince. At this Kabumpo lunged forward, his eyes snapping angrily.
“Stop!” begged the Prince, tugging Kabumpo by the ear. “You were rude to
his friend that—er—doll, so you must expect him to be rude to me. It’s
all your fault,” he added reproachfully.
“Are you a Prince?” asked Peg Amy, staring up at Pompa with her round,
painted eyes.
“Of course he’s a Prince. Didn’t I say so before? Who is that hoppy
creature?”
“That’s Wag—such a dear fellow.” Peg smiled confidently at Kabumpo and
he was suddenly ashamed of himself for laughing at her.
“Well, he needn’t get waggish with me,” grumbled the Elegant Elephant in
a lower voice.
“Oh, don’t quarrel!” begged Peg. “It’s such a lovely morning and you
both look so interesting.”
Kabumpo eyed the big Wooden Doll attentively. It was smart of her to
think him interesting. He cleared his throat gruffly.
“You’re not as funny as you look,” he admitted grandly, which was the
nearest to an apology he had ever come. “But what are you doing here and
why are you alive?”
“I don’t know,” explained Peg apologetically. “It just happened last
night.”
“It did? Well, where are you going?”
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
Wag still looked cross and his nose was twitching violently, but Peg
politely answered Kabumpo’s question.
“We’re on our way to Ev to try to help Ozma,” said the Wooden Doll,
folding her hands quaintly.
“Why so are _we_!” cried Pompa, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk in a hurry.
“How do _you_ expect to help her?” grunted Kabumpo, looking at Wag and
Peg contemptuously.
“Don’t mind him,” begged Pompa, running up to Peg Amy. “Tell me
everything you know about Ozma. Is she pretty?”
“Beautiful,” breathed Peg, looking up at the sky. “Beautiful and lovely
and good. That’s why I want to help her.”
“Then I sha’n’t mind marrying her at all,” said Pompa, with a great sigh
of relief.
“Gooch!” roared Kabumpo angrily—“Telling everything you know!”
“Do you mean to say you think Ozma would marry _you_?” gasped Wag,
sitting up with a jerk. “Oh, my wocks and hoop soons!” His ears crossed
and uncrossed and with a final gurgle of disbelief Wag fell back on the
grass.
“Well, is there anything so strange in that?” asked Pompa in a hurt
voice. “I’ve _got_ to marry her,” he added, desperately appealing to Peg
Amy. And while Kabumpo stood sulkily swinging his trunk the Prince told
Peg the whole story of the magic scroll.
“I said you looked interesting,” breathed Peg, as Pompa paused for
breath. “Did you hear that, Wag? Unless he marries a Proper Princess in
a proper time his whole Kingdom will disappear—his Kingdom and everyone
in it!”
“But how do you know Ozma is the Proper Princess?” asked Wag, chewing a
blade of grass. “The scroll didn’t say Ozma, did it?”
“Kabumpo thinks Ozma is the Proper Princess,” explained Pompadore,
nodding toward the Elegant Elephant, “and he’s usually right!”
“Humph!” sniffed Wag. “Well, maybe you are a Prince. You’re not really
bad looking if you had some fur on your head,” he remarked more amiably.
“What happened? Somebody pull it out?”
“Oh, Wag!” murmured Peg Amy, in a shocked voice.
“Burned off,” sighed Pompa, and proceeded to tell of their fall into the
Illumi Nation. He even told them about the Soup Sea and of their meeting
with Glinda, the Good.
“Don’t you care,” said the big Wooden Doll, as Pompa mournfully rubbed
his scorched head. “It will soon grow again and I don’t see how Ozma
could help loving you—you’re so tall, and so polite.” This kind little
speech affected Pompa so deeply that he dropped on one knee and raised
Peg’s wooden hand to his lips.
“The creature has a lot of sense,” mumbled Kabumpo, with his mouth full
of leaves.
“Creature!” exclaimed Wag, sitting up straight and opening his eyes
wide. “Her name is Peg Amy, Mr. Nelegant Lelephant.”
“Oh, all right,” sniffed Kabumpo hastily. “But you’ll have to admit
she’s curious.”
“Of course she is,” said Wag complacently. “That’s why I like her. She
wasn’t cut out to be a beauty, but to be companionable, and she is. When
you’ve known Peg as long as I have”—Wag paused impressively—“you’ll be
proud to carry her on your back, Mr. Long Nose!”
“I’ve only known her a few minutes and I adore her!” said Pompa
heartily. “Mistress Peg and I are good friends already.” Peg curtseyed
awkwardly. “I’ve done this before,” she reflected curiously to herself.
