L. Frank Baum - Oz 28 Page 3

  “This-this reminds me of Oz,” he exclaimed so~ ly. “Why, it’s the nearest thing to Oz I’ve seen in

  America.”

  “Oh, you and your Oz.” Uncle Billy sniffed good naturedly. “You never will get over it, will you?”

  “I should hope not.” Speedy lowered his field glasses, with a broad grin. “And when you finish your second rocket plane, we’ll both go there.” In his huge work shop on Long Island, Speedy’s uncle was assembling his second skyrocket. The first had gone off too quickly, leaving the scientist behind, but carrying his young nephew to that faraway and famous Fairyland of Oz. After most amazing adventures in Oz, Speedy had been sent home by Ozma’s magic belt. Home, to Speedy, meant the large rambling house near Garden City, Long Island, where he had lived with his uncle ever since he was a small boy of two. Both of Speedy’s parents had been lost on a South Sea exploring expedition, when their ship had been wrecked in a hurricane. Speedy himself, fortunately left in New York with his nurse, had been promptly adopted by the famous uncle, for whom he was named. But no one ever called him William or Bill. His lightning speed on the track and baseball field had brought him the nickname of Speedy and even Uncle Billy had almost forgotten that the boy was named for him.

  Uncle Billy’s full name, and you may have heard

  it yourself in scientific circles, was William I. Harm-stead and although he was an inventor of immense skill and international reputation, he was as fond of baseball and other outdoor sports as Speedy himself, so no wonder the two got on well together and never seemed to miss the usual family life enjoyed by other people.

  For two years now, Uncle Billy had been working busily on his Skyrocket Number 2. But perfecting the intricate mechanics of the rocket plane was a long and tedfous task and when he was ordered to take an immediate rest by his doctors, the inventor had reluctantly dropped everything and brought Speedy to Yellowstone Park. Here, they had done everything but rest and, having covered the park pretty thoroughly, were on their way to join the archaeological expedition of Professor Sanderson.

  The Professor, an English friend of Speedy’s uncle, had reported the exciting discovery of some prehistoric remains in Wyoming, just beyond the park limits. Prehistoric remains had sounded rather awful to Speedy, but his uncle was so set on a visit to the Professor’s camp that he had pretended an interest he was far from feeling. He meant to spend his time hunting, fishing and exploring the caves and

  caverns of the district, while the two scientists talked learnedly ofjurassic, triassic and other unspellable eras. Digging for the bones of prehistoric monsters seemed a dull and monotonous occupation to the active young American.

  “Now if it were buried treasure,” mused the boy dreamily to himself, as his pony picked its way warily down the treacherous slope, “buried treasure, or long forgotten pirate chests, that - well that, would be different. But bones!” Speedy wrinkled his nose with distaste, and then at a sudden exclamation from Uncle Billy, urged his horse forward.

  “There! See that rough cabin below and the tents? There’s the camp, there!” Uncle Billy’s voice trembled with excitement and anticipation and Speedy felt a stir of curiosity and interest. Although the Sanderson camp was now plainly in view, it took an hour’s cautious riding to bring them down to edge of the stream that ran behind the Professor’s cabin. The stony little valley was marked by the same brilliantly colored rock and mineral formation that marked the Yellowstone. There were few trees, scarcely any vegetation and a strong smell of sulphur hung in the air. In addition to the main cabin there were seven tents and a rough shelter built over a huge tarpaulin-covered mound in the center of the

  encampment. Various tools and excavating instruments lay scattered about, but there was no sign anywhere of the Professor or his associates.

  Dismounting stiffly, Speedy and his uncle hurried from tent to tent, in hopes of finding someone. It was long past noon and they were both looking forward to a hearty welcome and an appetizing lunch.

  “Do you suppose they’ve gone for good?” asked Speedy, as they pushed open the door of the cabin. “Aha! A note!” Conspicuously displayed on the rough table in the center of the one-roomed shack was a large sheet of white paper. Snatching it up hastily, Speedy handed it over to his uncle.

