The Scarecrow of Oz. Baum Lyman Frank

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СКАЧАТЬ than this. I’m not sure but our best plan is to stay right here.”

      Trot wasn’t sure, either, when she thought of it in that light. After awhile she made her way back to the sands again, and Cap’n Bill followed her. As they sat down, the child looked thoughtfully at the sailor’s bulging pockets.

      “How much food have we got, Cap’n?” she asked.

      “Half a dozen ship’s biscuits an’ a hunk o’ cheese,” he replied. “Want some now, Trot?”

      She shook her head, saying:

      “That ought to keep us alive ’bout three days if we’re careful of it.”

      “Longer’n that, Trot,” said Cap’n Bill, but his voice was a little troubled and unsteady.

      “But if we stay here we’re bound to starve in time,” continued the girl, “while if we go into the dark hole – ”

      “Some things are more hard to face than starvation,” said the sailor-man, gravely. “We don’t know what’s inside that dark hole. Trot, nor where it might lead us to.”

      “There’s a way to find that out,” she persisted.

      Instead of replying, Cap’n Bill began searching in his pockets. He soon drew out a little package of fishhooks and a long line. Trot watched him join them together. Then he crept a little way up the slope and turned over a big rock. Two or three small crabs began scurrying away over the sands and the old sailor caught them and put one on his hook and the others in his pocket. Coming back to the pool he swung the hook over his shoulder and circled it around his head and cast it nearly into the center of the water, where he allowed it to sink gradually, paying out the line as far as it would go. When the end was reached, he began drawing it in again, until the crab bait was floating on the surface.

      Trot watched him cast the line a second time, and a third. She decided that either there were no fishes in the pool or they would not bite the crab bait. But Cap’n Bill was an old fisherman and not easily discouraged. When the crab got away he put another on the hook. When the crabs were all gone he climbed up the rocks and found some more.

      Meantime Trot tired of watching him and lay down upon the sands, where she fell fast asleep. During the next two hours her clothing dried completely, as did that of the old sailor. They were both so used to salt water that there was no danger of taking cold.

      Finally the little girl was wakened by a splash beside her and a grunt of satisfaction from Cap’n Bill. She opened her eyes to find that the Cap’n had landed a silver-scaled fish weighing about two pounds. This cheered her considerably and she hurried to scrape together a heap of seaweed, while Cap’n Bill cut up the fish with his jackknife and got it ready for cooking.

      They had cooked fish with seaweed before. Cap’n Bill wrapped his fish in some of the weed and dipped it in the water to dampen it. Then he lighted a match and set fire to Trot’s heap, which speedily burned down to a glowing bed of ashes. Then they laid the wrapped fish on the ashes, covered it with more seaweed, and allowed this to catch fire and burn to embers. After feeding the fire with seaweed for some time, the sailor finally decided that their supper was ready, so he scattered the ashes and drew out the bits of fish, still encased in their smoking wrappings. When these wrappings were removed, the fish was found thoroughly cooked and both Trot and Cap’n Bill ate of it freely. It had a slight flavor of seaweed and would have been better with a sprinkling of salt.

      The soft glow which until now had lighted the cavern, began to grow dim, but there was a great quantity of seaweed in the place, so after they had eaten their fish they kept the fire alive for a time by giving it a handful of fuel now and then.

      From an inner pocket the sailor drew a small flask of battered metal and unscrewing the cap handed it to Trot. She took but one swallow of the water, although she wanted more, and she noticed that Cap’n Bill merely wet his lips with it.

      “S’pose,” said she, staring at the glowing seaweed fire and speaking slowly, “that we can catch all the fish we need; how ’bout the drinking-water, Cap’n?”

      He moved uneasily but did not reply. Both of them were thinking about the dark hole, but while Trot had little fear of it the old man could not overcome his dislike to enter the place. He knew that Trot was right, though. To remain in the cavern, where they now were, could only result in slow but sure death.

      It was nighttime upon the earth’s surface, so the little girl became drowsy and soon fell asleep. After a time the old sailor slumbered on the sands beside her. It was very still and nothing disturbed them for hours. When at last they awoke the cavern was light again.

      They had divided one of the biscuits and were munching it for breakfast when they were startled by a sudden splash in the pool. Looking toward it they saw emerging from the water the most curious creature either of them had ever beheld. It wasn’t a fish, Trot decided, nor was it a beast. It had wings, though, and queer wings they were: shaped like an inverted chopping-bowl and covered with tough skin instead of feathers. It had four legs – much like the legs of a stork, only double the number – and its head was shaped a good deal like that of a poll parrot, with a beak that curved downward in front and upward at the edges, and was half bill and half mouth. But to call it a bird was out of the question, because it had 110 feathers whatever except a crest of wavy plumes of a scarlet color on the very top of its head. The strange creature must have weighed as much as Cap’n Bill, and as it floundered and struggled to get out of the water to the sandy beach it was so big and unusual that both Trot and her companion stared at it in wonder – in wonder that was not unmixed with fear.

      CHAPTER 3

      The Ork

      The eyes that regarded them, as the creature stood dripping before them, were bright and mild in expression, and the queer addition to their party made no attempt to attack them and seemed quite as surprised by the meeting as they were.

      “I wonder,” whispered Trot, “what it is.”

      “Who, me?” exclaimed the creature in a shrill, high-pitched voice. “Why, I’m an Ork.”

      “Oh!” said the girl. “But what is an Ork?”

      “I am,” he repeated, a little proudly, as he shook the water from his funny wings; "and if ever an Ork was glad to be out of the water and on dry land again, you can be mighty sure that I’m that especial, individual Ork!"

      “Have you been in the water long?” inquired Cap’n Bill, thinking it only polite to show an interest in the strange creature.

      “Why, this last ducking was about ten minutes, I believe, and that’s about nine minutes and sixty seconds too long for comfort,” was the reply. “But last night I was in an awful pickle, I assure you. The whirlpool caught me, and – ”

      “Oh, were you in the whirlpool, too?” asked Trot eagerly.

      He gave her a glance that was somewhat reproachful.

      “I believe I was mentioning the fact, young lady, when your desire to talk interrupted me,” said the Ork. “I am not usually careless in my actions, but that whirlpool was so busy yesterday that I thought I’d see what mischief it was up to. So I flew a little too near it and the suction of the air drew me down into the depths of the ocean. Water and I are natural enemies, and it would have conquered me this time had not a bevy of pretty mermaids come to my assistance and dragged me away from the whirling water and far up into a cavern, where they deserted me.”

      “Why, СКАЧАТЬ