In the Purple Forest
Snip thought of a great many things to tell Mombi as he was being dragged along through the forest, but she ran so far and so fast that by the time she stopped he was too bumped about and breathless to say any of them.
"Now what?" puffed Pajuka, settling on the lowest branch of a purple pine.
"Well, do you expect to find the King under the first tree we come to?" panted the old witch, dropping down on a stump and mopping her forehead with her apron. "Hand over that basket, you!" Before he could comply, Mombi had snatched the basket from Snip and, loosening her hold upon his arm, began rummaging among its contents till she found a small purple scroll. "Keep your eye on the boy," ordered Mombi, snapping the scroll open, "and if he tries to escape nip off his nose, d'ye hear?"
"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that," said Pajuka, fluttering his wings. "He'd much rather come with us to find the King and share in the reward, wouldn't you lad?"
Snip glanced fearfully around him. The shadows were growing longer and longer, and in the dim purple twilight the forest looked so grim and forbidding that he decided even bad company was better than none. So he shook his head and swallowing the lump in his throat resolved to make the best of things, and at the same time find out all he could about this mysterious affair.
"What did I tell you," clucked Pajuka, preening his feathers. "I shouldn't be surprised if he'd be a great help to us, Mombi!"
"Then let him begin by gathering some wood," grunted Mombi, "and none of your tricks Snip my boy, or I'll turn you to a muffin and eat you for breakfast."
"Is Snip your name?" asked Pajuka, waddling after the little button boy. Snip nodded and began slowly picking up twigs and putting them in a heap.
"A heartless old wretch," wheezed the goose, when they were out of ear shot. "Don't mind her. She can no more turn you to a muffin than I can, but she is the only one who can help me find the King so we must humor her. Stick by me, Snip, and I'll stick by you. Is it a bargain?" In the strange, silent forest, the white goose looked so big and friendly that Snip dropped his twigs and flung both arms around his neck.
"I like you Pajuka," said the little button boy, giving him a quick hug.
"And I like you, Snip," replied the goose, snuggling close to him. Then, as Mombi glanced up suspiciously, they both fell to gathering twigs and in a few moments had enough for a fine fire. Mombi was still poring over the scroll. Looking over her shoulder, Snip saw that it was a map of Oz—such a map as he had often seen in his geoziphy books at home. Mombi held the map close to her nose, for in the failing light it was hard to see anything.
"If I could only remember! If I could only remember!" muttered Mombi, rocking backward and forward on the stump. "What did I do with the King? Where did I put him? What did I use—green magic or blue, word magic or number magic, fire magic or smoke magic? Can't you remember anything?" She whirled in great exasperation upon Pajuka.
"Well, not much," sighed the goose, rubbing his head with his wing. "You see it was so long ago. I do remember we were in a small greenwood near where the Emerald City stands to-day when you changed me to a goose. But as you drove me away immediately, I never knew what became of the King."
"Then it was green magic!" cried Mombi, springing up exultantly. "We must go to the Emerald City and find that wood, for if the King was transformed by green magic he must be restored by green magic, and the only place where green magic takes effect is in and around the Emerald City. Once there I will doubtless remember everything," chuckled Mombi. "If I don't, I'll just steal some of Ozma's magic. I'll steal the magic belt, restore the King to the throne and have my revenge for all these weary years. I'll turn Ozma to a piano and thump her every day," continued Mombi, rubbing her hands gleefully together. "I'll turn everyone else in the palace to one object and then destroy that object—"
"I object!" spluttered Pajuka, treading on the old witch's toes in his excitement.
"So will they," grinned Mombi, showing her yellow tusks, "but it will do them no good. Don't stand staring at me, simpleton. Light the fire." Whirling upon Snip, Mombi raised her stick threateningly, and Snip, who had been staring with open mouth (for he had never heard so much badness in his whole life) made haste to do as he was told.
