The Enchanted Cavern
"This is about as exciting as rice pudding without any raisins," said
Peter, treading closely after Snif. For five minutes they had been
trudging solemnly through the labyrinth at the foot of the ladder.
Every few rods the chilly tunnel would branch off into three or more
tunnels, but Belfaygor, always taking the left turn, marched hopefully
onward, his red beard trailing like a long and lively vine behind him.
"Are you sure we've been turning left all the time," asked Peter, after
five more minutes of this weary winding. "We don't seem to be getting
anywhere at all." Belfaygor nodded emphatically and taking another left
turn, gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and dismay. Coming quickly
around the bend, Peter and Snif saw that they had reached the enchanted
cavern itself.
"Horrors!" shuddered Peter, catching hold of Snif's mane.
"You're right," wheezed the Iffin, rearing up on his hind legs. "Open
the sack! Open the sack! These are worse than Scares!" The enchanted
cavern was small and dim and lit only by a flickering red light, but
ranged around the walls was such a company of Ugly Muglies that Peter's
fingers, fumbling with the strings of the pirate's sack, shook so he
could hardly untie the knots. He finally did get the cord unfastened
and opening the sack he advanced a step into the cave. As he did, the
Ugly Muglies advanced a step toward him and in a panic Peter realized
that the sack was not going to swallow them. Belfaygor turning to run,
tripped over his whiskers and fell flat. Peter looked round desperately
for a rock or stone to fight with, but Snif, muttering dreadful
denunciations in the Grif language, hurled himself bodily at the enemy.
There was a dull thud as Snif met the enemy, and next instant he lay
stretched on the floor. Peter was almost afraid to look, but forced
himself to move forward.
"Come away," begged the little boy in a hoarse whisper, trying at the
same time to tug the Iffin to his feet. "Hurry! Hurry! Here they come
again."
"Again," moaned Snif, opening one eye, "they were never there at all."
"But I see them," insisted Peter. "What knocked you down?"
Instead of answering, Snif lurched to his feet.
"Myself," panted the Iffin, planting his claw in the middle of a
red monster's nose. "The walls of this cave are mirrors, boy, magic
mirrors. They multiplied us fifty times and in fifty frightful ways.
There's nobody here but us." Rubbing his eyes, Peter looked again,
then, tip-toeing forward, touched the walls of the cavern. Just as
Snif said, they were mirrors, and remembering how he had often laughed
at his distorted reflection in the mirror maze at Willow Grove, Peter
began to laugh now.
"No wonder the sack wouldn't work," said Peter, jerking the cords tight
and tossing the sack over his shoulder. "But it's a pretty good trick
at that. Look at me. I'm enough to frighten my own grandfather."
"Oh, come on," grumbled Belfaygor, who was vexed to think he had been
so easily scared. "Let's find this miserable flagon and begone. It's
stifling in here."
The scowling reflections cast by the mirrors were so confusing, they
had to go slowly and carefully, but after circling the cavern several
times, they discovered an opening into a still smaller cave. Peter went
first, and poking his head under the arch between the caves saw the
guard Jack had mentioned, asleep beside a fountain of fire. The fire
fountain jetted up from the center of a deep green grotto and in the
middle of the fountain, Peter could just make out a small black flagon.
With a little cry of triumph he darted into the rocky room.
"You'll burn yourself," puffed Belfaygor, as Peter leaned forward to
snatch the flagon from the flames. At his cry of warning, the guard
awakened and with spear upraised sprang to his feet. But Belfaygor was
ready for him. Seizing his spear, Belfaygor ran 'round and 'round the
startled soldier, till he was wound up like a mummy in the baron's red
beard. Calmly cutting off his end of the whiskers, Belfaygor dragged
the helpless guard out of the way. "Let us get this flagon and depart,"
cried the baron.
"Maybe this fire isn't real," suggested Peter. "Maybe it's a trick like
the mirrors." Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, Peter tossed it
into the fountain. But it caught fire at once and burned up with such a
snap and crackle the three friends jumped back in a hurry.
"I don't mind singeing a few feathers for the cause," said Snif, as
Peter and Belfaygor looked longingly at the strange black flask.
"No you don't," said Peter firmly. "You've done your share." With a
little smile he touched the lump Snif had raised on his head when he
ran into the walls of the cave. "You discovered the mirrors, Belfaygor
captured the guard. Now it's my turn." While Snif grumbled his
disapproval and the baron stroked his beard uneasily, Peter gazed into
the sparkling fountain of fire. Then with a sudden snap of his fingers,
he seized Belfaygor's shears, and clipped a long piece from the Baron's
red and ever ready whiskers. "Now," said Peter, "you take one end, and
I'll take the other." Looking much mystified, Belfaygor did as he was
told. They were standing back of the fire fountain and one on each
side. At a signal from Peter both rushed forward. The baron's beard,
passing through the flames, knocked the flagon from its stand, before
it went up in smoke and the flagon itself rolled into a dark corner of
the green grotto. "Wait till it cools off," warned Peter as Snif made a
pounce at the flask.
[Illustration: _The flagon rolled into a dark corner of the Grotto._]
"Gee, I do wonder what's in it and why it's hidden down here?"
