Rinkitink In Oz by Lyman Frank Baum (books under 200 pages .txt) 📕

Pingaree. It is more pleasant than here in spite of the desolation of my father’s palace. And there, if anywhere, we shall discover a way out of our difficulties.”

This suggestion met with Rinkitink’s approval and the little party at once started upon the return journey. As there was no occasion to delay upon the way, they reached the big end of the island about the middle of the day and at once began searching the ruins of the palace.

They found, to their satisfaction, that one room at the bottom of a tower was still habitable, although the roof was broken in and the place was somewhat littered with stones. The King was, as he said, too fat to do any hard work, so he sat down on a block of marble and watched Inga clear the room of its rubbish. This done, the boy hunted through the ruins until he discovered a stool and an armchair that had not been broken beyond use. Some bedding and a mattress were also found, so that by nightfall the little room had been made quite comfortable

The following morning, while Rinkitink was still sound asleep and Bilbil was busily cropping the dewy grass that edged the shore, Prince Inga began to search the tumbled heaps of marble for the place where the royal banquet hall had been. After climbing over the ruins for a time he reached a flat place which he recognized, by means of the tiled flooring and the broken furniture scattered about, to be the great hall he was seeking. But in the center of the floor, directly over the spot where the pearls were hidden, lay several large and heavy blocks of marble, which had been torn from the dismantled walls.

This unfortunate discovery for a time discouraged the boy, who realized how helpless he was to remove such vast obstacles; but it was so important to secure the pearls that he dared not give way to despair until every human effort had been made, so he sat him down to think over the matter with great care.

Meantime Rinkitink had risen from his bed and walked out upon the lawn, where he found Bilbil reclining at ease upon the greensward.

“Where is Inga?” asked Rinkitink, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles because their vision was blurred with too much sleep.

“Don’t ask me,” said the goat, chewing with much satisfaction a cud of sweet grasses.

“Bilbil,” said the King, squatting down beside the goat and resting his fat chin upon his hands and his elbows on his knees, “allow me to confide to you the fact that I am bored, and need amusement. My good friend Kitticut has been kidnapped by the barbarians and taken from me, so there is no one to converse with me intelligently. I am the King and you are the goat. Suppose you tell me a story.

“Suppose I don’t,” said Bilbil, with a scowl, for a goat’s face is very expressive.

“If you refuse, I shall be more unhappy than ever, and I know your disposition is too sweet to permit that. Tell me a story, Bilbil.”

The goat looked at him with an expression of scorn. Said he:

“One would think you are but four years old, Rinkitink! But there — I will do as you command. Listen carefully, and the story may do you some good — although I doubt if you understand the moral.”

“I am sure the story will do me good,” declared the King, whose eyes were twinkling.

“Once on a time,” began the goat.

“When was that, Bilbil?” asked the King gently.

“Don’t interrupt; it is impolite. Once on a time there was a King with a hollow inside his head, where most people have their brains, and —”

“Is this a true story, Bilbil?”

“And the King with a hollow head could chatter words, which had no sense, and laugh in a brainless manner at senseless things. That part of the story is true enough, Rinkitink.”

“Then proceed with the tale, sweet Bilbil. Yet it is hard to believe that any King could be brainless — unless, indeed, he proved it by owning a talking goat.”

Bilbil glared at him a full minute in silence. Then he resumed his story:

“This empty-headed man was a King by accident, having been born to that high station. Also the King was empty-headed by the same chance, being born without brains.”

“Poor fellow!” quoth the King. “Did he own a talking goat?”

“He did,” answered Bilbil.

“Then he was wrong to have been born at all. Cheek-eek-eek-eek, oo, hoo!” chuckled Rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. “But it’s hard to prevent oneself from being born; there’s no chance for protest, eh, Bilbil?”

“Who is telling this story, I’d like to know,” demanded the goat, with anger.

“Ask someone with brains, my boy; I’m sure I can’t tell,” replied the King, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter.

Bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving Rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal’s face.

“Oh, Bilbil, you’ll be the death of me, some day — I’m sure you will!” gasped the King, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes; for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came.

Bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his master. To escape from Rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the palace, where he came upon Prince Inga.