Mombi, still muttering and chuckling, began to lay out the chicken and cheese upon the tree stump. Though the fire snapped merrily enough, supper was not very cheerful for Snip, but he ate the chicken wing and small bit of cheese that Mombi grudgingly gave him and broke up some bread for Pajuka.
"Where've you been all these years?" asked the old witch, looking curiously at the goose over her mug of coffee.
"Everywhere, everywhere in Oz, searching for you and the King," puffed Pajuka. "I've lived with miserable barnyard fowls, eating farmers' scraps, and in constant danger of the ax. You might have made me a wild goose, then at least I should have had some fun. I shudder when I think how near I've been to roasting."
"Well, didn't they roast you in the old days?" replied Mombi unfeelingly. "Prime ministers are as often roasted as geese!"
"Yes, but not in the same way." Pajuka rolled his eyes sadly at Snip.
"Why didn't you tell Ozma or Glinda on her," asked the little button boy boldly.
"Aha! Because he knew if he did he'd disappear entirely. That was part of the trick," shrilled Mombi. "Wasn't it, old feather head?"
"Yes, it's better to be a goose than nothing at all," admitted Pajuka mournfully. "But never mind, when we find the King, he will restore Mombi's powers and she will restore my elegant figure and—"
"Oh, hold your bill," snapped Mombi crossly.
Looking very ruffled, Pajuka retired to the other side of the fire, where he and Snip conversed in low tones, while Mombi cleared away the supper and began her endless experiments in the old black frying pan.
"I should think in some ways, being a goose would be rather nice," observed Snip, looking inquisitively at Pajuka. "Having wings for instance, and never needing to get undressed or have your hair cut."
"Well," agreed Pajuka slowly, "feathers are more convenient than clothes and while the life of a goose is very simple, it is not all unpleasant. I've enjoyed flying a lot, and I never need to worry about rubbers or carrying an umbrella. But after all," Pajuka sighed and gazed sadly into the fire, "after all, my boy, there is nothing like being yourself."
Snip considered this for a little while in silence, trying to fancy himself in Pajuka's place. "Well, what do you miss the most?" he inquired suddenly. Pajuka had one eye shut and was preparing to close the other, but at Snip's words both flew wide open.
"My pockets," gasped Pajuka, with a great groan. "What is a man without his pockets? No place to put his hands or his bills!" Clapping his wing to his side, Pajuka looked tragically at Snip, and Snip patting his own bulging pockets—pockets full of cake crumbs, marbles, pencil stubs and string—nodded sympathetically. "And not only that," continued the goose in a grieved voice, "I waken at such ridiculous hours. Hah, hoh! I find myself falling asleep." Pajuka paused here for a simply tremendous yawn. "Right after supper, Hoh hum!" finished the goose apologetically. Then, tucking his head under his wing and drawing up one leg, he fell fast asleep before Snip could ask him another question.
Pajuka was so close to the fire that the little button boy was afraid he would singe his feathers. So, picking him up carefully, he set him back against a gnarled old tree and, curling up on a pile of leaves beside him, lay watching old Mombi. The wind fortunately was blowing away from him, or he certainly would have been choked by the awful mixtures in the black frying pan. If he had not known positively that her magic powers were gone, he would have taken to his heels at once, for the monsters that Mombi was trying to conjure up out of the frying pan, would have devoured him in a minute.
"Magicum squadgicum squidgicum squdge
I order a snooch to come out of this smudge!"
Mombi frowned darkly as she hissed this, but only a dense smoke rose from the frying pan, and after listening nervously to ten separate incantations and finding that nothing at all happened, Snip curled down among the leaves and was soon as fast asleep as Pajuka—asleep and dreaming he, himself, was a goose being chased up a pink mountain by a giant with a blue ax.
Mombi continued her experiments with the frying pan long after Snip and Pajuka were asleep, but finally she gave up in disgust and then she, too, lay down for a nap, which lasted until dawn.
