Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
and soon they were all standing together upon the platform, with eight
of the much prized wooden wings beside them.
The boy was no longer sleepy, but full of energy and excitement. He put
the harness together again and hitched Jim to the buggy. Then, with the
Wizard's help, he tried to fasten some of the wings to the old
cab-horse.
This was no easy task, because half of each one of the hinges of the
wings was missing, it being still fastened to the body of the Gargoyle
who had used it. However, the Wizard went once more to his
satchel--which seemed to contain a surprising variety of odds and
ends--and brought out a spool of strong wire, by means of which they
managed to fasten four of the wings to Jim's harness, two near his head
and two near his tail. They were a bit wiggley, but secure enough if
only the harness held together.
The other four wings were then fastened to the buggy, two on each side,
for the buggy must bear the weight of the children and the Wizard as it
flew through the air.
These preparations had not consumed a great deal of time, but the
sleeping Gargoyles were beginning to wake up and move around, and soon
some of them would be hunting for their missing wings. So the prisoners
resolved to leave their prison at once.
They mounted into the buggy, Dorothy holding Eureka safe in her lap. The
girl sat in the middle of the seat, with Zeb and the Wizard on each side
of her. When all was ready the boy shook the reins and said:
"Fly away, Jim!"
"Which wings must I flop first?" asked the cab-horse, undecidedly.
"Flop them all together," suggested the Wizard.
"Some of them are crooked," objected the horse.
"Never mind; we will steer with the wings on the buggy," said Zeb. "Just
you light out and make for that rock, Jim; and don't waste any time
about it, either."
So the horse gave a groan, flopped its four wings all together, and flew
away from the platform. Dorothy was a little anxious about the success
of their trip, for the way Jim arched his long neck and spread out his
bony legs as he fluttered and floundered through the air was enough to
make anybody nervous. He groaned, too, as if frightened, and the wings
creaked dreadfully because the Wizard had forgotten to oil them; but
they kept fairly good time with the wings of the buggy, so that they
made excellent progress from the start. The only thing that anyone could
complain of with justice was the fact that they wobbled first up and
then down, as if the road were rocky instead of being as smooth as the
air could make it.
The main point, however, was that they flew, and flew swiftly, if a bit
unevenly, toward the rock for which they had headed.
Some of the Gargoyles saw them, presently, and lost no time in
collecting a band to pursue the escaping prisoners; so that when Dorothy
happened to look back she saw them coming in a great cloud that almost
darkened the sky.
CHAPTER 13.
THE DEN OF THE DRAGONETTES
Our friends had a good start and were able to maintain it, for with
their eight wings they could go just as fast as could the Gargoyles. All
the way to the great rock the wooden people followed them, and when Jim
finally alighted at the mouth of the cavern the pursuers were still some
distance away.
"But, I'm afraid they'll catch us yet," said Dorothy, greatly excited.
"No; we must stop them," declared the Wizard. "Quick Zeb, help me pull
off these wooden wings!"
They tore off the wings, for which they had no further use, and the
Wizard piled them in a heap just outside the entrance to the cavern.
Then he poured over them all the kerosene oil that was left in his
oil-can, and lighting a match set fire to the pile.
The flames leaped up at once and the bonfire began to smoke and roar and
crackle just as the great army of wooden Gargoyles arrived. The
creatures drew back at once, being filled with fear and horror; for such
a dreadful thing as a fire they had never before known in all the
history of their wooden land.
Inside the archway were several doors, leading to different rooms built
into the mountain, and Zeb and the Wizard lifted these wooden doors from
their hinges and tossed them all on the flames.
"That will prove a barrier for some time to come," said the little man,
smiling pleasantly all over his wrinkled face at the success of their
stratagem. "Perhaps the flames will set fire to all that miserable
wooden country, and if it does the loss will be very small and the
Gargoyles never will be missed. But come, my children; let us explore
the mountain and discover which way we must go in order to escape from
this cavern, which is getting to be almost as hot as a bake-oven."
To their disappointment there was within this mountain no regular flight
of steps by means of which they could mount to the earth's surface. A
sort of inclined tunnel led upward for a way, and they found the floor
of it both rough and steep. Then a sudden turn brought them to a narrow
gallery where the buggy could not pass. This delayed and bothered them
for a while, because they did not wish to leave the buggy behind them.
It carried their baggage and was useful to ride in wherever there were
good roads, and since it had accompanied them so far in their travels
they felt it their duty to preserve it. So Zeb and the Wizard set to
work and took off the wheels and the top, and then they put the buggy
edgewise, so it would take up the smallest space. In this position they
managed, with the aid of the patient cab-horse, to drag the vehicle
through the narrow part of the passage. It was not a great distance,
fortunately, and when the path grew broader they put the buggy together
again and proceeded more comfortably. But the road was nothing more than
a series of rifts or cracks in the mountain, and it went zig-zag in
every direction, slanting first up and then down until they were puzzled
as to whether they were any nearer to the top of the earth than when
they had started, hours before.
