Peter's Return to Philadelphia
Next day the festivities continued, and all day long Peter's old chums
and acquaintances were calling at the palace, while the celebrities
outdid one another to make things pleasant for Belfaygor and his bride.
At noon they rode off on the Saw Horse, for the baron was anxious to
return to his castle. Peter bade the baron goodbye and promised to pay
him a long visit on his next trip to Oz, to ride the horse Belfaygor
agreed to keep for him and even wear the armor the baron had promised
him as a reward for rescuing the Princess.
Snif spent a happy morning in the royal stable with the famous beasts
of Oz and they listened so politely to his experiences he decided to
stay on indefinitely at the capitol. The pirate's sack was locked up
in the Wizard's strong box and the magic dinner bell stored with the
other treasures of the realm, for as Ozma remarked to Dorothy it would
be mighty handy for picnics and unexpected visitors. The Fraid Cats
and Statues in Scare City were released from their enchantment by the
Wizard's long distance magic and Peter and Snif, looking in the magic
picture, had the satisfaction of watching them return to their various
homes.
"The only thing that still puzzles me," sighed Ozma as they all sat
cozily under the trees in the garden late that afternoon, "the only
thing that puzzles me is the forbidden flagon. What strange spell could
have reduced Mogodore and his followers to midgets?"
"I think I can explain that," answered Glinda, setting her tea cup down
on a small green table. "When Scraps flew to my castle yesterday and
told of the capture of the Emerald City, I at once turned to my magic
record book to discover something about this Baron of Baffleburg. You
are all, I am sure, familiar with brownies?" Dorothy and Betsy Bobbin
nodded sagely, and all the others quickly inclined their heads. "Well,"
said Glinda with a wave toward the South, "in the Red Mountains of Oz
there are large bands of reddies, who are quite similar to brownies,
except for the color of their coats, which are red. To one of these
tribes Mogodore and his men really belong. But Mogodore's great
grandfather, Jair, was a brave and determined little reddy, whose good
deeds and brave actions greatly exceeded his size and strength. So,
long ago, a neighboring wizard, whom Jair had done a great service,
rewarded Jair by making him and his followers as large in size as
they were in deeds and in action. But the enchantment only held so
long as the mysterious red liquid remained in the forbidden flagon.
Mogodore's father and grandfather guarded the flagon well, but Mogodore
knew nothing of its secret power nor of his own ancestry or origin.
Being by nature, discontented and greedy he was always puzzling about
the strange black flask and at the first opportunity he satisfied his
curiosity."
"Well, it's a good thing he did," said Peter, looking thoughtfully at
the little band of captives who were being marched up and down one of
the garden paths by the Soldier with Green Whiskers. "Now the other
barons will have a little peace."
"Let's keep them for toys," proposed Scraps, who was never weary of
watching the tiny army.
"No," said Ozma, shaking her head at the Patchwork Girl, "that would be
cruel. Has their city grown small too, Glinda?" The sorceress smiled
and nodded.
"Then I shall send them back to Baffleburg," declared Ozma, "for they
are now too small to harm anyone and there they will be safe and
comfortable." As everyone heartily approved of this plan, Ozma touched
her magic belt, spoke the few words necessary, and away whisked the bad
little baron and his band, to their tiny red city on the rocks.
"Just the same, I wish we could have kept him," sighed Scraps to
Dorothy. "He looks so funny when he's mad."
"Hush!" whispered Dorothy, for Peter had risen and in an embarrassed
voice was asking Ozma to send him back to Philadelphia.
"Still like baseball better than Oz?" rumbled Sir Hokus, shaking a
teasing finger at Peter.
"Well," admitted the little boy, blushing a bit at the question,
"the fellows sorta depend on me, Hokus, and then you know there's my
grandfather."
"Of course," smiled Ozma, "of course there is. Goodbye, dear Peter,
come back soon and as often as you will."
"Goodbye," sobbed the Iffin, overcome at the thought of losing his
chum. "If you were my own grandchild, I couldn't love you any better."
"Goodbye!" called Jack Pumpkinhead and Scraps and all the others and
before their gay voices had quite died away, Peter was standing in the
dim library of his own house.
"Oh grandfather," cried Peter, "I've been to Oz again and flying is
grand, grandfather!"
"Then we must try it some time," observed the old gentleman calmly, and
saying nothing at all about Peter's strange absence.
"Oh, may we?" Peter dropped on the arm of the big chair. "May we,
really?"
"Well, why not?" demanded grandfather, glancing around the room
belligerently and letting his specs fall the full length of the black
cord. "Why not? 'Tis a free country and flying's no crime."
"Hurrah!" shouted Peter, bouncing off the chair arm and right that
instant he decided that even in Oz there was no better chum nor braver
adventurer than this grandfather of his so straightway he told him all
that had happened in Baffleburg and other places--indeed all of this
story that I have just told to you.