AFTER the publication
of "The Wonderful Wizard of OZ" I began to receive letters from
children, telling me of their pleasure in reading the story and asking me to
"write something more" about the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. At
first I considered these little letters, frank and earnest though they were, in
the light of pretty compliments; but the letters continued to come during
succeeding months, and even years.
Finally I promised one
little girl, who made a long journey to see me and prefer her request, -- and
she is a "Dorothy," by the way -- that when a thousand little girls
had written me a thousand little letters asking for the Scarecrow and the Tin
Woodman I would write the book, Either little Dorothy was a fairy in disguise,
and waved her magic wand, or the success of the stage production of "The
Wizard of OZ" made new friends for the story, For the thousand letters
reached their destination long since -- and many more followed them.
And now, although
pleading guilty to long delay, I have kept my promise in this book.
L. FRANK BAUM.
Chicago, June, 1904
To those excellent good
fellows and comedians David C. Montgomery and Frank A. Stone whose clever
personations of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow have delighted thousands of
children throughout the land, this book is gratefully dedicated by THE AUTHOR
Page
Tip Manufactures
Pumpkinhead.....................7
The Marvelous Powder of
Life....................15
The Flight of the
Fugitives.....................29
Tip Makes an Experiment
in Magic................39
The Awakening of the
Saw-horse..................47
Jack Pumpkinhead’s Ride
to the Emerald City.....59
His Majesty the
Scarecrow.......................71
Gen. Jinjur’s Army of
Revolt....................83
The Scarecrow Plans an
escape...................97
The Journey to the Tin
Woodman.................109
A Nickel-Plated
Emperor........................121
Mr. H. M. Woggle-Bug,
T. E.....................135
A Highly Magnified
History.....................147
Old Mombi indulges in
Witchcraft...............159
The Prisoners of the
Queen.....................169
The Scarecrow Takes
Time to Think..............181
The Astonishing Flight
of the Gump.............191
In the Jackdaw’s
Nest..........................201
Dr. Nikidik’s Famous
Wishing Pills.............219
The Scarecrow Appeals
to Glenda the Good.......231
The Tin-Woodman Plucks
a Rose..................247
The Transformation of
Old Mombi................257
Princess Ozma of
Oz............................265
The Riches of
Content..........................279
In the Country of the
Gillikins, which is at the North of the Land of Oz, lived a youth called Tip.
There was more to his name than that, for old Mombi often declared that his
whole name was Tippetarius; but no one was expected to say such a long word
when "Tip" would do just as well.
This boy remembered
nothing of his parents, for he had been brought when quite young to be reared
by the old woman known as Mombi, whose reputation, I am sorry to say, was none
of the best. For the Gillikin people had reason to suspect her of indulging in
magical arts, and therefore hesitated to associate with her.
Mombi was not exactly a
Witch, because the Good Witch who ruled that part of the Land of Oz had
forbidden any other Witch to exist in her dominions. So Tip’s guardian, however
much she might aspire to working magic, realized it was unlawful to be more
than a Sorceress, or at most a Wizardess.
Tip was made to carry
wood from the forest, that the old woman might boil her pot. He also worked in
the corn-fields, hoeing and husking; and he fed the pigs and milked the
four-horned cow that was Mombi’s especial pride.
But you must not
suppose he worked all the time, for he felt that would be bad for him. When
sent to the forest Tip often climbed trees for birds’ eggs or amused himself
chasing the fleet white rabbits or fishing in the brooks with bent pins. Then
he would hastily gather his armful of wood and carry it home. And when he was
supposed to be working in the corn-fields, and the tall stalks hid him from
Mombi’s view, Tip would often dig in the gopher holes, or if the mood seized
him -- lie upon his back between the rows of corn and take a nap. So, by taking
care not to exhaust his strength, he grew as strong and rugged as a boy may be.
Mombi’s curious magic
often frightened her neighbors, and they treated her shyly, yet respectfully,
because of her weird powers. But Tip frankly hated her, and took no pains to
hide his feelings. Indeed, he sometimes showed less respect for the old woman
than he should have done, considering she was his guardian.
