Belfaygor's Strange Story
With a gusty sigh, the red baron looked from one to another and then,
fixing his eyes sadly on Peter, he began to speak. Since the extremely
sensible suggestion of Jack Pumpkinhead, his beard no longer poured
round his ankles but, sweeping over his shoulder, disappeared in a red
streak between the trees. Every little while he would cut it off, and
the steady snip-snip of the shears ran like a sharp punctuation all
through the strange story of his misfortune.
"This morning," confided Belfaygor in a mournful voice, "this
morning I was the happiest Lord in the Land, for my marriage with
Shirley Sunshine, whose father lives on the next hillside, had been
satisfactorily arranged. My palace had been redecorated to please
the Princess and all my retainers newly outfitted for the wedding.
Everything, in fact, was in readiness to receive her, and I myself
was about to start for her father's castle, when I became suddenly
dissatisfied with my appearance." Overcome by his feelings the baron
paused for a full moment, and Peter stood up on Snif's back to see how
far the red beard had grown since the last clip. With a little gasp he
saw it shoot through the branches of a tall tulip tree, and as he sat
down Belfaygor tearfully continued his recital.
"So I sent for my chief mesmerizer," he said sorrowfully, "a good
old man and exceedingly well versed in necromancy. I asked him if it
would be possible to grow a beard, as I felt that a fine long beard
would greatly improve my appearance. There was not time to grow one
naturally, so this mesmerizer----"
"This miserable mesmerizer," corrected the Iffin, switching his tail
furiously.
"Miserable mesmerizer," repeated the baron dully, "caused a long
red beard to grow upon my chin." Snipping off a silky length of the
offending whiskers, he tossed the ends over one shoulder and with a
deep sigh proceeded. "When the beard had grown to my waist I bade the
mesmerizer stop it, but in spite of all his incantations and magic
powders, it continued to grow. It grew and grew till it filled the
throne room, ran down the stairs into the pantry, shot up the stairs
into the bed rooms and finally filled every room in the palace. In real
danger of suffocation, my knights and servants took to their heels, and
my mesmerizer, after forcing these shears upon me and bidding me cut
for dear life, ran off and left me, also."
"Then how did you get out of the castle," asked Peter, lurching
forward, while Jack leaned over so far his head fell off and had to be
replaced by the Iffin.
"Jumped out a window," explained the Baron with a little shudder.
"The beard kept me from breaking any bones. Cutting myself loose from
the terrible tangle, I ran into the middle of the road and called
loudly for help. As I did, a commotion on the next hillside attracted
my attention. A band of armed riders were galloping toward me. As
they drew nearer, I recognized the plumed hats and golden spears
of Mogodore's retainers, and as they came nearer still I saw that
Mogodore himself was carrying off my bride, who lay unconscious across
his saddle bow. I tried to scream, but the red beard enveloped me. I
tried to run; it tripped me at every step. Without even seeing me, the
cavalcade thundered by. As they disappeared, I heard two of the riders
boasting that Mogodore would marry Shirley Sunshine to-morrow morning."
"When was that? Where did he take her?" gasped Peter. "How long ago was
it?"
"This morning," choked Belfaygor. "He has carried her to his castle in
Baffleburg."
"You mean to say all of your men ran off and never came back?"
exclaimed Peter, springing up indignantly. "Well, don't you care. We're
here now and I'm sure Ozma would want us to help you. We'll just fly on
Snif's back to Baffleburg and snatch her away from this bandit."
"I'm afraid you have never heard of Mogodore," interrupted the baron,
shaking his head despairingly. "No one has ever entered the City of
Baffleburg or returned alive from Mogodore's mountain."
"If that is so, we'll be the first;
To tame this wretch or know the worst,"
roared the Iffin, coming to his feet with a bound.
"I guess you never heard of Peter," said Jack Pumpkinhead, rising
with great dignity. "This boy"--he waved impressively in Peter's
direction--"has just conquered the entire City of Scares and the last
time he was in Oz he saved the Emerald City from the Gnome King."
