Chapter Twenty-Two

The Joking Horners

It was not long before they left the passage and

came to a great cave, so high that it must have

reached nearly to the top of the mountain within

which it lay. It was a magnificent cave, illumined

by the soft, invisible light, so that everything

in it could be plainly seen. The walls were of

polished marble, white with veins of delicate

colors running through it, and the roof was arched

and fantastic and beautiful.

Built beneath this vast dome was a pretty

village—not very large, for there seemed not more

than fifty houses altogether—and the dwellings

were of marble and artistically designed. No grass

nor flowers nor trees grew in this cave, so the

yards surrounding the houses carved in designs

both were smooth and bare and had low walls around

them to mark their boundaries.

In the streets and the yards of the houses

were many people all having one leg growing

below their bodies and all hopping here and

there whenever they moved. Even the children

stood firmly upon their single legs and never

lost their balance.

“All hail, Champion!” cried a man in the first

group of Hoppers they met; “whom have you

captured?”

“No one,” replied the Champion in a gloomy

voice; “these strangers have captured me.”

“Then,” said another, “we will rescue you, and

capture them, for we are greater in number.”

“No,” answered the Champion, “I can’t allow it.

I’ve surrendered, and it isn’t polite to capture

those you’ve surrendered to.”

“Never mind that,” said Dorothy. “We will give

you your liberty and set you free.”

“Really?” asked the Champion in joyous tones.

“Yes,” said the little girl; “your people may

need you to help conquer the Horners.”

At this all the Hoppers looked downcast and sad.

Several more had joined the group by this time and

quite a crowd of curious men, women and children

surrounded the strangers.

“This war with our neighbors is a terrible

thing,” remarked one of the women. “Some one is

almost sure to get hurt.”

“Why do you say that, madam?” inquired the

Scarecrow.

“Because the horns of our enemies are sharp,

and in battle they will try to stick those horns

into our warriors,” she replied.

“How many horns do the Horners have?” asked

Dorothy.

“Each has one horn in the center of his fore

head,” was the answer.

“Oh, then they’re unicorns,” declared the

Scarecrow.

“No; they’re Horners. We never go to war with

them if we can help it, on account of their

dangerous horns; but this insult was so great and

so unprovoked that our brave men decided to fight,

in order to be revenged,” said the woman.

“What weapons do you fight with?” the Scarecrow

asked.

“We have no weapons,” explained the Champion.

“Whenever we fight the Horners, our plan is to

push them back, for our arms are longer than

theirs.”

“Then you are better armed,” said Scraps.

“Yes; but they have those terrible horns, and

unless we are careful they prick us with the

points,” returned the Champion with a shudder.

“That makes a war with them dangerous, and a

dangerous war cannot be a pleasant one.”

“I see very clearly,” remarked the Scarecrow,

“that you are going to have trouble in conquering

those Horners—unless we help you.”

“Oh!” cried the Hoppers in a chorus; “can

you help us? Please do! We will be greatly

obliged! It would please us very much!” and by

these exclamations the Scarecrow knew that his

speech had met with favor.

“How far is it to the Horner Country?” he asked.

“Why, it’s just the other side of the fence,”

they answered, and the Champion added:

“Come with me, please, and I’ll show you the

Horners.”

So they followed the Champion and several

others through the streets and just beyond the

village came to a very high picket fence, built

all of marble, which seemed to divide the great

cave into two equal parts.

But the part inhabited by the Horners was in no

way as grand in appearance as that of the Hoppers.

Instead of being marble, the walls and roof were

of dull gray rock and the square houses were

plainly made of the same material. But in extent

the city was much larger than that of the Hoppers

and the streets were thronged with numerous people

who busied themselves in various ways.

Looking through the open pickets of the fence

our friends watched the Horners, who did not know

they were being watched by strangers, and found

them very unusual in appearance. They were little

folks in size and had bodies round as balls and

short legs and arms. Their heads were round, too,

and they had long, pointed ears and a horn set in

the center of the forehead. The horns did not seem

very terrible, for they were not more than six

inches long; but they were ivory white and sharp

pointed, and no wonder the Hoppers feared them.

The skins of the Horners were light brown, but

they wore snow-white robes and were bare footed.

Dorothy thought the most striking thing about them

was their hair, which grew in three distinct

colors on each and every head—red, yellow and

green. The red was at the bottom and sometimes

hung over their eyes; then came a broad circle of

yellow and the green was at the top and formed a

brush-shaped topknot.

None of the Horners was yet aware of the

presence of strangers, who watched the little

brown people for a time and then went to the

big gate in the center of the dividing fence. It

was locked on both sides and over the latch was

a sign reading:

“WAR IS DECLARED”

“Can’t we go through?” asked Dorothy.

“Not now,” answered the Champion.

“I think,” said the Scarecrow, “that if I could

talk with those Horners they would apologize to

you, and then there would be no need to fight.”

“Can’t you talk from this side?” asked the

Champion.

“Not so well,” replied the Scarecrow. “Do you

suppose you could throw me over that fence?

It is high, but I am very light.”

“We can try it,” said the Hopper. “I am perhaps

the strongest man in my country, so I’ll undertake

to do the throwing. But I won’t promise you will

land on your feet.”

“No matter about that,” returned the Scarecrow.

“Just toss me over and I’ll be satisfied.”

