Glinda of Oz, Lyman Frank Baum [ereader with android .TXT] 📗
- Author: Lyman Frank Baum
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The girls went in, single file, and Ozma explained that they were now behind the barrier and could go back to the entrance. They met no further obstructions.
“Most people, Ozma, wouldn’t have figured this thing out the way you did,” remarked Dorothy. “If I’d been alone the invisible wall surely would have stumped me.”
Reaching the entrance they began to mount the stone stairs. They went up ten stairs and then down five stairs, following a passage cut from the rock. The stairs were just wide enough for the two girls to walk abreast, arm in arm. At the bottom of the five stairs the passage turned to the right, and they ascended ten more stairs, only to find at the top of the flight five stairs leading straight down again. Again the passage turned abruptly, this time to the left, and ten more stairs led upward.
The passage was now quite dark, for they were in the heart of the mountain and all daylight had been shut out by the turns of the passage. However, Ozma drew her silver wand from her bosom and the great jewel at its end gave out a lustrous, green-tinted light which lighted the place well enough for them to see their way plainly.
Ten steps up, five steps down, and a turn, this way or that. That was the program, and Dorothy figured that they were only gaining five stairs upward each trip that they made.
“Those Flatheads must be funny people,” she said to Ozma. “They don’t seem to do anything in a bold straightforward manner. In making this passage they forced everyone to walk three times as far as is necessary. And of course this trip is just as tiresome to the Flatheads as it is to other folks.”
“That is true,” answered Ozma; “yet it is a clever arrangement to prevent their being surprised by intruders. Every time we reach the tenth step of a flight, the pressure of our feet on the stone makes a bell ring on top of the mountain, to warn the Flatheads of our coming.”
“How do you know that?” demanded Dorothy, astonished.
“I’ve heard the bell ever since we started,” Ozma told her. “You could not hear it, I know, but when I am holding my wand in my hand I can hear sounds a great distance off.”
“Do you hear anything on top of the mountain ‘cept the bell?” inquired Dorothy
“Yes. The people are calling to one another in alarm and many footsteps are approaching the place where we will reach the flat top of the mountain.”
This made Dorothy feel somewhat anxious. “I’d thought we were going to visit just common, ordinary people,” she remarked, “but they’re pretty clever, it seems, and they know some kinds of magic, too. They may be dangerous, Ozma. P’raps we’d better stayed at home.”
Finally the upstairs-and-downstairs passage seemed coming to an end, for daylight again appeared ahead of the two girls and Ozma replaced her wand in the bosom of her gown. The last ten steps brought them to the surface, where they found themselves surrounded by such a throng of queer people that for a time they halted, speechless, and stared into the faces that confronted them.
Dorothy knew at once why these mountain people were called Flatheads. Their heads were really flat on top, as if they had been cut off just above the eyes and ears. Also the heads were bald, with no hair on top at all, and the ears were big and stuck straight out, and the noses were small and stubby, while the mouths of the Flatheads were well shaped and not unusual. Their eyes were perhaps their best feature, being large and bright and a deep violet in color.
The costumes of the Flatheads were all made of metals dug from their mountain. Small gold, silver, tin and iron discs, about the size of pennies, and very thin, were cleverly wired together and made to form knee trousers and jackets for the men and skirts and waists for the women. The colored metals were skillfully mixed to form stripes and checks of various sorts, so that the costumes were quite gorgeous and reminded Dorothy of pictures she had seen of Knights of old clothed armor.
Aside from their flat heads, these people were not really bad looking. The men were armed with bows and arrows and had small axes of steel stuck in their metal belts. They wore no hats nor ornaments.
When they saw that the intruders on their mountain were only two little girls, the Flatheads grunted with satisfaction and drew back, permitting them to see what the mountain top looked like. It was shaped like a saucer, so that the houses and other buildings — all made of rocks — could not be seen over the edge by anyone standing in the plain below.
But now a big fat Flathead stood before the girls and in a gruff voice demanded:
“What are you doing here? Have the Skeezers sent you to spy upon us?”
“I am Princess Ozma, Ruler of all the Land of Oz.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of the Land of Oz, so you may be what you claim,” returned the Flathead.
“This is the Land of Oz — part of it, anyway,” exclaimed Dorothy. “So Princess Ozma rules you Flathead people, as well as all the other people in Oz.”
The man laughed, and all the others who stood around laughed, too. Some one in the crowd called:
“She’d better not tell the Supreme Dictator about ruling the Flatheads. Eh, friends?”
“No, indeed!” they all answered in positive tones.
“Who is your Supreme Dictator?” answered Ozma.
