Scary Times in Scare City
On the other side of the spiked gate rose a curious cliff city. There
was a great court in the center surrounded by a mass of jagged rocks
and from the rocks narrow cliff dwellings had been crudely hewn and
cut. Crooked, carved steps led down into the courtyard and every
rock and inch of wall space was covered with roughly drawn heads and
frowning faces, while set on stone poles at regular intervals were
hundreds of goblin lanterns. A bluish green smoke hung in the air
and every minute or so it would rise and form into the words "Scare
City! Scare City! Scare City!" so that altogether the whole effect was
exceedingly grim and unpleasant. So much so, in fact that Peter and
Jack turned to flee. But the arm that had pulled them through the gate,
held them fast.
"Pause!" commanded a harsh voice. "Pause! Pale and behold the Chief
Scarer!" Swallowing hard, Peter took an unwilling look at the gate
keeper. He was about six feet tall and his head seemed to be face all
round, with eyes on every side and noses that stuck out like spikes in
every direction. As Peter, with a little shiver, turned away, he began
to speak again. "You!" rumbled the Chief Scarer, pointing a skinny
finger at Jack, "are a perfect fright! But you," contemptuously he
looked Peter up and down, "you would not even scare a baby. How dare
you come here with that soft white pudding face?" Now Peter, as you
can well imagine was thoroughly frightened, but the words of the gate
keeper made him angry and anger made him bold. Stamping his foot and
drawing his face into a terrible scowl, Peter stuck out his tongue.
"Is this better?" he demanded furiously.
"A little! A little!" sighed the Chief Scarer, leaning thoughtfully on
his staff. "Could you cross your eyes?"
"Don't you do it Peter!" begged Jack. "They might stay that way."
"Well, suit yourself," yawned the Scarer indifferently. "I doubt
whether either of you will pass the tests anyway, and if you don't
you'll be turned into Fraid Cats, or scared stiff. You're supposed to
tremble in the presence of the King, you know, and if you run you'll
turn to Fraid Cats and if you scream you'll be scared stiff. Remember,
now, I warned you." Lifting a red whistle to his lips, the Chief
Scarer blew three sharp blasts and then stepped back into his niche in
the rocks.
"Who's afraid?" muttered Peter in a defiant voice. "They can't scare
us, can they Jack?" Before Jack could answer, a perfect horde of Scares
rushed out of the rock dwellings and began to tumble and leap down
the steps into the court. Halfway down, they paused and one with a
particularly frightful face bawled impressively; "Tuh-remble, for you
are in the presence of the King!" Jack and Peter had no trouble at all
in trembling. Jack's knees knocked together so hard that one of the
pegs fell out of his joints and his pumpkin head bounced up and down
upon its peg. Peter twisted his hands behind him and gritted his teeth
to keep from screaming. He felt exactly as he had when he was a small
boy and a rough crowd of Hallow'een ghosts and goblins pounced suddenly
upon him in his own front yard.
"They're no worse than masqueraders," said Peter pluckily. "Don't run!
Don't scream, Jack, no matter what happens."
"What I don't see, won't frighten me," answered Jack, and reaching up
with both hands he turned his head so that the back was toward the
Scares. Each Scare was different but each one was dreadful. Some had
blue faces, some red faces and others green faces but they all had
dozens of noses and the result was more than terrifying. Scurrying
here and there in between the feet of the Scares, were the Fraid
Cats meouwing piteously when anyone trod on them. Instead of tails
these singular beasts had two heads, one at each end so that it was
impossible to tell whether they were coming or going. Swallowing
nervously, Peter resolved that whatever happened he would not run and
turn into one of these two-headed tom cats. When the Scares almost
reached the spot where the two travellers stood trembling, the one they
called King stepped out on a high flat rock. He had a horn for a nose,
a lion's mane, pig eyes, donkey ears and billy goat whiskers.
"Three groans for Harum Scarum the Seventh," shouted his subjects and
proceeded to groan most lustily, while Harum Scarum, waving both arms,
addressed Peter and Jack in words so long and frightening that the air
fairly quivered, and bits of rock, loosened from the walls, rattled
down like hail stones.
"What is he saying?" panted Jack, who still had his head turned.
"They're trying to scare us with big words," shouted Peter above the
awful din. "Don't move, Jack; whatever you do, don't move."
"But suppose they run over us?" wailed Jack Pumpkinhead dolefully.
