The City of Baffleburg
A strange, shrill squeaking wakened Peter next morning, and starting up
he saw that it was the Iffin. Sitting on a flat stone, the tiny monster
was practising his gr--rrs. "If only I could growl again, I wouldn't
mind my size," mourned Snif, looking sadly up at Peter. "Can't fight!
Can't growl! A fine fix for a fabulous monster!"
"But you can think," answered Peter cheerfully. "And you're free. Just
wait till we've conquered this silly old baron and come to the Emerald
City. You'll be a sure-enough griffin then. But I kinda like you
little," he added loyally, "and I should think it would be rather an
interesting experience."
"Well," acknowledged the Iffin, scratching his ear reflectively
with his third hind claw, "at least it will be something to tell my
grandchildren, if I ever have any grandchildren." Raising his voice to
a tiny roar he rushed to the front of the cave calling loudly, "What ho
without!"
"I do not see a hoe of any kind," answered Jack Pumpkinhead blandly.
"But the sun is up and the wind is changing and unless we move away
from here we'll be buried in whiskers."
Stepping outside Peter saw a red mound as huge as ten hay stacks rolled
into one. All night Jack had faithfully cut Belfaygor's beard and raked
the cut lengths neatly together, but now the wind was whirling the
top off the stack and filling the air with a blinding tangle of red
strands. Hastily waking the Baron, the four adventurers hurried to the
other side of the cliff and watched the great red cloud sweep into the
chasm.
"And now to beard this baron in his den," proposed Snif, swinging
himself gaily back and forward on the branches of a small tree.
"Yes, let us be off at once," sighed Belfaygor, taking the shears from
Jack and starting in on his weary work of clipping.
"Let's have breakfast," suggested Peter, who was always hungriest in
the morning. "Ring the old bell Jack."
"Then goodbye," quavered Snif, flying into the air. "I'll be back when
those trays have disappeared and not before. No more magic repasts for
me!"
While Peter and Belfaygor breakfasted royally on beef steak and fried
potatoes, Snif nibbled daintily at the red honeysuckle that clung to
the rocks and muttered little iffish verses to himself.
"Have you ever been to Baffleburg," asked Peter, after the trays had
vanished and Snif came back to perch upon his shoulder. "Is it so very
dangerous?"
"I have flown over Mogodore's mountain many times," said Snif
thoughtfully, "and from what I have seen, it must be pretty bad.
"But if we stick together and most bravely persevere,
This mountain's dangers we'll surmount and tweak yon bandit's ears!"
"No tweaking," advised Jack Pumpkinhead nervously. "Let us just sack
the city and leave."
"All right," agreed Snif good naturedly, "but we can't leave till we
start, so let's get started." He looked inquiringly at Belfaygor and
Belfaygor, after a nervous glance across the chasm, stepped to a tree
on the edge of the ravine and walked solemnly three times round, till
his beard was securely fastened. Now that the time for action had come,
the adventurers said little. Belfaygor stood proudly erect, waiting
for his beard to grow long enough to stretch across the chasm and soon
it did, and Snif, taking the ends in his claws, flew over the deep
ravine and fastened the beard tightly to a tree on the other side. Now,
all was ready and Peter, dropping boldly over the edge, swung himself
skillfully across on the swinging red cable. He dared not look down and
once safely over watched uneasily while Jack pulled himself across.
"Whatever you do, don't lose your head," breathed Peter, leaning
forward nervously. Halfway over, Jack's wooden fingers almost lost
their hold, and his Pumpkin head spun about upon its peg, but Snif,
flying valiantly to the rescue, held it in place and, when at last Jack
came near enough for Peter to reach, he clutched both wooden arms and
dragged Jack thankfully to safety. Belfaygor now clipped off his beard
close to the chin and crossed himself without mishap or difficulty.
[Illustration: _Belfaygor clipped off his beard and crossed, himself,
without mishap or difficulty._]
The first step of the dangerous undertaking had been made in safety
but straight ahead was a steep wall of rock. If it had not been for
Belfaygor's beard they would never have been able to scale this
dreadful precipice. But Snif, taking the beard in his claws, flew up
till he found a boulder or sturdy sapling. Then, winding the beard
several times round, he would signal to Belfaygor who would immediately
snip off his end of the beard and climb expertly up the swinging rope.
Peter, hoisting himself up after him, could not help but think what
a splendid Alpine guide the baron would make. But Jack, tremblingly
following Peter, resolved that if ever he reached the Emerald City
again he would stay peaceably at home for the rest of his unnatural
life.
In this interesting but perilous fashion they finally reached the
top of the cliff, only to find the gates of the city still farther
up. A rocky opening into a narrow tunnel apparently led directly to
Baffleburg and, with many misgivings, the travellers entered the
tunnel. Although it was dark and clammy inside and exceedingly rough
underfoot, they reached the end without trouble. In the dim murky
light Peter saw a wooden door with an iron ring in the center. He was
about to grasp the ring, when the tunnel, without any warning, tipped
downward and shot them headlong from the opening. Snatching at a tree
just in time, Peter saved himself from pitching over the precipice.
Belfaygor's beard, catching on a jagged rock, saved him and fortunately
the baron had hold of Jack. His head did bounce off, but by some
miracle rolled into a hollow in the rocks. Snif went over the edge of
the cliff, but spreading his wings flew back to safety.
"Something else to tell my grandchildren," grumbled the Iffin, shaking
himself angrily, while Peter hastily recovered Jack's pumpkin head and
put it back where it belonged. "I'll pay him up for that slide. Come on
boys, let's try it again. Can a trick tunnel hold us back now?"
