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The Magic of Oz

The Lonesome Duck
CHAPTER 15

Trot and Cap’n Bill stood before the Magic Flower, actually rooted to the spot.

“Aren’t you hungry, Cap’n?” asked the little girl, with a long sigh, for she had been standing there for hours and hours.

“Well,” replied the sailor-man, “I ain’t sayin’ as I couldn’t eat, Trot – if a dinner was handy – but I guess old folks don’t get as hungry as young folks do.”

“I’m not sure ’bout that, Cap’n Bill,” she said thoughtfully. “Age might make a difference, but seems to me size would make a bigger difference. Seeing you’re twice as big as me, you ought to be twice as hungry.”

“I hope I am,” he rejoined, “for I can stand it a while longer. I do hope the Glass Cat will hurry, and I hope the Wizard won’t waste time a-comin’ to us.”

Trot sighed again and watched the wonderful Magic Flower, because there was nothing else to do. Just now a lovely group of pink peonies budded and bloomed, but soon they faded away, and a mass of deep blue lilies took their place. Then some yellow chrysanthemums blossomed on the plant, and when they had opened all their petals and reached perfection, they gave way to a lot of white floral balls spotted with crimson – a flower Trot had never seen before.

“But I get awful tired watchin’ flowers an’ flowers an’ flowers,” she said impatiently.

“They’re mighty pretty,” observed Cap’n Bill.

“I know; and if a person could come and look at the Magic Flower just when she felt like it, it would be a fine thing, but to have to stand and watch it, whether you want to or not, isn’t so much fun. I wish, Cap’n Bill, the thing would grow fruit for a while instead of flowers.”

Scarcely had she spoken when the white balls with crimson spots faded away and a lot of beautiful ripe peaches took their place. With a cry of mingled surprise and delight Trot reached out and plucked a peach from the bush and began to eat it, finding it delicious. Cap’n Bill was somewhat dazed at the girl’s wish being granted so quickly, so before he could pick a peach they had faded away and bananas took their place. “Grab one, Cap’n!” exclaimed Trot, and even while eating the peach she seized a banana with her other hand and tore it from the bush.

The old sailor was still bewildered. He put out a hand indeed, but he was too late, for now the bananas disappeared and lemons took their place.

“Pshaw!” cried Trot. “You can’t eat those things; but watch out, Cap’n, for something else.”

Cocoanuts next appeared, but Cap’n Bill shook his head.

“Ca’n’t crack ’em,” he remarked, “’cause we haven’t anything handy to smash ’em with.”

“Well, take one, anyhow,” advised Trot; but the cocoanuts were gone now, and a deep, purple, pear-shaped fruit which was unknown to them took their place. Again Cap’n Bill hesitated, and Trot said to him:

“You ought to have captured a peach and a banana, as I did. If you’re not careful, Cap’n, you’ll miss all your chances. Here, I’ll divide my banana with you.”

Even as she spoke, the Magic Plant was covered with big red apples, growing on every branch, and Cap’n Bill hesitated no longer. He grabbed with both hands and picked two apples, while Trot had only time to secure one before they were gone.

“It’s curious,” remarked the sailor, munching his apple, “how these fruits keep good when you’ve picked ’em, but dis’pear inter thin air if they’re left on the bush.”

“The whole thing is curious,” declared the girl, “and it couldn’t exist in any country but this, where magic is so common. Those are limes. Don’t pick ’em, for they’d pucker up your mouth and – Ooo! here come plums!” and she tucked her apple in her apron pocket and captured three plums – each one almost as big as an egg – before they disappeared. Cap’n Bill got some too, but both were too hungry to fast any longer, so they began eating their apples and plums and let the magic bush bear all sorts of fruits, one after another. The Cap’n stopped once to pick a fine cantaloupe, which he held under his arm, and Trot, having finished her plums, got a handful of cherries and an orange; but when almost every sort of fruit had appeared on the bush, the crop ceased and only flowers, as before, bloomed upon it.

“I wonder why it changed back,” mused Trot, who was not worried because she had enough fruit to satisfy her hunger.

“Well, you only wished it would bear fruit ‘for a while,’” said the sailor, “and it did. P’raps if you’d said ‘forever,’ Trot, it would have always been fruit.”

“But why should my wish be obeyed?” asked the girl. “I’m not a fairy or a wizard or any kind of a magic-maker.”

