Captain Salt in Oz

by Ruth Plumly Thompson

"The word was play," insisted the Read Bird doggedly. "With whom did you run about, play tag, checkers, pirates or go fishing?"

Tandy looked confused and Roger shook his head sorrowfully. "Never heard of such things!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Well, all I can say is, whoever carried you off and shut you up in that jungle cage did you a real service. If you had not been there we never would have found you and I'm here to tell you that from now on things are going to be different. You're discovered now and aboard the grandest ship afloat. You can forget all about being a King and start right in being a person and an able-bodied seaman. I for my part mean to see you have some fun or break a wing in the attempt."

"But would a King—"

"King! Never let me hear that terrible word again," shuddered Roger, sticking his head under his wing and then popping it comically out again. "From now on, you're plain Tandy and can do as you plain please so long as it does no harm to yourself or the ship. Understand? And tomorrow we'll start having fun, so be ready." Roger's promise sounded almost like a threat, but there was such a merry twinkle in his eye, Tandy began to feel interested. "You might even begin tonight," sniffed Roger, taking up the tray. "Just begin by thinking of something you want to do. Think about it hard and then DO it." Winking cheerfully over the empty plates, the Read Bird spread his wings and sailed through the port.

For several minutes Tandy lay where he was, turning Roger's last injunction over and over in his stiff, precise little mind. What DID he really want to do? At first he could think of nothing. Then suddenly he knew. Why, of course—he wanted to talk to Kobo and he just plain WOULD. There was a frosted cake left from his supper, and slipping it into his blouse, Tandy stepped quietly out on deck. The ship, with only a slight roll, was moving briskly through the water, white foam falling in lacy spray from her sides, the moon-white sails spread like giant wings above his head. There was no one in sight, and almost holding his breath, Tandy tiptoed aft and leaned adventurously over the taffrail.

"Kobo—Yo KOBO!" he called huskily.

"Hello! I thought you'd be out soon." Swinging round and turning her vast smile upward, the hippopotamus gazed fondly at her young charge. "Are you comfortable? Did you have a good dinner?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, and look what I saved for you!" As he spoke, Tandy glanced over his shoulder as if he were almost afraid to have anyone see him enjoying himself. "Open your mouth, Kobo!" he whispered eagerly. Without hesitation or question the hippopotamus stretched her jaws wide and Tandy with the first real thrill of his life flung the frosted cake into that immense pink cavern. As Kobo neatly caught and snapped her lips on the tempting morsel Tandy let out a faint cheer and began to think there might be something in Roger's suggestions after all. "I'll throw you lots of things tomorrow," he promised gaily. "Good night, Kobo. Good night, Kobo dear."

Humming a tuneless little song, the young King hurried almost cheerfully back to his cabin. Pausing in the doorway of his tidy quarters, he looked about complacently. What did he want to do next? There was no one to tell him to go to bed, so he just plain wouldn't. He'd sit up as late as he plain pleased. Rummaging through Peter's sea chest, which Ato had placed near his bunk, Tandy found a large tablet of stiff paper, a box of paints and some crayons. Settling himself cross-legged on his bunk, he began drawing, not pictures of the castles and courtiers of Ozamaland, but pictures of the queer jungle beasts and Leopard Men he had seen on Patrippany Island.