While Belfaygor looked incredulously at the little boy, Jack told of
their morning's experiences in Chimneyville and Scare City.
"Have you still got the pirate's sack?" asked Belfaygor, forgetting to
clip his beard in his extreme interest and astonishment. "That magic
dinner bell--What is it? Do you suppose you could carry us all to
Baffleburg?" Eagerly he turned to Snif. The Iffin raised both of his
powerful wings and shook his head confidently, while Jack held up the
dinner bell and Peter showed the famous sack.
"We'll be there in no time," cried Peter, "and with all this magic I
don't see how Mogodore can conquer us, do you?"
Belfaygor was so cheered and encouraged by this little speech that he
dropped both pairs of shears and embraced Peter upon the spot.
"You shall be knighted for this, my boy," he promised. "You, too," he
added, pressing Jack's wooden fingers earnestly.
"What about me?" inquired Snif, raising a claw solemnly.
"If this keeps up we'll all be knighted;
Sir Jack! Sir Pete, why am I slighted?"
"You're not," promised Belfaygor, quickly picking up his shears and
beginning to snip furiously. "You'll be knighted, too."
"Well, if you insist," murmured the Iffin in a mollified tone, "but
I won't wear armor. Come on knights," he called gaily, "for night is
coming on and if we're to reach Baffleburg before dark we'd better
start now."
The very name of Baffleburg gave Peter a thrill. More interested and
excited than he had been since his arrival in Oz, he helped Jack
to mount the Iffin's back and hurriedly seated himself behind him.
Belfaygor came next with his back to Peter, so his beard would not
blow in the little boy's face, and after a glance back to see that
his riders were safe and comfortable, Snif spread his great wings and
soared aloft, flying straight toward the red mountains Peter had seen
in the distance. As they rose higher and higher Belfaygor found it no
longer necessary to ply his shears, and his bright red beard streamed
like a waving banner behind them. The poor baron was glad indeed for
this rest, for he had been clipping steadily since early morning and
already had blisters on both thumbs. Now and then, when his beard
seemed in danger of catching in a tree or winding about a castle tower,
he would snip it off short again and Peter and Jack would watch it
float away, like some strange red cloud.
Flying was such an exhilarating experience that Peter forgot all about
the dangerous adventure that lay ahead and the forbidding aspect of
Mogodore's mountain did not trouble him at all. As they drew closer, he
could see the City of Baffleburg, its turreted forts, and its castle
and strong houses seeming to spring from the rock itself. Stretching
round the mountain there was a yawning chasm and at the foot was a
towered fortress and drawbridge over which Mogodore and his men crossed
the chasm when they made war on the barons below. Red capped warriors
stood in each embrasure of the fort and guards marched stiffly to
and fro upon the city walls. The grim red castle clung to the rocks,
halfway up the mountain and gave Mogodore a splendid view of the whole
valley beneath.
"If I fly too near, a golden spear may interrupt our flight;
So let's descend and mix a little stratagem with might."
muttered the Iffin, coasting cautiously downward.
"Stratagem's a big word," sighed Jack Pumpkinhead. "What does it mean?"
"A plan to confuse the enemy," explained Peter as the Iffin's feet
touched the rocky ground on the other side of the chasm. "We must find
the best place to drop into the city, the best way to use the pirate's
sack and the quickest plan for finding the Princess."
Belfaygor was the first to dismount. Throwing his beard impatiently
over his shoulder, he frowned gloomily up at Mogodore's mountain.
Now that they were really before the City of Baffleburg, the cheerful
plans and hopes of Peter and the Iffin seemed wild and impractical.
The longer he looked the more impossible they seemed, and resting his
hand heavily on Peter's shoulder he begged the little boy to continue
his journey to the Emerald City and leave him to deal with the wicked
mountain chief.
