THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ – Complete 16 Book Collection (Fantasy Classics Series). Лаймен Фрэнк Баум
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Cloud Fairies. Mortals who stand upon the earth and look up at the sky cannot often distinguish these forms, but our friends were now so near to the clouds that they observed the dainty fairies very clearly.
“Are they real?” asked Zeb, in an awed voice.
“Of course,” replied Dorothy, softly. “They are the Cloud Fairies.”
“They seem like open-work,” remarked the boy, gazing intently. “If I should squeeze one, there wouldn’t be anything left of it.”
In the open space between the clouds and the black, bubbling sea far beneath, could be seen an occasional strange bird winging its way swiftly through the air. These birds were of enormous size, and reminded Zeb of the rocs he had read about in the Arabian Nights. They had fierce eyes and sharp talons and beaks, and the children hoped none of them would venture into the cavern.
“Well, I declare!” suddenly exclaimed the little Wizard. “What in the world is this?”
They turned around and found a man standing on the floor in the center of the cave, who bowed very politely when he saw he had attracted their attention. He was a very old man, bent nearly double; but the queerest thing about him was his white hair and beard. These were so long that they reached to his feet, and both the hair and the beard were carefully plaited into many braids, and the end of each braid fastened with a bow of colored ribbon.
“Where did you come from?” asked Dorothy, wonderingly.
“No place at all,” answered the man with the braids; “that is, not recently. Once I lived on top the earth, but for many years I have had my factory in this spot—half way up Pyramid Mountain.”
“Are we only half way up?” enquired the boy, in a discouraged tone.
“I believe so, my lad,” replied the braided man. “But as I have never been in either direction, down or up, since I arrived, I cannot be positive whether it is exactly half way or not.”
“Have you a factory in this place?” asked the Wizard, who had been examining the strange personage carefully.
“To be sure,” said the other. “I am a great inventor, you must know, and I manufacture my products in this lonely spot.”
“What are your products?” enquired the Wizard.
“Well, I make Assorted Flutters for flags and bunting, and a superior grade of Rustles for ladies’ silk gowns.”
“I thought so,” said the Wizard, with a sigh. “May we examine some of these articles?”
“Yes, indeed; come into my shop, please,” and the braided man turned and led the way into a smaller cave, where he evidently lived. Here, on a broad shelf, were several cardboard boxes of various sizes, each tied with cotton cord.
“This,” said the man, taking up a box and handling it gently, “contains twelve dozen rustles—enough to last any lady a year. Will you buy it, my dear?” he asked, addressing Dorothy.
“My gown isn’t silk,” she said, smiling.
“Never mind. When you open the box the rustles will escape, whether you are wearing a silk dress or not,” said the man, seriously. Then he picked up another box. “In this,” he continued, “are many assorted flutters. They are invaluable to make flags flutter on a still day, when there is no wind. You, sir,” turning to the Wizard, “ought to have this assortment. Once you have tried my goods I am sure you will never be without them.”
“I have no money with me,” said the Wizard, evasively.
“I do not want money,” returned the braided man, “for I could not spend it in this deserted place if I had it. But I would like very much a blue hair-ribbon. You will notice my braids are tied with yellow, pink, brown, red, green, white and black; but I have no blue ribbons.”
“I’ll get you one!” cried Dorothy, who was sorry for the poor man; so she ran back to the buggy and took from her suit-case a pretty blue ribbon. It did her good to see how the braided man’s eyes sparkled when he received this treasure.
“You have made me very, very happy, my dear!” he exclaimed; and then he insisted on the Wizard taking the box of flutters and the little girl accepting the box of rustles.
“You may need them, some time,” he said, “and there is really no use in my manufacturing these things unless somebody uses them.”
“Why did you leave the surface of the earth?” enquired the Wizard.
“I could not help it. It is a sad story, but if you will try to restrain your tears I will tell you about it. On earth I was a manufacturer of Imported Holes for American Swiss Cheese, and I will acknowledge that I supplied a superior article, which was in great demand. Also I made pores for porous plasters and high-grade holes for doughnuts and buttons. Finally I invented a new Adjustable Post-hole, which I thought would make my fortune. I manufactured a large quantity of these post-holes, and having no room in which to store them I set them all end to end and put the top one in the ground. That made an extraordinary long hole, as you may imagine, and reached far down into the earth; and, as I leaned over it to try to see to the bottom, I lost my balance and tumbled in. Unfortunately, the hole led directly into the vast space you see outside this mountain; but I managed to catch a point of rock that projected from this cavern, and so saved myself from tumbling headlong into the black waves beneath, where the tongues of flame that dart out would certainly have consumed me. Here, then, I made my home; and although it is a lonely place I amuse myself making rustles and flutters, and so get along very nicely.”
When the braided man had completed this strange tale Dorothy nearly laughed, because it was all so absurd; but the Wizard tapped his forehead significantly, to indicate that he thought the poor man was crazy. So they politely bade him good day, and went back to the outer cavern to resume their journey.
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