11. They Meet the Wooden Gargoyles

Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz

by L. Frank Baum

Another breathless climb brought our adventurers to a third
landing where there was a rift in the mountain. On peering out all
they could see was rolling banks of clouds, so thick that they
obscured all else.

But the travellers were obliged to rest, and while they were
sitting on the rocky floor the Wizard felt in his pocket and brought
out the nine tiny piglets. To his delight they were now plainly
visible, which proved that they had passed beyond the influence of
the magical Valley of Voe.

"Why, we can see each other again!" cried one, joyfully.

"Yes," sighed Eureka; "and I also can see you again, and the
sight makes me dreadfully hungry. Please, Mr. Wizard, may I eat just
one of the fat little piglets? You'd never miss one of them, I'm
sure!"

"What a horrid, savage beast!" exclaimed a piglet; "and after
we've been such good friends, too, and played with one another!"

"When I'm not hungry, I love to play with you all," said the
kitten, demurely; "but when my stomach is empty it seems that nothing
would fill it so nicely as a fat piglet."

"And we trusted you so!" said another of the nine,
reproachfully.

"And thought you were respectable!" said another.

"It seems we were mistaken," declared a third, looking at the
kitten timorously, "no one with such murderous desires should belong
to our party, I'm sure."

"You see, Eureka," remarked Dorothy, reprovingly, "you are
making yourself disliked. There are certain things proper for a
kitten to eat; but I never heard of a kitten eating a pig, under any
cir'stances."

"Did you ever see such little pigs before?" asked the kitten.
"They are no bigger than mice, and I'm sure mice are proper for me to
eat."

"It isn't the bigness, dear; its the variety," replied the girl.
"These are Mr. Wizard's pets, just as you are my pet, and it wouldn't
be any more proper for you to eat them than it would be for Jim to
eat you."

"And that's just what I shall do if you don't let those little
balls of pork alone," said Jim, glaring at the kitten with his round,
big eyes. "If you injure any one of them I'll chew you up
instantly."

The kitten looked at the horse thoughtfully, as if trying to
decide whether he meant it or not.

"In that case," she said, "I'll leave them alone. You haven't
many teeth left, Jim, but the few you have are sharp enough to make
me shudder. So the piglets will be perfectly safe, hereafter, as far
as I am concerned."

"That is right, Eureka," remarked the Wizard, earnestly. "Let
us all be a happy family and love one another."

Eureka yawned and stretched herself.

"I've always loved the piglets," she said; "but they don't love
me."

"No one can love a person he's afraid of," asserted Dorothy.
"If you behave, and don't scare the little pigs, I'm sure they'll
grow very fond of you."

The Wizard now put the nine tiny ones back into his pocket and
the journey was resumed.

"We must be pretty near the top, now," said the boy, as they
climbed wearily up the dark, winding stairway.

"The Country of the Gurgles can't be far from the top of the
earth," remarked Dorothy. "It isn't very nice down here. I'd like
to get home again, I'm sure."

No one replied to this, because they found they needed all their
breath for the climb. The stairs had become narrower and Zeb and the
Wizard often had to help Jim pull the buggy from one step to another,
or keep it from jamming against the rocky walls.

At last, however, a dim light appeared ahead of them, which grew
clearer and stronger as they advanced.

"Thank goodness we're nearly there!" panted the little
Wizard.

Jim, who was in advance, saw the last stair before him and stuck
his head above the rocky sides of the stairway. Then he halted,
ducked down and began to back up, so that he nearly fell with the
buggy onto the others.

"Let's go down again!" he said, in his hoarse voice.

"Nonsense!" snapped the tired Wizard. "What's the matter with
you, old man?"

"Everything," grumbled the horse. "I've taken a look at this
place, and it's no fit country for real creatures to go to.
Everything's dead, up there--no flesh or blood or growing thing
anywhere."

"Never mind;. we can't turn back," said Dorothy; "and we don't
intend to stay there, anyhow."

"It's dangerous," growled Jim, in a stubborn tone.

"See here, my good steed," broke in the Wizard, "little Dorothy
and I have been in many queer countries in our travels, and always
escaped without harm. We've even been to the marvelous Land of
Oz--haven't we, Dorothy?--so we don't much care what the Country of
the Gargoyles is like. Go ahead, Jim, and whatever happens we'll
make the best of it."

"All right," answered the horse; "this is your excursion, and
not mine; so if you get into trouble don't blame me."

With this speech he bent forward and dragged the buggy up the
remaining steps. The others followed and soon they were all standing
upon a broad platform and gazing at the most curious and startling
sight their eyes had ever beheld.

"The Country of the Gargoyles is all wooden!" exclaimed Zeb; and
so it was. The ground was sawdust and the pebbles scattered around
were hard knots from trees, worn smooth in course of time. There
were odd wooden houses, with carved wooden flowers in the front
yards. The tree-trunks were of coarse wood, but the leaves of the
trees were shavings. The patches of grass were splinters of wood,
and where neither grass nor sawdust showed was a solid wooden
flooring. Wooden birds fluttered among the trees and wooden cows
were browsing upon the wooden grass; but the most amazing things of
all were the wooden people--the creatures known as Gargoyles.

These were very numerous, for the place was thickly inhabited,
and a large group of the queer people clustered near, gazing sharply
upon the strangers who had emerged from the long spiral stairway.

