  Saved by a Flyaboutabus Groaning because he had been foolish enough to trust the Uns, the Cowardly Lion ran up and down the edge of the skyle. There was no doubt about it, Bob and Notta had been pushed off while he was asleep. Then a tree, jutting far over the edge, attracted his attention. It was swaying and trembling in a most unusual fashion. At the same time the faint cries that had awakened him were repeated. With a frightened gulp, the lion saw the two fishing lines tied to the tree and, winding his tail firmly around the slim trunk, began pulling up the first of the lines. It was hard work and two or three times he was almost drawn over the edge, but he never hesitated, and presently he had dragged Notta safely back to land. The clown waved his hands feebly, then lay on his stomach and panted like a fish. Without waiting to restore him, the Cowardly Lion began to pull up the other line, and presently Bob, also breathless and panting, lay beside the clown. They were not only breathless, but quite wet—having fallen into a cloud. The lion, puffing a little himself, watched anxiously. Notta, with a long and final gasp, sat up and gave a little sigh of relief. "That makes the second time you've saved my life," said Notta faintly. "What happened?" asked the Cowardly Lion. "Well, first," said the clown, talking in little jerks and pausing every few minutes to pat Bob on the back, "first, I fell asleep, then, I fell awake. And if it hadn't been for these disguises I should have been cut in two." "The Uns?" asked the lion, opening his eyes very wide. "Yes," said Notta, and told how the Featherheads had pushed both Bob and himself from the skyle and, without stopping to notice that they were tied or to touch the Cowardly Lion, had run off without making a sound. "It was a mighty good thing we were anchored, eh, Bob, my boy? Feel better?" Bob shook his head uncertainly, for he was still frightened and dizzy from swinging through the air. The stars had faded out and the sun had not yet risen and in the cold gray mist of early morning the three huddled together and tried to think what to do. "First, let's get away from the edge," shuddered the Cowardly Lion. Cutting the fishing lines that had saved their lives, Notta set Bob on the Cowardly Lion's back and they moved slowly in the half darkness toward the center of the skyle. The Uns evidently had gone off to their homes, and with some matches Notta had tucked under his wonderful belt they kindled a little fire and soon were dry and much more cheerful. Bob immediately went to sleep, but Notta and the Cowardly Lion kept watch. For an hour there was not a sound. Then the noise of someone sawing wood came distinctly through the still air. Leaving the Cowardly Lion on guard, Notta went to investigate. He tiptoed along quietly, resolved if it were an Un to wish him away to Mudge. As he advanced the sawing grew louder and louder and, peering around a large tree, he saw a huge and ridiculous bird flopped over against a rock, snoring at a great rate. As Notta looked the bird opened one eye, stamped its big claws fretfully, and immediately fell to snoring again. The clown took off his cap, scratched his ear and then burst into a loud peal of laughter, which he could not have helped had he died the next minute. The bird stopped snoring instantly, and opened both eyes. "What do you mean by waking me when I was sound asleep," it chirped crossly. "A great many sounds of sleep," corrected Notta, winking at the singular creature. "I thought someone was sawing down a tree." "Did you?" The bird looked rather proud and began to puff out its feathers. "I'm the loudest snorer in the sky," it announced, strutting about self-consciously. "That's why my beak curls in this convenient fashion." It was the bird's beak that had made Notta laugh in the first place. It was long and blue, and curved so that it could fit over the comical creature's ear like a personal telephone connection. "But why does it curl?" asked Notta, sitting down and staring at the bird intently. "So I can hear myself snore," replied the bird. "As soon as I snore in my own ear I wake up and stop snoring." With its claw the Snorer adjusted its beak, much as one would adjust a pair of spectacles, and looked blandly at Notta. "I'm unusual—don't you think?" "Unusual," whistled the Clown. "I'll say you are! And never have I seen such a country. Why, if I could take along a few of these freaks, I'd have the finest show on earth." He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully as he thought of the Mudgers, the Half-Lion, and now this bewildering bird. Snorer was about the size of a small child, with enormous feet, short legs and pink feathers. His head was somewhat like that of a large crane, and his eyes were as blue as his beak. "Why are you on the Isle of Un?" asked Notta, as the creature continued to look solemnly at him. "Because I'm unusual," said the bird with a triumphant little hop. "But why are