“I guess,” replied Cap’n Bill, “that this little island is a magic island, and any folks on it can tell the bush what to produce, an’ it’ll produce it.”

“Do you think I could wish for anything else, Cap’n, and get it?” she inquired anxiously.

“What are you thinkin’ of, Trot?”

“I’m thinking of wishing that these roots on our feet would disappear, and let us free.”

“Try it, Trot.”

So she tried it, and the wish had no effect whatever. “Try it yourself, Cap’n,” she suggested.

Then Cap’n Bill made the wish to be free, with no better result.

“No,” said he, “it’s no use; the wishes only affect the Magic Plant; but I’m glad we can make it bear fruit, ’cause now we know we won’t starve before the Wizard gets to us.”

“But I’m gett’n’ tired standing here so long,” complained the girl. “If I could only lift one foot, and rest it, I’d feel better.”

“Same with me, Trot. I’ve noticed that if you’ve got to do a thing, and can’t help yourself, it gets to be a hardship mighty quick.”

“Folks that can raise their feet don’t appreciate what a blessing it is,” said Trot thoughtfully. “I never knew before what fun it is to raise one foot, an’ then another, any time you feel like it.”

“There’s lots o’ things folks don’t ’preciate,” replied the sailor-man. “If somethin’ would ’most stop your breath, you’d think breathin’ easy was the finest thing in life. When a person’s well, he don’t realize how jolly it is, but when he gets sick he ’members the time he was well, an’ wishes that time would come back. Most folks forget to thank God for givin’ ’em two good legs, till they lose one o’ ’em, like I did; and then it’s too late, ’cept to praise God for leavin’ one.”

“Your wooden leg ain’t so bad, Cap’n,” she remarked, looking at it critically. “Anyhow, it don’t take root on a Magic Island, like our meat legs do.”

“I ain’t complaining” said Cap’n Bill. “What’s that swimmin’ towards us, Trot?” he added, looking over the Magic Flower and across the water.

The girl looked, too, and then she replied.

“It’s a bird of some sort. It’s like a duck, only I never saw a duck have so many colors.”

The bird swam swiftly and gracefully toward the Magic Isle, and as it drew nearer its gorgeously colored plumage astonished them. The feathers were of many hues of glistening greens and blues and purples, and it had a yellow head with a red plume, and pink, white and violet in its tail. When it reached the Isle, it came ashore and approached them, waddling slowly and turning its head first to one side and then to the other, so as to see the girl and the sailor better.

“You’re strangers,” said the bird, coming to a halt near them, “and you’ve been caught by the Magic Isle and made prisoners.”

“Yes,” returned Trot, with a sigh; “we’re rooted. But I hope we won’t grow.”

“You’ll grow small,” said the Bird. “You’ll keep growing smaller every day, until bye and bye there’ll be nothing left of you. That’s the usual way, on this Magic Isle.”

“How do you know about it, and who are you, anyhow?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“I’m the Lonesome Duck,” replied the bird. “I suppose you’ve heard of me?”

“No,” said Trot, “I can’t say I have. What makes you lonesome?”

“Why, I haven’t any family or any relations,” returned the Duck.

“Haven’t you any friends?”

“Not a friend. And I’ve nothing to do. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve got to live forever, because I belong in the Land of Oz, where no living thing dies. Think of existing year after year, with no friends, no family, and nothing to do! Can you wonder I’m lonesome?”

“Why don’t you make a few friends, and find something to do?” inquired Cap’n Bill.

“I can’t make friends because everyone I meet – bird, beast or person – is disagreeable to me. In a few minutes I shall be unable to bear your society longer, and then I’ll go away and leave you,” said the Lonesome Duck. “And, as for doing anything, there’s no use in it. All I meet are doing something, so I have decided it’s common and uninteresting and I prefer to remain lonesome.”

“Don’t you have to hunt for your food?” asked Trot.

“No. In my diamond palace, a little way up the river, food is magically supplied me; but I seldom eat, because it is so common.”

“You must be a Magician Duck,” remarked Cap’n Bill.

“Why so?”

“Well, ordinary ducks don’t have diamond palaces an’ magic food, like you do.”

“True; and that’s another reason why I’m lonesome. You must remember I’m the only Duck in the Land of Oz, and I’m not like any other duck in the outside world.”

“Seems to me you like bein’ lonesome,” observed Cap’n Bill.

“I can’t say I like it, exactly,” replied the Duck, “but since it seems to be my fate, I’m rather proud of it.”

