"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.