CHAPTER 2
The Wise Man Speaks
I suppose,
sighed the old soldier, stirring his coffee with the handle of his sword, it would do no good to hunt for the King’s head in the garden?
Drying out before the blazing fire in the kitchen stove and sipping Mrs Sew-and-Sew’s fragrant coffee the little company had grown more calm.
I’ll just have a look,
said Prince Tatters, pushing back his chair, but the old Wise Man shook an impatient finger at the very idea of such a thing.
When a King’s head goes off it goes off,
declared Pudge huskily—Way off as far off as it can go.
How far is that?
asked the old soldier. And—
Hush, I am thinking,
wheezed Pudge, ruffling up his hair with one hand and holding out his coffee cup with the other. I am thinking and presently I shall speak. Another cup of coffee, ma’am!
This was his seventh cup and after he had sipped it deliberately, scraped all the sugar out of the bottom and licked the spoon, he set down both cup and saucer, flung up his hands and spoke. Let Prince Tatters go in search of his father’s head,
said the old Wise Man of Ragbad. Let him seek at the same time his fortune, or a Princess with a fortune, for otherwise he will end as a common rag-picker.
But suppose,
objected Grampa, who tho’ an old bachelor himself had romantic ideas about marriage, suppose he cannot love a Princess with a fortune. Suppose—
It is not wisdom to suppose!
sniffed Pudge. Hush! I am thinking and presently I shall speak again.
He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead and after a short silence, during which Mrs Sew-and-Sew took a quick swallow of coffee and Grampa a hasty pinch of snuff, he spoke again. It is the rainy day,
announced Pudge in his most solemn voice, the rainy day I have long predicted. As the King has lost his head we must ourselves see what he has saved up for it. Come!
Marching to the King’s best bed chamber, Pudge flung open the cupboard and there beside Fumbo’s worn cloak hung the only thing he had saved up for a rainy day—a huge red umbrella.
And must Tatters go out into Oz with only this to protect him from danger?
wailed Mrs Sew-and-Sew, beginning to sneeze again.
No!
declared Grampa, stamping his good foot. I myself will accompany him!
Oh, Grampa!
cried the Prince, who was too young to realize the dangers of head hunting or the hardships of fortune finding, may we start at once?
Hush!
mumbled Pudge, holding up his finger, I am thinking.
Blowing out his cheeks, he stood perfectly quiet for about as long as it would take to count ten.
To-morrow morning will be the time to start,
said the old Wise Man. Let us return to the King.
Sobering a bit at the thought of his unfortunate father, Prince Tatters followed them down stairs, but every now and then he gave a little hop, for the idea of setting out upon such an adventure thrilled him tremendously. When they reached the throne room, Fumbo was leaning quietly against the post. He had evidently become more used to the loss of his head and was busily twiddling his thumbs.
If we could just get him a false head till we find his own,
sighed Grampa, thumping the King affectionately on the back, he would look more natural. Ah, I have it!
Plunging out into the wet garden, the old soldier plucked a huge cabbage and hurrying back set it upon the King’s shoulders. But no sooner had he done so than Fumbo broke the cord tying him to the pillar, rushed to the kitchen and tried to climb into the soup pot! Indeed, Mrs Sew-and-Sew snatched off his cabbage head just in time to save him from this further calamity.
Panting a little from the exertion and surprise they all sat down to think again. But by this time the news had spread into the village, and the twenty-four rustic laborers, the Miller, and the Baker and the Redsmith came hurrying to the castle to offer their services. They were subjects to be proud of, let me tell you, though a little odd looking in their patched and many colored garments. They listened in respectful silence while Grampa told all he knew of the strange plight of King Fumbo.
I will make the King an iron head,
volunteered the Redsmith eagerly. He had a forge next to the mill and did all the iron work in Ragbad.
No, no!
protested Grampa. Iron is too hard. Do you want Mrs Sew-and-Sew to break her knuckles?
he finished indignantly, then dodged behind a pillar, because it was not generally known that Mrs Sew-and-Sew boxed the King’s ears every morning.
