Chapter XII

“Now who’s going to show us the way across the Forbidden Land to the City of Illusia where the North Pole is?” asked Maida.

“Fido, of course,” the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box replied together; so the three hurried off to find Fido. They discovered him drinking pink lemonade through a straw, lazily keeping cool with a palm leaf fan, and quickly explained what they wanted him to do. Greatly to their regret, as well as to his own, Fido could be of no assistance, as he had never been any further North than Arcturia. He was willing to go along with them, but he couldn’t lead the way. And although Maida and the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box, as well as Billy and Santa, and the Man with the Growly Voice, looked about everywhere, they couldn’t find anyone to guide them to the City of Illusia. So they put an advertisement in the evening paper and waited. Very soon the big Chief Kankakee followed by pretty little Kokomo and a number of Eskimos filed into the office of the hotel. The Eskimos all sat down in a circle while Kankakee stood in the centre and made a fine speech. As nearly as we (Maida and I) can remember, the speech ran something like this:

“I am Kankakee, chief of this tribe and a person of great dignity and importance. These, my vassals, will serve me to the death and go wheresoever I bid them. Have I not spoken truly, Oshkosh?” (Whereupon Oshkosh rose and made a low bow.)

“And of all the men in Arcturia I alone know the secret way across the Forbidden Land, and I alone can guide you to the City of Illusia. Answer, Keokuk, have I not said the truth?”

Keokuk rose. “You have indeed,” he answered humbly.

“Now, seeing that I am a person of such importance, it is well that my service should receive a great reward. Therefore I will guide you across the Forbidden Land to the City of Illusia but you must pay the price I ask.”

Then Po-Dunk and Cai-Ro and Chi-Ca-Go and all the other Eskimos solemnly nodded their heads and echoed “pay the price.”

“What price do you ask?” inquired the Man with the Growly Voice.

“I ask neither candles nor spear-heads,” replied Kankakee, “nor fish-hooks, nor blubber.”

“I’m glad of that,” said the Man with the Growly Voice, “for I’m all out of blubber, and my last spear-head is gone.” All the same he felt very uneasy, for an Eskimo prizes spear-heads and fish-hooks very highly, and dearly loves blubber; while candles are just the same as lemon drops in Eskimo land. So he knew Kankakee meant to ask for something very, very precious.

“Well, I must go to the North Pole,” he continued, “and if I can, I will pay your price, so name it.”

Kankakee proudly tossed his head and went on with his speech.

“My daughter Kokomo is the child of a chief and it is fitting that she should know all things. She should be taught by a great wizard like you.” (You see Kankakee thought the Man with the Growly Voice was a wizard because he had bottled up the Tropical Climate.) “Take my daughter, therefore, into your tribe and teach her your magic, and I will guide you--refuse, and you will never find the way.”

Then Kalam-Azoo and Wis-Consin and Neva-Da all nodded their heads and repeated, “Never find the way.”

Well, of course, Maida was delighted, for she knew Kokomo liked her, and wanted her for a playmate; but the Man with the Growly Voice was dumbfounded, for he had never paid any attention to Kokomo or noticed her; in fact, he did not know she was Kankakee’s daughter. So he turned to Kankakee and said, “How old is your daughter?”

“She has seen fourteen days, and fourteen nights,” replied Kankakee with dignity.

“Fourteen days and fourteen nights,” echoed the Man with the Growly Voice, in amazement. “My goodness--you don’t want a teacher for her, you want a nurse. I don’t mind adopting a little girl or so, but I certainly object to search for the North Pole wheeling a baby in a perambulator.”

Maida laughed and pushed Kokomo out from behind her father. “Here’s the baby,” she laughed. “Don’t you remember up here the days and nights are six months long?”

So Kankakee agreed to risk his life and guide them all across the Forbidden Land, while the Man with the Growly Voice agreed to teach Kokomo all his magic and to make friends with her. He searched through his pockets, found an apple, and gave it to her.

She examined it carefully. “How shall I wear it?” she inquired.

Maida laughed and explained--“It isn’t to wear, it’s to _eat_.” So Kokomo took a bite and liked it. Then Kankakee took a bite and liked it, and the apple didn’t last very long.

“I never saw anything like that before,” observed Kokomo (meaning the apple). “How did it come to be?”

“It grew on a tree,” said Maida.

“What’s a tree?” asked Kokomo.

“Why a tree is--a--a tree----” (Now do you know it _is_ rather difficult to explain just what a tree is to a person who has never seen one?) “Why a tree is a great big post of wood that grows right out of the ground and there are leaves on it, and in the Summer apples hang from the branches.”

Kokomo looked at Maida in a very disappointed way, then went to the Man with the Growly Voice. “Did you hear what that little maid told me?” she asked him and pointed to Maida.

“Oh, yes, and it’s quite true,” he replied, laughing.

Kokomo bowed humbly. “I am your handmaid--you are my Lord,” she said. “If you say the story is true and these things are, then it is true, and they _are_--I will believe you, if you bid me--but why not confess the truth, that you _made_ the apple.”

By this time all of the natives of Arcturia who could crowd in the hotel office were gathered about listening with all their ears. The Man with the Growly Voice thought to dazzle them with stories of his own country.

“In my country,” he began, “there are so many trees we cannot count them. In the Summer they are all green. The grass is green too--it grows like a carpet underfoot. Lovely clear rivers flow past the cities and when the weather is warm there is no ice and snow and the young men play and swim in the water, like the seals.” At this, a hoarse murmur burst from the crowd--and an old medicine man pushed his way forward.

“You say your land is all green,” he shouted,--“all green.” Without waiting for a reply, he continued--turning to his comrades. “Oh, a horrible land. The green sun rises in the green East. The green seal peers through a green hole in the ice. Men and women, bears and birds, all green--oh, a horrible land”; and wildly shaking his head, he hobbled away. Another took his place and shook his finger wildly in his anger.

“It is not green in that land,” he shouted. “See this man is not green. But his tongue is crooked. He tells us of posts of wood that grow out of the ground. How can such things be? All men know that wood floats in from the sea, when the ice is gone, and that it comes in no other way. How then can it grow out of the ground? He speaks of grass that grows like a carpet beneath the feet. How can this be? Is not the snow and ice too thick for anything to force its way through? _We_ have never seen anything like that. There is nothing of that sort here, and everyone knows _this_ is the finest and most wonderful country in the world. Then the horrible tale he tells about men who swim in the water like seals. We know that to be false. It is well known that when water covers a man, he dies. I am an old man but water has never touched my skin.”

Then all the Eskimos began to talk at once--and--well, you never heard anything like it. Maida and the Man with the Growly Voice tried to explain, but the Eskimos simply couldn’t understand. Some took the strangers for evil magicians and the others thought they were telling whoppers. So the first thing they knew they were driven in disgrace from the city.