  “Dear Will: Have gone back into the hills to verify some important data. Make yourselves comfortable. You’ll find plenty to eat on the shelves and just use this place as your own. Back to-morrow. Faithfully,

  Paul.”

  “I hope he left us something better than data,” grumbled Speedy, as his uncle finished reading the note. He had had some rather disappointing dinners with Uncle Billy’s scientific friends. “I’m starved!”

  “Oh, we’ll soon cure that.” Uncle Billy eyed the shelves critically. “Let’s see, here’s coffee, canned beans, canned tomatoes, crackers, cheese, jam and

  sugar. You just unsaddle the horses, my boy, and bring in some wood and I’ll have dinner ready in a

  jiffy.”

  Beyond the last tent there was a rough shed for the horses, and after unsaddling the weary beasts, giving them a drink and a good measure of oats and bran, Speedy gathered up some firewood and hurried back to the Professor’s shack. True to his word, Uncle Billy had set the table with the crude but useful camp ware and was now busily opening cans, Slicing bread and measuring out coffee.

  Lighting a fire in the small stove was the work but a moment and in spite of their disappointment in finding no one at home, the travellers were soon enjoying a merry and satisfying meal. After clearing away the dishes and putting everything apple-pie order, Uncle Billy settled himself calmly on the steps of the cabin. Lighting his pipe, he gazed dreamily off into the distance, seeing not the curious and lovely colors of the rock strata before him, but the intricate and to him still lovelier conglomeration of metal tubes, wheels, rods and pistons that made up his beloved rocket plane. Speedy, after casting a speculative look at the stream and wondering just what it offered in the way of fish, clattered noisily down the four plank steps.

  “Gee whiskers, Unc! Are you going to sit here all afternoon like a one-legged sailor? Come on, let’s look around and see if we can stir up some fun.”

  “Fun?” Uncle Billy looked vaguely disturbed. “I’m sure there is nothing of that sort around here, and besides don’t you think it would be more polite for us to wait for the Professor?”

  “Huh! Polite people usually get left,” observed Speedy, who had learned this disconcerting fact the previous summer at camp. “Your Professor was not very polite to us, so far as I can see, and what’s the harm in looking at things?”

  With a sigh Uncle Billy rose, tapped the ashes from his pipe and started resignedly after his tireless young nephew. Without bothering with the tents or work sheds, Speedy was heading straight for the canvas~covered mound under the wooden shelter in the center of the camp. The canvas was pegged down securely and a roughly printed tag was tied to the largest peg.

  “Complete skeleton and bones of a mezozoic dinosaur. Unearthed and assembled by Paul Sanderson,

  F.R.G.S. F.Z.S.”

  “Why all the initials?” inquired Speedy, raising one eyebrow. “I’ll bet it means he was Frighted by a

  Green Snake Friday, Zeptember Seventeenth.”

  “Those initials show he is a Fellow of the Royal Geographic and Zoological Societies of England,” replied Uncle Billy calmly. “And so these are the prehistoric remains. Wonder what they’ll look like?”

  “That remains to be seen,” chuckled Speedy, wiggling one of the pegs experimentally.

  “Not till the Professor returns,” said his uncle, shaking his head firmly.

  “What? Not even one little peek? Aw, Unc! What harm would it do to lift a couple of pegs and find out what sort of a dino this might be?”

  “Well-” Uncle Billy sniffed guardedly, but his curiosity was fast getting the best of his caution. “I don’t suppose it would do any real harm. I understand the bones have been air co
nditioned and treated to resist moisture. In fact, Paul wrote me that they were all ready for shipment.”

  “Here’s a pulley,” volunteered Speedy, recognizing the unmistakable signs of weakening in his only relation, family and guardian. “All we have to do is loosen the pegs, roll up the canvas and there he’ll be!” Speedy might have saved his breath, for Uncle Billy was already removing the pegs with swiftness and precision. So the boy bent his efforts to winding uP the canvas covering and in less than twenty

  minutes they were gazing breathlessly at an orderly array of immense yellowed bones. Each bone was nubered and tagged and the curious collection rested on a soft bed of cedar shavings.