"Anyhow," said Dorothy, "we've 'scaped those awful Gurgles, and that's
_one_ comfort!"
"Probably the Gargoyles are still busy trying to put out the fire,"
returned the Wizard. "But even if they succeeded in doing that it
would be very difficult for them to fly amongst these rocks; so I am
sure we need fear them no longer."
Once in a while they would come to a deep crack in the floor, which made
the way quite dangerous; but there was still enough oil in the lanterns
to give them light, and the cracks were not so wide but that they were
able to jump over them. Sometimes they had to climb over heaps of loose
rock, where Jim could scarcely drag the buggy. At such times Dorothy,
Zeb and the Wizard all pushed behind, and lifted the wheels over the
roughest places; so they managed, by dint of hard work, to keep going.
But the little party was both weary and discouraged when at last, on
turning a sharp corner, the wanderers found themselves in a vast cave
arching high over their heads and having a smooth, level floor.
The cave was circular in shape, and all around its edge, near to the
ground, appeared groups of dull yellow lights, two of them being always
side by side. These were motionless at first, but soon began to flicker
more brightly and to sway slowly from side to side and then up and down.
"What sort of a place is this?" asked the boy, trying to see more
clearly through the gloom.
"I cannot imagine, I'm sure," answered the Wizard, also peering about.
"Woogh!" snarled Eureka, arching her back until her hair stood straight
on end; "it's a den of alligators, or crocodiles, or some other dreadful
creatures! Don't you see their terrible eyes?"
"Eureka sees better in the dark than we can," whispered Dorothy. "Tell
us, dear, what do the creatures look like?" she asked, addressing her
pet.
"I simply can't describe 'em," answered the kitten, shuddering. "Their
eyes are like pie-plates and their mouths like coal-scuttles. But their
bodies don't seem very big."
"Where are they?" enquired the girl.
"They are in little pockets all around the edge of this cavern. Oh,
Dorothy--you can't imagine what horrid things they are! They're uglier
than the Gargoyles."
"Tut-tut! be careful how you criticise your neighbors," spoke a rasping
voice near by. "As a matter of fact you are rather ugly-looking
creatures yourselves, and I'm sure mother has often told us we were the
loveliest and prettiest things in all the world."
Hearing these words our friends turned in the direction of the sound,
and the Wizard held his lanterns so that their light would flood one of
the little pockets in the rock.
"Why, it's a dragon!" he exclaimed.
"No," answered the owner of the big yellow eyes which were blinking at
them so steadily; "you are wrong about that. We hope to grow to be
dragons some day, but just now we're only dragonettes."
"What's that?" asked Dorothy, gazing fearfully at the great scaley head,
the yawning mouth and the big eyes.
"Young dragons, of course; but we are not allowed to call ourselves real
dragons until we get our full growth," was the reply. "The big dragons
are very proud, and don't think children amount to much; but mother says
that some day we will all be very powerful and important."
"Where is your mother?" asked the Wizard, anxiously looking around.
"She has gone up to the top of the earth to hunt for our dinner. If she
has good luck she will bring us an elephant, or a brace of rhinoceri, or
perhaps a few dozen people to stay our hunger."
"Oh; are you hungry?" enquired Dorothy, drawing back.
"Very," said the dragonette, snapping its jaws.
"And--and--do you eat people?"
"To be sure, when we can get them. But they've been very scarce for a
few years and we usually have to be content with elephants or
buffaloes," answered the creature, in a regretful tone.
"How old are you?" enquired Zeb, who stared at the yellow eyes as if
fascinated.
"Quite young, I grieve to say; and all of my brothers and sisters that
you see here are practically my own age. If I remember rightly, we were
sixty-six years old the day before yesterday."
"But that isn't young!" cried Dorothy, in amazement.
"No?" drawled the dragonette; "it seems to me very babyish."
"How old is your mother?" asked the girl.
"Mother's about two thousand years old; but she carelessly lost track of
her age a few centuries ago and skipped several hundreds. She's a little
fussy, you know, and afraid of growing old, being a widow and still in
her prime."
"I should think she would be," agreed Dorothy. Then, after a moment's
thought, she asked: "Are we friends or enemies? I mean, will you be good
to us, or do you intend to eat us?"
"As for that, we dragonettes would love to eat you, my child; but
unfortunately mother has tied all our tails around the rocks at the back
of our individual caves, so that we can not crawl out to get you. If you
choose to come nearer we will make a mouthful of you in a wink; but
unless you do you will remain quite safe."
There was a regretful accent in the creature's voice, and at the words
all the other dragonettes sighed dismally.
Dorothy felt relieved. Presently she asked:
"Why did your mother tie your tails?"
"Oh, she is sometimes gone for several weeks on her hunting trips, and
if we were not tied we would crawl all over the mountain and fight with
each other and get into a lot of mischief. Mother usually knows what she
is about, but she made a mistake this time; for you are sure to escape
us unless you come too near, and you probably won't do that."
"No, indeed!" said the little girl. "We don't wish to be eaten by such
awful beasts."