Oz - Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz Part 10

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 that forbidden flagon. What strange spell could have reduced MoG.o.dore and his followers to midgets?"

"I think I can explain that," answered Glinda, setting her tea cup down on a small green table. "When Sc.r.a.ps 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 MoG.o.dore and his men really belong. But MoG.o.dore'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. MoG.o.dore's father and grandfather guarded the flagon well, but MoG.o.dore 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 Sc.r.a.ps, 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 Sc.r.a.ps to Dorothy. "He looks so funny when he's mad."

"Hush!" whispered Dorothy, for Peter had risen and in an embarra.s.sed 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 Sc.r.a.ps 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.

The End