“How do you s’pose a single, solitary Duck happened to be in the Land of Oz?” asked Trot, wonderingly.

“I used to know the reason, many years ago, but I’ve quite forgotten it,” declared the Duck. “The reason for a thing is never so important as the thing itself, so there’s no use remembering anything but the fact that I’m lonesome.”

“I guess you’d be happier if you tried to do something,” asserted Trot. “If you can’t do anything for yourself, you can do things for others, and then you’d get lots of friends and stop being lonesome.”

“Now you’re getting disagreeable,” said the Lonesome Duck, “and I shall have to go and leave you.”

“Can’t you help us any,” pleaded the girl. “If there’s anything magic about you, you might get us out of this scrape.”

“I haven’t any magic strong enough to get you off the Magic Isle,” replied the Lonesome Duck. “What magic I possess is very simple, but I find it enough for my own needs.”

“If we could only sit down a while, we could stand it better,” said Trot, “but we have nothing to sit on.”

“Then you will have to stand it,” said the Lonesome Duck.

“P’raps you’ve enough magic to give us a couple of stools,” suggested Cap’n Bill.

“A duck isn’t supposed to know what stools are,” was the reply.

“But you’re different from all other ducks.”

“That is true.” The strange creature seemed to reflect for a moment, looking at them sharply from its round black eyes. Then it said: “Sometimes, when the sun is hot, I grow a toadstool to shelter me from its rays. Perhaps you could sit on toadstools.”

“Well, if they were strong enough, they’d do,” answered Cap’n Bill.

“Then, before I go I’ll give you a couple,” said the Lonesome Duck, and began waddling about in a small circle. It went around the circle to the right three times, and then it went around to the left three times. Then it hopped backward three times and forward three times.

“What are you doing?” asked Trot.

“Don’t interrupt. This is an incantation,” replied the Lonesome Duck, but now it began making a succession of soft noises that sounded like quacks and seemed to mean nothing at all. And it kept up these sounds so long that Trot finally exclaimed:

“Can’t you hurry up and finish that ’cantation? If it takes all summer to make a couple of toadstools, you’re not much of a magician.”

“I told you not to interrupt,” said the Lonesome Duck, sternly. “If you get too disagreeable, you’ll drive me away before I finish this incantation.”

Trot kept quiet, after the rebuke, and the Duck resumed the quacky muttering. Cap’n Bill chuckled a little to himself and remarked to Trot in a whisper: “For a bird that ain’t got anything to do, this Lonesome Duck is makin’ consider’ble fuss. An’ I ain’t sure, after all, as toadstools would be worth sittin’ on.”

Even as he spoke, the sailor-man felt something touch him from behind and, turning his head, he found a big toadstool in just the right place and of just the right size to sit upon. There was one behind Trot, too, and with a cry of pleasure the little girl sank back upon it and found it a very comfortable seat – solid, yet almost like a cushion. Even Cap’n Bill’s weight did not break his toadstool down, and when both were seated, they found that the Lonesome Duck had waddled away and was now at the water’s edge.

“Thank you, ever so much!” cried Trot, and the sailor called out: “Much obliged!”

But the Lonesome Duck paid no attention. Without even looking in their direction again, the gaudy fowl entered the water and swam gracefully away.

The Glass Cat Finds the Black Bag
CHAPTER 16

When the six monkeys were transformed by Kiki Aru into six giant soldiers fifty feet tall, their heads came above the top of the trees, which in this part of the forest were not so high as in some other parts; and, although the trees were somewhat scattered, the bodies of the giant soldiers were so big that they quite filled the spaces in which they stood and the branches pressed them on every side.

Of course, Kiki was foolish to have made his soldiers so big, for now they could not get out of the forest. Indeed, they could not stir a step, but were imprisoned by the trees. Even had they been in the little clearing they could not have made their way out of it, but they were a little beyond the clearing. At first, the other monkeys who had not been enchanted were afraid of the soldiers, and hastily quitted the place; but soon finding that the great men stood stock still, although grunting indignantly at their transformation, the band of monkeys returned to the spot and looked at them curiously, not guessing that they were really monkeys and their own friends.

The soldiers couldn’t see them, their heads being above the trees; they could not even raise their arms or draw their sharp swords, so closely were they held by the leafy branches. So the monkeys, finding the giants helpless, began climbing up their bodies, and presently all the band were perched on the shoulders of the giants and peering into their faces.

