Peter Opens the Pirate's Sack
"What a curious existence," mused Belfaygor, as Snif came to the end of
Swing City's net and soared joyfully into the air. "Well, everybody has
his own idea of comfort, but as for me, I prefer a castle with someone
to serve the soup and bring on the venison." Snipping off his beard,
the baron gave a homesick sigh and looked glumly at the tiny farms and
villages below.
"A place where a fellow can keep his feet on the ground and his head on
his shoulders suits me," declared Jack in a weary voice. "I've never
lost my head so often as on this trip. Did you see those savages using
it for a ball?"
"They used my beard for a tight rope," said Belfaygor in an exasperated
voice, "so what could you expect?"
"And they called Snif a Nibblywog," laughed Peter, "and threw me around
like an old shoe. All they need to make them monkeys is tails!"
"Don't insult a monkey," said Snif, looking reprovingly over his wing.
"I've known some polite monkeys in my day. But those highwaymen!" Snif
gave a disgusted grunt. "I've a notion to fly back and settle with them
after this other affair is all over."
"I hope we didn't miss Mogodore while we were being held up there,"
worried Peter. "It must be nearly four o'clock now and we certainly
ought to overtake him soon. Are you sure we are flying in the right
direction, Snif?"
"Yes," said the Iffin expertly circling a dark cloud. "Why there he is
now!" Flapping both wings violently together, Snif pointed with his
claw. "There, coming out of that forest--Mogodore and all his men! See
the sun shining on their spears." With a swoop that nearly unseated
his riders, the Iffin hurled himself over the wood and the next instant
they were hanging motionless over a tossing sea of spears.
"The Princess," cried Belfaygor, leaning far over. "There's Shirley
Sunshine riding out ahead. Fly lower, Snif, fly lower and we'll snatch
her up and be off!"
"No we won't," muttered the Iffin grimly. "We'll open the sack and
catch this kingdom stealer, first. Open the sack, Peter! Open the sack,
there's no one to stop you now." So intent upon their purpose were the
warriors below, they never saw the red monster above their heads. Now
Peter had untied the pirate sack. Now it was ready to open. Seizing
Snif's wing to balance himself, Peter stood up in order to hold the
sack directly over the enemy. As he did a great gust of wind, tore the
sack from his hands, filled it full of air and sent it spinning up like
a balloon high above their heads.
"Oh," choked the little boy, nearly losing his hold on Snif, "nothing
ever happens right. Doggone that sack anyway!"
"The flagon," screamed Jack. "Throw the flagon. Quick before he gets
away!"
"I'll do it," whispered Belfaygor eagerly. "Give it to me, Peter.
Quick!" Tugging the forbidden flagon from his pocket, Peter was about
to pass it to the baron, when a hoarse scream from the Iffin, made him
pause.
"The sack," panted the red monster, flapping his wings desperately.
"It's coming straight for us! Look! Look! Look out! Look up! Hold on!
"If that comes nearer, we are gone!" Jack took one startled glance
upward, and then instead of holding on, snatched the flagon from
Peter's hand and dove recklessly to earth. As he did, and as the last
of Mogodore's army galloped out of danger's way, the wretched sack,
its mouth wide open came hurling down upon the rescuers. Jack had been
wise to jump. Before Peter or the baron could follow him, they were
snapped up, I mean down. An ear-splitting growl came to Jack as he
turned over and over in the air. The fright of vanishing had restored
Snif's gu--rrr! And it was a real Griffin, not an Iffin who disappeared
into the fathomless depths of the pirate's grab bag. Then floating
calmly to the ground, the terrible sack settled calmly against a pink
hay stack and was still. Not far away, Jack lay face down on another
soft mound of pink hay. So tightly had he held to his head and the
flagon, he lost neither during the fall and the hay had saved both
from smashing, but when Jack rolled over and started to rise, he found
that his left leg had bent under and broken off at the knee. Being of
wood, Jack suffered no pain, but it was frightfully inconvenient, and
it was now impossible for him to walk, or even hobble. Shaking his
fists as the last of Mogodore's riders disappeared in a cloud of dust,
Jack sank dejectedly against the hay mound and tried to collect his
scattered thoughts. His purpose in plunging from the Iffin's back, had
been to break the flagon over Mogodore's head and save the Emerald City
at any cost, even if he himself were destroyed. But now it was too
late! Mogodore was gone, Peter, Snif and Belfaygor had vanished and he
himself, was a broken man. The wicked Baron of Baffleburg, with none to
stop him, would march boldly to the capitol, fall upon its unsuspecting
inhabitants, enslave them all and seize the magic treasures for
himself. This dark picture fairly made Jack groan and when he spied the
magic sack resting against the next hay stack he positively shuddered.
"All that is left of three faithful friends," mourned Jack. "I hope
there's room for Belfaygor's beard in that bag or they'll all be
smothered. I hope they're not mixed with Scares. I must get that sack.
Whatever happens I must get that sack and take it to the Wizard of Oz."
At thought of touching the enchanted bag, Jack shook like a tree in a
hail storm, but controlling his fear and distaste, he dragged himself
to the haystack. First he pulled the cords that closed the top, then
hanging it carefully over one shoulder, dragged himself back. His
broken leg and the forbidden flagon lay side by side in the straw, and
raising his voice Jack shouted loudly for help. But the pink hay field
was a long way from the farm house and no one heard him except a few
curious crows who answered his cries with dismal screeches. Finally
Jack grew so hoarse he could shout no more and, holding his head in
both hands, he tried to think of some way to reach the Emerald City.
"If the Scarecrow were only here," sighed Jack dolefully, "he would be
sure to hit upon some clever plan, but I am only a poor stupid pumpkin
head with only a few dried seeds for brains." Realizing that the whole
fate of the Kingdom of Oz depended upon him, poor Jack pressed his
head with his wooden hands and thought so hard that the seeds inside
skipped about like corn in a corn popper. And one must have been a seed
of thought, for presently Jack gave a little bounce and feeling in his
pocket drew out the Red Jinn's bell. "I'll make that slave help me,"
muttered Jack determinedly. Just how the slave could help him Jack did
not stop to figure out, but anything was better than sitting foolishly
on a haystack while little Ozma was facing capture and possible
banishment. So Jack tucked his broken leg under one arm, tightened his
hold on the pirate's sack, put the precious flagon in his coat pocket
and boldly rang the silver bell.
"I hope he does not bring those meddlesome bodyguards," muttered Jack
leaning forward anxiously. The slave of the ball appeared so promptly
this time that his tray almost hit Jack in the nose. Placing the tray
on Jack's lap the little fellow backed away and was preparing to vanish
when Jack sprang to his feet, and scattering dishes in every direction
seized the small servitor by the arm.
"Stop," cried Jack Pumpkinhead desperately. "Stop! You must help me."
But Jack might as well have tried to stop the wind. With a shrill cry,
the Red Jinn's slave vanished. Jack also vanished. Now, there was no
one in the pink hay field at all. Only a pink rabbit, who wiggled his
nose anxiously and then began nibbling at a stalk of celery that had
fallen from the magic tray.