I will make the King a new bun—er—head,
puffed the Baker, stepping forward importantly, a head as good as his own!
You mean a doughnut?
asked Grampa in astonishment. Why, that would be splendid!
Fortunately no one heard him this time and as Mrs Sew-and-Sew was pleased with the idea the Baker hurried into the kitchen and with several raisins, some flour, spices, milk and butter, kneaded up and baked a head that was the image of Fumbo’s own. It had melancholy prune eyes, red icing for hair and cinnamon whiskers. Once it had been glued on the King’s shoulders everyone drew a deep sigh of relief and Fumbo himself walked calmly to his throne and sat down. Promising to bake new heads as they were needed, the Baker said good-night, and as it was growing late the others said good-night too and marched back to the village to repair the damage done by the storm.
But in the castle itself, there was little sleep that night. King Fumbo never closed his prune eyes, for the Baker had given him no eyelids. Prince Tatters, though packed off early to bed, could do nothing but twist and turn and think of the wonderful adventures he would have seeking his fortune. Mrs Sew-and-Sew sat up till the morning star rose over Red Mountain, mending and piecing the few poor garments the Prince possessed, and thinking up good advice to give him with his breakfast.
Grampa, too, had much to occupy him, oiling his gun, packing his knapsack and polishing his sword and game leg. Many old soldiers do a lot of talking about game legs, but Grampa had the real genuine article. It buckled on at the knee and was an oblong red and white ivory box that opened out like a checker board when one wanted to play. Jointed neatly on the end of this was another red box that Grampa used for a foot, and that contained the little red figures one used for playing. The game itself was known as scrum and was a great favorite in Ragbad, being a bit like checkers, a bit like parcheesi and a bit like chess.
Grampa was very proud of his game leg, for it not only served him in place of the one he had lost in battle, but whiled away many dull hours, and being hollow was a splendid place to store his pipe and tobacco. The old soldier had seventy-five pipes and deciding which of these to carry with him took longer than all his other preparations. At last even this important matter was settled and he lay down to snatch a few hours’ sleep before morning. And morning came in almost no time, the sun rising so bright and cheerily that even Mrs Sew-and-Sew took heart, and when Grampa stuck his head in the kitchen door to see how breakfast was coming she told him how she intended to refurnish the entire castle when he returned with the King’s head and the fortune.
Fine!
cried the old soldier, who was in excellent spirits himself. And if you will just sew a button on this shirt I’ll be ready to start at once!
So while Grampa went on with the breakfast Mrs Sew-and-Sew, who was frightfully clever with her needle, sewed a button on the shirt. That was all Grampa needed to complete his outfit, so he hurried up stairs to waken the Prince, and at eight o’clock precisely the old soldier and Tatters issued forth from the palace gates.
Grampa wore the red uniform of the Ragbad Guards, with its scarlet coat and checkered trousers and carried not only his knapsack, gun and sword, but his trusty drum as well. Prince Tatters, over his many colored rag suit, had flung the shaggy skin of a thread bear, and with the big umbrella grasped firmly in one hand and a box of lunch in the other, presented so brave and determined an appearance that the twenty-seven good men of Ragbad, drawn up to bid them farewell, burst into loud cheers. The children waved their hats and handkerchiefs and strewed the path of the two heroes with the bunches of posies and ragweed they had risen at dawn to gather. Mrs Sew-and-Sew and the King stood on the balcony waving their arms—she waving both hers and his—for poor Fumbo, with his dough head, had no way of knowing what the excitement was all about and stood there without so much as blinking a prune.
Good-bye!
choked Mrs Sew-and-Sew, steadying Fumbo with one hand and fluttering her apron with the other. Don’t forget your father’s head!
Good-bye!
shouted Pudge, leaning far out of his window in the tower to wave his red night cap. Pudge never rose till ten.
Grampa touched his cap, Prince Tatters waved his umbrella, and having taken the patched flag of Ragbad from Scroggles, who had accompanied them thus far, they wheeled sharply to the left and marched down the broad red highway that led straight out into other and dangerous lands of Oz!