“I’m Ebu, your father,” cried one soldier to a monkey who had perched upon his left ear, “but some cruel person has enchanted me.”

“I’m your Uncle Peeker,” said another soldier to another monkey.

So, very soon all the monkeys knew the truth and were sorry for their friends and relations and angry at the person – whoever it was – who had transformed them. There was a great chattering among the tree-tops, and the noise attracted other monkeys, so that the clearing and all the trees around were full of them.

Rango the Gray Ape, who was the Chief of all the monkey tribes of the forest, heard the uproar and came to see what was wrong with his people. And Rango, being wiser and more experienced, at once knew that the strange magician who looked like a mixed-up beast was responsible for the transformations. He realized that the six giant soldiers were helpless prisoners, because of their size, and knew he was powerless to release them. So, although he feared to meet the terrible magician, he hurried away to the great clearing to tell Gugu the King what had happened and to try to find the Wizard of Oz and get him to save his six enchanted subjects.

Rango darted into the Great Clearing just as the Wizard had restored all the enchanted ones around him to their proper shapes, and the Gray Ape was glad to hear that the wicked magician-beast had been conquered.

“But now, O mighty Wizard, you must come with me to where six of my people are transformed into six great giant men,” he said, “for if they are allowed to remain there, their happiness and their future lives will be ruined.”

The Wizard did not reply at once, for he was thinking this a good opportunity to win Rango’s consent to his taking some monkeys to the Emerald City for Ozma’s birthday cake.

“It is a great thing you ask of me, O Rango the Gray Ape,” said he, “for the bigger the giants are the more powerful their enchantment, and the more difficult it will be to restore them to their natural forms. However, I will think it over.”

Then the Wizard went to another part of the clearing and sat on a log and appeared to be in deep thought.

The Glass Cat had been greatly interested in the Gray Ape’s story and was curious to see what the giant soldiers looked like. Hearing that their heads extended above the tree-tops, the Glass Cat decided that if it climbed the tall avocado tree that stood at the side of the clearing, it might be able to see the giants’ heads. So, without mentioning her errand, the crystal creature went to the tree and, by sticking her sharp glass claws in the bark, easily climbed the tree to its very top and, looking over the forest, saw the six giant heads, although they were now a long way off. It was, indeed, a remarkable sight, for the huge heads had immense soldier caps on them, with red and yellow plumes and looked very fierce and terrible, although the monkey hearts of the giants were at that moment filled with fear.

Having satisfied her curiosity, the Glass Cat began to climb down from the tree more slowly. Suddenly she discerned the Wizard’s black bag hanging to a limb of the tree. She grasped the black bag in her glass teeth, and although it was rather heavy for so small an animal, managed to get it free and to carry it safely down to the ground. Then she looked around for the Wizard and seeing him seated upon the stump she hid the black bag among some leaves and then went over to where the Wizard sat.

“I forgot to tell you,” said the Glass Cat, “that Trot and Cap’n Bill are in trouble, and I came here to hunt you up and get you to go and rescue them.”

“Good gracious, Cat! Why didn’t you tell me before?” exclaimed the Wizard.

“For the reason that I found so much excitement here that I forgot Trot and Cap’n Bill.”

“What’s wrong with them?” asked the Wizard.

Then the Glass Cat explained how they had gone to get the Magic Flower for Ozma’s birthday gift and had been trapped by the magic of the queer island. The Wizard was really alarmed, but he shook his head and said sadly:

“I’m afraid I can’t help my dear friends, because I’ve lost my black bag.”

“If I find it, will you go to them?” asked the creature.

“Of course,” replied the Wizard. “But I do not think that a Glass Cat with nothing but pink brains can succeed when all the rest of us have failed.”

“Don’t you admire my pink brains?” demanded the Cat.

“They’re pretty,” admitted the Wizard, “but they’re not regular brains, you know, and so we don’t expect them to amount to much.”

“But if I find your black bag – and find it inside of five minutes – will you admit my pink brains are better than your common human brains?”

“Well, I’ll admit they’re better hunters,” said the Wizard, reluctantly, “but you can’t do it. We’ve searched everywhere, and the black bag isn’t to be found.”

“That shows how much you know!” retorted the Glass Cat, scornfully. “Watch my brains a minute, and see them whirl around.”

The Wizard watched, for he was anxious to regain his black bag, and the pink brains really did whirl around in a remarkable manner.