There were pumpkins in
Mombi’s corn-fields, lying golden red among the rows of green stalks; and these
had been planted and carefully tended that the four-horned cow might eat of
them in the winter time. But one day, after the corn had all been cut and
stacked, and Tip was carrying the pumpkins to the stable, he took a notion to
make a "Jack Lantern" and try to give the old woman a fright with it.
So he selected a fine,
big pumpkin -- one with a lustrous, orange-red color -- and began carving it.
With the point of his knife he made two round eyes, a three-cornered nose, and a
mouth shaped like a new moon. The face, when completed, could not have been
considered strictly beautiful; but it wore a smile so big and broad, and was so
Jolly in expression, that even Tip laughed as he looked admiringly at his work.
The child had no
playmates, so he did not know that boys often dig out the inside of a
"pumpkin-jack," and in the space thus made put a lighted candle to
render the face more startling; but he conceived an idea of his own that
promised to be quite as effective. He decided to manufacture the form of a man,
who would wear this pumpkin head, and to stand it in a place where old Mombi
would meet it face to face.
"And then,"
said Tip to himself, with a laugh, "she’ll squeal louder than the brown
pig does when I pull her tail, and shiver with fright worse than I did last
year when I had the ague!"
He had plenty of time
to accomplish this task, for Mombi had gone to a village -- to buy groceries,
she said -- and it was a journey of at least two days.
So he took his axe to
the forest, and selected some stout, straight saplings, which he cut down and
trimmed of all their twigs and leaves. From these he would make the arms, and
legs, and feet of his man. For the body he stripped a sheet of thick bark from
around a big tree, and with much labor fashioned it into a cylinder of about
the right size, pinning the edges together with wooden pegs. Then, whistling
happily as he worked, he carefully jointed the limbs and fastened them to the
body with pegs whittled into shape with his knife.
By the time this feat
had been accomplished it began to grow dark, and Tip remembered he must milk
the cow and feed the pigs. So he picked up his wooden man and carried it back
to the house with him.
During the evening, by
the light of the fire in the kitchen, Tip carefully rounded all the edges of
the joints and smoothed the rough places in a neat and workmanlike manner. Then
he stood the figure up against the wall and admired it. It seemed remarkably
tall, even for a full-grown man; but that was a good point in a small boy’s
eyes, and Tip did not object at all to the size of his creation.
Next morning, when he
looked at his work again, Tip saw he had forgotten to give the dummy a neck, by
means of which he might fasten the pumpkinhead to the body. So he went again to
the forest, which was not far away, and chopped from a tree several pieces of
wood with which to complete his work. When he returned he fastened a
cross-piece to the upper end of the body, making a hole through the center to
hold upright the neck. The bit of wood which formed this neck was also
sharpened at the upper end, and when all was ready Tip put on the pumpkin head,
pressing it well down onto the neck, and found that it fitted very well. The
head could be turned to one side or the other, as he pleased, and the hinges of
the arms and legs allowed him to place the dummy in any position he desired.
"Now, that,"
declared Tip, proudly, "is really a very fine man, and it ought to
frighten several screeches out of old Mombi! But it would be much more lifelike
if it were properly dressed."
To find clothing seemed
no easy task; but Tip boldly ransacked the great chest in which Mombi kept all
her keepsakes and treasures, and at the very bottom he discovered some purple
trousers, a red shirt and a pink vest which was dotted with white spots. These
he carried away to his man and succeeded, although the garments did not fit
very well, in dressing the creature in a jaunty fashion. Some knit stockings
belonging to Mombi and a much worn pair of his own shoes completed the man’s
apparel, and Tip was so delighted that he danced up and down and laughed aloud
in boyish ecstacy.
"I must give him a
name!" he cried. "So good a man as this must surely have a name. I
believe," he added, after a moment’s thought, "I will name the fellow
’Jack Pumpkinhead!’"