Impatiently they looked down at the smoking black bottle and after what
seemed to be hours, Peter, covering his hand with his handkerchief,
ventured to pick it up. It was still smoking hot, but by changing hands
frequently, Peter managed to hold it and read aloud the curious legend
on the red label.
"The Forbidden Flagon,
To be guarded by each successive
Baron of Baffleburg.
Who breaks the seal upon this flask
Or spills its contents red,
Brings woe to Baffleburg and dire
Disaster on his head."
"Now that's nice," said the Iffin, wiggling his nose very fast. "We
break the flask to subdue Mogodore and bring a disaster on our own
heads. Don't drop it lad, whatever you do, don't drop it. I'd like to
have a few more geraniums and see a few more sunsets before a disaster
hits me."
"It is my place to break the seal," announced Belfaygor in a determined
voice. "Give me the flagon. What care I for disaster if Shirley
Sunshine is saved?"
Peter was really alarmed at the threatening tone of the red verses.
"Not now, Belfaygor, wait till we reach the Emerald City and then maybe
we won't have to break it at all."
"That's the talk," said Snif, waving his tail gently to and fro. "Come,
let's start back."
Peter tucked the flagon into his pocket. "We'll go right away," he
said. Leaving the guard still swathed in whiskers, the three friends
stepped from the small cavern into the large cavern and from the large
cavern into the labyrinth.
Going back they turned right and kept turning right, but it was slow
and tedious and seemed much longer than before. At last, dusty and
weary, they came to the end and climbed the ladder into the cellarway.
"Thank the stars, you're here!" cried Jack's Pumpkinhead.
"Not the stars," wheezed Snif, heaving himself up the ladder and
dropping heavily on the cellar floor, "not stars, whiskers!"
"They lead us down, they lead us back;
They tied the guard up fast;
They pulled the flagon from the flames,
Long may they wave and last!"
"They have been pretty useful," admitted Belfaygor, giving his beard a
thoughtful stroke before he cut it off short.
"Useful," rumbled the Iffin, raising one claw. "They're wonderful. I'm
positively attached to them."
"Not half so much as I am," smiled the baron, with another quick clip.
"So you found the flagon," said Jack, as Peter picked up his head
and started up the long steep slideway. Peter nodded and with what
breath he had left told Jack all about the enchanted cavern and the
inscription on the magic flask. There was a rail beside the slide
and by holding on to this they managed to pull themselves up without
slipping backward. But they were now so impatient to be off that the
slide seemed simply endless. Finally they reached the top and hurried
down the hallway leading into Mogodore's room of state.
"Here's somebody you'll be glad to see," chuckled Peter, pointing to
the stiff figure seated in the chair.
"Some body!" exclaimed Jack's head as Peter held it up. "Why it's
mine. Reunite us at once, my boy. Oh, how I have missed me!" It was
the matter of but a moment to place the pumpkin head back on its peg.
At once Jack arose to his feet and executed a lively jig, in which the
Iffin, with more gusto than grace joined him, while Peter and the baron
looked amusedly on. The search for the flagon had taken just an hour,
and feeling well repaid for their trouble the four valorous rescuers
prepared to leave the palace. Jack took out the famous dinner bell to
see that it was safe, Belfaygor gave his beard a last cheerful clip,
Snif ate the tops of a pot of geraniums and Peter, putting the flagon
in his pocket and tightening his hold on the pirate's sack felt ready
for any adventure. But as he prepared to jump upon Snif's back, there
came a sudden splutter screech and roar.
"Stop!" screamed a threatening voice. "Stop! Or you shall be boiled
like eggs, stewed like prunes, fried like fish." Snif swallowed a
geranium whole, Jack's knees knocked together and bent outward, and in
spite of himself, Peter clutched at a chair for support.
"Who speaks?" boomed Belfaygor, snatching a sword from the wall and
swinging about like a tee-too-tum.
"Die!" thundered the voice again. "Die you knaves!"
Trembling a little, Peter looked all around but could see no one. As
the dreadful threats kept up, Belfaygor went to look behind a screen.
But one of Mogodore's hunting dogs, rising from its place by the fire,
moved majestically across the floor, picked up a small red box in
its teeth, and with an impatient grunt dropped it at Peter's feet.
Then with a satisfied yawn, the great dog rubbed against his knee and
returning to its post immediately dozed off again.
"It's the sauce box," cried Peter with a gasp of relief. Closing the
lid, he smiled cheerfully at the Iffin.
"I'd like to smash its lid," grunted Snif vindictively. "I nearly
choked on that geranium."
"Don't do that," advised Jack, leaning down to straighten his knee
joints. "Take it along. What frightened us may easily frighten others."
"That's so," laughed Peter, helping Jack to mount Snif's back. "Well,
we surely have enough magic now. A dinner bell, a forbidden flagon, a
magic sack and a sauce box."
"Don't forget Belfaygor's beard," said Snif slyly, as Peter climbed up
behind Jack.
"I wish I could forget it," sighed the baron, seating himself next to
Peter.
"Oh, well," Peter reminded him cheerfully, "it won't be very long now,
Belfaygor!"
"No, not if he keeps cutting it," said Jack calmly.
"I mean it won't be long before we reach the Emerald City," laughed
Peter, as the Iffin raised his mighty wings and swooped out the wide
open castle doors. "Here we go!"