About the middle of the forenoon
they began to go up a long
hill. By-and-by this hill suddenly
dropped down into a pretty
valley, where the travelers
saw, to their surprise, a small
house standing
by the road-side.
It was the first house they
had seen, and they hastened
into the valley to discover
who lived there. No one was
in sight as they approached,
but when they began to get
nearer the house they heard
queer sounds coming from it.
They could not make these out
at first, but as they became
louder our friends thought
they heard a sort of music
like that made by a wheezy
hand-organ; the music fell
upon their ears in this way:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!
Tiddle-tiddle-tiddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom--pah!
"What is it, a band or a
mouth-organ?" asked Dorothy.
"Don't know," said
Button-Bright.
"Sounds to me like a played-out
phonograph," said the shaggy
man, lifting his enormous ears
to listen.
"Oh, there just COULDN'T
be a funnygraf in Fairyland!" cried
Dorothy.
"It's rather pretty, isn't
it?" asked Polychrome, trying
to dance to the strains.
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom
pom-pom, Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
came the music to their ears,
more distinctly as they drew
nearer the house. Presently,
they saw a little fat man sitting
on a bench before the door.
He wore a red, braided jacket
that reached to his waist,
a blue waistcoat, and white
trousers with gold stripes
down the sides. On his bald
head was perched a little,
round, red cap held in place
by a rubber elastic underneath
his chin. His face was round,
his eyes a faded blue, and
he wore white cotton gloves.
The man leaned on a stout gold-headed
cane, bending forward on his
seat to watch his visitors
approach.
Singularly enough, the musical
sounds they had heard seemed
to come from the inside of
the fat man himself; for he
was playing no instrument nor
was any to be seen near him.
They came up and stood in
a row, staring at him, and
he stared back while the queer
sounds came from him as before:
Tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom--pah!
Why, he's
a reg'lar musicker!" said
Button-Bright.
"What's a musicker?" asked
Dorothy.
"Him!" said
the boy.
Hearing this, the fat man
sat up a little stiffer than
before, as if he had received
a compliment, and still came
the sounds:
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom
pom-pom, Oom pom-pom, oom--
"Stop it!" cried the shaggy
man, earnestly. "Stop that
dreadful noise."
The fat man looked at him
sadly and began his reply.
When he spoke the music changed
and the words seemed to accompany
the notes. He said--or rather
sang:
It isn't a noise that you
hear, But Music, harmonic and
clear. My breath makes me play
Like an organ, all day-- That
bass note is in my left ear.
"How funny!" exclaimed Dorothy; "he
says his breath makes the music."
"That's all nonsense," declared
the shaggy man; but now the
music began again, and they
all listened carefully.
My lungs are full of reeds
like those In organs, therefore
I suppose, If I breathe in
or out my nose, The reeds are
bound to play.
So as I breathe to live,
you know, I squeeze out music
as I go; I'm very sorry this
is so-- Forgive my piping,
pray!
"Poor man," said Polychrome; "he
can't help it. What a great
misfortune it is!"
"Yes," replied the shaggy
man; "we are only obliged to
hear this music a short time,
until we leave him and go away;
but the poor fellow must listen
to himself as long as he lives,
and that is enough to drive
him crazy. Don't you think
so?"
"Don't know," said Button-Bright.
Toto said, "Bow-wow!" and the
others laughed.
"Perhaps that's why he lives
all alone," suggested Dorothy.
"Yes; if he had neighbors,
they might do him an injury," responded
the shaggy man.
All this while the little
fat musicker was breathing
the notes:
Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom,
pom-pom,
and they had to speak loud
in order to hear themselves.
The shaggy man said:
"Who are
you, sir?"
The reply came in the shape
of this sing-song:
I'm Allegro da Capo, a very
famous man; Just find another,
high or low, to match me if
you can. Some people try, but
can't, to play And have to
practice every day; But I've
been musical always, since
first my life began.
"Why, I b'lieve he's proud
of it," exclaimed Dorothy; "and
seems to me I've heard worse
music than he makes."
"Where?" asked
Button-Bright.
"I've forgotten,
just now. But Mr. Da Capo
is certainly
a strange person--isn't he?--and
p'r'aps he's the only one of
his kind in all the world."
This praise seemed to please
the little fat musicker, for
he swelled out his chest, looked
important and sang as follows:
I wear no band around me,
And yet I am a band! I do not
strain to make my strains But,
on the other hand, My toot
is always destitute Of flats
or other errors; To see sharp
and be natural are For me but
minor terrors.
"I don't quite understand
that," said Polychrome, with
a puzzled look; "but perhaps
it's because I'm accustomed
only to the music of the spheres."
"What's that?" asked
Button-Bright.
"Oh, Polly means the atmosphere
and hemisphere, I s'pose," explained
Dorothy.
"Oh," said
Button-Bright.
"Bow-wow!" said
Toto.
But the musicker was still
breathing his constant
Oom, pom-pom; Oom pom-pom--
and it seemed to jar on the
shaggy man's nerves.
"Stop it, can't you?" he
cried angrily; "or breathe
in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin
on your nose. Do something,
anyhow!"
But the fat one, with a sad
look, sang this answer:
Music hath charms, and it
may Soothe even the savage,
they say; So if savage you
feel Just list to my reel,
For sooth to say that's the
real way.
The shaggy man had to laugh
at this, and when he laughed
he stretched his donkey mouth
wide open. Said Dorothy:
"I don't
know how good his poetry
is, but it seems to
fit the notes, so that's all
that can be 'xpected."
"I like it," said
Button-Bright, who was staring
hard at the
musicker, his little legs spread
wide apart. To the surprise
of his companions, the boy
asked this long question:
"If I swallowed
a mouth-organ, what would
I be?"
"An organette," said the
shaggy man. "But come, my dears;
I think the best thing we can
do is to continue on our journey
before Button-Bright swallows
anything. We must try to find
that Land of Oz, you know."
Hearing this speech the musicker
sang, quickly:
If you go to the Land of
Oz Please take me along, because
On Ozma's birthday I'm anxious
to play The loveliest song
ever was.
"No thank you," said Dorothy; "we
prefer to travel alone. But
if I see Ozma I'll tell her
you want to come to her birthday
party."
"Let's be going," urged
the shaggy man, anxiously.
Polly was already dancing
along the road, far in advance,
and the others turned to follow
her. Toto did not like the
fat musicker and made a grab
for his chubby leg. Dorothy
quickly caught up the growling
little dog and hurried after
her companions, who were walking
faster than usual in order
to get out of hearing. They
had to climb a hill, and until
they got to the top they could
not escape the musicker's monotonous
piping:
Oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom;
Tiddle-iddle-widdle, oom, pom-pom;
Oom, pom-pom--pah!
As they passed the brow of
the hill, however, and descended
on the other side, the sounds
gradually died away, whereat
they all felt much relieved.
"I'm glad I don't have to
live with the organ-man; aren't
you, Polly?" said Dorothy.
"Yes indeed," answered
the Rainbow's Daughter.
"He's nice," declared
Button-Bright, soberly.
"I hope your Princess Ozma
won't invite him to her birthday
celebration," remarked the
shaggy man; "for the fellow's
music would drive her guests
all crazy. You've given me
an idea, Button-Bright; I believe
the musicker must have swallowed
an accordeon in his youth."
"What's 'cordeon?" asked
the boy.
"It's a kind of pleating," explained
Dorothy, putting down the dog.
"Bow-wow!" said
Toto, and ran away at a mad
gallop to
chase a bumble-bee.
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