  “Just like a jig saw puzzle,” mused Speedy, wistfully touching one of the tremendous curving ribs. “Wouldn’t it be keen fun to put it together? What did these old wanguses look like, anyway?”

  Drawing a small note book from his pocket, Uncle Billy sketched the crude model of a dinosaur-that strange, flat-headed monster with a long snake-like neck, short front legs, long back legs and an immense and powerful tail.

  “A bit kangarooish,” decided Speedy, squinting knowingly at the sketch. “Look, Uncle Billy, those tail bones are just like a ladder with the edges in the center. I’ll bet we could fit this big Bonaparte together in an hour. What do you say?”

  “Humph,” grunted his uncle thoughtfully, “it wouldn’t be much use placing the bones on the ground in order-the two sides would all pile up together.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t matter,” answered Speedy recklessly. “It would be grand fun and would give us a fine notion of the creature’s size. Look! You start

  at the head, I’ll start at the tail and we’ll meet in the rib section.”

  “But-er-er.” Uncle Billy eyed the great mass of bones nervously. “We really should do nothing of the sort. Exhibits of this kind are extremely valuable and should not be touched without permission of the discoverer.”

  “Well, even if the Professor did come back and he said he would not be back till to-morrow, he’d only think we were taking a big interest in his work,” argued Speedy coaxingly. “We’ll have time to put him together and take him apart. Come on, Unc, be a sport!” Picking up the smallest of the immense vertebrae that made up the tail and spinal column, he set it carefully at the extreme end of the protected enclosure. After a few more weak arguments, for he was almost as eager to put the monster together as his nephew, Uncle Billy located the elongated flat skull of the dinosaur. Without speaking, they worked industriously and with surprising skill and accuracy began placing the monster’s bones in their approximate place and position.

  “Of course, it isn’t as interesting as if we could wire them together,” sighed Speedy, proudly regarding the completed tail bones. “Why, if these ribs were fastened to the back bone they’d make a giant

  bird cage.”

  “And just about right for a bird like you,” smiled Uncle Billy, half closing his eyes as he set a huge shin bone in its exact and correct position. In silence they wielded and arranged the tremendous ribs, and the legs and claws having already been set in place, drew back to admire their handiwork.

  “Just an hour,” announced Uncle Billy, snapping open his watch, “and there’s another hour before sun-down, so we had better mix up this old Jig Saw Bones and put him back to bed.”

  “I only wish I could have seen a live one,” mused Speedy, stepping in closer, “you know, I wish-”

  What Speedy wished, Uncle Billy never knew, for first there was a deafening explosion, then the ground on all sides began to crack and tremble and, with the rush of an erupting volcano, a long dormant but tremendously powerful geyser burst through the earth’s surface, catapulting the boy and the dinosaur aloft in a smoking, roaring phosphorescent torrent.

  Speedy, almost knocked senseless by the force of the explosion, half drowned and choked by the scalding spray, found himself shooting skyward at a terrific pace and in all the rush and confusion was

  scarcely conscious of holding fast to a mighty rib of the dinosaur. But to that rib he was clinging as desperately as a sailor clings to a spar of wood in a ship-wreck, both eyes shut and his teeth clamped tightly together.

  After what seemed to be hours and hours of skyrocketing, Speedy cautiously opened one eye, and you can imagine his astonishment to find himself occupying the giant bird cage made by the dinosaur’s chest cavity, while, rattling along like castanets, came the rest of the monster skeleton, for the bones had been miraculously and correctly welded together by the hot molten minerals of the geyser. A large wedge of the transparent mineral formation had closed the opening where the ribs ended and through the bony bars of this dismaying prison Speedy looked wildly at the rapidly changing sky line.

  The geyser had finally spent itself, but the impetus given its two victims still kept them hurling upward. Realizing only vaguely what had happened, Speedy peered out through the monster’s ribs, groaning as he reflected that all the distance they were travelling upward they would plunge back when the force of the geyser was finally exhausted.

