A Way to Cross the Chasm
"I'll wager that old Jinn did this on purpose," declared Jack
indignantly. "I'll ring that dumb-bell again and the boy's neck, too!"
"It wasn't his fault," put in Peter, lifting Snif from his shoulder
and thoughtfully stroking the small red head. "I don't suppose those
violets were meant to be eaten."
"If I only hadn't eaten them," wailed the Iffin, as two tears rolled
down his cheeks. "You've no idea how it feels to shrink, boys.
"Why did I eat those violets? I feel so sil and small!
I'm just an elf, I'm not myself, I'm just no one at all!"
"Oh, yes you are," Peter reassured him hastily. "Why look, you'll fit
right in my pocket and I'll carry you for a change and when we reach
the Emerald City the Wizard of Oz will soon make you large again."
"Are we to reach the Emerald City?" inquired Jack, looking up from
snipping Belfaygor's beard. "And how do you know you won't shrink
yourself?"
Peter turned a little pale at Jack's question.
"The baron and I didn't eat any violets," he answered, swallowing
hastily.
"Yes, but how are we to cross the chasm?" Belfaygor, taking the shears
from Jack, rolled his eyes sadly at Peter.
"We'll just have to think of some other way," said Peter, staring off
at Mogodore's mountain. "Let's all think."
"I can only think of poor little Shirley Sunshine, locked up in that
dismal tower," retorted Belfaygor despondently.
"I can only think how far it must be to the bottom of this crevice,"
muttered Jack, looking sadly down into the ravine.
"It looks to me as if we'd have to do all the thinking for this party,"
murmured Snif, flying up on Peter's shoulder. "Never mind, I still can
think, even if I am little.
"If I do a little thinking and I think a little bit,
If there's any way to cross it, why I'll surely think of it!"
"I'm glad you can still make verses," said Peter with a sigh. "It
helps, and makes things seem a little less awful."
"Yes," said the Iffin, resting his cheek against Peter's. The sun had
dropped down behind the red castle and in the gray light of early
evening the grim city on the rocks looked more forbidding than ever.
Great black crows circled about the towers and turrets and their hoarse
crys drifted like threatening jeers across the chasm.
"If we had an ax," said Peter gloomily, "we might chop down a tree on
the edge of the chasm so it would fall across." He was just wondering
whether the ravine was narrow enough to jump at any point, when Snif
gave a little bounce and, flying off his shoulder, announced shrilly:
"I have thought of a way! We'll cross on the baron's beard!"
"You mean grow across?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead doubtfully.
"Impossible!" roared Belfaygor, throwing up his shears and hands
indignantly. "Wouldst jerk out my whiskers? Besides they grow down and
not up."
"Pause!" Holding up one claw, the Iffin looked solemnly from one to
the other. "First," explained Snif quietly, "Belfaygor must walk three
times around a tree. That will make his beard fast and keep it from
pulling. Then I will take the end of the beard in my claws, fly across
the chasm and fasten it to a tree on the other side. Then when Peter
and Jack have crossed, the Baron can snip off the beard close to his
chin and cross himself in safety. What think you of that, my brave
comrades?"
"Why, that's a perfectly splendid idea!" cried Peter, jumping up
enthusiastically. "How ever did you think of it?"
"Well," Snif reminded him gaily, "for five years I did nothing but
think--so thinking comes easy to me. How about it Baron, will you lend
us your beard?"
"Yes," answered Belfaygor readily enough, now that he had heard the
Iffin's plan, "even if it hurts I will do it. I'll do anything to save
Shirley Sunshine from that villainous bandit."
"Then everything's settled!" cried Peter, who hated delay or inactivity
of any kind. "Let's start!"
"Not now," said the Iffin, shaking his little head seriously. "We must
wait till morning Peter. As I cannot carry you all up to the castle
itself, you will have to climb over the rocks and cliffs to the city
gates. This will be bad enough by daylight, but impossible at night."
"That's so," agreed Peter regretfully.
"And what's to become of us when we reach the city gates?" quavered
Jack in a hollow voice. "Will not these Baffleburghers impale us upon
their spears?"
"Oh, I hope not," muttered the Iffin, settling down on Peter's
shoulder, "but we'll have to take a chance on it. My guess is that
the guards will seize and carry you to Mogodore. Once in Mogodore's
presence, Peter can open the sack, and after the sack swallows
everyone, we'll find the Princess and return to the capitol on foot."
"What about my beard?" asked Belfaygor nervously. "If they make us
prisoners and take away my shears, we'll all be smothered."
"Well, so will they," Snif reminded him philosophically, "and that will
be some comfort." Already Snif seemed to have forgotten his dreadful
mishap and to have recovered his former good spirits, and under the
influence of the merry little monster the whole party grew quite
cheerful and gay.
"Come along," he called, flying on ahead. "Let's find some place to
sleep. Is that a cave I see over there?"
Back among the rocks at the foot of a tall cliff there was a cave,
sure enough, and Peter, after a little exploring, decided it would
be just the place in which to spend the night. Lengths cut from
Belfaygor's beard and piled on the floor made splendid mattresses and,
as Jack Pumpkinhead required no rest, he offered to stand guard at the
entrance. The baron himself lay with his head just outside the cave,
and the obliging Pumpkinhead promised to cut his beard from time to
time and see that it did not choke up the opening, nor suffocate the
sleepers. So much had happened since Peter fell into the pumpkin field,
he was weary as a walrus and glad enough to rest. By the time the moon
had climbed to the top of Mogodore's mountain, he was fast asleep, the
Iffin curled cozily in the bend of his arm, and soon only the snores of
Belfaygor and the snip of Jack's shears broke the deep dark silence of
the night.