Peter Meets the Iffin
"Boy! Pumpkin! Emerald City! Because!" answered Jack who was extremely
literal. "If everyone would answer me as sensibly as he does," said
the griffin, "I'd talk all day. So you say you're leaving this place
because----"
"Because we hate it," said Peter, looking steadily at the strange
speaker. So many things had happened in the last hour that Peter felt
only a slight twinge of surprise at the creature's curious appearance
and conversation. "Are you a griffin?" Peter asked, rubbing his
forehead wearily. It looked not unlike pictures he had seen of this
rare and fabulous monster--being sandy red in color, with a huge
lion's body and dragon's claws. Its head, instead of being the usual
eagle head, was of rather a doggish nature with a stand-up mane and
inquisitive, pointed ears.
"You must be a griffin," repeated Peter, noting the powerful wings
starting from the monster's shoulders.
"I am a griffin without the gr--rr," answered the animal, sitting
dolefully back on its haunches. "I used to be a real griffin, but since
my capture and imprisonment here I've completely lost my gr--rr, which
makes me by the process of simple subtraction an Iffin. To while away
the hours of my captivity," it went on patiently, "I acquired the habit
of thought. I thought and I thought and thinking brought on iffing. I
began to if about this and that till I became a philosopher.
"What is a philosopher?" asked Jack suspiciously.
"A philosopher is an Iffin too," rumbled the singular beast, scratching
his ear reflectively. "He thinks practically all the time and he says
to himself:
"If this and that are really so, then so are that and this;
That being so, 'tis best to go so far, then one can't miss!
"Everything hinges on the if," he finished brightly. "See?"
"I'm afraid I don't," said Jack, shaking his head stupidly. "Do you,
Peter?"
"Well, I understand about the if," answered the little boy, who could
not help grinning at Jack's puzzled expression. "If the Iffin will
just show us the way out of Scare City, we'll go and not miss a single
thing."
"If it were not for the Scares, I would," wheezed the big beast,
peering nervously up at the rocks. "But it's no use; they'll only turn
you to Fraid Cats or statues. Besides I'm chained." He lifted one paw
to which a heavy chain and padlock were attached. The other end of the
chain was fastened to the base of the pillar.
"Say, you must be a sound sleeper," marvelled Jack. "Didn't you hear
the big battle? This boy and I have conquered the whole city and Harum
Scarum and the Scares are gone--vanished, done for."
"Gone!" cried the Iffin, lashing its tail in astonishment. "How? When?
Where?" Jack pointed silently to the sack which Peter still had over
one shoulder, and Peter quickly told of their exciting encounter with
the citizens of Scare City, of the great usefulness of the Red Jinn's
dinner bell and the way the pirate sack had finally swallowed down the
whole company of horrors. At Peter's recital, the Iffin's eyes grew
rounder and rounder and as he finished it put up both wings and with
short agitated jumps shrieked:
"The Scares are gone, then what scare we!
The Scares are gone, we're free, we're free!
"Loose this chain," it panted, tugging impatiently away from the post.
As Peter, now as excited as the Iffin, looked hurriedly around for a
bar or stone to break the padlock, Jack stepped forward and warningly
held up his hand.
"Just what do you eat?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead in an anxious voice.
"Are you carniverous?"
"If an Iffin were carniverous, would he relish red geraniums?
I live on flowers, solely, so please get that through your craniums.
"What did you think I ate, little boys?" finished the Iffin sulkily.
"Well, you never can tell," murmured Jack, with a worried glance at
Peter. "I just wanted to be sure." Peter chuckled to himself, and while
looking for a spike discovered a gold key suspended from a nail on one
of the red pillars. Taking the key, he fitted it into the rusty padlock
and after several unsuccessful attempts it turned and the heavy chain
fell with a loud clank to the red paving stones.
"Do you really eat geraniums?" asked Peter, as the Iffin sprang away
from the post and rushed in crazy circles around the court yard.
"Of course," it snorted boisterously. "Of course!" Then spreading its
wide red wings it soared majestically into the air--up, up and out of
sight.
"Why it's gone!" shouted Jack Pumpkinhead indignantly. "There's
gratitude for you! Gone and left us without even a claw shake or thank
you."
"Maybe it will come back." Kicking aside the chain, Peter strained his
eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying monster, but not one speck showed
in the murky sky overhead. If Jack and Peter had been blue before, they
were navy blue now. With their only means of escape removed they looked
blankly at one another, while the goblin lanterns glowed and smoked and
the sulphurous air of the cliff city grew more dry and unbearable.
"If I'd only made it promise to help us before I turned the key,"
sighed Peter regretfully.
"Hah! So you're an Iffin, too." Peering around a pillar, the bright
red eyes of the sandy colored beast winked merrily into Peter's. "Just
trying out my wings," it explained gruffly, "and they're wonderful!
"If you don't think so, listen to them swirl and whirl and swish;
Climb on my back, I'll carry you to any place you wish."
"Will you really," cried Peter, falling joyfully on the Iffin's neck.
"Can you take us to the Emerald City?"
"If you want me to," answered the Iffin, wagging its tail bashfully.
"Have you a name," inquired Jack Pumpkinhead, getting stiffly off the
granite block.
