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By this time, Shaggy, Polychrome, Ozga and Files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the Tube.
"Yes; I can, it is true," answered the Hip-po; "but I refuse to do it. Unless " he added, and stopped short. "Unless what?" asked Polychrome. "Unless you first allow me to eat the straw with which the Scarecrow is stuffed." "No," said the Rainbow's Daughter, "that is too high a price to pay. Our friend's straw is nice and fresh, for he was restuffed only a little while ago."
Of course he wants color that is, not theory only, but illustration, or practical examples. So you put before him Owen Jones's Grammar of Ornament, or Racinet's L'Ornement polychrome, both illustrated with many beautiful designs in color, which he is delighted to find. Another reader is anxious to see a picture of "St. George and the Dragon."
"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.
"Ah, I see you are a philosopher," remarked the Scarecrow. "No, I'm just a Hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply. Polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. She danced close to him and said: "If you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? We can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across."
Glittering palaces of Agra, gloomy caves of Elephanta, the light and lovely Mohammedan architecture, the dark haunts of Kali and Bowanee, the thronged Ghats of the sacred rivers, the color medleys of the vast cities, all these busied her as she passed her days alone in study over the secretly gathered up collection of polychrome views which had taken her from the Neilgherries to Cape Comorin.
"Ah, I see you are a philosopher," remarked the Scarecrow. "No, I'm just a Hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply. Polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. She danced close to him and said: "If you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? We can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across."
Here am I, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth where I never expected to be!" "How do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked Betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "Why, we can t be anywhere else," replied Polychrome. "I have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a Magician who was a great traveler.
"Oh, you're quite wrong," declared Polychrome, laughing, for she was greatly enjoying the confusion of the others. "The tin men are still themselves, as they will tell you, and so Chopfyt must be someone else." They looked at her bewildered, for the facts in the case were too puzzling to be grasped at once. "It is all the fault of old Ku-Klip," muttered the Tin Woodman.
Queen Ann and her army sat down upon the ground to rest. Betsy sat on Hank's back. Polychrome danced lightly up and down the jeweled paths while Files and the Princess wandered through the groves arm in arm. Tik-Tok, who never tired, stood motionless. By and by a noise sounded from within the hut. "Are you ready?" asked Shaggy.