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Updated: June 20, 2025
There was no King or Queen in the Yip Country, so the simple inhabitants naturally came to look upon the Frogman as their leader as well as their counselor in all times of emergency.
Oxen bellowed and jumbled, mules snorted and balked, the herders of the caballada shrieked for help. "Close up! Close up!" "Corral!" "Charge 'em! Meet the beggars!" "No! Under yore wagon, everybody!" "Get out o' my way! Yip! Gee, Buck!" "Haw, Spot! Haw, Whity! Haw with you!" "Durn these mules! We'll all be wolf meat." "Look! There's nigh a thousand of 'em!"
Phil did so smilingly; then he retired to his place by the center pole, against which he braced his aching back. "Turn after you have gotten over the rough spot," he cautioned her. Dimples nodded her understanding. This time Phil held his breath as he saw her crouching ever so little for her spring. Dimples uttered another shrill "yip!" and threw herself into the air again.
He heard footsteps, and Jolly Roger came from out of the yellow moon-mist of the night and stopped in front of the door. There he stood, making no sound, and looking into the west, where the sky was ablaze with stars over the tree-tops. There was a glad little yip in Peter's throat, but he choked it back.
I laughed. "Lorraine has the sharpest ears," I said. "Ears!" said Lorraine. "It isn't ears. I smell orris. She's coming. Mr. Dane, will you take Peggy out of that window into the garden? Don't yip, either of you, while you're within gunshot, and don't appear till I tell you." "Lorraine!" came a voice, softly, from the front walk. It was Aunt Elizabeth.
It seems a long time since we have heard anything of the Frogman and Cayke the Cookie Cook, who had left the Yip Country in search of the diamond-studded gold dishpan which had been mysteriously stolen the same night that Ozma had disappeared from the Emerald City.
He ground his cud and muttered ugly things to himself, for his dead reckoning had gone astray and he was worried. The fog, if anything, was thicker than ever. He could not even make out the phosphorescent water that curled out from the Maggie's forefoot. Time passed. Suddenly Mr. Gibney thrilled electrically to a shrill yip from Captain Scraggs. "What's that?" Mr. Gibney bawled. "I dunno.
There was only one way to wipe out these nests by the bayonet. And by this method were they wiped out, for United States marines, bare-chested, shouting their battle-cry of "E-e-e-e-e y-a-a-h-h-h yip!" charged straight into the murderous fire from those guns, and won! Out of the number that charged, in more than one instance, only one would reach the stronghold.
If they put a detector on us, I've got a force set to make a noise like a New York City fire siren. If pressed, I'd reluctantly admit that in my opinion we're carrying caution to a point ten thousand degrees below the absolute zero of sanity. I'll bet my shirt that we don't hear a yip out of them before we touch 'em off. Furthermore...."
Here in the Yip Country he had become the most important creature of them all and his importance was getting to be a little tame. It would be nice to have other people defer to him and ask his advice and there seemed no reason, so far as he could see, why his fame should not spread throughout all Oz.
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