After considering the
matter carefully, Tip decided that the best place to locate Jack would be at
the bend in the road, a little way from the house. So he started to carry his
man there, but found him heavy and rather awkward to handle. After dragging the
creature a short distance Tip stood him on his feet, and by first bending the
joints of one leg, and then those of the other, at the same time pushing from
behind, the boy managed to induce Jack to walk to the bend in the road. It was
not accomplished without a few tumbles, and Tip really worked harder than he
ever had in the fields or forest; but a love of mischief urged him on, and it pleased
him to test the cleverness of his workmanship.
"Jack’s all right,
and works fine!" he said to himself, panting with the unusual exertion.
But just then he discovered the man’s left arm had fallen off in the journey so
he went back to find it, and afterward, by whittling a new and stouter pin for
the shoulder-joint, he repaired the injury so successfully that the arm was
stronger than before. Tip also noticed that Jack’s pumpkin head had twisted
around until it faced his back; but this was easily remedied. When, at last,
the man was set up facing the turn in the path where old Mombi was to appear,
he looked natural enough to be a fair imitation of a Gillikin farmer, -- and
unnatural enough to startle anyone that came on him unawares.
As it was yet too early
in the day to expect the old woman to return home, Tip went down into the
valley below the farm-house and began to gather nuts from the trees that grew
there.
However, old Mombi
returned earlier than usual. She had met a crooked wizard who resided in a
lonely cave in the mountains, and had traded several important secrets of magic
with him. Having in this way secured three new recipes, four magical powders
and a selection of herbs of wonderful power and potency, she hobbled home as
fast as she could, in order to test her new sorceries.
So intent was Mombi on
the treasures she had gained that when she turned the bend in the road and
caught a glimpse of the man, she merely nodded and said:
"Good evening,
sir."
But, a moment after,
noting that the person did not move or reply, she cast a shrewd glance into his
face and discovered his pumpkin head elaborately carved by Tip’s jack-knife.
"Heh!"
ejaculated Mombi, giving a sort of grunt; "that rascally boy has been
playing tricks again! Very good! ve -- ry good! I’ll beat him black- and-blue
for trying to scare me in this fashion!"
Angrily she raised her
stick to smash in the grinning pumpkin head of the dummy; but a sudden thought
made her pause, the uplifted stick left motionless in the air.
"Why, here is a
good chance to try my new powder!" said she, eagerly. "And then I can
tell whether that crooked wizard has fairly traded secrets, or whether he has
fooled me as wickedly as I fooled him."
So she set down her
basket and began fumbling in it for one of the precious powders she had
obtained.
While Mombi was thus
occupied Tip strolled back, with his pockets full of nuts, and discovered the
old woman standing beside his man and apparently not the least bit frightened
by it.
At first he was generally
disappointed; but the next moment he became curious to know what Mombi was
going to do. So he hid behind a hedge, where he could see without being seen,
and prepared to watch.
After some search the
woman drew from her basket an old pepper-box, upon the faded label of which the
wizard had written with a lead-pencil:
"Powder of
Life."
"Ah -- here it
is!" she cried, joyfully. "And now let us see if it is potent. The
stingy wizard didn’t give me much of it, but I guess there’s enough for two or
three doses."
Tip was much surprised
when he overheard this speech. Then he saw old Mombi raise her arm and sprinkle
the powder from the box over the pumpkin head of his man Jack. She did this in
the same way one would pepper a baked potato, and the powder sifted down from
Jack’s head and scattered over the red shirt and pink waistcoat and purple
trousers Tip had dressed him in, and a portion even fell upon the patched and
worn shoes.
Then, putting the
pepper-box back into the basket, Mombi lifted her left hand, with its little
finger pointed upward, and said:
"Weaugh!"
Then she lifted her
right hand, with the thumb pointed upward, and said:
"Teaugh!"
Then she lifted both
hands, with all the fingers and thumbs spread out, and cried:
"Peaugh!"
Jack Pumpkinhead
stepped back a pace, at this, and said in a reproachful voice:
"Don’t yell like
that! Do you think I’m deaf?"
Old Mombi danced around
him, frantic with delight.