“Shall we tell them about Ruggedo?” Peg asked aloud, turning to Wag.
“Yes, do!” begged Pompa. “Tell us something about yourselves. I never
saw so large a rabbit in my life as Wag and as for _you_!”—Pompa paused,
for Wag was eying him resentfully—“you are the largest, most delightful
doll I have ever met, the only alive one, I might say. How did you know
about Ozma’s disappearance and how were you going to help her?”
“Mixed Magic!” whispered Wag, crossing his ears and his eyes as well.
“Mixed Magic!”
“Magic?” gulped Kabumpo, swallowing a branch of sticky leaves whole.
“Have _you_ any magic?”
“A whole box full,” sighed Peg Amy, patting her pocket softly.
“In that box is the magic that brought Peg to life!” shrilled Wag,
pointing a trembling paw. “In that box is the magic that made us grow.
In that box is the magic that caused Ozma’s castle to disappear—!”
[Illustration: “In that box is the magic that brought Peg to life!”
shrilled Wag]
“Great Grump!” whistled Kabumpo. “How fortunate we fell in with them,
Pompa.” He held out his trunk. “Give me the box, my good girl, and you
shall be fittingly rewarded when Pompa is King of Oz.”
“That’s a long time to wait,” chuckled Wag, tickled by Kabumpo’s
outrageous impudence. “No, Peg and I will just keep the box, thank you.”
“Of course you will,” said Prince Pompadore, frowning at Kabumpo. “But
as we are both bound on the same errand, let us travel together. Kabumpo
and I are going to kill the giant who ran off with the castle.”
The Prince held up his long sword. “And if you can help us, I shall
thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Pompa stretched out his hand
impulsively.
“Well, that’s more like,” said Wag, pulling his ear thoughtfully. “And
four heads are better than two!”
“Of course we’ll help you!” cried Peg Amy. “The trouble is, we don’t
know ourselves how to open the magic box, but we do know that Ruggedo is
in Ev and when we get there we will make him open the box and undo all
this mischief.”
“You mentioned him before,” said Kabumpo, holding up his trunk. “Who is
Ruggedo and what has he to do with Ozma?”
“Ruggedo is a wicked little gnome,” explained Peg Amy gravely. “He used
to be King of the Gnomes but he was banished from his Kingdom and Ozma
gave him a little cottage in the Emerald City. He pretended to live
there, but instead he tunneled a cave right underneath the palace. Wag
helped him dig.” Peg waved her hand at the rabbit. “And he was the only
one who would stay with him. Then Ruggedo stole me. I was only a small,
unalive doll, belonging to Trot, a little girl who lives with Ozma.
Ruggedo stole me just to shake,” continued Peg shuddering.
“That’s why I’m going to pound his curly toes off!” screamed Wag,
beginning to hop about at the very thought of Ruggedo.
“But how did you come to be so large and alive?” asked Kabumpo, who was
growing more interested.
“Well, one night”—Peg dropped her voice to a whisper—“One night Ruggedo
found this box of Mixed Magic hidden in the cave and then—”
“Then,” screamed Wag hoarsely, “in some way we don’t understand, Peg and
I grew big, Peg came alive, the top blew off the cave—and depend upon
it, whatever’s happened to Ozma and her palace happened from something
in that box. It’s all Ruggedo’s fault. When I catch him”—Wag began to
wiggle his nose and paw his whiskers—“my wocks and hoop soons! I’ll
pound his curly toes off!”
“And I’ll help you!” cried Kabumpo heartily. He could not help but
admire such spirit. “Come on—let’s start. You may ride on my back with
Pompa if you care to,” finished the Elegant Elephant with a sidelong
glance at Peg.
“Oh, thank you,” smiled the Wooden Doll, “but Wag will carry me.”
“I always carry Peg,” said Wag jealously. “I’ve known her the longest.”
“Oh, all right,” sniffed Kabumpo, lifting Pompa up, “but if she ever
_wants_ to ride on my back she may.”
“Humph!” grunted Wag, as the Wooden Doll settled herself on his
shoulders. “Isn’t he generous!”
Peg pulled down one of Wag’s long ears. “It was kindly meant,” whispered
the Wooden Doll merrily.
“Ready?” puffed Kabumpo, backing out into the road. “We’ve no time to
lose, for if we lose time we lose our Kingdom too. Forward for
Pumperdink!”
“All right!” cried Wag, giving a great leap. “Follow me!” And off hopped
the giant bunny so fast that Kabumpo had to stretch his legs even to
keep him in sight.
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]
[Illustration: (unlabelled)]