Oz - Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz Part 2

"Are we going to take that?" Fearfully Jack pointed to the pirate's sack.

"Of course!" said Peter, trying to speak in a matter of fact voice. "It might help us out again."

"Do you wish to be helped out of sight?" wheezed Jack sarcastically. "Why, it may swallow us any minute that our backs are turned."

"Not if we keep it tied," answered Peter with more confidence than he felt. "We really ought to take it to the Emerald City to show the Wizard. I don't believe even the Wizard has seen a sack like this. It's a trained sack, I suppose. That pirate taught it to swallow his enemies and now it will swallow ours.

"All right, bring it if you must, but don't swing it near me.

Straightening his head resignedly, Jack began looking around for the peg that had fallen out of his knee joint. When Peter had found and replaced the little wooden piece, they hurried quickly to the entrance of the city. The gate keeper had been swallowed with the rest of the Scares and though Jack and Peter pulled and pushed and tugged they could not budge the iron bolts.

"Maybe there's another way," puffed Peter, finally giving up the attempt. Turning from the entrance, they walked round and round the courtyard and climbed wearily up and down the rocks, but could find no break in the wall, nor any way out of the grim City.

The dead silence, now that the Scares were gone, was dreadfully depressing. Thoroughly discouraged, Peter and Jack sat down on a block of granite. Leaning his head against a red pillar, Peter took a last despairing look around. As his eye travelled slowly over the court, a red stone griffin, or what Peter had supposed to be a red stone griffin, rose majestically from the base of a pillar. With a terrific stretch and yawn it opened its eyes, blinked in surprise at Peter and Jack, then raising one claw called gently, "Who? What? Whither? Why?"

CHAPTER 5

Peter Meets the Iffin

"BOY! Pumpkin! Emerald City! Because!" answered Jack who was extremely literal.

"If everyone would answer me as sensibly as he does," said the griffin, "I'd talk all day. So you say you're leaving this place because-"

"Because we hate it," said Peter, looking steadily at the strange speaker. So many things had happened in the last hour that Peter felt only a slight twinge of surprise at the creature's curious appearance and conversation. "Are you a griffin?" Peter asked, rubbing his forehead wearily. It looked not unlike pictures he had seen of this rare and fabulous monster-being sandy red in color, with a huge lion's body and dragon's claws. Its head, instead of being the usual eagle head, was of rather a doggish nature with a stand-up mane and inquisitive, pointed ears.

"You must be a griffin," repeated Peter, noting the powerful wings starting from the monster's shoulders.

"I am a griffin without the gr-rr," answered the animal, sitting dolefully back on its haunches. "I used to be a real griffin, but since my capture and imprisonment here I've completely lost my gr-rr, which makes me by the process of simple subtraction an Iffin. To while away the hours of my captivity, it went on patiently, "I acquired the habit of thought. I thought and I thought and thinking brought on iffing. I began to if about this and that till I became a philosopher."

"What is a philosopher?" asked Jack suspiciously.

"A philosopher is an Iffin too," rumbled the singular beast, scratching his ear reflectively. "He thinks practically all the time and he says to himself: "If this and that are really so, then so are that and this; That being so, 'tis best to go so far, then one can't miss!

"Everything hinges on the if," he finished brightly. "See?"

"I'm afraid I don't," said Jack, shaking his head stupidly. "Do you, Peter?"

"Well, I understand about the if," answered the little boy, who could not help grinning at Jack's puzzled expression. "If the Iffin will just show us the way out of Scare City, we'll go and not miss a single thing."

"If it were not for the Scares, I would," wheezed the big beast, peering nervously up at the rocks. "But it's no use; they'll only turn you to Fraid Cats or statues. Besides I'm chained." He lifted one paw to which a heavy chain and padlock were attached. The other end of the chain was fastened to the base of the pillar.

"Say, you must be a sound sleeper," marvelled Jack. "Didn't you hear the big battle? This boy and I have conquered the whole city and Harum Scarum and the Scares are gone-vanished, done for."

