Abducted to Oz Part 10

I have to know. I miss you, Telly! You are my best friend in this strange land. I love you! Where have you been taken?"

"Who is Telly?" came an unfamiliar female voice. Graham turned about to see who had spoken. He was looking as much into the sun as into the face of the speaker. It was hard to distinguish her features. But she looked like a fine white horse.

"h.e.l.lo?" said Graham uncertainly.

"h.e.l.lo," replied the voice. Whoever she was, she sounded gentle and understanding. "My name is Jeanne-Marie. Why are you so glum?"

"My friend has been taken prisoner by a bad Witch," explained the boy, who felt an inexplicable trust for this equine newcomer. "Oh," she replied. "I am sorry. I had thought that Queen Ozma had done away with all such vile Witches."

"Well," he sighed, "she doesn't know about this one. This wicked old Witch has created a very clever illusion that has made Ozma unable to see her or to find out about her. I was fooled, too. I had been under the impression that Ozma was as wicked as the Witch. But I was wrong. If only I could find Ozma. The real Ozma, not just an illusion that was pa.s.sing itself off as the real Ozma. Then I could tell her what was going on. If all that the Woozy told me is true, the real Ozma would be able to make things right again. As it is, I can't help Telly, and I can never go home to America again, either!"

The horse nestled down beside the boy. Only then did he realize that this was no normal horse that was speaking to him. She was different from all horses in all Graham's experience. She was as pure white as the driven snow, and her mane was a shiny silver. From the top of her head grew a long, beautiful horn. "Wow!" exclaimed Graham. "Are you a real unicorn?"

"So I've been told," laughed Jeanne-Marie. "But I am a long way from my home, just like you are. I left that area because the other unicorns didn't seem to understand my views on things. They thought I was strange and that I was not worthy of the name of the unicorns. But I cannot help what I am. I yearn to see all that there is to see of this Land of Oz in which I live. And I wanted to find someone who could understand my philosophies, too. None of the stallions of my breed took me seriously, and I have never once felt true love. At least, not until I met MacDonald Lindsay."

"Who is that?" wondered Graham.

"Well, I haven't actually met him in person," she admitted. "But I overheard him talking to his helpers one day. He was telling them about the need for all sentient beings to have a purpose in life. No one can be fulfilled if he is not in some way making his existence count for anything. He himself is in control of the finest dairy farm in Oz. He has vast fields of milkweed that his helpers harvest for him in exchange for their housing, food, and the occasional game of quoits."

"That sounds fair, I suppose," replied Graham, realizing that this group was not one which was accustomed to using any form of money.

"Very much so," she said. "And the helpers--a unique tribe of warthog-like amphibians known as wartfrogs--are highly contented with their lot. MacDonald Lindsay allows them to come and go as they please, and he has given each of them a home that is far more luxurious than his own little lodging. Actually, MacDonald's farm is the only thing he has that is luxurious. His personal abode is a simple cleft in a rock that you can see from here in that little hill." She pointed with her horn.

"I see it," said Graham. "This MacDonald fellow sounds like a good enough guy."

"Oh, he is very good," said Jeanne-Marie. "But very mysterious. I have not had any real opportunity to ask him, but I think I could be very happy working in his fields alongside the wartfrogs."

"Have you ever tried to go to him to ask for a job?" questioned Graham.

"No. But I have been in his fields. Indeed, his milkweed is the best in all the land. It is not just an ordinary dairy-farm product. It is special. It is chocolate milkweed, and it is as smooth as Chinese silk.

I have been following the wartfrogs and sneaking an occasional taste of any chocolate milkweed pods that they overlooked."

"I see," said Graham.

"You are welcome to have dinner with me," said Jeanne-Marie. "I have at least a half-dozen pods that I am willing to share with you."

It was at that point that Graham remembered how long it had been since last he had eaten. Even then, he was not sure the food had been anything more than an illusion conjured up by the Witch. It was not more than a second before he heard himself accepting the invitation. Indeed, the chocolate milkweed was the most delicious thing Graham had ever tasted.

He thanked Jeanne-Marie over and over for sharing this delightful new taste-treat with him. He and the unicorn talked for a long while afterward. He was not sure just how long it was, but he awoke the next morning feeling quite refreshed.

The unicorn had already gone on her way. But she had left a note for Graham explaining that she had gone to watch the wartfrogs in MacDonald Lindsay's fields, as was her usual morning activity. The note informed him that she would seek him out later that afternoon, if he cared to stay in the vicinity, and that she was happy to have met him should he choose to move on...

[Ill.u.s.tration]

After thinking it over, Graham decided that he was going to need help if he planned to rescue poor Telly from the false Allidap. Hence, he decided to wait for Jeanne-Marie. He could spend the day formulating a plan that would allow them to get Telly away from the Witch without endangering their own lives.

MacDonald Lindsay was a fellow who was in high position on his farm, yet he gave all of the finest of his yield to others. He was a man who had few needs, only the knowledge that his crops were bringing happiness to others. That was all he had ever asked. Yet there was something missing in his life. Something upon which he could not place a finger. Yes, indeed MacDonald Lindsay had fingers. Three of them on each hand, in fact! He was a powerful and muscular troll, for all intents and purposes. That is, he was from the waist up. From his waist down, instead of the usual troll waist and legs, however, he had the neck and body of a mighty black stallion. Anyone born under the astrological sign of Sagittarius might recognize him as a relation to the centaur. But MacDonald Lindsay claimed no such heritage formally. "Lambert," he said, putting a beefy hand on the shoulder of one of his workers, who happened to be a foreman among the wartfrogs.

