“Well, I make Assorted Flutters for flags and bunting, and a superior grade of Rustles for ladies’ silk gowns.”
“I thought so,” said the Wizard, with a sigh. “May we examine some of these articles?”
“Yes, indeed; come into my shop, please,” and the braided man turned and led the way into a smaller cave, where he evidently lived. Here, on a broad shelf, were several cardboard boxes of various sizes, each tied with cotton cord.
“This,” said the man, taking up a box and handling it gently, “contains twelve dozen rustles—enough to last any lady a year. Will you buy it, my dear?” he asked, addressing Dorothy.
“My gown isn’t silk,” she said, smiling.
“Never mind. When you open the box the rustles will escape, whether you are wearing a silk dress or not,” said the man, seriously. Then he picked up another box. “In this,” he continued, “are many assorted flutters. They are invaluable to make flags flutter on a still day, when there is no wind. You, sir,” turning to the Wizard, “ought to have this assortment. Once you have tried my goods I am sure you will never be without them.”
“I have no money with me,” said the Wizard, evasively.
“I do not want money,” returned the braided man, “for I could not spend it in this deserted place if I had it. But I would like very much a blue hair-ribbon. You will notice my braids are tied with yellow, pink, brown, red, green, white and black; but I have no blue ribbons.”
“I’ll get you one!” cried Dorothy, who was sorry for the poor man; so she ran back to the buggy and took from her suit-case a pretty blue ribbon. It did her good to see how the braided man’s eyes sparkled when he received this treasure.
“You have made me very, very happy, my dear!” he exclaimed; and then he insisted on the Wizard taking the box of flutters and the little girl accepting the box of rustles.
“You may need them, some time,” he said, “and there is really no use in my manufacturing these things unless somebody uses them.”
“Why did you leave the surface of the earth?” enquired the Wizard.
“I could not help it. It is a sad story, but if you will try to restrain your tears I will tell you about it. On earth I was a manufacturer of Imported Holes for American Swiss Cheese, and I will acknowledge that I supplied a superior article, which was in great demand. Also I made pores for porous plasters and high-grade holes for doughnuts and buttons. Finally I invented a new Adjustable Post-hole, which I thought would make my fortune. I manufactured a large quantity of these post-holes, and having no room in which to store them I set them all end to end and put the top one in the ground. That made an extraordinary long hole, as you may imagine, and reached far down into the earth; and, as I leaned over it to try to see to the bottom, I lost my balance and tumbled in. Unfortunately, the hole led directly into the vast space you see outside this mountain; but I managed to catch a point of rock that projected from this cavern, and so saved myself from tumbling headlong into the black waves beneath, where the tongues of flame that dart out would certainly have consumed me. Here, then, I made my home; and although it is a lonely place I amuse myself making rustles and flutters, and so get along very nicely.”
When the braided man had completed this strange tale Dorothy nearly laughed, because it was all so absurd; but the Wizard tapped his forehead significantly, to indicate that he thought the poor man was crazy. So they politely bade him good day, and went back to the outer cavern to resume their journey.
11. They Meet the Wooden Gargoyles
Another breathless climb brought our adventurers to a third landing where there was a rift in the mountain. On peering out all they could see was rolling banks of clouds, so thick that they obscured all else.
But the travellers were obliged to rest, and while they were sitting on the rocky floor the Wizard felt in his pocket and brought out the nine tiny piglets. To his delight they were now plainly visible, which proved that they had passed beyond the influence of the magical Valley of Voe.
“Why, we can see each other again!” cried one, joyfully.
“Yes,” sighed Eureka; “and I also can see you again, and the sight makes me dreadfully hungry. Please, Mr. Wizard, may I eat just one of the fat little piglets? You’d never miss ONE of them, I’m sure!”
“What a horrid, savage beast!” exclaimed a piglet; “and after we’ve been such good friends, too, and played with one another!”
“When I’m not hungry, I love to play with you all,” said the kitten, demurely; “but when my stomach is empty it seems that nothing would fill it so nicely as a fat piglet.”
“And we trusted you so!” said another of the nine, reproachfully.
“And thought you were respectable!” said another.
“It seems we were mistaken,” declared a third, looking at the kitten timorously, “no one with such murderous desires should belong to our party, I’m sure.”
“You see, Eureka,” remarked Dorothy, reprovingly, “you are making yourself disliked. There are certain things proper for a kitten to eat; but I never heard of a kitten eating a pig, under ANY cir’stances.”
“Did you ever see such little pigs before?” asked the kitten. “They are no bigger than mice, and I’m sure mice are proper for me to eat.”
“It isn’t the bigness, dear; its the variety,” replied the girl. “These are Mr. Wizard’s pets, just as you are my pet, and it wouldn’t be any more proper for you to eat them than it would be for Jim to eat you.”
“And that’s just what I shall do if you don’t let those little balls of pork alone,” said Jim, glaring at the kitten with his round, big eyes. “If you injure any one of them I’ll chew you up instantly.”
The kitten looked at the horse thoughtfully, as if trying to decide whether he meant it or not.
“In that case,” she said, “I’ll leave them alone. You haven’t many teeth left, Jim, but the few you have are sharp enough to make me shudder. So the piglets will be perfectly safe, hereafter, as far as I am concerned.”
“That is right, Eureka,” remarked the Wizard, earnestly. “Let us all be a happy family and love one another.”
Eureka yawned and stretched herself.
“I’ve always loved the piglets,” she said; “but they don’t love me.”
“No one can love a person he’s afraid of,” asserted Dorothy. “If you behave, and don’t scare the little pigs, I’m sure they’ll grow very fond of you.”
The Wizard now put the nine tiny ones back into his pocket and the journey was resumed.
“We must be pretty near the top, now,” said the boy, as they climbed wearily up the dark, winding stairway.
“The Country of the Gurgles can’t be far from the top of the earth,” remarked Dorothy. “It isn’t very nice down here. I’d like to get home again, I’m sure.”
No one replied to this, because they found they needed all their breath for the climb. The stairs had become narrower and Zeb and the Wizard often had to help Jim pull the buggy from one step to another, or keep it from jamming against the rocky walls.
At last, however, a dim light appeared ahead of them, which grew clearer and stronger as they advanced.
“Thank goodness we’re nearly there!” panted the little Wizard.
Jim, who was in advance, saw the last stair before him and stuck his head above the rocky sides of the stairway. Then he halted, ducked down