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looked so coaxing and so cunning that Tatters sprang up impulsively and the two went skipping, sliding
and twirling all over the ice until they were dancing on a perfect carpet of flowers.
"Teach her the Ragbad quadrille," called Grampa. "If we're going back with a fortune, there'll
be high old times in the red castle and Urtha will want to know the dances the same as the other girls.
Wait, I'll play it for you.
Seizing his drum sticks, the old soldier broke into the spirited measures of the Ragbad
quadrille and soon Tatters and Urtha were bowing and gliding, turning three times to the left and four to
the right, pretending to change partners with a dozen imaginary courtiers-all troubles and dangers
forgotten.
"This reminds me of old times," said Grampa, stopping at last from lack of breath. "And you'll
never be a wall-flower, my dear!" chuckled the old soldier, wagging his finger at the little fairy.
"Let's play scrum," proposed Tatters, who was perfectly breathless too.
"Oh let's!" cried Urtha. So Grampa obligingly unfastened his game leg, and the Prince and little
flower girl were soon deep in the mysteries of the queer old game of scrum, Bill keeping score on the ice
and the old soldier, with half closed eyes, thinking of the good old days when he was a lad and a hero to
all the pretty girls in Ragbad.
"First peaceful moment we've had since we left the old country," mused Grampa and, reaching
down, he picked up his pipe and tobacco. Tatters had removed them from the game leg before they
started to play. Absently Grampa filled his pipe from one of the pouches-the blue pouch he had taken
from Vaga, the bandit. All this time it had lain forgotten in Grampa's game leg. Without realizing that he
had used the robber's tobacco, Grampa felt for a match. At the same moment Urtha and Tatters finished
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their fifth game of scrum and, closing up the game leg, they buckled it back in place.
"Now tell me all about Ragbad," begged Urtha, leaning against Grampa's knee. This Tatters
was only too delighted to do, for the young Pnnce was heartily homesick and, as he could not be in
Ragbad, talking about it was the next best thing. So he told little Urtha all about his pigeons and the
Redsmith and Pudge's tower-where you could see clear out into Jinxland-and of the fun he and Grampa
had in the old castle and of Mrs. Sew-and-Sew's garden. The old soldier nodded from time to time and
at last, taking up his pipe, he began to smoke. I say began, for at the third puff a simply astonishing thing
happened. Bill vanished instanter [and you know how quick that is]. Tatters turned to a great black crow,
Urtha to a crow of vari-colored feathers, and Grampa, himself, to an old crow with a game leg.
"Help!" cawed the old soldier, dropping the pipe from his bill and beginning to hop wildly over
the ice.
"Daisies and dahlias, I can fly!" twittered Urtha, circling aloft. "Come on Tatters and try it!"
"He's a crow!" shrieked Grampa. "I'm a crow, you're a crow! What's happened and where's
Bill?"
"Here I am," screamed a frightened voice. But though they stared and stared they could see
nothing at all-for Bill had turned to a cock's crow, which of course can only be heard and not seen.
"Poor Bill, there's nothing left but his crow," cawed Grampa.
"It's magic," gasped Tatters.
"It's that pesky wizard," added the old soldier, stamping his game foot and ruffling up all his
feathers, for Grampa did not realize he'd smoked Vaga's tobacco.
"But now that we're crows why not fly?" asked Urtha merrily. She did not seem to mind her
feathers at all. "Let's fly back to Oz!"
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"Why, so we can!" cried Tatters. "All the way over the Nonestic Ocean and sandy desert,
straight to the Emerald City itself. Someone's helping us, Grampa," finished the Prince of Ragbad,
fluttering into the air.
"Wish they'd mind their own business," croaked Grampa crossly. "Being a crow is no help to
me. But come on. We might as well fly while we can. Bill, you lead the way and see that you keep us
pointed East and crow every few minutes, will you, so we can hear where you are.
"All right," agreed the weather cock readily, and they could tell from the flutter of his iron
wings that the puzzled bird had gotten under way.
"Here I go by the name of Bill!" he crowed loudly.
"Invisi-Bill!" chortled the old soldier, rising into the air. "Come on crows!"
Tatters quickly followed Grampa and after Tatters flew Urtha, higher and higher and higher,
until the iceberg became only a tiny speck, bobbing up and down in the blue waters of the Nonestic
Ocean.
For a time the adventurers flew in silence, each one pondering the strange events that had
crowded upon them in the past few hours. "Invisi-Bill" continued to lead the way, Grampa, Prince Tatters
and Urtha winging after him.
CHAPTER 14
On Monday Mountain
"GOOD SLEEP, how did you enjoy your morning?" asked Percy Vere brightly.
"Pretty well," smiled Dorothy, sitting up with a little yawn. "How did you enjoy your sleep?"
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"There was a rock in my bed," said the Forgetful Poet thoughtfully, "and then I got trying to
think of a word to rhyme with schnetzel."
"How about pretzel?" suggested Dorothy, smiling a little to herself at the Forgetful Poet's
earnestness. "And what is a schnetzel?" Dorothy smiled sweetly.
"It's a green mocking bird," explained Percy Vere, tossing back his hair, "and it does live on
pretzels. My dear, you have a wonderful mind."
"Woof!" interrupted Toto. He had been up for hours and wanted his breakfast. The three
travellers had been forced to spend the night in the deep forest to which the runaway had brought them.
The Forgetful Poet had piled up a soft couch of boughs and leaves for Dorothy and Toto, but had flung
himself carelessly under a tree. However, it took more than a hard bed to dash Percy's spirits and, after
running up and down a few paces to get the stiffness out of his bones, he began to sing at the top of his
voice, filling in the words he forgot with such comical made-up ones that Dorothy could not help laughing.
"I think we are going to have a lucky day, Mr. Vere," said the little girl, hopping up merrily.
"Don't you?"
Percy, who was washing his face in a nearby brook, nodded so vigorously that the water
splashed in every direction. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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