"Yeah?" asked the amphibian.

"Who is the little unicorn? The one I see out there in my fields? I have seen her other times, too."

"I know no name for her," sighed the wartfrog. "My boys and I have seen her before, though. She only takes a few pods--and only those extreme few that my boys don't consider worthy of picking or trading in your name. Those that she takes are all too small or have already been picked over by the crows. We had once considered making a scarecrow--an inanimate one, of course. Not like the guy who usually comes to mind when we think of scarecrows. But that little unicorn seems to get what she needs from our leftovers, so no one has bothered to send her on her way."

"So she only takes that which is rejected from my farm?"

replied MacDonald doubtfully.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Well," began the worker, "please don't be angry with me. There have been a couple of occasions that I have taken pity on the poor creature and left a few better pods for her to find. Please don't get angry, sir!

I only did it because I felt sorry for the poor little thing. She looked so hungry, and we have so much."

Within minutes, the mighty centaur-like man was looking into the eyes of the young unicorn. "I--I'm sorry to intrude on your farm," she said tremblingly.

"Listen, my dear," he said. "You are welcome in my fields any time you wish to be here. You are welcome to take any milkweed you want or to help yourself to any of my other crops. I have asked my wartfrogs to ignore you. You no longer need to feel like an intruder."

"You are very kind," she replied. "You know that I am not from around here. I am not understood amongst my own kind, so I am something of an outcast, you might say."

"Not here, you're not."

"Thank you, sir!" The unicorn seemed to be near tears. "Thank you so much!"

When Jeanne-Marie returned to the little clearing where she had left Graham, she brought him several milkweed pods, as well as a few cookies she had picked from the bushes around the base of MacDonald's rock. "He is very sweet," she said. "The moment I saw his eyes, I knew that he was special. Graham, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I don't know," he said to her. "But I sure do love these cookies!"

And so it went for the next day and the next. By day, Jeanne-Marie went to the fields, where she grew more and more fond of the odd stallion there. By night, she plotted with Graham as to how they might go about locating Telly. The problem seemed to be that the Witch could have magically zapped him off as far away as Santa Monica, California, had she wanted to do so. Finding him would not be an easy task. To make matters worse, poor Jeanne-Marie had become a tad too taken with MacDonald Lindsay. The wartfrogs had begun to mistrust her.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"She isn't even the same kind of animal!" said Lambert, the wartfrog leader. "She doesn't have any troll features--not even a little around the eyes! They are totally incompatible! She must only be out to get his milkweed! To think that I once felt sympathy for that wretched little unicorn! Why, that cunning little crook even has Lindsay entranced so much that he has begun giving her some of the good stuff! She is no longer contented with the sc.r.a.ps and rejects of our fields! She has got to go. But how shall we do it? It will have to be handled in a sneaky enough way so as to keep Lindsay from noticing. He has been placed under the spell of that little siren, and I know that he would never grant us permission to shove her away from the area."

It was the very next day that the wartfrogs made their move. Under the direction of Lambert, they went about their work, and it was business as usual. Then, when one of the amphibious pigs saw the small unicorn in the field behind them, Lambert called for a halt. The wartfrogs turned around and went back toward Jeanne-Marie. She was not looking in their direction, so she did not notice that they were coming toward her until it was too late to escape. They were already upon her and hurled her unceremoniously into a harvesting-bag. This they tossed onto their cart and carried away. "I will sell her to a zoo in some other land, where they are not so kind to thieving horse-creatures!" giggled Lambert, showing his teeth. "Now we can get rid of this little troublemaker once and for all! Old Mickey-D will never know what became of his dear little charity-case!"

Indeed, it would have been curtains for poor Jeanne-Marie had not Graham had a sudden inspiration which he wanted to tell her about right away.

He felt certain that he had formulated a plan by which they would be able to save Telly from the Witch, and he had run into the milkweed fields to find her. He had seen the terrible wartfrogs capture her and had even overheard what they planned to do to her. "I can't let them do it!" he whispered angrily. "Why, this is the second time I've made a friend in Oz who has met with foul play!" He would have cried, had his sadness not been so highly overcompensated for by his anger. His first instinct was to run to her and try to fight for her freedom. But he was a wise enough boy to know full well that this would be folly. He was no more than one little boy against a whole farm's worth of strong and muscular laborers. If he were to pick a fight with this bunch, he would be sold alongside his friend. No, he would need another plan of rescue.

But he had already come up with one such plan. Now he could give it a test-run. However, he knew that he could not hope to carry it out all by himself. No, he would have to have help. And Graham knew from whence that help must come. With a swallow of anxiety, he headed for the home of the ranchero.

MacDonald Lindsay was as amiable a fellow as the unicorn had said. This fact instantly put Graham's anxiety to rest. "Do come in, my friend,"

said the ranchero. "What can I do to make you happy?"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"It's about Jeanne-Marie," said Graham.

"That poor little waif of a unicorn?" replied the troll-horse.

"That very one," said Graham. "Your workers have taken her prisoner, and they plan to sell her to a zoo or a circus or something like that."

The troll creature looked at Graham and frowned. Then he began to laugh.