Kabumpo in Oz, Ruth Plumly Thompson [the snowy day read aloud TXT] 📗
- Author: Ruth Plumly Thompson
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“Of course you would!” cried Peg, jumping up; “I forgot you had to eat.” So, very cautiously they stole into the royal cook’s garden. Wag had often helped himself to carrots from this garden before, but now sitting on his haunches he stared around in dazed surprise.
“Everything’s different!” wailed the rabbit dismally. “You’re the same and I’m the same but everything else is all mixed up. Look at this carrot. Why, it’s no bigger than a blade of grass.” Wag held up a carrot in disgust. “Why, it will take fifty of these to give me even a taste and the lettuce-look at it! Everything’s shrunk, even the houses!” cried the big funny bunny, looking around. “My wocks and hoop soons, sheverything’s hunk!”
Peg Amy had followed Wag’s gaze and now she jumped up in great excitement. “I see it now!” cried Peg. “It’s us, Wag. Everything’s the same but we are different. Some of that Mixed Magic has made us grow. We’re bigger and everything else is the same. I am as tall as the little girl who used to play with me and you are even bigger and I’m glad, because now we can help find the castle and Ruggedo and try to make everything right again.”
Peg clasped her wooden hands. “Aren’t you glad too, Wag?”
The rabbit shook his head. “It’s going to take an awful lot to fill me up,” he said doubtfully. “I’ll have to eat about six times as much as I used to.”
“Well, you’re six times as large; isn’t that any comfort?”
“My head doesn’t feel right,” insisted Wag. “As soon as I talk fast the words all come wrong.
“Maybe it didn’t grow as fast as the rest of you,” laughed the Wooden Doll. “But don’t you care, Wag. I know what you mean and I think you’re just splendid! Now hurry and finish your carrots so we can decide what to do.
“If Mixed Magic caused all this trouble,” added Peg half to herself, “Mixed Magic’s got to fix it. I’m going to look at that box.” Wag, nibbling industriously, had not heard Peg’s last speech or he would doubtless have taken to his heels.
Sitting unconcernedly in a cabbage bed, the Wooden Doll took the gold box from her pocket. Fortunately she had not snapped the magic snap and it opened quite easily. Her fingers were stiff and clumsy and the moon was the only light she had to see by, but it did not take Peg Amy long to realize the importance of Glegg’s magic.
“I wonder if he rubbed this on the castle,” she murmured, holding up the bottle of Vanishing Cream. “And how would one bring it back? Let me see, now. One after the other, she took out the bottles and boxes and the tiny tea set. The Re-animating Rays she passed over, without realizing they were responsible for bringing her to life, but the Question Box, Peg pounced upon with eager curiosity.
“Oh, if it only would answer questions!” fluttered Peg. Then, holding the box close to her mouth, she whispered, “Where is Ruggedo?”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Wag, looking up in alarm. “Now don’t you get mixed up, Peg!”
“It’s a Question Box,” said the Wooden Doll,“but it’s not working very well.” She shook it vigorously and held it up so that the light streaming down from the stable window fell directly on it. In silver letters on the lid of the box was one word-Ev!
“Ev-Ruggedo’s in Ev!” cried Peg Amy, rushing over to the rabbit. “Can you take me to Ev, Wag dear?”
“Of course,” said Wag, nibbling faster and faster at his carrots. “I’ll take you anywhere, Peg.”
“Then it’s going to be all right; I know it,” chuckled the Wooden Doll, and putting all the magic appliances back into the box she closed the lid with a snap. And this time the magic catch caught.
“Is it far to Ev?” asked Peg Amy, looking thoughtfully at the place where the castle had once been.
“Quite a long journey,” said Wag, “but we’ll go a hopping. Ev is near Ruggedo’s old home and it’s across the Deadly Desert, but we’ll get there somehow. Trust me. And when I do!” spluttered Wag, thumping his hind feet determinedly, “I’ll pound his curly toes off-the wicked little monster!”
“Did you ask the Question Box where the castle was?” he inquired hastily, for he saw Peg was going to tell him he must not pound Ruggedo.
“Why, no! How silly of me!” Peg felt in her pocket and brought out the gold box. She tried to open it as she had done before but it was no use. She pulled and tugged and shook it. Then Wag tried.
“There’s a secret to it,” puffed the rabbit at last. “Took Rug a whole night and day to discover it, Can’t you remember how you opened it before, Peg?”
The Wooden Doll shook her head sadly.
“Well, never mind,” said Wag comfortingly. “Once we find Ruggedo we can make him tell. We’d better start right off, because if any of the people around here saw us they might try to capture us and put us in a circus. We are rather unusual, you know.” The rabbit regarded Peg Amy complacently. “One doesn’t see six-foot rabbits and live dolls every day, even in Oz.”
“No,” agreed Peg Amy slowly, “I s’pose not!” The moon, looking down on the strange pair, ducked behind a cloud to hide her smile, for the giant funny bunny, strutting about pompously, and old-fashioned wooden Peg, in her torn frock, were enough to make anyone smile.
“You think of everything,” sighed Peg, looking affectionately at Wag.
“Who wouldn’t for a girl like you? You’re a Princess, Peg-a regular Princess.” The rabbit said it with conviction and again Peg happily smoothed her dress.
