"Come on, Flub Blub. It's a game," called the first riverman to the man just behind him. "Two Scoots playing a game! Here," he croaked in his deep, frog-like voice, "throw it to me!" He raised his sails coaxingly at Dorothy and, partly because she was afraid to have him come nearer and partly because she didn't know what else to do, the little girl pitched back the crown with all her might. The one called Flub Blub caught it immediately. The next throw was to Humpy and backward and forward between the puzzled travellers on the bank and curious creatures on the water flew the dummy's crown, and breathlessly between catches Dorothy examined these strange playfellows.
They were tall and angular and so sunburned that they almost appeared to be Indians. They were clad in shiny water proof hats and slickers. On their long, thin feet, shaped somewhat like skis and somewhat like narrow boats, they slid over the water as surely and carelessly as we skate about on ice. Extending from the ankle to the finger tips, and as much a part of the wearer as wings are part of a bird, were bright yellow sails. When their arms were down at their sides, the sails were folded in and almost unnoticeable, but with arms outstretched the rivermen had two wide-spread sails to help them scoot over the water. By lowering the right arm or the left, they could turn, tack and get about faster than any sailing boat you have ever seen. Their faces, under the broad sou-westers, were child-like and pleasant and, finding them more interesting than dangerous, Dorothy motioned for Humpy to hold the crown, which had landed for about the tenth time with a resounding thwack against his chest.
"But I was just getting good," objected the dummy, placing the crown regretfully on his head. "What now?" Humpy had become so engrossed in catching the crown that he had quite forgotten his fright and, as the leader came in close to the shore, he looked at him with frank curiosity.
"Well, Scoots," bubbled the one called Flub Blub, rocking gently backward and forward on the water, "who won?"
"I think it was a tie," answered Dorothy politely, "but why do you call us Scoots?"
"Because your sails haven't grown," gurgled the riverman, taking a white bubble pipe from his mouth and smiling broadly at the little girl. "But don't mind, my dear. We must all be Scoots before we're Scooters. Just stick in the mud a little longer and your sails will grow as large as mine."
"Dorothy's not a Scoot, she's a star," protested Humpy, "and I'm her double and do all the hard falling. Don't you know a star when you see one?"
The Scooter turned his pale blue eyes curiously on Humpy. "You look about as much like her as a pumpkin looks like a peach," he observed mildly. "Why do you call yourself her double? And if she's a star what's she doing out now? It's only ten o'clock." At this all the other Scooters removed their pipes and nodded gravely.
"Is she an out-and-out star, or a down-and-out star?" inquired Flub Blub, blowing a whole flock of soap bubbles from his pipe and watching them float lazily up the river.
"I'm a Princess," put in Dorothy, seeing that everything was becoming hopelessly confused, "and we're on our way to the Emerald City."