"He lives!"
she screamed: "He lives! he lives!"
Then she threw her
stick into the air and caught it as it came down; and she hugged herself with
both arms, and tried to do a step of a jig; and all the time she repeated,
rapturously:
"He lives! -- he
lives! -- he lives!"
Now you may well
suppose that Tip observed all this with amazement.
At first he was so
frightened and horrified that he wanted to run away, but his legs trembled and
shook so badly that he couldn’t. Then it struck him as a very funny thing for
Jack to come to life, especially as the expression on his pumpkin face was so
droll and comical it excited laughter on the instant. So, recovering from his
first fear, Tip began to laugh; and the merry peals reached old Mombi’s ears
and made her hobble quickly to the hedge, where she seized Tip’s collar and
dragged him back to where she had left her basket and the pumpkinheaded man.
"You naughty,
sneaking, wicked boy!" she exclaimed, furiously:" I’ll teach you to
spy out my secrets and to make fun of me!"
"I wasn’t making
fun of you," protested Tip. "I was laughing at old Pumpkinhead! Look
at him! Isn’t he a picture, though?"
"I hope you are
not reflecting on my personal appearance," said Jack; and it was so funny
to hear his grave voice, while his face continued to wear its jolly smile, that
Tip again burst into a peal of laughter.
Even Mombi was not
without a curious interest in the man her magic had brought to life; for, after
staring at him intently, she presently asked:
"What do you
know?"
"Well, that is
hard to tell," replied Jack. "For although I feel that I know a
tremendous lot, I am not yet aware how much there is in the world to find out
about. It will take me a little time to discover whether I am very wise or very
foolish."
"To be sure,"
said Mombi, thoughtfully.
"But what are you
going to do with him, now he is alive?" asked Tip, wondering.
"I must think it
over," answered Mombi. "But we must get home at once, for it is
growing dark. Help the Pumpkinhead to walk."
"Never mind
me," said Jack; "I can walk as well as you can. Haven’t I got legs
and feet, and aren’t they jointed?"
"Are they?"
asked the woman, turning to Tip.
"Of course they
are; I made ’em myself," returned the boy, with pride.
So they started for the
house, but when they reached the farm yard old Mombi led the pumpkin man to the
cow stable and shut him up in an empty stall, fastening the door securely on
the outside.
"I’ve got to
attend to you, first," she said, nodding her head at Tip.
Hearing this, the boy
became uneasy; for he knew Mombi had a bad and revengeful heart, and would not
hesitate to do any evil thing.
They entered the house.
It was a round, domeshaped structure, as are nearly all the farm houses in the
Land of Oz.
Mombi bade the boy
light a candle, while she put her basket in a cupboard and hung her cloak on a
peg. Tip obeyed quickly, for he was afraid of her.
After the candle had
been lighted Mombi ordered him to build a fire in the hearth, and while Tip was
thus engaged the old woman ate her supper. When the flames began to crackle the
boy came to her and asked a share of the bread and cheese; but Mombi refused
him.
"I’m hungry!"
said Tip, in a sulky tone.
"You won’t be
hungry long," replied Mombi, with a grim look.
The boy didn’t like
this speech, for it sounded like a threat; but he happened to remember he had
nuts in his pocket, so he cracked some of those and ate them while the woman
rose, shook the crumbs from her apron, and hung above the fire a small black
kettle.
Then she measured out equal
parts of milk and vinegar and poured them into the kettle. Next she produced
several packets of herbs and powders and began adding a portion of each to the
contents of the kettle. Occasionally she would draw near the candle and read
from a yellow paper the recipe of the mess she was concocting.
As Tip watched her his
uneasiness increased.
"What is that
for?" he asked.
"For you,"
returned Mombi, briefly.
Tip wriggled around
upon his stool and stared awhile at the kettle, which was beginning to bubble.
Then he would glance at the stern and wrinkled features of the witch and wish
he were any place but in that dim and smoky kitchen, where even the shadows
cast by the candle upon the wall were enough to give one the horrors. So an
hour passed away, during which the silence was only broken by the bubbling of
the pot and the hissing of the flames.