“Hop on,” chuckled Wag, “and then I’ll hop off.”
Seating herself on his back and holding tight to one of his long ears, Peg announced herself ready. Then away through the night shot the giant bunny-away toward the western country of the Winkies-and each hop carried him twelve feet forward, and sent up great spurts of dust behind.
WHILE Ruggedo was working all this mischief in the Emerald City, Pompadore and the Elegant Elephant had fallen into strange company. After the Prince’s disappearance, Kabumpo stared long and anxiously at the white marble stone with its mysterious inscription, “Knock before you fall in.”
What would happen if he knocked, as the sign directed? Something upsetting, the Elegant Elephant was sure, else why had Pompa called for help?
Kabumpo groaned, for he was a luxurious beast and hated discomfort of any sort. As for falling in-the very thought of it made him shudder in every pound. But selfish and luxurious though he was, the Elegant Elephant loved Pompa with all his heart. After all, he had run off with the Prince and was responsible for his safety. If Pompa had fallen in he must fall in too. With a resigned sigh, Kabumpo felt in his pocket to see that his treasures were safe, straightened his robe and, taking one last long breath, rapped sharply on the marble stone with his trunk. Without a sound, the stone swung inward, and as Kabumpo was standing on it he shot headlong into a great black opening. There was a terrific rush of air and the slab swung back, catching as it did so the fluttering edge of the Elegant Elephant’s robe of state. This halted his fall for about a second and then with a spluttering tear the silk fringe ripped loose and down plunged the Elegant Elephant, trunk over heels.
After the third somersault, Kabumpo, right side up, fortunately, struck a soft inclined slide, down which he shot like a scenic railway train.
“Great Grump!” coughed Kabumpo, holding his jeweled headpiece with his trunk. “Great-” Before he reached the second grump, his head struck the top of the passage with terrific force, and that was the last he remembered about his fall. How long he lay in an unconscious state the Elegant Elephant never knew. After what seemed several ages he became aware of a confused murmur. Footsteps seemed to be pattering all around him, but he was still too stunned to be curious.
“Nothing will make me get up,” thought Kabumpo dully. “I’m going to lie here forever and-ever-and ever-and-” Just as he reached this drowsy conclusion, something red hot fell down his neck and a voice louder than all the rest shouted in his ear. “What are you?”
“Ouch!” screamed Kabumpo, now thoroughly aroused. He opened one eye and rolled over on his side. A tall, curious creature was bending over him. Its head was on fire and as Kabumpo blinked angrily another red hot shower spattered into his ear. With a trumpet of rage Kabumpo lunged to his feet. The hot-headed person fell over backwards and a crowd of similar creatures pattered off into the corner and regarded Kabumpo uneasily. They were as tall as Pompa but very thin and tube-like in shape and their heads appeared to be a mass of flickering flames.
“Like giant candles,” reflected the Elegant Elephant, his curiosity getting the better of his anger. He glanced about hurriedly. He was in a huge white tiled chamber and the only lights came from the heads of its singular occupants. A little distance away Prince Pompadore sat rubbing first his knees and then his head.
“It’s another faller,” said one of the giant Candlemen to the other. “Two fallers in one day! This is exciting-an ‘Ouch’ it calls itself!”
“I don’t care what it calls itself,” answered the second Candleman crossly. “I call it mighty rude. How dare you blow out our king?” shouted the hot-headed fellow, shaking his fist at the Elegant Elephant. “Here, some of you, light him up!”
“Blow out your King?” gasped Kabumpo in amazement. Sure enough, he had. There at his feet lay the King of the Candles, stiff and lifeless and with never a head to bless himself with. While the Elegant Elephant stared at the long candlestick figure a fat little Candleman rushed forward and lit with his own head the small black wick sticking out of the King’s collar.
Instantly the ruddy flame face of the King appeared, his eyes snapping dangerously. Jumping to his feet he advanced toward Pompadore. “Is this your Ouch?” spluttered the King, jerking his thumb at Kabumpo. “You must take him away at once. I never was so put out in my life. Me, the hand-dipped King of the whole Illumi Nation, to be blown out by a bumpy creature without any headlight. Where’s your headlight?” he demanded fiercely, leaning over the Prince and dropping hot tallow down his neck.
Pompa jumped up in a hurry and backed toward Kabumpo. “Be careful how you talk to him,” roared the Elegant Elephant, swaying backwards and forward like a big ship. “He’s a Prince the Prince of Pumperdink!” Kabumpo tossed his trunk threateningly.
“A Prince?” spluttered the King, changing his tone instantly. “Well, that’s different. A Prince can fall in on us any time and welcome but an Ouch! Why bring this great clumsy Ouch along?” He rolled his eyes mournfully at Kabumpo.
“He’s not an Ouch,” explained Pompa, who was gradually recovering from the shock of his fall. “He is Kabumpo, an Elegant Elephant, and he blew you out by mistake. Didn’t you, Kabumpo?”
“Purely an accident-nothing intentional, I assure you,” chuckled Kabumpo. He was beginning to enjoy himself. “If there’s any more trouble I’ll blow ‘em all out,” he reflected comfortably, “for they’re nothing but great big candles.”
Seeing their King in friendly conversation with the strangers, the other Candlemen came closer-too close for
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