“Now, come with me,” commanded the Glass Cat, and led the Wizard straight to the spot where it had covered the bag with leaves. “According to my brains,” said the creature, “your black bag ought to be here.”

Then it scratched at the leaves and uncovered the bag, which the Wizard promptly seized with a cry of delight. Now that he had regained his Magic Tools, he felt confident he could rescue Trot and Cap’n Bill.

Rango the Gray Ape was getting impatient. He now approached the Wizard and said:

“Well, what do you intend to do about those poor enchanted monkeys?”

“I’ll make a bargain with you, Rango,” replied the little man. “If you will let me take a dozen of your monkeys to the Emerald City, and keep them until after Ozma’s birthday, I’ll break the enchantment of the six Giant Soldiers and return them to their natural forms.”

But the Gray Ape shook his head.

“I can’t do it,” he declared. “The monkeys would be very lonesome and unhappy in the Emerald City and your people would tease them and throw stones at them, which would cause them to fight and bite.”

“The people won’t see them till Ozma’s birthday dinner,” promised the Wizard. “I’ll make them very small – about four inches high, and I’ll keep them in a pretty cage in my own room, where they will be safe from harm. I’ll feed them the nicest kind of food, train them to do some clever tricks, and on Ozma’s birthday I’ll hide the twelve little monkeys inside a cake. When Ozma cuts the cake the monkeys will jump out on to the table and do their tricks. The next day I will bring them back to the forest and make them big as ever, and they’ll have some exciting stories to tell their friends. What do you say, Rango?”

“I say no!” answered the Gray Ape. “I won’t have my monkeys enchanted and made to do tricks for the Oz people.”

“Very well,” said the Wizard calmly; “then I’ll go. Come, Dorothy,” he called to the little girl, “let’s start on our journey.”

“Aren’t you going to save those six monkeys who are giant soldiers?” asked Rango, anxiously.

“Why should I?” returned the Wizard. “If you will not do me the favor I ask, you cannot expect me to favor you.”

“Wait a minute,” said the Gray Ape. “I’ve changed my mind. If you will treat the twelve monkeys nicely and bring them safely back to the forest. I’ll let you take them.”

“Thank you,” replied the Wizard, cheerfully. “We’ll go at once and save those giant soldiers.”

So all the party left the clearing and proceeded to the place where the giants still stood among the trees. Hundreds of monkeys, apes, baboons and orang-outangs had gathered round, and their wild chatter could be heard a mile away. But the Gray Ape soon hushed the babel of sounds, and the Wizard lost no time in breaking the enchantments. First one and then another giant soldier disappeared and became an ordinary monkey again, and the six were shortly returned to their friends in their proper forms.

This action made the Wizard very popular with the great army of monkeys, and when the Gray Ape announced that the Wizard wanted to borrow twelve monkeys to take to the Emerald City for a couple of weeks, and asked for volunteers, nearly a hundred offered to go, so great was their confidence in the little man who had saved their comrades.

The Wizard selected a dozen that seemed intelligent and good-tempered, and then he opened his black bag and took out a queerly shaped dish that was silver on the outside and gold on the inside. Into this dish he poured a powder and set fire to it. It made a thick smoke that quite enveloped the twelve monkeys, as well as the form of the Wizard, but when the smoke cleared away the dish had been changed to a golden cage with silver bars, and the twelve monkeys had become about three inches high and were all seated comfortably inside the cage.

The thousands of hairy animals who had witnessed this act of magic were much astonished and applauded the Wizard by barking aloud and shaking the limbs of the trees in which they sat. Dorothy said: “That was a fine trick, Wizard!” and the Gray Ape remarked: “You are certainly the most wonderful magician in all the Land of Oz!”

“Oh, no,” modestly replied the little man. “Glinda’s magic is better than mine, but mine seems good enough to use on ordinary occasions. And now, Rango, we will say good-bye, and I promise to return your monkeys as happy and safe as they are now.”

The Wizard rode on the back of the Hungry Tiger and carried the cage of monkeys very carefully, so as not to joggle them. Dorothy rode on the back of the Cowardly Lion, and the Glass Cat trotted, as before, to show them the way.

Gugu the King crouched upon a log and watched them go, but as he bade them farewell, the enormous leopard said:

“I know now that you are the friends of beasts and that the forest people may trust you. Whenever the Wizard of Oz and Princess Dorothy enter the Forest of Gugu hereafter, they will be as welcome and as safe with us as ever they are in the Emerald City.”