Finally, Tip spoke
again.
"Have I got to
drink that stuff?" he asked, nodding toward the pot.
"Yes," said
Mombi.
"What’ll it do to
me?" asked Tip.
"If it’s properly
made," replied Mombi, "it will change or transform you into a marble
statue."
Tip groaned, and wiped
the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.
"I don’t want to
be a marble statue!" he protested.
"That doesn’t
matter I want you to be one," said the old woman, looking at him severely.
"What use’ll I be
then?" asked Tip. "There won’t be any one to work for you."
"I’ll make the
Pumpkinhead work for me," said Mombi.
Again Tip groaned.
"Why don’t you
change me into a goat, or a chicken?" he asked, anxiously. "You can’t
do anything with a marble statue."
"Oh, yes, I
can," returned Mombi. "I’m going to plant a flower garden, next
Spring, and I’ll put you in the middle of it, for an ornament. I wonder I haven’t
thought of that before; you’ve been a bother to me for years."
At this terrible speech
Tip felt the beads of perspiration starting all over his body. but he sat still
and shivered and looked anxiously at the kettle.
"Perhaps it won’t
work," he mutttered, in a voice that sounded weak and discouraged.
"Oh, I think it
will," answered Mombi, cheerfully. "I seldom make a mistake."
Again there was a
period of silence a silence so long and gloomy that when Mombi finally lifted
the kettle from the fire it was close to midnight.
"You cannot drink
it until it has become quite cold," announced the old witch for in spite
of the law she had acknowledged practising witchcraft. "We must both go to
bed now, and at daybreak I will call you and at once complete your
transformation into a marble statue."
With this she hobbled
into her room, bearing the steaming kettle with her, and Tip heard her close
and lock the door.
The boy did not go to
bed, as he had been commanded to do, but still sat glaring at the embers of the
dying fire.
Tip reflected.
"It’s a hard
thing, to be a marble statue," he thought, rebelliously, "and I’m not
going to stand it. For years I’ve been a bother to her, she says; so she’s
going to get rid of me. Well, there’s an easier way than to become a statue. No
boy could have any fun forever standing in the middle of a flower garden! I’ll
run away, that’s what I’ll do -- and I may as well go before she makes me drink
that nasty stuff in the kettle." He waited until the snores of the old
witch announced she was fast asleep, and then he arose softly and went to the
cupboard to find something to eat.
"No use starting
on a journey without food," he decided, searching upon the narrow shelves.
He found some crusts of
bread; but he had to look into Mombi’s basket to find the cheese she had
brought from the village. While turning over the contents of the basket he came
upon the pepper-box which contained the "Powder of Life."
"I may as well
take this with me," he thought, "or Mombi’ll be using it to make more
mischief with." So he put the box in his pocket, together with the bread
and cheese.
Then he cautiously left
the house and latched the door behind him. Outside both moon and stars shone
brightly, and the night seemed peaceful and inviting after the close and
ill-smelling kitchen.
"I’ll be glad to
get away," said Tip, softly; "for I never did like that old woman. I
wonder how I ever came to live with her."
He was walking slowly
toward the road when a thought made him pause.
"I don’t like to
leave Jack Pumpkinhead to the tender mercies of old Mombi," he muttered.
"And Jack belongs to me, for I made him even if the old witch did bring
him to life."
He retraced his steps
to the cow-stable and opened the door of the stall where the pumpkin-headed man
had been left.
Jack was standing in
the middle of the stall, and by the moonlight Tip could see he was smiling just
as jovially as ever.
"Come on!"
said the boy, beckoning."
"Where to?"
asked Jack.
"You’ll know as
soon as I do," answered Tip, smiling sympathetically into the pumpkin
face.
"All we’ve got to
do now is to tramp."
"Very well,"
returned Jack, and walked awkwardly out of the stable and into the moonlight.