"The Iffin can carry me into the city," sighed Belfaygor, "but I cannot
let you share in the awful perils of this undertaking." If Peter
had not been in Oz, or addressing a baron, he might have answered,
"Applesauce." But feeling that such a word would only puzzle this
dignified nobleman, he seated himself on the nearest rock and looked
curiously across the chasm.
"I should think," mused Peter, "that the best plan would be to fly into
the city under cover of darkness and drop into the castle courtyard.
Once inside, I will open the pirate's sack and when it has swallowed
Mogodore and all the fighting men we can safely search for the Princess
and escape."
"How do you know the sack won't swallow her too?" questioned Belfaygor
uneasily.
"Because," said Peter looking up at the tallest tower in the castle, "I
believe she's locked up there. They always lock the Princess up in the
tower," he finished confidently.
"You think of everything." Jack Pumpkinhead stared down at the little
boy admiringly and Snif, who had been scouting around for a stray
geranium, waved an approving claw at Peter.
"If that's the plan, let's have a bite;
And quietly stay here till night!"
"But what shall we eat?" said Belfaygor, clipping at his whiskers
despondently. Jack chuckled at this, and drawing out the Red Jinn's
bell rang it imperiously. At once the little black slave, bearing his
silver tray, appeared before them. Placing the tray on Peter's knees he
faded out of sight so suddenly that Belfaygor dropped his shears with a
clatter. Though he had heard about the magic dinner bell the unexpected
appearance of the dinner quite upset him.
"You take this one," said Peter generously, "and if you sit with your
back to the chasm and throw your beard over your shoulder it will grow
down into the opening and let you eat in peace."
"How can I ever thank you?" exclaimed the baron, seating himself as
the little boy suggested. "Odds pasties, this looks most tempting!"
With a long, tremulous sigh, Belfaygor fell upon the appetizing repast
of roast beef and plum pudding. Then Jack rang the bell again and the
slave appeared with a tray for Peter. He was about to ring up another
dinner for Snif but the Iffin shook his head.
"I've had enough for one day," he told them firmly, "and if Peter will
give me that bunch of violets, everything will be perfectly perk!" As
an extra touch a small bunch of violets had been placed beside Peter's
dinner plate. Tossing them gaily to the Iffin and thinking as he did
so how curious it was for so huge a beast to dine upon flowers,
Peter started in on his own dinner. With both hands clasped behind him,
Jack watched the sun sink down behind the grim red mountain, and Peter
and Belfaygor were so hungry that neither spoke till all the plates on
their trays were empty. Then, with a satisfied sigh, Peter stood up and
as the trays disappeared began looking around for Snif. But there was
no sign of the Iffin anywhere!
"Oh!" gasped Peter anxiously, forgetting for the moment that Snif
could fly, "he must have fallen into the chasm." Calling to Jack and
the baron, he started to run along the edge of the ravine, striking
impatiently at a small creature that kept beating its wings in his
face. He thought he had brushed it aside when, with an angry screech,
it fastened its claws in his shoulder.
"If you hit me again, I'll bite your ear;
Attention! Pause! Stop! Look and hear!"
At the familiar verses, Peter did stop, and glancing down he saw a
creature no bigger than a squirrel perched on his shoulder.
"It's me," wailed a desperate voice, as the tiny beast leaned over and
rubbed its head against his cheek.
"Those violets," it choked bitterly, "those violets were shrinking
violets, Peter. Look at me! I've shrunk! I might just as well throw
myself away."
"Don't," gulped Peter, as the Iffin started to hurl itself from his
shoulder. "I like you little."
"Well I like him big," announced Jack unfeelingly. "And who's to carry
us over the chasm now, may I ask?"
"Oh!" groaned Belfaygor, tripping over his whiskers after one horrified
look at the little monster, "everything is over! Everything is over
now!"
"So's your old beard," mumbled Jack in an annoyed voice. Picking up
the shears Belfaygor had dropped he cut length after length from the
enchanted red beard, while the baron continued to wring his hands and
groan and Peter tried in vain to comfort the Iffin.