A Fall From the Sky
"Tents and trapezes!" shouted Notta Bit More, as he tried to keep the
Flyaboutabus in the center of the glass street.
"I think we had better run straight through," roared the Cowardly Lion,
beginning to tremble slightly. "I don't like the look of this at all."
"Well, whatever happens, try to remember you're tied to me," begged
Notta, straightening his fish head hastily.
"Then woe betide us," sighed the Cowardly Lion.
Nick put his wing around Bob and all of them gazed in bewilderment at
this bewildering city.
"Preservatory," said a large sign just beyond the glass gates, and over
the whole city hung a sweet, smoky haze. The houses had glass fronts
and were more like cupboards than ordinary dwellings. Each had three
stories, or as Bob Up explained later to Dorothy, three shelves. And on
these shelves, swinging their legs, sat the oddest individuals in Oz.
From head to knee they were enclosed in glass jars. Their arms and legs
came through especially cut places, but these were carefully soldered
so as not to let in any air. And their heads, somewhat flattened by the
glass lids, had a squashed and foolish look.
As the Flyaboutabus bounced merrily along the main street, they began
to tumble off the shelves and run down the glass steps of their comical
houses. They made no attempt to keep out of the way, so Notta hastily
stopped the bus. But even so, one managed to get under the wheels and
Bob shivered as the creature's jar splintered to bits on the glass
paving stones.
"Now you've done it," groaned Nick, slamming his nose back on its
hook. The jarred populace evidently thought so too, for they began
hopping up and down, shouting all sorts of threats and abuse. The four
travelers could only hear a dull muttering, for the voices of the
creatures did not carry through their lids, but the visitors could tell
from the dreadful faces they were making through the glass that they
were being threatened and abused. The cries of the unhappy victim under
the wheels were quite distinct.
"Save me! Save me, or I shall spoil!" he cried in heart-rending tones.
Notta was so moved by his evident distress that he impulsively started
to jump out of the bus, forgetting the tie between himself and the
Cowardly Lion. He therefore got a terrible wrench that twisted his fish
head sideways, so he could not see at all. While Bob was straightening
this out, the jar-men dragged their companion from beneath the feather
wheels, and a simply enormous fellow came running down the street. In
one hand he had a pad and in the other a pencil.
"Looks like the Prime Pickle," chattered Snorer, as the jar-man began
scribbling on his pad.
"You have broken the peace," read Notta, as the angry official held up
his pad. He was magnificently attired under his jar and was evidently a
person of some importance. He had, however, been preserved by pickling
and was of an unhealthy shade of green.
Notta leaned out of the bus and, seizing the pencil and pad, wrote
back, "He broke himself, save the pieces."
The rage of the Preserves, as they read these words, increased to a
perfect fury. One, evidently a relation of the broken man, snatched off
his lid and cried shrilly, "You'll be minced for this!"
The Prime Preserve again scratched furiously on his pad, "You are under
arrest. Come with me," directed the pad, when he held it up.
"This is because I forgot the rules," sighed Notta. "If I had been more
polite this would not have happened. Shall we fly or follow?"
"Let's follow," rumbled the Cowardly Lion. "We can fly any time, and
I'd like to see all the Preserves while I'm about it, for I think
Dorothy will enjoy hearing about them."
Notta ran the Flyaboutabus slowly and carefully down the glass street
after the solemn jar-men, the rest of the population following at a
safe distance. Bob's eyes grew larger and larger and when a preserved
dog ran briskly in front of the bus he gave a shout of glee.
"I think Oz is the funniest place in the world, don't you, Nick?" cried
the little boy merrily.
"Well," chirruped Snorer, "as I was never any place else, I can hardly
say. Look, look! There goes a canned cat!" And so it was, as canned a
cat as you'd ever want to see.
But right here their guide turned the corner and they found themselves
in the presence of another Queen. They knew she was a Queen, for on
the pad held up for their inspection the guide had written, "Preserva
the Great." Notta stopped the bus before the low glass throne and they
stared in wonder at her Majesty. Preserva seemed as much surprised as
they.