  “And what a crash that will be,” shuddered the little boy, shivering with fright and discomfort. At

  first, he had been nearly scalded in the steaming torrent of the geyser and now he felt keenly the cold blasts of the upper air. He was so taken up with his own woes and bewilderments that he was scarcely aware of a high complaining voice, whistling past his ears with the wind.

  “Oh, what am I doing up here so light and so dizzylike?” wailed the voice plaintively. “What is this lump in my chest that keeps knocking against the ribs? Did I swallow a rock or a turtle? Am I catching oldmonia or what ever? Where am I? Where was I? Let me go back! Oh, my dear self, let me think! Now then, the last thing I remember was nibbling the delicious top of a frugamunt tree. Then

  -then-!”

  The fossil’s voice rose in triumphant little screeches. “I remember now! I remember, a mogerith rushed upon me, just as my dear mama told me it would some day. It fastened its long teeth in my neck. All became dark. I knew nothing and yet, if that was the end of me, what am I doing up here? At least, my bones are here. I can think, I can speak, I can fly, but what was my name? Who was I? Who am I? Wh~ooooo!”

  As the monster cried “who” in its fearful hollow

  voice it turned its bony skull around, and looked pite-ously down into the face of poor Speedy. In the huge eye sockets of the head rolled two bright and intelligent balls of phosphorus and these flashing eyes, coupled with the rest of the shocking experience, were too much for any boy to endure in silence.

  “Oh!” screamed Speedy, pressing back as far as he could. “This, this is terrybubble!” Of course, he had meant to say “terrible,” but his teeth were chattering so madly it sounded exactly as I have spelled it.

  “Terrybubble,” repeated the dinosaur shrilly. “Are you sure that’s my name? Dear, dear, and can it be so? I’m talking to myself now and have a voice in my chest as well as in my throat.”

  “I’m not a voice, I’m a boy,” shouted Speedy, regaining a little of his composure and wondering how in creation this prehistoric bony wreck had ever come to life. “You’re a dinosaur and I’m a boy-a

  BOY, understand?”

  “A boy, what is a boy?” whistled the monster, wagging his head sadly from left to right. “There were no animals like boys in the Valley of Virtula. How small and soft you seem and what are you doing in my chest?”

  “Oh!” groaned Speedy, after another long shuddering look into the eyes of his companion, “Does it matter? We’ll probably crash to earth in a minute or two and be nothing but a heap of wreckage. So let’s not argue. I’ll be smashed flat and, centuries later, some scientist or other will find my bones all mixed up with yours, proving that man did exist in the mezozoic era, which we both know to be impossible.”

  “Do we?” The monster sighed mildly. “I do not understand at all what you are talking about, but it does sound comforting-so very comforting.”

>   “Comforting!” Speedy sniffed furiously to show his scorn and contempt for a creature who thought a smash-up or rather a smash-down would be comforting. Then, taking another look into the bony and puzzled face of Terrybubble, he relented a little. “You’re not such a bad old fossil at that,” he admitted guardedly. “Not a bad old fossil at all!”

  “Young fossil,” corrected the dinosaur, looking back reproachfully. “I was slain by a mogerith in the four hundredth year of my youth.”

  “Yes, but your bones are thousands of years old now, and your bones make you an old fossil, but even so I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  “Did you get me into this?” The monster rolled

  his eyes in surprise. “Oh, I don’t mind,” he added generously. “It is rather pleasant going, if you ask me.”

  “Yes, but we’ll soon be going the other way,” moaned Speedy. Already he felt their velocity begin to slacken. “Then we’ll fall and crash to pieces.”

  “Why?” demanded Terrybubble, argumentatively. “Because everything that goes up must come down,” explained the little boy, after a thoughtful pause.

  “How about hanging on to some of these mountains?” asked the dinosaur, with surprising intelligence for a creature with a hollow head.

  “They are nothing but clouds, and we’d just fall through them,” said Speedy.