little impatiently. 'I'm not responsible for the absurd things that happen in your country, and when you're in Mo you must do as the Momen do. Eat some of our snow, and you will find it is good. The only fault I find with our snow is that we get too much of it at times.'

With this the Bumpy Man set to work shoveling a path and he was so quick and industrious that he piled up the popcorn in great banks on either side of the trail that led to the mountain-top from the plains below. While he worked, Trot ate popcorn and found it crisp and slightly warm, as well as nicely salted and buttered. Presently Cap'n Bill came out of the house and joined her.

'What's this?' he asked.

'Mo snow,' said she. 'But it isn't real snow, although it falls from the sky. It's popcorn.'

Cap'n Bill tasted it; then he sat down in the path and began to eat. The Ork came out and pecked away with its bill as fast as it could. They all liked popcorn and they all were hungry this morning.

Meantime the flakes of 'Mo snow' came down so fast that the number of them almost darkened the air. The Bumpy Man was now shoveling quite a distance down the mountain-side, while the path behind him rapidly filled up with fresh-fallen popcorn. Suddenly Trot heard him call out:

'Goodness gracious—mince pie and pancakes!—here is some one buried in the snow.'

She ran toward him at once and the others followed, wading through the corn and crunching it underneath their feet. The Mo snow was pretty deep where the Bumpy Man was shoveling and from beneath a great bank of it he had uncovered a pair of feet.

'Dear me! Someone has been lost in the storm,' said Cap'n Bill. 'I hope he is still alive. Let's pull him out and see.'

He took hold of one foot and the Bumpy Man took hold of the other. Then they both pulled and out from the heap of popcorn came a little boy. He was dressed in a brown velvet jacket and knickerbockers, with brown stockings, buckled shoes and a blue shirt-waist that had frills down its front. When drawn from the heap the boy was chewing a mouthful of popcorn and both his hands were full of it. So at first he couldn't speak to his rescuers but lay quite still and eyed them calmly until he had swallowed his mouthful. Then he said:

'Get my cap,' and stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.

While the Bumpy Man began shoveling into the corn-bank to find the boy's cap, Trot was laughing joyfully and Cap'n Bill had a broad grin on his face. The Ork looked from one to another and asked:

'Who is this stranger?'

'Why, it's Button-Bright, of course,' answered Trot. 'If anyone ever finds a lost boy, he can make up his mind it's Button-Bright. But how he ever came to be lost in this far-away country is more'n I can make out.'

'Where does he belong?' inquired the Ork.

'His home used to be in Philadelphia, I think; but I'm quite sure Button-Bright doesn't belong anywhere.'

'That's right,' said the boy, nodding his head as he swallowed the second mouthful.

'Everyone belongs somewhere,' remarked the Ork.

'Not me,' insisted Button-Bright. 'I'm half way round the world from Philadelphia, and I've lost my Magic Umbrella, that used to carry me anywhere. Stands to reason that if I can't get back I haven't any home. But I don't care much. This is a pretty good country, Trot. I've had lots of fun here.'

By this time the Mountain Ear had secured the boy's cap and was listening to the conversation with much interest.

'It seems you know this poor, snow-covered cast-away,' he said.

'Yes, indeed,' answered Trot. 'We made a journey together to Sky Island, once, and were good friends.'

'Well, then I'm glad I saved his life,' said the Bumpy Man.

'Much obliged, Mr. Knobs,' said Button-Bright, sitting up and staring at him, 'but I don't believe you've saved anything except some popcorn that I might have eaten had you not disturbed me. It was nice and warm in that bank of popcorn, and there was plenty to eat. What made you dig me out? And what makes you so bumpy everywhere?'

'As for the bumps,' replied the man, looking at himself with much pride, 'I was born with them and I suspect they were a gift from the fairies. They make me look rugged and big, like the mountain I serve.'

'All right,' said Button-Bright and began eating popcorn again.

It had stopped snowing, now, and great flocks of birds were gathering around the mountain-side, eating the popcorn with much eagerness and scarcely noticing the people at all. There were birds of every size and color, most of them having gorgeous feathers and plumes.

'Just look at them!' exclaimed the Ork scornfully. 'Aren't they dreadful creatures, all covered with feathers?'

'I think they're beautiful,' said Trot, and this made the Ork so indignant that he went back into the house and sulked.

Button-Bright reached out his hand and caught a big bird by the leg. At once it rose into the air and it was so strong that it nearly carried the little boy with it. He let go the leg in a hurry and the bird flew down again and began to eat of the popcorn, not being frightened in the least.

This gave Cap'n Bill an idea. He felt in his pocket and drew out several pieces of stout string. Moving very quietly, so as to not alarm the birds, he crept up to several of the biggest ones and tied cords around their legs, thus making them prisoners. The birds were so intent on their eating that they did not notice what had happened to them, and when about twenty had been captured in this manner Cap'n Bill tied the ends of all the strings together and fastened them to a huge stone, so they could not escape.

The Bumpy Man watched the old sailor's actions with much curiosity.

'The birds will be quiet until they've eaten up all the snow,' he said, 'but then they will want to fly away to their homes. Tell me, sir, what will the poor things do when they find they can't fly?'

'It may worry 'em a little,' replied Cap'n Bill, 'but they're not going to be hurt if they take it easy and behave themselves.'

Our friends had all made a good breakfast of the delicious popcorn and now they walked toward the house again. Button-Bright walked beside Trot and held her hand in his, because they were old friends and he liked the little girl very much. The boy was not so old as Trot, and small as she was he was half a head shorter in height. The most remarkable thing about Button-Bright was that he was always quiet and composed, whatever happened, and nothing was ever able to astonish him. Trot liked him because he was not rude and never tried to plague her. Cap'n Bill liked him because he had found the boy cheerful and brave at all times, and willing to do anything he was asked to do.

When they came to the house Trot sniffed the air and asked 'Don't I smell perfume?'

'I think you do,' said the Bumpy Man. 'You smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. All our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. The south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. So we need no weathervane to tell us which way the wind is blowing. We have only to smell the perfume and it informs us at once.'

Inside the house they found the Ork, and Button-Bright regarded the strange, birdlike creature with curious interest. After examining it closely for a time he asked:

'Which way does your tail whirl?'

'Either way,' said the Ork.

Button-Bright put out his hand and tried to spin it.

'Don't do that!' exclaimed the Ork.

'Why not?' inquired the boy.

'Because it happens to be my tail, and I reserve the right to whirl it myself,' explained the Ork.

'Let's go out and fly somewhere,' proposed Button-Bright. 'I want to see how the tail works.'

'Not now,' said the Ork. 'I appreciate your interest in me, which I fully deserve; but I only fly when I am going somewhere, and if I got started I might not stop.'

'That reminds me,' remarked Cap'n Bill, 'to ask you, friend Ork, how we are going to get away from here?'

'Get away!' exclaimed the Bumpy Man. 'Why don't you stay here? You won't find any nicer place than

Вы читаете The Scarecrow of Oz
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