you here?" "Because I'm unlucky, I guess," sighed the clown ruefully. "Won't you come along and meet my friends?" "Yes, I'll come with you," said the bird calmly. It put its head on one side and looked at Notta. "You're beautiful," it sighed tremulously, "beautifully beautiful. I love you!" Notta had all he could do to keep from laughing, but seeing that Snorer was really in earnest, he patted it awkwardly on the head, and started back, the bird hopping happily beside him. "What's this you've caught?" asked the Cowardly Lion, blinking suspiciously at Notta's odd companion. As for Bob, who had wakened a moment before, he gave a little shout of laughter. "It's because I'm so unusual," whispered Snorer, putting up a claw and winking at Notta. "Tell them my name's Nickadoodle." So Notta gravely introduced Nick to Bob and the Cowardly Lion and, after Nick carefully explained his queer telephone nose, the four regarded one another with deep interest. "Maybe you can tell us the way to escape from Un," suggested the Cowardly Lion in a rather choked voice, for every time he looked at Nick, he felt like roaring. Before Snorer could answer, Bob, who had been staring fixedly at the Cowardly Lion, burst out laughing. "What's the matter?" demanded the Cowardly Lion gruffly. "What's the matter?" asked Notta. Then he too clapped his hand to his mouth and began to rock backward and forward. "Feathers!" gasped the clown, "You've a big bunch of blue feathers in your mane!" "What?" roared the Cowardly Lion, angrily putting his paw to his head. "Oh, everyone grows feathers in Un," chirped Nick cheerily, hopping toward Bob. "Take off your cap and see." Snatching off his hat Bob ran his fingers hastily through his hair. Horrors! Right at the crown of his head were at least ten stiff red feathers. Notta had as many green ones, but his hung down over his right eye when he took off his cap. The desire to laugh at Snorer suddenly left them. To laugh at someone who was funny was one thing, but to be funny yourself—well, that was different! "You'll soon have as many feathers as I have," chuckled Nick, regarding them with his head on one side. "I think they're quite becoming!" "Becoming!" screamed the Cowardly Lion. "Well, they'll be coming out by the roots. It's bad enough to be chicken hearted, but being feather headed, I simply will not stand!" He gave the bunch of feathers a furious tweak, but he might as well have tried to pull off his ears. "We've got to get off this skyland," blustered the poor lion, stamping around in a fury. "I'll jump off before I grow another feather." Bob was thinking that his would come in mighty handy for playing Indian. "I suppose we'll soon grow enough to fly off," said Notta, blowing the green feathers out of his eye and pushing them back under his chap. "I say, Nickadoodle, can't you tell us a way out of this?" "I'll tell you one thing," murmured the great bird, nestling close to Notta. "You're beautiful, beau-ti-ful!" He rolled his eyes rapturously. "Well, if you don't want my beauty broken to pieces tell us a way to escape," begged the clown, looking nervously toward the edge of the skyland. "There's only one way for you to leave," said Snorer, "and that is in the royal Flyaboutabus." "What is it?" choked Notta. "Where is it?" roared the Cowardly Lion. "Tied to a tree near the palace. But we'll have to wait till the Uns go to wish," replied Nick, rubbing his head against Notta's knee. And while the three listened in amazement Snorer told them a bit about life on the Isle of Un. No one on Un, explained Nick gravely, ever worked, but each morning they went regularly to wish, and nothing was allowed to interrupt their wishing. For three hours they shouted their wishes as loudly as they could, and I-wish-I-was, because he could wish faster and shout louder than any of the rest, had been made king. "You'll hear them at it soon," said Snorer, adjusting his nose, "and that's the best time for you to leave. Afternoons they fish and evenings they fight. Wish, fish and fight—that's the program here." "But how do they get anything done?" asked Notta, standing on his head to settle his feathers. "They don't," replied Snorer calmly. "Everything is undone; and about your feathers," he pointed his claw at the Cowardly Lion's mane, "every time anything unish happens to you you'll grow another. First you were unwise to come here. That accounts for one; then you were uncomfortable and unsafe." "Unlucky, unhappy and unfed!" spluttered the clown, turning a somersault with each word. "Lead us to the Flyaboutabus, old fellow, or we'll soon be as feathered as geese." "All right," chirped Nickadoodle obligingly, "but step softly and do just as I tell you." "Aren't there any good Uns?" asked Bob with a little sigh. "Well, there was one," Nick paused to adjust his nose, which was continually falling off its hook, "but I've forgotten his name, and the others treated him so unkindly that he's hidden himself in a cave somewhere