Ozma of Oz - Baum Lyman Frank - Страница 15
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“That’s easy enough,” said the Scarecrow. “I wonder what will happen next.”
He was not long in making the discovery, for the sides of the mountain came closer together until finally there was but a narrow path between them, along which Ozma and her party were forced to pass in single file.
They now heard a low and deep “thump! – thump! – thump!” which echoed throughout the valley and seemed to grow louder as they advanced. Then, turning a corner of rock, they saw before them a huge form, which towered above the path for more than a hundred feet. The form was that of a gigantic man built out of plates of cast iron, and it stood with one foot on either side of the narrow road and swung over its right shoulder an immense iron mallet, with which it constantly pounded the earth. These resounding blows explained the thumping sounds they had heard, for the mallet was much bigger than a barrel, and where it struck the path between the rocky sides of the mountain it filled all the space through which our travelers would be obliged to pass.
Of course they at once halted, a safe distance away from the terrible iron mallet. The magic carpet would do them no good in this case, for it was only meant to protect them from any dangers upon the ground beneath their feet, and not from dangers that appeared in the air above them.
“Wow!” said the Cowardly Lion, with a shudder. “It makes me dreadfully nervous to see that big hammer pounding so near my head. One blow would crush me into a door-mat.”
“The ir-on gi-ant is a fine fel-low,” said Tiktok, “and works as stead-i-ly as a clock. He was made for the Nome King by Smith & Tin-ker, who made me, and his du-ty is to keep folks from find-ing the un-der-ground pal-ace. Is he not a great work of art?”
“Can he think, and speak, as you do?” asked Ozma, regarding the giant with wondering eyes.
“No,” replied the machine; “he is on-ly made to pound the road, and has no think-ing or speak-ing at-tach-ment. But he pounds ve-ry well, I think.”
“Too well,” observed the Scarecrow. “He is keeping us from going farther. Is there no way to stop his machinery?”
“On-ly the Nome King, who has the key, can do that,” answered Tiktok.
“Then,” said Dorothy, anxiously, “what shall we do?”
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” said the Scarecrow, “and I will think it over.”
He retired, then, to a position in the rear, where he turned his painted face to the rocks and began to think.
Meantime the giant continued to raise his iron mallet high in the air and to strike the path terrific blows that echoed through the mountains like the roar of a cannon. Each time the mallet lifted, however, there was a moment when the path beneath the monster was free, and perhaps the Scarecrow had noticed this, for when he came back to the others he said:
“The matter is a very simple one, after all. We have but to run under the hammer, one at a time, when it is lifted, and pass to the other side before it falls again.”
“It will require quick work, if we escape the blow,” said the Tin Woodman, with a shake of his head. “But it really seems the only thing to be done. Who will make the first attempt?”
They looked at one another hesitatingly for a moment. Then the Cowardly Lion, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, said to them:
“I suppose the head of the procession must go first – and that’s me. But I’m terribly afraid of the big hammer!”
“What will become of me?” asked Ozma. “You might rush under the hammer yourself, but the chariot would surely be crushed.”
“We must leave the chariot,” said the Scarecrow. “But you two girls can ride upon the backs of the Lion and the Tiger.”
So this was decided upon, and Ozma, as soon as the Lion was unfastened from the chariot, at once mounted the beast’s back and said she was ready.
“Cling fast to his mane,” advised Dorothy. “I used to ride him myself, and that’s the way I held on.”
So Ozma clung fast to the mane, and the lion crouched in the path and eyed the swinging mallet carefully until he knew just the instant it would begin to rise in the air.
Then, before anyone thought he was ready, he made a sudden leap straight between the iron giant’s legs, and before the mallet struck the ground again the Lion and Ozma were safe on the other side.
The Tiger went next. Dorothy sat upon his back and locked her arms around his striped neck, for he had no mane to cling to. He made the leap straight and true as an arrow from a bow, and ere Dorothy realized it she was out of danger and standing by Ozma’s side.
Now came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, and while they made the dash in safety they were within a hair’s breadth of being caught by the descending hammer.
Tiktok walked up to the very edge of the spot the hammer struck, and as it was raised for the next blow he calmly stepped forward and escaped its descent. That was an idea for the Tin Woodman to follow, and he also crossed in safety while the great hammer was in the air. But when it came to the twenty-six officers and the private, their knees were so weak that they could not walk a step.
“In battle we are wonderfully courageous,” said one of the generals, “and our foes find us very terrible to face. But war is one thing and this is another. When it comes to being pounded upon the head by an iron hammer, and smashed into pancakes, we naturally object.”
“Make a run for it,” urged the Scarecrow.
“Our knees shake so that we cannot run,” answered a captain. “If we should try it we would all certainly be pounded to a jelly.”
“Well, well,” sighed the Cowardly Lion, “I see, friend Tiger, that we must place ourselves in great danger to rescue this bold army. Come with me, and we will do the best we can.”
So, Ozma and Dorothy having already dismounted from their backs, the Lion and the Tiger leaped back again under the awful hammer and returned with two generals clinging to their necks. They repeated this daring passage twelve times, when all the officers had been carried beneath the giant’s legs and landed safely on the further side. By that time the beasts were very tired, and panted so hard that their tongues hung out of their great mouths.
“But what is to become of the private?” asked Ozma.
“Oh, leave him there to guard the chariot,” said the Lion. “I’m tired out, and won’t pass under that mallet again.”
The officers at once protested that they must have the private with them, else there would be no one for them to command. But neither the Lion or the Tiger would go after him, and so the Scarecrow sent the Sawhorse.
Either the wooden horse was careless, or it failed to properly time the descent of the hammer, for the mighty weapon caught it squarely upon its head, and thumped it against the ground so powerfully that the private flew off its back high into the air, and landed upon one of the giant’s cast-iron arms. Here he clung desperately while the arm rose and fell with each one of the rapid strokes.
The Scarecrow dashed in to rescue his Sawhorse, and had his left foot smashed by the hammer before he could pull the creature out of danger. They then found that the Sawhorse had been badly dazed by the blow; for while the hard wooden knot of which his head was formed could not be crushed by the hammer, both his ears were broken off and he would be unable to hear a sound until some new ones were made for him. Also his left knee was cracked, and had to be bound up with a string.
Billina having fluttered under the hammer, it now remained only to rescue the private who was riding upon the iron giant’s arm, high in the air.
The Scarecrow lay flat upon the ground and called to the man to jump down upon his body, which was soft because it was stuffed with straw. This the private managed to do, waiting until a time when he was nearest the ground and then letting himself drop upon the Scarecrow. He accomplished the feat without breaking any bones, and the Scarecrow declared he was not injured in the least.
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