"Gone!" cried the Iffin, lashing its tail in astonishment. "How?

When? Where?" Jack pointed silently to the sack which Peter still had over one shoulder, and Peter quickly told of their exciting encounter with the citizens of Scare City, of the great usefulness of the Red Jinn's dinner bell and the way the pirate sack had finally swallowed down the whole company of horrors. At Peter's recital, the Iffin's eyes grew rounder and rounder and as he finished it put up both wings and with short agitated jumps shrieked: "The Scares are gone, then what scare we! The Scares are gone, we're free, we're free!

"Loose this chain," it panted, tugging impatiently away from the post. As Peter, now as excited as the Iffin, looked hurriedly around for a bar or stone to break the padlock, Jack stepped forward and warningly held up his hand.

"Just what do you eat?" asked Jack Pumpkin-head in an anxious voice. "Are you carnivorous?"

"If an Iffin were carnivorous, would he relish red geraniums? I live on flowers, solely, so please get that through your craniums.

"What did you think I ate, little boys?" finished the Iffin sulkily.

"Well, you never can tell," murmured Jack, with a worried glance at Peter. "I just wanted to be sure." Peter chuckled to himself, and while looking for a spike discovered a gold key suspended from a nail on one of the red pillars. Taking the key, he fitted it into the rusty padlock and after several unsuccessful attempts it turned and the heavy chain fell with a loud clank to the red paving stones.

"Do you really eat geraniums?" asked Peter, as the Iffin sprang away from the post and rushed in crazy circles around the court yard.

"Of course," it snorted boisterously. "Of course!" Then spreading its wide red wings it soared majestically into the air-up, up and out of sight.

"Why it's gone!" shouted Jack Pumpkinhead indignandy. "There's grat.i.tude for you! Gone and left us without even a claw shake or thank you.

"Maybe it will come back." Kicking aside the chain, Peter strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying monster, but not one speck showed in the murky sky overhead. If Jack and Peter had been blue before, they were navy blue now. With their only means of escape removed they looked blankly at one another, while the goblin lanterns glowed and smoked and the sulphurous air of the cliff city grew more dry and unbearable.

"If I'd only made it promise to help us before I turned the key,"

sighed Peter regretfully.

"Hah! So you're an Iffin, too." Peering around a pillar, the bright red eyes of the sandy colored beast winked merrily into Peter's. "Just trying out my wings," it explained gruffly, "and they're wonderful!

"If you don't think so, listen to them swirl and whirl and swish; Climb on my back, I'll carry you to any place you wish."

"Will you really," cried Peter, falling joyfully on the Iffin's neck.

"Can you take us to the Emerald City?"

"If you want me to," answered the Iffin, wagging its tail bashfully.

"Have you a name," inquired Jack Pumpkinhead, getting stiffly off the granite block.

"Well," said the Iffin slowly, "I've been here so long I forgot my real name but the Scares called me Snif. I'm not sure I know the way to the Emerald City, but I will fly over the wall into the Land of the Barons and there we can surely find someone to direct us. Since you have freed me from my captors I will serve you faithfully for seven years.

"Hurrah!" shouted Peter, hugging Jack. "I'm not sure I can stay in Oz that long, but I'm certainly glad we fell into this city. Meeting you was worth all the trouble." In reply the Iffin chortled: "If you hadn't come, I'd be here yet, So I'm glad as a Gluckbird that we met."

"What's a Gluckbird?" asked Jack, straightening his head and looking rather severely at the irrepressible monster.

"If I knew I'd tell you," confided the Iffin, coming close to whisper in Jack's ear. "Let's make ourselves scarce around here," he called boisterously in the next breath.

"Oh let's," agreed Peter, swinging up the pirate's sack. "You mount first Jack and be sure to hold fast to your head."

"And be sure that bag's shut," added the Iffin, wiggling his nose rapidly. "I've never travelled with a magic sack and though I fly I'm no swallow!"