So the Champion picked up the Scarecrow

and balanced him a moment, to see how much

he weighed, and then with all his strength

tossed him high into the air.

Perhaps if the Scarecrow had been a trifle

heavier he would have been easier to throw and

would have gone a greater distance; but, as it

was, instead of going over the fence he landed

just on top of it, and one of the sharp pickets

caught him in the middle of his back and held him

fast prisoner. Had he been face downward the

Scarecrow might have managed to free himself, but

lying on his back on the picket his hands waved in

the air of the Horner Country while his feet

kicked the air of the Hopper Country; so there he

was.

“Are you hurt?” called the Patchwork Girl

anxiously.

“Course not,” said Dorothy. “But if he wig-gles

that way he may tear his clothes. How can we get

him down, Mr. Champion?”

The Champion shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “If he could

scare Horners as well as he does crows, it might

be a good idea to leave him there.”

“This is terrible,” said Ojo, almost ready to

cry. “I s’pose it’s because I am Ojo the Unlucky

that everyone who tries to help me gets into

trouble.”

“You are lucky to have anyone to help you,”

declared Dorothy. “But don’t worry. We’ll rescue

the Scarecrow somehow.”

“I know how,” announced Scraps. “Here, Mr.

Champion; just throw me up to the Scarecrow. I’m

nearly as light as he is, and when I’m on top the

fence I’ll pull our friend off the picket and toss

him down to you.”

“All right,” said the Champion, and he picked up

the Patchwork Girl and threw her in the same

manner he had the Scarecrow. He must have used

more strength this time, however, for Scraps

sailed far over the top of the fence and, without

being able to grab the Scarecrow at all, tumbled

to the ground in the Horner Country, where her

stuffed body knocked over two men and a woman and

made a crowd that had collected there run like

rabbits to get away from her.

Seeing the next moment that she was harmless,

the people slowly returned and gathered around the

Patchwork Girl, regarding her with astonishment.

One of them wore a jeweled star in his hair, just

above his horn, and this seemed a person of

importance. He spoke for the rest of his people,

who treated him with great respect.

“Who are you, Unknown Being?” he asked.

“Scraps,” she said, rising to her feet and

patting her cotton wadding smooth where it had

bunched up.

“And where did you come from?” he continued.

“Over the fence. Don’t be silly. There’s no

other place I could have come from,” she replied.

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“You are not a Hopper,” said he, “for you

have two legs. They’re not very well shaped,

but they are two in number. And that strange

creature on top the fence—why doesn’t he stop

kicking?—must be your brother, or father, or son,

for he also has two legs.”

“You must have been to visit the Wise Donkey,”

said Scraps, laughing so merrily that the crowd

smiled with her, in sympathy. “But that reminds

me, Captain—or King—”

“I am Chief of the Horners, and my name is Jak.”

“Of course; Little Jack Horner; I might have

known it. But the reason I volplaned over the

fence was so I could have a talk with you about

the Hoppers.”

“What about the Hoppers?” asked the Chief,

frowning.

“You’ve insulted them, and you’d better beg

their pardon,” said Scraps. “If you don’t, they’ll

probably hop over here and conquer you.

“We’re not afraid—as long as the gate is

locked,” declared the Chief. “And we didn’t insult

them at all. One of us made a joke that the stupid

Hoppers couldn’t see.”

The Chief smiled as he said this and the smile

made his face look quite jolly.

“What was the joke?” asked Scraps.

“A Horner said they have less understanding than

we, because they’ve only one leg. Ha, ha! You see

the point, don’t you? If you stand on your legs,

and your legs are under you, then—ha, ha, ha!—

then your legs are your understanding. Hee, bee,

hee! Ho, ho! My, but that’s a fine joke. And the

stupid Hoppers couldn’t see it! They couldn’t see

that with only one leg they must have less

understanding than we who have two legs. Ha, ha,

ha! Hee, bee! Ho, ho!” The Chief wiped the tears

of laughter from his eyes with the bottom hem of

his white robe, and all the other Horners wiped

their eyes on their robes, for they had laughed

just as heartily as their Chief at the absurd

joke.

“Then,” said Scraps, “their understanding of the

understanding you meant led to the

misunderstanding.”

“Exactly; and so there’s no need for us to

apologize,” returned the Chief.

“No need for an apology, perhaps, but much need

for an explanation,” said Scraps decidedly. “You

don’t want war, do you?”

“Not if we can help it,” admitted Jak Horner.

“The question is, who’s going to explain the joke

to the Horners? You know it spoils any joke to be

obliged to explain it, and this is the best joke I

ever heard.”

“Who made the joke?” asked Scraps.

“Diksey Horner. He is working in the mines, just

now, but he’ll be home before long. Suppose we

wait and talk with him about it? Maybe he’ll be

willing to explain his joke to the Hoppers.”

“All right,” said Scraps. “I’ll wait, if Diksey

isn’t too long.”

“No, he’s short; he’s shorter than I am. Ha,

ha, ha! Say! that’s a better joke than Diksey’s.

He won’t be too long, because he’s short. Hee,

hee, ho!”

The other Horners who were standing by roared

with laughter and seemed to like their Chief’s

joke as much as he did. Scraps thought it was odd

that they could be so easily amused, but decided

there could be little harm in people who laughed

so merrily.