"Well," said the Iffin slowly, "I've been here so long I forgot my real
name but the Scares called me Snif. I'm not sure I know the way to the
Emerald City, but I will fly over the wall into the Land of the Barons
and there we can surely find some one to direct us. Since you have
freed me from my captors I will serve you faithfully for seven years."
"Hurrah!" shouted Peter, hugging Jack. "I'm not sure I can stay in Oz
that long, but I'm certainly glad we fell into this city. Meeting you
was worth all the trouble.
"In reply the Iffin chortled:
"If you hadn't come, I'd be here yet,
So I'm glad as a Gluckbird that we met."
"What's a Gluckbird?" asked Jack, straightening his head and looking
rather severely at the irrepressible monster.
"If I knew I'd tell you," confided the Iffin, coming close to whisper
in Jack's ear. "Let's make ourselves scarce around here," he called
boisterously in the next breath.
"Oh let's," agreed Peter, swinging up the pirate's sack. "You mount
first Jack and be sure to hold fast to your head."
"And be sure that bag's shut," added the Iffin, wiggling his nose
rapidly. "I've never travelled with a magic sack and though I fly I'm
no swallow!"
"Is the dinner bell all right?" asked Peter, tightening the cord of the
pirate's sack and helping Jack climb on Snif's back. There was just
room for the Pumpkinhead to sit astride in front of the Iffin's wings
and Peter settled himself comfortably back of Jack between the mighty
pinions. With one last scornful look at the red city, the Iffin rose
into air, mounting higher till the goblin lights of Scare City were no
larger than fire flys twinkling below.
"Were you a prisoner long?" asked Peter, as Snif flew swiftly over a
bright red forest.
"Five years," bellowed the big beast, looking over its shoulder. Flying
seemed no effort at all and it talked quite easily as it flew. "The
first year," it explained sadly, "I struggled and growled so hard in my
efforts to escape that I completely lost my gu-r-r-r. See!" Clearing
its throat, the Iffin attempted a growl but succeeded in producing only
a faint squeak. "After I lost my gu--rr," it went on in a melancholy
voice, "I amused myself making up iffish verses, a habit I fear I shall
never recover from."
"I like it," said Peter after a short pause. "It reminds me of Scraps.
She's a live Patchwork Girl who lives in the Emerald City. Scraps talks
in verses all the time.
"If the Patchwork Girl can talk in rhyme
She must be most as smart as I'm."
smiled Snif, with a wink at Jack Pumpkinhead.
"She is," laughed Peter with a reminiscent chuckle. "I say, there must
have been a lot of travellers from the number of Fraid Cats in Scare
City. Why did they have two heads?"
"So they'd be forced to look at Scares which ever way they turned,"
sighed the Iffin. "Every Scare had his cave full of statues of people
who had come to Scare City by mistake and been frightened stiff. You
were lucky to escape."
"Well," admitted Peter with pardonable pride, "it's pretty hard to
scare the Captain of a baseball team and Jack is not easily frightened
either."
"So I see, er--saw," observed the Iffin politely.
"When we reach the Emerald City, Ozma will find a way to release all of
these prisoners wherever they are," said Peter confidently. "But how
did they capture you?"
"I dropped into the city at night," said the Iffin, "and before I saw
how bad it was they overpowered and chained me up. They wanted me to
stay and devour all travellers and even when I refused they kept me as
a curiosity. And that's all I'll be from now on," it wheezed heavily.
"I'll never get the taste of sulphur out of my throat, the picture of
the Scares out of my mind or be able to growl again. I'm quite all
wrong."
"You seem all right to me," said Peter, with a little sigh of content.
"Wait till you see the Emerald City. You'll forget all about the Scares
and never ever want to leave again, will he Jack?"
"Never," answered Jack, with a solemn nod.
"I have heard the capitol is very lovely," mused the Iffin, "but my
home is beautiful, too."
"Where do you live?" inquired Peter. Jack was too busy holding on his
head to join in the conversation.
"In the Land of the Barons, among these hills." Pausing in mid air, the
Iffin pointed with its claw to the rolling hillside below. Here and
there above the trees and on the hill tops lordly castles reared their
round, red towers. Flags fluttered from every turret and Peter had to
admit that the Land of the Barons looked extremely interesting and gay.
"Are these barons pleasant fellows?" he asked, putting a steadying arm
around Jack Pumpkinhead. The Iffin answered in verse:
"If they're good, they're good as pie,
But some are bad and make things fly--even me."
"You mean there are all kinds," mused Peter.
"Yes," said the Iffin. "And they're always fighting, but I don't
mind battles. I just fly around till they're over and they're quite
interesting to watch."
"I hope we don't land in the middle of a battle," sighed Peter. "And I
hope the first Baron we meet is a good fellow and knows the way to the
Emerald City."
"If he is, and if he does, we'll be as gay as never was;
And if he's not and if he don't, we'll find a way, swumped if we
won't!"
"You use such funny words," sniffed Peter, as the monster circled lower
and lower. But the Iffin made no answer this time, for he was looking
for a good place to land. Presently he found one, and next instant
they dropped gently down into a peaceful valley. As Peter and Jack
tumbled off in great excitement, Snif folded his wings and blinking
self-consciously murmured, "Well, here we are. Do you like it?"