Tip turned toward the
road and the man followed him. Jack walked with a sort of limp, and
occasionally one of the joints of his legs would turn backward, instead of
frontwise, almost causing him to tumble. But the Pumpkinhead was quick to
notice this, and began to take more pains to step carefully; so that he met
with few accidents.
Tip led him along the
path without stopping an instant. They could not go very fast, but they walked
steadily; and by the time the moon sank away and the sun peeped over the hills
they had travelled so great a distance that the boy had no reason to fear
pursuit from the old witch. Moreover, he had turned first into one path, and
then into another, so that should anyone follow them it would prove very
difficult to guess which way they had gone, or where to seek them.
Fairly satisfied that
he had escaped -- for a time, at least -- being turned into a marble statue,
the boy stopped his companion and seated himself upon a rock by the roadside.
"Let’s have some
breakfast," he said.
Jack Pumpkinhead
watched Tip curiously, but refused to join in the repast. "I don’t seem to
be made the same way you are," he said.
"I know you are
not," returned Tip; "for I made you."
"Oh! Did
you?" asked Jack.
"Certainly. And
put you together. And carved your eyes and nose and ears and mouth," said
Tip proudly. "And dressed you."
Jack looked at his body
and limbs critically.
"It strikes me you
made a very good job of it," he remarked.
"Just so-so,"
replied Tip, modestly; for he began to see certain defects in the construction
of his man. "If I’d known we were going to travel together I might have
been a little more particular."
"Why, then,"
said the Pumpkinhead, in a tone that expressed surprise, "you must be my
creator my parent my father!"
"Or your
inventor," replied the boy with a laugh. "Yes, my son; I really
believe I am!"
"Then I owe you
obedience," continued the man, "and you owe me -- support."
"That’s it,
exactly", declared Tip, jumping up. "So let us be off."
"Where are we
going?" asked Jack, when they had resumed their journey.
"I’m not exactly
sure," said the boy; "but I believe we are headed South, and that
will bring us, sooner or later, to the Emerald City."
"What city is
that?" enquired the Pumpkinhead.
"Why, it’s the
center of the Land of Oz, and the biggest town in all the country. I’ve never
been there, myself, but I’ve heard all about its history. It was built by a
mighty and wonderful Wizard named Oz, and everything there is of a green color
-- just as everything in this Country of the Gillikins is of a purple
color."
"Is everything
here purple?" asked Jack.
"Of course it is.
Can’t you see?" returned the boy.
"I believe I must
be color-blind," said the Pumpkinhead, after staring about him.
"Well, the grass
is purple, and the trees are purple, and the houses and fences are
purple," explained Tip. "Even the mud in the roads is purple. But in
the Emerald City everything is green that is purple here. And in the Country of
the Munchkins, over at the East, everything is blue; and in the South country
of the Quadlings everything is red; and in the West country of the Winkies,
where the Tin Woodman rules, everything is yellow."
"Oh!" said
Jack. Then, after a pause, he asked: "Did you say a Tin Woodman rules the
Winkies?"
"Yes; he was one
of those who helped Dorothy to destroy the Wicked Witch of the West, and the
Winkies were so grateful that they invited him to become their ruler, -- just
as the people of the Emerald City invited the Scarecrow to rule them."
"Dear me!"
said Jack. "I’m getting confused with all this history. Who is the
Scarecrow?"
"Another friend of
Dorothy’s," replied Tip.
"And who is
Dorothy?"
"She was a girl
that came here from Kansas, a place in the big, outside World. She got blown to
the Land of Oz by a cyclone, and while she was here the Scarecrow and the Tin
Woodman accompanied her on her travels."
"And where is she
now?" inquired the Pumpkinhead.
"Glinda the Good,
who rules the Quadlings, sent her home again," said the boy.
"Oh. And what
became of the Scarecrow?"
"I told you. He
rules the Emerald City," answered Tip.
"I thought you
said it was ruled by a wonderful Wizard," objected Jack, seeming more and
more confused.
"Well, so I did.
