The Escape from Baffleburg
As the rattle of hoofs and sound of bugles died away, Peter, looking
down at Snif noticed that his eyes were growing larger and larger.
"Stop!" breathed Peter, nervously edging away and brushing his hand
cross his forehead.
"Stop what?" grunted the Iffin crossly. "I'm not doing anything."
"But your eyes," screamed Peter, edging still further away, "and your
ears! Why your ears are as big as you are. Help! Help! Look out. Are
you going to explode?"
Before Snif could touch his ear with his claw or wonder what Peter was
yelling about, he expanded like a balloon, filling the entire dungeon
and squeezing Peter flat against the wall. The effect of the shrinking
violets had worn off at last, and with the Iffin rapidly reaching his
former size and strength, there was not room in the box-like cell. To
keep from crushing Peter, he pressed against the bars of the dungeon.
The force with which he shot up to his full and former size, tore the
door from its hinges and bent out the bars like wax. While Snif stood
terrified and trembling with surprise, Peter, with great presence of
mind, pressed past him, slipped through the bent bars and unlocked the
dungeon door.
"We're free," gasped the little boy, as Snif tumbled head first from
their cell. "We're free and you're big and strong again. We can fly to
the Emerald City right away and save Ozma and everybody."
"If--I--ever--get--my--breath, you mean," wheezed Snif, leaning against
the wall and puffing like a porpoise. "Wh--ew! Growing up is almost as
bad as shrinking down."
"Did it hurt," asked Peter, eyeing his friend with lively curiosity.
"Well, not exactly," explained the Iffin, raising first one foot and
then the other, "but I've had lots more pleasant experiences. Did I
hurt you?"
"Not much," said Peter, feeling a bruise on his elbow where he had been
pressed against the wall. "Say, it's great to have you a monster again.
Don't ever eat another violet as long as you live."
"I never will," shuddered the Iffin, shaking his head solemnly. "Out of
my way, lump!" Pushing over a startled jailer who had run out to see
what was the matter, Snif rushed along the corridor.
"First we'll find Belfaygor, then we'll hunt Jack's head and the
pirate's sack and next we'll fly to the capitol and put an end to
Mogodore's mischief. I can out-fly a thousand horses without even
trying," boasted Snif, pushing over another guard who darted out to
intercept them.
"If I'd only opened that pirate's sack right away," puffed Peter
running to catch up with Snif, "if I only had, all this would never
have happened. Goodness, what's this?"
"Good news to me," chuckled Snif galloping along gaily. "It is
Belfaygor's beard and will lead us straight to his dungeon." Snif was
right. Trailing the flowing red whiskers of the baron, they came to
the topmost cell in the tower. Out from the dungeon bars poured the
enchanted beard of Belfaygor. Belfaygor, himself was leaning against
the door, too discouraged and unhappy to even clip them once. But when
Peter called him by name, and he saw Snif grown to full size and power
again, he snapped his shears joyfully and in a trembling voice demanded
to know how they had come there.
"We burst our bars," cried Peter exuberantly. "At least Snif did."
While the Iffin brushed the torrent of whiskers aside, the little boy
unlocked the dungeon door, and after a hearty embrace told the baron
all that had happened. Overjoyed at his release, Belfaygor followed
them down the grim tower corridors. Each jailer who appeared was
scornfully pushed aside by Snif, and when they came to the bottom
Belfaygor and Peter seated themselves on his back and Snif rushed into
the great stone hall of the castle. The few guards who had been left
behind took to their heels as the Iffin flew screaming over their
heads, and with no one to bother them the three began a systematic
search for Jack's head. Jack's body still sprawled over the center
table. The top of his peg neck had been chopped off with his head, but
whittling another point on the end, Peter gently dragged the headless
figure to a chair and sat him down. Snif soon found the famous sack
behind a screen, and remembering Jack's pumpkin had rolled through
the door, Peter pushed aside the hanging and tip-toed into a long dim
entry. It slanted slightly and Peter hurried along looking anxiously
to the right and left, but the pumpkin head was nowhere to be seen.
The hallway was growing narrower every minute, curving round and round
like a spiral slideway and leading continuously downward. Peter was
about to go back and call the others, when the moist nose of Snif
appeared round one of the curves back of him.
"What's this?" demanded the Iffin. "And whither doth it lead?"
"I don't know," said Peter, "but Jack's head must have rolled down here
and be lying somewhere at the bottom."