“Good morning, Bilbil,” said the boy. “I was just going to find you, that I might consult you upon an important matter. If you will kindly turn back with me I am sure your good judgment will be of great assistance.”

The angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he was addressed, but he immediately asked:

“Are you also going to consult that empty-headed King over yonder?”

“I am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way,” said the boy gravely. “All men are deserving of respect, being the highest of living creatures, and Kings deserve respect more than others, for they are set to rule over many people.”

“Nevertheless,” said Bilbil with conviction, “Rinkitink’s head is certainly empty of brains.”

“That I am unwilling to believe,” insisted Inga. “But anyway his heart is kind and gentle and that is better than being wise. He is merry in spite of misfortunes that would cause others to weep and he never speaks harsh words that wound the feelings of his friends.”

“Still,” growled Bilbil, “he is —”

“Let us forget everything but his good nature, which puts new heart into us when we are sad,” advised the boy.”

“But he is —”

“Come with me, please,” interrupted Inga, “for the matter of which I wish to speak is very important.”

Bilbil followed him, although the boy still heard the goat muttering that the King had no brains. Rinkitink, seeing them turn into the ruins, also followed, and upon joining them asked for his breakfast.

Inga opened the sack of food and while he and the King ate of it the boy said:

“If I could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which have fallen in the banquet hall, I think I could find means for us to escape from this barren island.”

“Then,” mumbled Rinkitink, with his mouth full, “let us move the blocks of marble.”

“But how?” inquired Prince Inga. “They are very heavy.”

“Ah, how, indeed?” returned the King, smacking his lips contentedly. “That is a serious question. But — I have it! Let us see what my famous parchment says about it.” He wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then, taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he unrolled it and read the following words: ‘Never step on another man’s toes.’

The goat gave a snort of contempt; Inga was silent; the King looked from one to the other inquiringly.

“That’s the idea, exactly!” declared Rinkitink.

“To be sure,” said Bilbil scornfully, “it tells us exactly how to move the blocks of marble.”

“Oh, does it?” responded the King, and then for a moment he rubbed the top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. The next moment he burst into a peal of joyous laughter. The goat looked at Inga and sighed.

“What did I tell you?” asked the creature. “Was I right, or was I wrong?”

“This scroll,” said Rinkitink, “is indeed a masterpiece. Its advice is of tremendous value. ‘Never step on another man’s toes.’ Let us think this over. The inference is that we should step upon our own toes, which were given us for that purpose. Therefore, if I stepped upon another man’s toes, I would be the other man. Hoo, hoo, hoo! — the other man — hee, hee, heek-keek-eek! Funny, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t I say —” began Bilbil.

“No matter what you said, my boy,” roared the King. “No fool could have figured that out as nicely as I did.”

“We have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble,” suggested Inga anxiously.

“Fasten a rope to them, and pull,” said Bilbil. “Don’t pay any more attention to Rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the man who wrote that brainless scroll. Just get the rope, and we’ll fasten Rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and I’ll help you pull.”

“Thank you, Bilbil,” replied the boy. “I’ll get the rope at once.

Bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it makes the attempt, so Bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little Rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath.

Inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then made a loop at the other end to go over Bilbil’s head. When all was ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place. Seeing this, King Rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where it had lain.

But it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before undertaking the removal of the next block.

“Admit, Bilbil,” said the King, “that I am of some use in the world.”

“Your weight was of considerable help,” acknowledged the goat, “but if your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still easier.”

When Inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the tile with the secret spring. So the three pulled with renewed energy and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving Inga free to remove the treasure when he pleased.

But the boy had no intention of allowing Bilbil and the King to share the secret of the royal treasures of Pingaree; so, although both the goat and its master demanded to know why the marble blocks had been moved, and how it would benefit them, Inga begged them to wait until the next morning, when he hoped to be able to satisfy them that their hard work had not been in vain.

Having little confidence in this promise of a mere boy, the goat grumbled and the King laughed; but Inga paid no heed to their ridicule and set himself to work rigging up a fishing rod, with line and hook. During the afternoon he waded out to some rocks near the shore and fished patiently until he had captured enough yellow perch for their supper and breakfast.