on the skyle. But they do say if he ever becomes king, the Uns will all have to reform." Bob was hungry and far from rested, but as he stumbled along the rocky beach he fell to thinking about this good Un and wishing he might see him before they left the skyland. But Notta was so cheered at the thought of leaving Un that every few seconds he sprang into the air or somersaulted over the Cowardly Lion. The Cowardly Lion was dreadfully down-hearted. The feathers preyed on his mind, his ears drooped and his tail dragged and nothing Notta could say made him feel any better. "It's all very well for you and Bob. You can wear hats and hide your feathers, but a lion in a hat would look as ridiculous as a lion with feathers. I shall be the laughing stock of Oz," groaned the poor beast. "Well, it's not so bad to make people laugh," comforted Notta. "That is my business, and I know. Come with me to America and your fortune will be made." But the Cowardly Lion only shook his head and padded sadly over the rough stones. "This is a punishment," thought the poor lion, "a punishment for my wickedness in planning to devour a brave man." And perhaps he was right. By this time they were so near the palace that Nick held up his claw for silence. Hiding behind a huge rock, they watched the Uns climb down from their tree houses and hurry off to wish, just as sensible folk hurry off to work. "Too bad I didn't send I-wish-I-was to Mudge," whispered Notta. "Hush," said Nickadoodle. "As soon as you hear an ear-full of noise run for that third juniper tree." He pointed out the tree with his claw and the three watchers waited anxiously for the signal. Soon there was not an Un in sight and a second later a perfect explosion of screeches rent the air. It was, as Notta explained afterward, an elephant ear-full of noise, for every Un on the skyle was wishing at the top of his lungs. As soon as they had recovered from the first shock, Notta, Bob and the Cowardly Lion rushed toward the juniper tree. Nick had flown ahead and was already calling down directions when they reached it. From the top branch of the juniper tree the king's feathery Flyaboutabus was tugging merrily at its rope. Following Nick's instructions, Notta climbed to the top of the tree and, hanging on to the rope, managed to bring it down a bit. Nick, bidding Bob catch him around the neck, flew up next, and their weight brought it down still further. It was still terribly high for the Cowardly Lion, who could not very well climb the tree. "Hurry! Hurry!" croaked Nick, flapping his wings warningly. "There's an Un." And sure enough, a tardy Featherhead was staring at them in astonishment from the door of his tree house. With an ear splitting squall, he fell down the ladder and rushed off to the wishing place to tell the others. Prickling with terror, the Cowardly Lion made spring after spring, but each time he just missed the Flyaboutabus. And every time he made an unsuccessful leap, another feather sprouted gaily in his mane. "Better cut loose and leave him," whispered Nick anxiously, but Notta and Bob hushed him up indignantly and by jumping tried to bring the bus lower. "Go on and save yourselves," coughed the lion after the tenth attempt. He mopped his forehead dejectedly with his tail, and growled terribly as each feather pricked through. A shout from the clown made him turn. Rushing toward them in tumbling waves of fury were the Uns, led by I-wish-I-was. In a last despairing frenzy, the Cowardly Lion hurled himself into the air, and this time his front paws caught the feather wheels of the bus, and Bob and Notta, pulling together, helped him aboard. There was not a minute to lose, for the Uns were already surrounding the tree. Just as I-wish-I-was sprang into the lower branches, Snorer cut the rope with his knifelike beak and up sailed the Flyaboutabus like a balloon released from its string. Up, up, up they went, till the wild screams of the Uns could no longer be heard. Up, up, and 'round and 'round, plunging now this way and now that, till Notta, Bob and the Cowardly Lion were too shaken and dizzy to know or care what was happening. But Snorer, more used to flying than the others, kept his head and, waiting his opportunity, seized a long lever that swung loosely to and fro in the front of the bus. He had never been in the Flyaboutabus before, but something told him that the lever must guide the movements of the strange vehicle. Sure enough, as soon as he took hold of it, the darting about stopped and it flew quite steadily. "Are we still going up?" quavered Notta, without opening his eyes. The clown lay flat on his back in the bottom of the bus with Bob sprawled on top of him. The Cowardly Lion had become wedged under a seat and was heaving and puffing unhappily. "Yes, but there's some way to bring it down," chirped Nick. "Come have a look. I know how to fly myself, but I don't know how to fly a Flyaboutabus." |
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