"Well, I'll be jellied!" wheezed the Queen, taking off her lid and
thrusting out a moist head. Bob thought she need not have said this,
for she was jellied already--her face and royal robes being a quivery
and delicious pink.
The Prime Preserve seemed very much alarmed at the Queen's action
and quickly wrote on his pad, "Shut your lid." Bob considered this
dreadfully disrespectful, and Snorer began to chuckle with enjoyment.
Preserva quite meekly obeyed, but her eyes, behind the thick glass of
the jar, grew larger and larger, and finally, snatching the pad from
the Prime Preserve, she dashed off in great excitement these words,
"A tomato can would be about right for him!" Holding up the pad she
pointed joyfully at Notta.
"Serves you right for coming as a fish," chortled the Cowardly Lion.
"So we'll have to take you back in a can. Well, well!"
Then he craned his neck to see what else the Queen had written. A
rapid conversation was going on between Preserva and their guide. One
would write a message and pass it to the other. The other would snatch
the page and dash off an answer, and so quickly was it done, the four
in the bus had all they could do to keep up with the conversation.
"Pickle the boy,
Can the fish,
Mince the lion
And pot the fowl."
commanded the Queen.
"Now that's what I'd call taking pot luck," chirped Nick, balancing
himself on the edge of the bus.
But the Prime Preserve replied, "Why not preserve them whole for the
royal museum?"
While the Queen was considering this suggestion, Notta began feeling in
the pockets under his disguise for a paper and pencil, so that he could
get into the conversation, but without result.
"No use being polite! Let's joke and run," puffed the clown, after
an unsuccessful search. Leaning over the edge of the bus, he tapped
the Queen sharply on the jar. Preserva dropped her pad and pencil
and almost rolled from the throne. Inside the jar, they could see
her jellied figure bubbling with fright and indignation. The Prime
Preserve also trembled in his jar, then leaning down to read the last
command of her Majesty, he ran off as fast as his crooked green legs
would carry him.
"Fetch the Imperial Squawmos," read the Cowardly Lion, with an amused
twinkle in his yellow eyes as Notta tore off the page.
"If we stay here it is plain we shall be pickled to death," scrawled
the clown, "so we bid you a fond but final farewell."
The Queen leaned forward, the better to read Notta's message and, while
Nick, Bob and the Cowardly Lion fairly rocked with merriment at her
discomfited expression, she suddenly unscrewed her lid.
"Help!" screamed Preserva loudly, sticking her head out of the jar.
"Help! Help!" Then back went her head and down went the lid, only to
have the whole performance repeated the next second. This she kept
up at regular intervals until the whole party were simply convulsed.
But it would have been wiser had they, instead of laughing, looked
behind them, for presently a terrible thump on the back sent all
the scales on Notta's disguise to trembling. It was the Imperial
Squawmos, followed by all the Preserves in the city. While a dozen ran
to calm the agitated Queen, who was still quivering in her jar, the
rest surrounded the Flyaboutabus. Most alarming of all, the Imperial
Squawmos was not in a jar. She was, in fact, a huge and towering
cookywitch with a passion for preserving. And a cookywitch, I don't
mind telling you, is next in wizardry to a sorceress. She had put
up the inhabitants of the entire city and was the real ruler of the
Preserve.
"A fish!" shrilled the Cookywitch, prodding Notta with a fork as long
as an umbrella. "Ah, what an extreme pleasure. I have canned cats, dogs
and people, but never a fish. And a boy," she chucked Bob familiarly
under the chin. "Spare the jar and spoil the child," she quoted with
a dreadful wink that sent Snorer circling into the air, where he flew
uneasily over the heads of his luckless companions.
"Off to the preserving kettles with you!" shrilled the Squawmos, and
Notta, in real alarm, made a dash toward the buttons to start the bus,
but the Cookywitch brought down a heavy iron spoon, that she carried in
one hand, and crushed the entire steering gear. The clown, seeing that
escape for the time being was impossible, decided to go back to rule
two and gain a little time by politeness.
"Imperial and Imperious Squawmos," began Notta, speaking somewhat
stuffily through the fish head, "why are you so determined to preserve
us against our wills, and why have you preserved these others?"