Now, pay attention, and I’ll explain it," said Tip, speaking slowly and
looking the smiling Pumpkinhead squarely in the eye. "Dorothy went to the
Emerald City to ask the Wizard to send her back to Kansas; and the Scarecrow
and the Tin Woodman went with her. But the Wizard couldn’t send her back,
because he wasn’t so much of a Wizard as he might have been. And then they got
angry at the Wizard, and threatened to expose him; so the Wizard made a big
balloon and escaped in it, and no one has ever seen him since."
"Now, that is very
interesting history," said Jack, well pleased; "and I understand it
perfectly all but the explanation."
"I’m glad you
do," responded Tip. "After the Wizard was gone, the people of the
Emerald City made His Majesty, the Scarecrow, their King; "and I have
heard that he became a very popular ruler."
"Are we going to
see this queer King?" asked Jack, with interest.
"I think we may as
well," replied the boy; "unless you have something better to
do."
"Oh, no, dear
father," said the Pumpkinhead. "I am quite willing to go wherever you
please."
The boy, small and
rather delicate in appearance seemed somewhat embarrassed at being called
"father" by the tall, awkward, pumpkinheaded man, but to deny the
relationship would involve another long and tedious explanation; so he changed
the subject by asking, abruptly:
"Are you
tired?"
"Of course
not!" replied the other. "But," he continued, after a pause,
"it is quite certain I shall wear out my wooden joints if I keep on
walking."
Tip reflected, as they
journeyed on, that this was true. He began to regret that he had not
constructed the wooden limbs more carefully and substantially. Yet how could he
ever have guessed that the man he had made merely to scare old Mombi with would
be brought to life by means of a magical powder contained in an old pepper-box?
So he ceased to
reproach himself, and began to think how he might yet remedy the deficiencies
of Jack’s weak joints.
While thus engaged they
came to the edge of a wood, and the boy sat down to rest upon an old sawhorse
that some woodcutter had left there.
"Why don’t you sit
down?" he asked the Pumpkinhead.
"Won’t it strain
my joints?" inquired the other.
"Of course not. It’ll
rest them," declared the boy.
So Jack tried to sit
down; but as soon as he bent his joints farther than usual they gave way
altogether, and he came clattering to the ground with such a crash that Tip
feared he was entirely ruined.
He rushed to the man,
lifted him to his feet, straightened his arms and legs, and felt of his head to
see if by chance it had become cracked. But Jack seemed to be in pretty good
shape, after all, and Tip said to him:
"I guess you’d
better remain standing, hereafter. It seems the safest way."
"Very well, dear
father." just as you say, replied the smiling Jack, who had been in no
wise confused by his tumble.
Tip sat down again.
Presently the Pumpkinhead asked:
"What is that
thing you are sitting on?"
"Oh, this is a
horse," replied the boy, carelessly.
"What is a
horse?" demanded Jack.
"A horse? Why,
there are two kinds of horses," returned Tip, slightly puzzled how to
explain. "One kind of horse is alive, and has four legs and a head and a
tail. And people ride upon its back."
"I
understand," said Jack, cheerfully "That’s the kind of horse you are
now sitting on."
"No, it isn’t,"
answered Tip, promptly.
"Why not? That one
has four legs, and a head, and a tail." Tip looked at the saw-horse more
carefully, and found that the Pumpkinhead was right. The body had been formed
from a tree-trunk, and a branch had been left sticking up at one end that
looked very much like a tail. In the other end were two big knots that
resembled eyes, and a place had been chopped away that might easily be mistaken
for the horse’s mouth. As for the legs, they were four straight limbs cut from
trees and stuck fast into the body, being spread wide apart so that the
saw-horse would stand firmly when a log was laid across it to be sawed.
"This thing
resembles a real horse more than I imagined," said Tip, trying to explain.
"But a real horse is alive, and trots and prances and eats oats, while
this is nothing more than a dead horse, made of wood, and used to saw logs
upon."
"If it were alive,
wouldn’t it trot, and prance, and eat oats?" inquired the Pumpkinhead.
"It would trot and
prance, perhaps; but it wouldn’t eat oats," replied the boy, laughing at
the idea." And of course it can’t ever be alive, because it is made of
wood."
