“Now who’s going to show us the way across the Forbidden Land to the
City of Illusia where the North Pole is?” asked Maida.
“Fido, of course,” the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box replied together;
so the three hurried off to find Fido. They discovered him drinking
pink lemonade through a straw, lazily keeping cool with a palm leaf
fan, and quickly explained what they wanted him to do. Greatly to their
regret, as well as to his own, Fido could be of no assistance, as he
had never been any further North than Arcturia. He was willing to go
along with them, but he couldn’t lead the way. And although Maida and
the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box, as well as Billy and Santa, and
the Man with the Growly Voice, looked about everywhere, they couldn’t
find anyone to guide them to the City of Illusia. So they put an
advertisement in the evening paper and waited. Very soon the big Chief
Kankakee followed by pretty little Kokomo and a number of Eskimos filed
into the office of the hotel. The Eskimos all sat down in a circle
while Kankakee stood in the centre and made a fine speech. As nearly as
we (Maida and I) can remember, the speech ran something like this:
“I am Kankakee, chief of this tribe and a person of great dignity
and importance. These, my vassals, will serve me to the death and go
wheresoever I bid them. Have I not spoken truly, Oshkosh?” (Whereupon
Oshkosh rose and made a low bow.)
“And of all the men in Arcturia I alone know the secret way across
the Forbidden Land, and I alone can guide you to the City of Illusia.
Answer, Keokuk, have I not said the truth?”
Keokuk rose. “You have indeed,” he answered humbly.
“Now, seeing that I am a person of such importance, it is well that
my service should receive a great reward. Therefore I will guide you
across the Forbidden Land to the City of Illusia but you must pay the
price I ask.”
Then Po-Dunk and Cai-Ro and Chi-Ca-Go and all the other Eskimos
solemnly nodded their heads and echoed “pay the price.”
“What price do you ask?” inquired the Man with the Growly Voice.
“I ask neither candles nor spear-heads,” replied Kankakee, “nor
fish-hooks, nor blubber.”
“I’m glad of that,” said the Man with the Growly Voice, “for I’m all
out of blubber, and my last spear-head is gone.” All the same he felt
very uneasy, for an Eskimo prizes spear-heads and fish-hooks very
highly, and dearly loves blubber; while candles are just the same
as lemon drops in Eskimo land. So he knew Kankakee meant to ask for
something very, very precious.
“Well, I must go to the North Pole,” he continued, “and if I can, I
will pay your price, so name it.”
Kankakee proudly tossed his head and went on with his speech.
“My daughter Kokomo is the child of a chief and it is fitting that
she should know all things. She should be taught by a great wizard
like you.” (You see Kankakee thought the Man with the Growly Voice was
a wizard because he had bottled up the Tropical Climate.) “Take my
daughter, therefore, into your tribe and teach her your magic, and I
will guide you--refuse, and you will never find the way.”
Then Kalam-Azoo and Wis-Consin and Neva-Da all nodded their heads and
repeated, “Never find the way.”
Well, of course, Maida was delighted, for she knew Kokomo liked her,
and wanted her for a playmate; but the Man with the Growly Voice was
dumbfounded, for he had never paid any attention to Kokomo or noticed
her; in fact, he did not know she was Kankakee’s daughter. So he turned
to Kankakee and said, “How old is your daughter?”
“She has seen fourteen days, and fourteen nights,” replied Kankakee
with dignity.
“Fourteen days and fourteen nights,” echoed the Man with the Growly
Voice, in amazement. “My goodness--you don’t want a teacher for her,
you want a nurse. I don’t mind adopting a little girl or so, but I
certainly object to search for the North Pole wheeling a baby in a
perambulator.”
Maida laughed and pushed Kokomo out from behind her father. “Here’s the
baby,” she laughed. “Don’t you remember up here the days and nights are
six months long?”
So Kankakee agreed to risk his life and guide them all across the
Forbidden Land, while the Man with the Growly Voice agreed to teach
Kokomo all his magic and to make friends with her. He searched through
his pockets, found an apple, and gave it to her.
She examined it carefully. “How shall I wear it?” she inquired.
Maida laughed and explained--“It isn’t to wear, it’s to _eat_.” So
Kokomo took a bite and liked it. Then Kankakee took a bite and liked
it, and the apple didn’t last very long.
“I never saw anything like that before,” observed Kokomo (meaning the
apple). “How did it come to be?”
“It grew on a tree,” said Maida.
“What’s a tree?” asked Kokomo.
“Why a tree is--a--a tree----” (Now do you know it _is_ rather
difficult to explain just what a tree is to a person who has never seen
one?) “Why a tree is a great big post of wood that grows right out of
the ground and there are leaves on it, and in the Summer apples hang
from the branches.”
Kokomo looked at Maida in a very disappointed way, then went to the Man
with the Growly Voice. “Did you hear what that little maid told me?”
she asked him and pointed to Maida.
“Oh, yes, and it’s quite true,” he replied, laughing.
Kokomo bowed humbly. “I am your handmaid--you are my Lord,” she said.
“If you say the story is true and these things are, then it is true,
and they _are_--I will believe you, if you bid me--but why not confess
the truth, that you _made_ the apple.”
By this time all of the natives of Arcturia who could crowd in the
hotel office were gathered about listening with all their ears. The Man
with the Growly Voice thought to dazzle them with stories of his own
country.
“In my country,” he began, “there are so many trees we cannot count
them. In the Summer they are all green. The grass is green too--it
grows like a carpet underfoot. Lovely clear rivers flow past the cities
and when the weather is warm there is no ice and snow and the young men
play and swim in the water, like the seals.” At this, a hoarse murmur
burst from the crowd--and an old medicine man pushed his way forward.
“You say your land is all green,” he shouted,--“all green.” Without
waiting for a reply, he continued--turning to his comrades. “Oh, a
horrible land. The green sun rises in the green East. The green seal
peers through a green hole in the ice. Men and women, bears and birds,
all green--oh, a horrible land”; and wildly shaking his head, he
hobbled away. Another took his place and shook his finger wildly in his
anger.
“It is not green in that land,” he shouted. “See this man is not green.
But his tongue is crooked. He tells us of posts of wood that grow out
of the ground. How can such things be? All men know that wood floats
in from the sea, when the ice is gone, and that it comes in no other
way. How then can it grow out of the ground? He speaks of grass that
grows like a carpet beneath the feet. How can this be? Is not the snow
and ice too thick for anything to force its way through? _We_ have
never seen anything like that. There is nothing of that sort here, and
everyone knows _this_ is the finest and most wonderful country in the
world. Then the horrible tale he tells about men who swim in the water
like seals. We know that to be false. It is well known that when water
covers a man, he dies. I am an old man but water has never touched my
skin.”
Then all the Eskimos began to talk at once--and--well, you never heard
anything like it. Maida and the Man with the Growly Voice tried to
explain, but the Eskimos simply couldn’t understand. Some took the
strangers for evil magicians and the others thought they were telling
whoppers. So the first thing they knew they were driven in disgrace
from the city.