The Gargoyles were very small of stature, being less than three
feet in height. Their bodies were round, their legs short and thick
and their arms extraordinarily long and stout. Their heads were too
big for their bodies and their faces were decidedly ugly to look
upon. Some had long, curved noses and chins, small eyes and wide,
grinning mouths. Others had flat noses, protruding eyes, and ears
that were shaped like those of an elephant. There were many types,
indeed, scarcely two being alike; but all were equally disagreeable
in appearance. The tops of their heads had no hair, but were carved
into a variety of fantastic shapes, some having a row of points or
balls around the top, others designs resembling flowers or
vegetables, and still others having squares that looked like waffles
cut criss-cross on their heads. They all wore short wooden wings
which were fastened to their wooden bodies by means of wooden hinges
with wooden screws, and with these wings they flew swiftly and
noiselessly here and there, their legs being of little use to
them.

This noiseless motion was one of the most peculiar things about
the Gargoyles. They made no sounds at all, either in flying or
trying to speak, and they conversed mainly by means of quick signals
made with their wooden fingers or lips. Neither was there any sound
to be heard anywhere throughout the wooden country. The birds did
not sing, nor did the cows moo; yet there was more than ordinary
activity everywhere.

The group of these queer creatures which was discovered
clustered near the stairs at first remained staring and motionless,
glaring with evil eyes at the intruders who had so suddenly appeared
in their land. In turn the Wizard and the children, the horse and the
kitten, examined the Gargoyles with the same silent attention.

"There's going to be trouble, I'm sure," remarked the horse.
"Unhitch those tugs, Zeb, and set me free from the buggy, so I can
fight comfortably."

"Jim's right," sighed the Wizard. "There's going to be trouble,
and my sword isn't stout enough to cut up those wooden bodies--so I
shall have to get out my revolvers."

He got his satchel from the buggy and, opening it, took out two
deadly looking revolvers that made the children shrink back in alarm
just to look at.

"What harm can the Gurgles do?" asked Dorothy. "They have no
weapons to hurt us with."

"Each of their arms is a wooden club," answered the little man,
"and I'm sure the creatures mean mischief, by the looks of their
eyes. Even these revolvers can merely succeed in damaging a few of
their wooden bodies, and after that we will be at their mercy."

"But why fight at all, in that case?" asked the girl.

"So I may die with a clear conscience," returned the Wizard,
gravely. "It's every man's duty to do the best he knows how; and I'm
going to do it."

"Wish I had an axe," said Zeb, who by now had unhitched the
horse.

"If we had known we were coming we might have brought along
several other useful things," responded the Wizard. "But we dropped
into this adventure rather unexpectedly."

The Gargoyles had backed away a distance when they heard the
sound of talking, for although our friends had spoken in low tones
their words seemed loud in the silence surrounding them. But as soon
as the conversation ceased, the grinning, ugly creatures arose in a
flock and flew swiftly toward the strangers, their long arms
stretched out before them like the bowsprits of a fleet of
sail-boats. The horse had especially attracted their notice, because
it was the biggest and strangest creature they had ever seen; so it
became the center of their first attack.

But Jim was ready for them, and when he saw them coming he
turned his heels toward them and began kicking out as hard as he
could. Crack! crash! bang! went his iron-shod hoofs against the
wooden bodies of the Gargoyles, and they were battered right and left
with such force that they scattered like straws in the wind. But the
noise and clatter seemed as dreadful to them as Jim's heels, for all
who were able swiftly turned and flew away to a great distance. The
others picked themselves up from the ground one by one and quickly
rejoined their fellows, so for a moment the horse thought he had won
the fight with ease.

But the Wizard was not so confident.

"Those wooden things are impossible to hurt," he said, "and all
the damage Jim has done to them is to knock a few splinters from
their noses and ears. That cannot make them look any uglier, I'm
sure, and it is my opinion they will soon renew the attack."

"What made them fly away?" asked Dorothy.

"The noise, of course. Don't you remember how the Champion
escaped them by shouting his battle-cry?"

"Suppose we escape down the stairs, too," suggested the boy.
"We have time, just now, and I'd rather face the invis'ble bears than
those wooden imps."

"No," returned Dorothy, stoutly, "it won't do to go back, for
then we would never get home. Let's fight it out."

"That is what I advise," said the Wizard. "They haven't
defeated us yet, and Jim is worth a whole army."

But the Gargoyles were clever enough not to attack the horse the
next time. They advanced in a great swarm, having been joined by
many more of their kind, and they flew straight over Jim's head to
where the others were standing.

The Wizard raised one of his revolvers and fired into the throng
of his enemies, and the shot resounded like a clap of thunder in that
silent place.

Some of the wooden beings fell flat upon the ground, where they
quivered and trembled in every limb; but most of them managed to
wheel and escape again to a distance.

Zeb ran and picked up one of the Gargoyles that lay nearest to
him. The top of its head was carved into a crown and the Wizard's
bullet had struck it exactly in the left eye, which was a hard wooden
knot. Half of the bullet stuck in the wood and half stuck out, so it
had been the jar and the sudden noise that had knocked the creature
down, more than the fact that it was really hurt. Before this
crowned Gargoyle had recovered himself Zeb had wound a strap several
times around its body, confining its wings and arms so that it could
not move. Then, having tied the wooden creature securely, the boy
buckled the strap and tossed his prisoner into the buggy. By that
time the others had all retired.