Peter looked inquiringly at Belfaygor and Belfaygor clipping a length
from his beard looked doubtfully at Peter but Jack, holding his
head with both hands, expressed in no uncertain terms his complete
unwillingness to ever enter the treacherous tunnel again.
"But we must go on," said Snif stubbornly:
"If we will just consider, we'll find some simple way
To tread this tipsy tunnel, and we'll try it, come what may!"
"Well I'm not May, and I think the way we came was simple enough,"
complained Jack. "I never felt more simple in my life, and look at the
dent in my head!"
"Maybe if we run through as fast as we can and get hold of the iron
ring in the door before the tunnel tilts we won't spill out," suggested
Peter, examining a long scratch on his knee. "I'll go first," he
volunteered gamely, "and all of you can hold on to me." Snif and
Belfaygor immediately approved of this plan and Jack finally, not
desiring to be left, consented to go. First Peter put Snif in his
pocket, then Belfaygor caught hold of Peter's coat-tails and Jack
caught hold of Belfaygor's. Taking a long breath, Peter dashed into
the tunnel and never, even when he was making a home run, had he
sprinted along any faster, Jack and the Baron clattering along as best
they could behind him.
Just as Peter reached the tunnel end and grasped the iron ring, the
tunnel tipped a second time. But Peter hung on to the ring and the
others hung on to Peter. Several coat seams ripped, but when the tunnel
finally righted itself they were still inside. Before it could tilt
again, Peter turned the ring, opened the wooden door and stepped into a
large cobble-stone courtyard.
Straight ahead rose the grim gray walls and buttressed towers of
Baffleburg. As they tip-toed nearer, they could hear the sharp ring of
horses' hoofs on the other side of the wall.
"Shall I fly over and see what's going on?" asked Snif, fluttering
excitedly out of Peter's pocket.
"No! No!" begged the little boy hurriedly. "Let's all stay together.
I'll ring that bell over the city gates and when the guards carry us
to Mogodore we'll open the sack as we planned!" Running forward, Peter
seized the chain attached to a huge bell over the gates and gave it a
tremendous pull. It was impossible to see into Baffleburg, as the gates
were backed with panels of wood and the walls themselves were high as
sky scrapers. As the wild clanging of the bell died away, the four
adventurers drew closer together. But nothing at all happened. Again
Peter jerked the iron chain but still no one came to open the gates.
"They refuse to admit us," puffed Belfaygor, with a furious clip at his
whiskers. "What now?" Before they had time to decide upon any plan,
four towers rising from the city's walls suddenly tilted downward,
and shooting from their tops came a perfect shower of golden spears.
Throwing themselves flat upon the cobbles, Peter and his companions
managed to escape injury. Time and again the tilting towers rose and
fell, spraying the courtyard with spears. By crawling close to the
walls and lying perfectly flat, the four adventurers were able to keep
out of their way, but as Peter reflected gloomily, they could not lie
under the wall forever. He was considering whether or not to open the
pirate's sack and see if it would swallow the spears, when Belfaygor
touched him on the shoulder.
"When the tower nearest me tilts again, I shall jump in the window,"
whispered the baron. "You and Jack must follow. By keeping directly
under the tower you will avoid the spears."
"Wait!" gasped Peter, horrified at Belfaygor's daring scheme. But
Belfaygor, shaking his head determinedly, leaped to his feet, and as
the tower came tilting down he plunged headfirst into the window
nearest to the ground.
"Hooka-ma-roosters!" choked the Iffin. "How did he do that?"
"How are we to do it?" panted Peter, as all four towers shot up into
place again. Motionless and terrified they waited for them to descend,
but the Baffleburghers, evidently deciding that their visitors were
utterly routed, had turned off the machinery and all four towers
stopped tilting. There was no possible way into the city now, and
completely baffled Peter stared angrily up at the thick gray walls.
"Now I'll have to fly over," muttered Snif nervously. "Maybe I can open
the gates."
"A signal!" called Jack suddenly. "A signal! Squash and turnip tops!
It's Belfaygor's beard!" Looking where Jack pointed, Peter and the
Iffin saw Belfaygor himself outlined in the window of the nearest
tower. And pouring over the sill and growing steadily downward were the
wonderful and ever dependable red whiskers.
"We can climb his beard," cried Peter excitedly. "Come on, it's almost
long enough!" This was evidently what Belfaygor intended, for when they
looked again, they could see him twining his beard round a huge spike
on the sill. Then he waved his hand, and Peter, tightening his belt,
climbed boldly aloft, looking back now and then to call encouragement
to Jack Pumpkinhead. In less than a minute they were all safely inside
the tower, for the Iffin had flown up with no trouble at all. The
tower room was cheerless and without furniture. A spiral stairway in
the center led downward. At the thought of conquering another city,
Peter's impatience and excitement grew. If only some of the boys could
be along, or his grandfather! He tried to picture Belfaygor's amazement
when the pirate's sack should come into action, and seizing the baron's
arm fairly dragged him to the stair.
"I suppose if we go down these steps we'll come out in the courtyard,
for this certainly is the fort," puffed Peter, clattering ahead.
"All we do is climb up and down," groaned Jack Pumpkinhead. "I'll bet
it's a million steps to the bottom.
"Oh, not that many," grinned Peter, looking down at Snif, who was
comfortably seated on his shoulder. Quietly cutting his beard Belfaygor
stepped after Peter and Jack resignedly brought up at the end of the
procession.