Rinkitink In Oz, Lyman Frank Baum [free reads TXT] 📗

“So — so!” said Rinkitink softly; and then he paused a moment, as if in thought. Finally he said: “There are worse things than slavery, but I never imagined a well could be one of them. Tell me, Inga, could you let down some food to me? I’m nearly starved, and if you could manage to send me down some food I’d be well fed — hoo, hoo, heek, keek, eek! — well fed. Do you see the joke, Inga?”

“Do not ask me to enjoy a joke just now, Your Majesty,” begged Inga in a sad voice; “but if you will be patient I will try to find something for you to eat.”

He ran back to the ruins of the palace and began searching for bits of food with which to satisfy the hunger of the King, when to his surprise he observed the goat, Bilbil, wandering among the marble blocks.

“What!” cried Inga. “Didn’t the warriors get you, either?”

“If they had,” calmly replied Bilbil, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But how did you escape?” asked the boy.

“Easily enough. I kept my mouth shut and stayed away from the rascals,” said the goat. “I knew that the soldiers would not care for a skinny old beast like me, for to the eye of a stranger I seem good for nothing. Had they known I could talk, and that my head contained more wisdom than a hundred of their own noddles, I might not have escaped so easily.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said the boy.

“I suppose they got the old man?” carelessly remarked Bilbil.

“What old man?”

“Rinkitink.”

“Oh, no! His Majesty is at the bottom of the well,” said Inga, “and I don’t know how to get him out again.”

“Then let him stay there,” suggested the goat.

“That would be cruel. I am sure, Bilbil, that you are fond of the good King, your master, and do not mean what you say. Together, let us find some way to save poor King Rinkitink. He is a very jolly companion, and has a heart exceedingly kind and gentle.”

“Oh, well; the old boy isn’t so bad, taken altogether,” admitted Bilbil, speaking in a more friendly tone. “But his bad jokes and fat laughter tire me dreadfully, at times.”

Prince Inga now ran back to the well, the goat following more leisurely.

“Here’s Bilbil!” shouted the boy to the King. “The enemy didn’t get him, it seems.”

“That’s lucky for the enemy,” said Rinkitink. “But it’s lucky for me, too, for perhaps the beast can assist me out of this hole. If you can let a rope down the well, I am sure that you and Bilbil, pulling together, will be able to drag me to the earth’s surface.”

“Be patient and we will make the attempt,” replied Inga encouragingly, and he ran to search. the ruins for a rope. Presently he found one that had been used by the warriors in toppling over the towers, which in their haste they had neglected to remove, and with some difficulty he untied the knots and carried the rope to the mouth of the well.

Bilbil had lain down to sleep and the refrain of a merry song came in muffled tones from the well, proving that Rinkitink was making a patient endeavor to amuse himself.

“I’ve found a rope!” Inga called down to him; and then the boy proceeded to make a loop in one end of the rope, for the King to put his arms through, and the other end he placed over the drum of the windlass. He now aroused Bilbil and fastened the rope firmly around the goat’s shoulders.

“Are you ready?” asked the boy, leaning over the well.

“I am,” replied the King.

“And I am not,” growled the goat, “for I have not yet had my nap out. Old Rinki will be safe enough in the well until I’ve slept an hour or two longer.”

“But it is damp in the well,” protested the boy, “and King Rinkitink may catch the rheumatism, so that he will have to ride upon your back wherever he goes.”

Hearing this, Bilbil jumped up at once.

“Let’s get him out,” he said earnestly.

“Hold fast!” shouted Inga to the King. Then he seized the rope and helped Bilbil to pull. They soon found the task more difficult than they had supposed. Once or twice the King’s weight threatened to drag both the boy and the goat into the well, to keep Rinkitink company. But they pulled sturdily, being aware of this danger, and at last the King popped out of the hole and fell sprawling full length upon the ground.

For a time he lay panting and breathing hard to get his breath back, while Inga and Bilbil were likewise worn out from their long strain at the rope; so the three rested quietly upon the grass and looked at one another in silence.

Finally Bilbil said to the King: “I’m surprised at you. Why were you so foolish as to fall down that well? Don’t you know it’s a dangerous thing to do? You might have broken your neck in the fall, or been drowned in the water.”

“Bilbil,” replied the King solemnly, “you’re a goat. Do you imagine I fell down the well on purpose?”

“I imagine nothing,” retorted Bilbil. “I only know you were there.”

“There? Heh-heh-heek-keek-eek! To be sure I was there,” laughed Rinkitink. “There in a dark hole, where there was no light; there in a watery well, where the wetness soaked me through and through — keek-eek-eek-eek! — through and through!”

“How did it happen?” inquired Inga.

“I was running away from the enemy,” explained the King, “and I was carelessly looking over my shoulder at the same time, to see if they were chasing me. So I did not see the well, but stepped into it and found myself tumbling down to the bottom. I struck the water very neatly and began struggling to keep myself from drowning, but presently I found that when I stood upon my feet on the bottom of the well, that my chin was just above the water. So I stood still and yelled for help; but no one heard me.”

“If the warriors had heard you,” said Bilbil, “they would have pulled you out and carried you away to be a slave. Then you would have been obliged to work for a living, and that would be a new experience.”

“Work!” exclaimed Rinkitink. “Me work? Hoo, hoo, heek-keek-eek! How absurd! I’m so stout — not to say chubby — not to say fat — that I can hardly walk, and I couldn’t earn my salt at hard work. So I’m glad the enemy did not find me, Bilbil. How many others escaped?”

“That I do not know,” replied the boy, “for I have not yet had time to visit the other parts of the island. When you have rested and satisfied your royal hunger, it might be well for us to look around and see what the thieving warriors of Regos and Coregos have left us.”

“An excellent idea,” declared Rinkitink. “I am somewhat feeble from my long confinement in the well, but I can ride upon Bilbil’s back and we may as well start at once.”

Hearing this, Bilbil cast a surly glance at his master but said nothing, since it was really the goat’s business to carry King Rinkitink wherever he desired to go.

They first searched the ruins of the palace, and where the kitchen had once been they found a small quantity of food that had been half hidden by a block of marble. This they carefully placed in a sack to preserve it for future use, the little fat King having first eaten as much as he cared for. This consumed some time, for Rinkitink had been exceedingly hungry and liked to eat in a leisurely manner. When he had finished the meal he straddled Bilbil’s back and set out to explore the island, Prince Inga walking by his side.

They found on every hand ruin and desolation. The houses of the people had been pilfered of all valuables and then torn down or burned. Not a boat had been left upon the shore, nor was there a single person, man or woman or child, remaining upon the island, save themselves. The only inhabitants of Pingaree now consisted of a fat little King, a boy and a goat.

Even Rinkitink, merry hearted as he was, found it hard to laugh in the face of this mighty disaster. Even the goat, contrary to its usual habit, refrained from saying anything disagreeable. As for the poor boy whose home was now a wilderness, the tears came often to his eyes as he marked the ruin of his dearly loved island.

When, at nightfall, they reached the lower end of Pingaree and found it swept as bare as the rest, Inga’s grief was almost more than he could bear. Everything had been swept from him — parents, home and country — in so brief a time that his bewilderment was equal to his sorrow.

Since no house remained standing, in which they might sleep, the three wanderers crept beneath the overhanging branches of a cassa tree and curled themselves up as comfortably as possible. So tired and exhausted were they by the day’s anxieties and griefs that their troubles soon faded into the mists of dreamland. Beast and King and boy slumbered peacefully together until wakened by the singing of the birds which greeted the dawn of a new day.