"Then let us join it by all means," chuckled the Iffin sitting down
and sliding calmly after Peter. "Look out, here I come, and take this
pirate's sack will you? It makes me positively shudder." Peter reached
back and relieved Snif of the sack. Above they could hear Belfaygor
treading cautiously down the hallway, but the curved passage soon grew
so steep, Peter and Snif began to slip, roll and finally coast like
children on a playground slide. "Now you've done it," coughed the Iffin
as they finally somersaulted into a dark cellarway, lit by one feeble
lantern. "Out of one dungeon into another!"
"But there's Jack's head!" cried Peter, picking himself up joyfully.
The sudden arrival of Belfaygor immediately knocked him down again,
but while the baron mumbled apologies, Peter sprang to his feet, and
hurrying over to the corner of the cellar pounced upon Jack's pumpkin.
"Oh Jack, we've been so worried about you," said the little boy,
holding the head tightly in both arms, "but now we'll soon fix you up
and fly to the Emerald City, for Snif has grown big again and we've all
escaped from the tower."
"So I see," observed Jack as Peter held his head toward the others.
"And I'm very glad they chopped off my head and not yours, Peter, for
yours would not so easily be put back, and it's lucky they did chop
it off too, for otherwise I would never have learned of the forbidden
flagon."
"Forbidden flagon!" exclaimed Peter, sitting down on an overturned keg
and staring earnestly down at Jack's head. "What has that to do with
us?"
"Everything," confided Jack mysteriously. "Has Mogodore started for the
Emerald City?" Peter nodded and Snif and Belfaygor both drew nearer,
while the little boy explained how they had escaped and how they were
now about to fly to the capitol to warn Ozma of Mogodore's wicked
intentions.
"But we must not go without that flagon," insisted Jack, after
listening attentively to Peter's recital. "Listen: As I was lying here
a while ago, hoping that no rats would come to gnaw my fine features,
or make a nest in my head, an armed guard came creeping up that ladder
you see over in the darkest corner. As he did, another came sliding
down from above, and stopping under the lantern they began to converse.
"'What a bitter waste of time it is, guarding this foolish flagon,'
fumed the guard who had climbed the ladder. 'Who ever could find their
way to the enchanted cavern through the lost labyrinth, anyway?'
"'Only one as knows the tricks,' grinned the fellow who had come down
to relieve him. 'Left turn left, and always left, and as for the
enchanted cavern itself, bah, what a joke! But have you heard the
latest news Do-ab? Mogodore has gone to capture the Emerald City and
make himself a King.'
"'A King,' roared the second, 'Ha! Ha! 'Tis well those foolish folk
at the capitol know nothing of this flask. One tip of that forbidden
flagon and--'"
"What?" demanded Peter, who had been listening breathlessly to Jack's
story.
"Well," admitted the Pumpkinhead regretfully, "he didn't say, but from
the nudge he gave his comrade, I imagine there's something in that
flask to destroy Mogodore's power."
"But we have the sack, and the Wizard and Ozma have plenty of magic,"
objected Peter impatiently. "I don't think we'd better stop to hunt for
it, Jack. We had better go on to the Emerald City just as fast as we
can."
"We had the sack before and Mogodore captured us. Don't forget that,"
sighed the Pumpkinhead gloomily. "What's happened before may easily
happen again."
"It will not take longer than an hour to fly to the capitol, and
Mogodore riding at his best speed cannot reach there until afternoon.
Perhaps we had better find this flagon, Peter, and make sure of victory
this time," murmured Snif thoughtfully, and as Belfaygor sided with the
Iffin, Peter rather reluctantly agreed to descend into the enchanted
cavern.
"We may lose our way in the labyrinth," said Peter looking down the
ladder without much enthusiasm.
"Not while I have my whiskers," smiled Belfaygor, stroking his famous
beard, "We'll let them grow along with us and then we'll follow them
back."
"If it weren't for those whiskers
We'd never be here!
Hurrah for your beard!
Three hurrahs and a cheer!"
roared Snif, saluting the baron with his front paw.
"Not so loud! Not so loud!" begged Belfaygor, looking around nervously.
"Someone might hear you."
"Do you want to come with us?" asked Peter, looking doubtfully at the
Pumpkinhead.
"Better leave me here," advised Jack seriously. "You'll need both hands
to fight the guard. Now don't forget, when you are in the labyrinth
turn left and keep turning left."
"And you're sure you'll be all right?" asked Peter, placing Jack's head
gently on the cellar floor.
"I certainly cannot be all right if I'm left, but I'd rather be left
than right this time," muttered Jack to himself, as his three friends
disappeared down the ladder into the labyrinth.