Peter had thought of this himself and as the Scares, evidently
disappointed at not making them run, stopped shouting and prepared to
attack, he seized Jack's hand and whispered frantically. "Here they
come! Here they come! What shall we do? What _shall_ we do?" How Jack,
with only a pumpkin head, ever thought of the magic dinner bell Peter
often wondered afterward. But he did think of it, and before the Scares
had advanced a foot he snatched out the bell and shook it furiously.
Instantly the little slave appeared, set a tray before Peter and
vanished. And Peter, without delay, seized the silver dishes full of
food and hurled them at the oncoming foe.
The astonishment of Harum Scarum and his band was comical to behold.
Hit by flying forks, spoons, tumblers, bowls of chicken and mashed
potatoes and finally by the silver tray itself, they paused in utmost
confusion. Before they could pick up the flying missiles they had
disappeared and when, with yells and shouts they started forward again,
Jack rang the Jinn's bell a second time and a third time and a fourth
time and with never a pause Peter flung dinners and dishes at their
heads. But when Jack rang the bell a fifth time, the little slave
appeared and, looking reproachfully at Peter, set down only one small
bowl of soup. Five dinners in less than five minutes was too much for
even a magic dinner bell.
With a gasp of dismay, Peter flung the bowl at Harum Scarum and then
snatching the pirate sack from his shoulder swung it defiantly round
his head. Nothing could save them now, but at least, decided Peter, he
would go down fighting. Jack, too, seemed to realize the hopelessness
of their situation and, turning his head, boldly confronted the Scares,
doubling up his wooden fists, prepared to struggle till he fell. With
noodle soup in his goat's beard and fury in his pig eyes, Harum Scarum
rushed at Peter. As he did, the pirate sack jerked out of the little
boy's hand. The strings had been loosened by Peter's wild swings and
now the mouth was open wide. Sailing through the air like a small
Zeppelin, it scooped up Harum Scarum, then the ten Scares behind him,
then the ten Scares behind them, snapping and swallowing, snapping and
swallowing till not a Scare nor a Fraid Cat remained in the courtyard.
Then swiftly the sack returned to Peter and quietly collapsed at his
feet. There was not a sound in that whole strange city, nor a single
Scare in the sack.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a grab bag?" stuttered Jack. "Tie it
up quick; do you want it to grab us?" With trembling hands and stiff
fingers Peter pulled the cords in the top of the sack, and sinking down
in a tired heap leaned his head against the stones. The battle with the
Scares and the strange behaviour of the pirate's sack had almost been
too much for him. Where in Pete had the Scares gone and how could the
sack be empty? Jack equally agitated took several jerky steps up and
down and then paused in front of Peter.
"What now?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead inquiringly. "What now?"
"Let's get out of here!" exclaimed Peter, and taking a long breath he
jumped to his feet.
"Are we going to take that?" Fearfully Jack pointed to the pirate's
sack.
"Of course!" said Peter, trying to speak in a matter of fact voice. "It
might help us out again."
"Do you wish to be helped out of sight?" wheezed Jack sarcastically.
"Why it may swallow us any minute that our backs are turned."
"Not if we keep it tied," answered Peter with more confidence than
he felt. "We really ought to take it to the Emerald City to show the
Wizard. I don't believe even the Wizard has seen a sack like this. It's
a trained sack, I suppose. That pirate taught it to swallow his enemies
and now it will swallow ours."
"All right, bring it if you must, but don't swing it near me."
Straightening his head resignedly, Jack began looking around for the
peg that had fallen out of his knee joint. When Peter had found and
replaced the little wooden piece, they hurried quickly to the entrance
of the city. The gate keeper had been swallowed with the rest of the
Scares and though Jack and Peter pulled and pushed and tugged they
could not budge the iron bolts.
"Maybe there's another way," puffed Peter, finally giving up the
attempt. Turning from the entrance, they walked round and round the
courtyard and climbed wearily up and down the rocks, but could find no
break in the wall, nor any way out of the grim City.
The dead silence, now that the Scares were gone, was dreadfully
depressing. Thoroughly discouraged, Peter and Jack sat down on a block
of granite. Leaning his head against a red pillar, Peter took a last
despairing look around. As his eye travelled slowly over the court,
a red stone griffin, or what Peter had supposed to be a red stone
griffin, rose majestically from the base of a pillar. With a terrific
stretch and yawn it opened its eyes, blinked in surprise at Peter and
Jack, then raising one claw called gently, "Who?" What? Whither? Why?"