"Is the dinner bell all right?" asked Peter, tightening the cord of the pirate's sack and helping Jack climb on Snif's back. There was just room for the Pumpkinhead to sit astride in front of the Iffin's wings and Peter settled himself comfortably back of Jack between the mighty pinions. With one last scornful look at the red city, the Iffin rose into air, mounting higher till the goblin lights of Scare City were no larger than fire flys twinkling below.

"Were you a prisoner long?" asked Peter, as Snif flew swiftly over a bright red forest.

"Five years," bellowed the big beast, looking over its shoulder.

Flying seemed no effort at all and it talked quite easily as it flew. "The first year," it explained sadly, "I struggled and growled so hard in my efforts to escape that I completely lost my gu-r-r-r. See!" Clearing its throat, the Iffin attempted a growl but succeeded in producing only a faint squeak. "After I lost my gu-rr," it went on in a melancholy voice, "I amused myself making up iffish verses, a habit I fear I shall never recover from."

"I like it," said Peter after a short pause. "It reminds me of Sc.r.a.ps.

She's a live Patchwork Girl who lives in the Emerald City. Sc.r.a.ps talks in verses all the time."

"If the Patchwork Girl can talk in rhyme She must be 'most as smart as I'm."

smiled Snif, with a wink at Jack Pumpkinhead.

"She is," laughed Peter with a reminiscent chuckle. "I say, there must have been a lot of travellers from the number of Fraid Cats in Scare City. Why did they have two heads?"

"So they'd be forced to look at Scares which ever way they turned,"

sighed the Iffin. "Every Scare had his cave full of statues of people who had come to Scare City by mistake and been frightened stiff. You were lucky to escape.

"Well," admitted Peter with pardonable pride, "it's pretty hard to scare the Captain of a baseball team and Jack is not easily frightened either."

"So I see, er-saw," observed the Iffin politely.

"When we reach the Emerald City, Ozma will find a way to release all of these prisoners wherever they are, said Peter confidently. "But how did they capture you?"

"I dropped into the city at night," said the Iffin, "and before I saw how bad it was they overpowered and chained me up. They wanted me to stay and devour all travellers and even when I refused they kept me as a curiosity. And that's all I'll be from now on," it wheezed heavily. "I'll never get the taste of sulphur out of my throat, the picture of the Scares out of my mind or be able to growl again. I'm quite all wrong.

"You seem all right to me," said Peter, with a little sigh of content.

"Wait till you see the Emerald City. You'll forget all about the Scares and never ever want to leave again, will he Jack?"

"Never," answered Jack, with a solemn nod.

"I have heard the capitol is very lovely," mused the Iffin, "but my home is beautiful, too."

"Where do you live?" inquired Peter. Jack was too busy holding on his head to join in the conversation.

"In the Land of the Barons, among these hills." Pausing in mid air, the Iffin pointed with its claw to the rolling hillside below. Here and there above the trees and on the hill tops lordly castles reared their round, red towers. Flags fluttered from every turret and Peter had to admit that the Land of the Barons looked extremely interesting and gay.

"Are these barons pleasant fellows?" he asked, putting a steadying arm around Jack Pumpkinhead. The Iffin answered in verse: "If they're good, they're good as pie, But some are bad and make things fly~even me.

"You mean there are all kinds," mused Peter.

"Yes," said the Iffin. "And they're always fighting, but I don't mind battles. I just fly around till they're over and they're quite interesting to watch."

"I hope we don't land in the middle of a battle," sighed Peter. "And I hope the first Baron we meet is a good fellow and knows the way to the Emerald City."

"If he is, and if he does, we'll be as gay as never was; And if he's not and if he don't, we'll find a way, swumped if we won't!"

"You use such funny words," sniffed Peter, as the monster circled lower and lower. But the Iffin made no answer this time, for he was looking for a good place to land. Presently he found one, and next instant they dropped gently down into a peaceful valley. As Peter and Jack tumbled off in great excitement, Snif folded his wings and blinking self-consciously murmured, "Well, here we are. Do you like it?"

Chapter 6.

The Bearded Baron Appears.