[Illustration: SQUAWMOS, THE COOKYWITCH, AND NOTTA AS A FISH]
The Squawmos immediately put down her fork, for she was terribly
fond of conversation, and she could not very well converse with the
Preserves, whose language at best was an indistinct jargon.
"Strangers," wheezed the Squawmos, "since I am to have the pleasure
of putting you up I don't mind explaining my little system. In a jar,
barring breaks, you will last for years, and needing neither food
nor drink will find it quite unnecessary to work. So you see, we put
ourselves up here for the same reason most housewives preserve their
fruit--to keep from working."
"Put yourselves up to keep from working," gasped Notta. "But I love my
work!"
"Then you are very different from most people," observed the Squawmos,
looking at the Cowardly Lion with great interest. "But, never mind, you
will soon be a perfect Preserve. And this lion--he will look perfectly
handsome in a jar. Let me see, shall I put him up in vinegar or
preserve him in spices?"
The Cookywitch closed her eyes and Notta, winking warningly at the
Cowardly Lion, who was about to spring on the Imperial monster,
cautiously moved his hand toward the only button in the Flyaboutabus
that the iron spoon had not smashed--the button that said "Up!"
The Prime Preserve saw him and made indistinct gurgles of protest under
his lid, but before he could warn the Cookywitch or the Prime Preserva,
Notta had pressed the button, and the Flyaboutabus, with a jerk that
sent hundreds of the jar-men crashing to the glass pavement and knocked
Squawmos head over heels, rose into the air. Snorer made a flying
leap and caught it on the wing, so to speak, and in a flash they were
hurtling toward the sky.
Notta, jerking off his disguise, frantically felt for all the buttons,
but they were hopelessly broken.
"This continual flying about makes me light-headed," groaned the lion,
hanging on to the arms of the seat with both paws.
"Where are we going, Notta?" gasped Bob, edging close to Snorer and
peering giddily over the edge of the bus.
"Up as far as it takes us, and then--" Notta shuddered and clung
dizzily to the wheel. And up they did go, faster and faster, until they
lost all track of time and place and had not even breath enough to
talk. Then, with a terrific crash, the Flyaboutabus ran into a small
day star, turned completely over and spilled out the whole company.
There, caught by its feather wheel, it hung on the point of the star,
while Notta, Bob, Nick and the Cowardly Lion fell head over heels
through the air. Nick caught himself first and, flying after Bob, edged
himself around until the little boy was on his back. Notta and the
Cowardly Lion were falling together, first one and then the other on
top, and Nick had to fly rapidly to keep pace with their falling.
"Oh, my quills and feathers!" spluttered the faithful bird, "they'll be
shattered to bits! Oh, my tail and top knot! What shall I do? Bob I can
save, but that beautiful clown will be broken to pieces!"
Though falling, as Notta explained afterward, did give one a sinking
sensation, it was not nearly so unpleasant as he had expected and, when
he looked up and saw Bob safely on Snorer's back, he fell more calmly,
trying now and then to do the side stroke and calling encouragement to
the Cowardly Lion. Earth as it came in view was not very encouraging
and Snorer screamed with fright when he saw the rocky nature of the
country into which his friends were tumbling.
"Good-bye!" roared the Cowardly Lion, looking up mournfully at the
clown, who was at that minute a little above him. "I'll never forget
you, for you are a brave man in spite of your disguises." The clown was
too affected by this speech to answer and, when he glimpsed the jagged
rocks below, he decided that soon he would be disguised as a pan cake.
So he merely waved to the others and closed his eyes.
Like a flash Nick darted down and set Bob on a huge bowlder. Then, with
wings spread, he flew up and down, intending, if possible, to break
Notta's fall with his own feathery body. But Notta and the Cowardly
Lion never did finish their fall--for as they whizzed past a tall,
craggy rock, jutting out from the side of a mountain, a stone arm
reached out and miraculously caught the rope that held them together.
"Scrags and scrivets! What kind of birds are these?" cried a grating
voice, and down from the ledge stepped a roughly hewn man of stone.
Swinging Notta and the Cowardly Lion easily in one hand, he came
crunching toward Nick and Bob.