“I think I’ll let him tell you that himself,” answered the man who had first spoken. “You have broken our laws by coming here; and whoever you are the Supreme Dictator must fix your punishment. Come along with me.”
He started down a path and Ozma and Dorothy followed him without protest, as they wanted to see the most important person in this queer country. The houses they passed seemed pleasant enough and each had a little yard in which were flowers and vegetables. Walls of rock separated the dwellings, and all the paths were paved with smooth slabs of rock. This seemed their only building material and they utilized it cleverly for every purpose.
Directly in the center of the great saucer stood a larger building which the Flathead informed the girls was the palace of the Supreme Dictator. He led them through an entrance hall into a big reception room, where they sat upon stone benches and awaited the coming of the Dictator. Pretty soon he entered from another room — a rather lean and rather old Flathead, dressed much like the others of this strange race, and only distinguished from them by the sly and cunning expression of his face. He kept his eyes half closed and looked through the slits of them at Ozma and Dorothy, who rose to receive him.
“Are you the Supreme Dictator of the Flatheads?” inquired Ozma.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, rubbing his hands slowly together. “My word is law. I’m the head of the Flatheads on this flat headland.”
“I am Princess Ozma of Oz, and I have come from the Emerald City to —”
“Stop a minute,” interrupted the Dictator, and turned to the man who had brought the girls there. “Go away, Dictator Felo Flathead!” he commanded. “Return to your duty and guard the Stairway. I will look after these strangers.” The man bowed and departed, and Dorothy asked wonderingly:
“Is he a Dictator, too?”
“Of course,” was the answer. “Everybody here is a dictator of something or other. They’re all office holders. That’s what keeps them contented. But I’m the Supreme Dictator of all, and I’m elected once a year. This is a democracy, you know, where the people are allowed to vote for their rulers. A good many others would like to be Supreme Dictator, but as I made a law that I am always to count the votes myself, I am always elected.”
“What is your name?” asked Ozma.
“I am called the Su-dic, which is short for Supreme Dictator. I sent that man away because the moment you mentioned Ozma of Oz, and the Emerald City, I knew who you are. I suppose I’m the only Flathead that ever heard of you, but that’s because I have more brains than the rest.”
Dorothy was staring hard at the Su-dic.
“I don’t see how you can have any brains at all,” she remarked, “because the part of your head is gone where brains are kept.”
“I don’t blame you for thinking that,” he said. “Once the Flatheads had no brains because, as you say, there is no upper part to their heads, to hold brains. But long, long ago a band of fairies flew over this country and made it all a fairyland, and when they came to the Flatheads the fairies were sorry to find them all very stupid and quite unable to think. So, as there was no good place in their bodies in which to put brains the Fairy Queen gave each one of us a nice can of brains to carry in his pocket and that made us just as intelligent as other people. See,” he continued, “here is one of the cans of brains the fairies gave us.” He took from a pocket a bright tin can having a pretty red label on it which said: Concentrated Brains, Extra Quality.”
“And does every Flathead have the same kind of brains?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes, they’re all alike. Here’s another can.” From another pocket he produced a second can of brains.
“Did the fairies give you a double supply?” inquired Dorothy.
“No, but one of the Flatheads thought he wanted to be the Su-dic and tried to get my people to rebel against me, so I punished him by taking away his brains. One day my wife scolded me severely, so I took away her can of brains. She didn’t like that and went out and robbed several women of their brains. Then I made a law that if anyone stole another’s brains, or even tried to borrow them, he would forfeit his own brains to the Su-dic. So each one is content with his own canned brains and my wife and I are the only ones on the mountain with more than one can. I have three cans and that makes me very clever — so clever that I’m a good Sorcerer, if I do say it myself. My poor wife had four cans of brains and became a remarkable witch, but alas! that was before those terrible enemies, the Skeezers, transformed her into a Golden Pig.”
“Good gracious!” cried Dorothy; “is your wife really a Golden Pig?”
“She is. The Skeezers did it and so I have declared war on them. In revenge for making my wife a Pig I intend to ruin their Magic Island and make the Skeezers the slaves of the Flatheads!”
The Su-dic was very angry now; his eyes flashed and his face took on a wicked and fierce expression. But Ozma said to him, very sweetly and in a friendly voice:
“I am sorry to hear this. Will you please tell me more about your troubles with the Skeezers? Then perhaps I can help you.”
She was only a girl, but there was dignity in her pose and speech which impressed the Su-dic.
“If you are really Princess Ozma of Oz,” the Flathead said, “you are one of that band of fairies who, under Queen Lurline, made all Oz a Fairyland. I have heard that Lurline left one of her own fairies to rule Oz, and gave the fairy the name of Ozma.”
“If you
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