AFTER Scare City almost any place would have looked beautiful to Jack and Peter, and this quiet valley overgrown with vines and sweet smelling flowers, seemed lovely indeed.

"You're a whiz, Snif," exclaimed the little boy, looking around appreciatively. "Why, you travel faster than an aeroplane. You're even better than one, for you can walk and talk as well as fly."

"Swim, too," grunted the Iffin, panting a little from the exertion of the journey. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll run along and find some geraniums. They grow wild around here and I'm wild about 'em."

"Don't get lost," begged Jack Pumpkinhead, for this accommodating new steed seemed almost too precious to let out of their sight. "Shall I go with him?" he whispered hurriedly to Peter.

"It might hurt his feelings," said Peter, dropping luxuriously into the long fine gra.s.s. "Let's rest till he comes back and then we can hunt up one of these barons and inquire the way to the Emerald City." Rolling over on his back and looking up at the drifting summer clouds, Peter gave a long sigh of content. "Why, this is almost as interesting as my last trip to Oz, Jack-travelling around with you this way and meeting an Iffin, and everything. No matter what happens we're not so badly off for we have a sack to swallow our enemies, a magic dinner bell to supply us with food and an enchanted steed to carry us wherever we wish to go. Gee, I wish some of the fellows were along! I wish my Grandfather had been with us in Scare City. You were great, Jack, to think of that dinner bell!"

"Was I?" Leaning against a tall young beech, Jack beamed down at Peter. "You were great, too," he insisted generously. "I never saw anyone throw so straight and so hard."

"Playing baseball does that," explained Peter, clasping his arms behind his head. "We'll have to have a game when we reach the capitol. Say look! Here are some wild strawberries." Scooping them up by the handful, Peter began to eat hungrily. "Did you ever see such large ones?"

"The Quadling Country is noted for its red fruits," answered Jack proudly, "its strawberries, apples, cherries and red bananas. Sometimes I wish I were made to enjoy eating," he finished, looking rather wistfully at Peter.

"You do miss a lot," agreed the little boy sympathetically, "but then on the other hand, you never suffer from hunger and could never starve to death. But here comes Snif." Swallowing the last of the strawberries Peter ran to meet the Iffin. Several geraniums still drooped from the corners of his mouth and he was loping along humming cheerfully to himself.

"All aboard for the Emerald City," he called merrily, as he came closer. "That ought to please your long-legged friend, there. He's all board from his neck down, anyway." Smiling at Snif's little joke, Peter picked up the pirate's sack, helped Jack to mount and sprang nimbly up behind him.

Are we going to fly or walk," he asked curiously.

"Waddle," puffed the Iffin with a droll wink. "I'm so full of geraniums I'd simply sink if I tried to fly, so if you're all ready we'll waddle along."

"I'm afraid waddling won't be at all good for my head," objected Jack, as the Iffin started off with swinging, uneven strides. Peter laughed as Jack continued to protest against waddling, but the Iffin was too busy practising gu-rrs to pay any attention to the Pumpkinhead.

"It's funny," it muttered between its teeth. "I can say gu-rr but I can't growl it, and until I can growl, I'm no griffin."

"Oh, what do you care," said Peter. "Any old grouch can growl, but not many can fly, swim, waddle and make verses like you do. I'd rather be an Iffin than a griffin, any day."

"That's because you never were either," sighed the big monster with a little shake of his head, and quickening his pace he galloped along so swiftly that Peter and Jack had all they could do to hang on. Once out of the valley, the country spread before them, like a gay and enchanting map.

Little patches of shadow lay on the velvety hills, small wooded parks dotted the hollows and many castles were visible in the distance. Beyond, a huge range of red mountains lifted their craggy heads to the sky.

"We'll stop at the first castle," decided the Iffin, jumping without effort a tall timber fence that enclosed one of the parks. Red deer scattered right and left, as the huge monster rushed by and they were progressing finely when, from the center of the park where the trees were thickest, came a sharp, shrill wail. "Perhaps we'd better try the second castle,"