"So am I,"
answered the man.
Tip looked at him in
surprise.
"Why, so you
are!" he exclaimed. "And the magic powder that brought you to life is
here in my pocket."
He brought out the
pepper box, and eyed it curiously.
"I wonder,"
said he, musingly, "if it would bring the saw-horse to life."
"If it
would," returned Jack, calmly for nothing seemed to surprise him" I
could ride on its back, and that would save my joints from wearing out."
"I’ll try
it!" cried the boy, jumping up. "But I wonder if I can remember the
words old Mombi said, and the way she held her hands up."
He thought it over for
a minute, and as he had watched carefully from the hedge every motion of the
old witch, and listened to her words, he believed he could repeat exactly what
she had said and done.
So he began by sprinkling
some of the magic Powder of Life from the pepper- box upon the body of the
saw-horse. Then he lifted his left hand, with the little finger pointing
upward, and said: "Weaugh!"
"What does that
mean, dear father?" asked Jack, curiously.
"I don’t know,"
answered Tip. Then he lifted his right hand, with the thumb pointing upward and
said: "Teaugh!"
"What’s that, dear
father?" inquired Jack.
"It means you must
keep quiet!" replied the boy, provoked at being interrupted at so
important a moment.
"How fast I am
learning!" remarked the Pumpkinhead, with his eternal smile.
Tip now lifted both
hands above his head, with all the fingers and thumbs spread out, and cried in
a loud voice: "Peaugh!"
Immediately the
saw-horse moved, stretched its legs, yawned with its chopped-out mouth, and
shook a few grains of the powder off its back. The rest of the powder seemed to
have vanished into the body of the horse.
"Good!"
called Jack, while the boy looked on in astonishment. "You are a very
clever sorcerer, dear father!"
The Saw-Horse, finding
himself alive, seemed even more astonished than Tip. He rolled his knotty eyes
from side to side, taking a first wondering view of the world in which he had
now so important an existence. Then he tried to look at himself; but he had,
indeed, no neck to turn; so that in the endeavor to see his body he kept
circling around and around, without catching even a glimpse of it. His legs
were stiff and awkward, for there were no knee-joints in them; so that
presently he bumped against Jack Pumpkinhead and sent that personage tumbling
upon the moss that lined the roadside.
Tip became alarmed at
this accident, as well as at the persistence of the Saw-Horse in prancing
around in a circle; so he called out:
"Whoa! Whoa,
there!"
The Saw-Horse paid no
attention whatever to this command, and the next instant brought one of his
wooden legs down upon Tip’s foot so forcibly that the boy danced away in pain
to a safer distance, from where he again yelled:
"Whoa! Whoa, I
say!"
Jack had now managed to
raise himself to a sitting position, and he looked at the Saw-Horse with much
interest.
"I don’t believe
the animal can hear you," he remarked.
"I shout loud
enough, don’t I?" answered Tip, angrily.
"Yes; but the
horse has no ears," said the smiling Pumpkinhead.
"Sure
enough!" exclaimed Tip, noting the fact for the first time. "How,
then, am I going to stop him?"
But at that instant the
Saw-Horse stopped himself, having concluded it was impossible to see his own
body. He saw Tip, however, and came close to the boy to observe him more fully.
It was really comical
to see the creature walk; for it moved the legs on its right side together, and
those on its left side together, as a pacing horse does; and that made its body
rock sidewise, like a cradle.
Tip patted it upon the
head, and said "Good boy! Good Boy!" in a coaxing tone; and the
Saw-Horse pranced away to examine with its bulging eyes the form of Jack
Pumpkinhead.
"I must find a
halter for him," said Tip; and having made a search in his pocket he
produced a roll of strong cord. Unwinding this, he approached the Saw-Horse and
tied the cord around its neck, afterward fastening the other end to a large
tree. The Saw-Horse, not understanding the action, stepped backward and snapped
the string easily; but it made no attempt to run away.
"He’s stronger
than I thought," said the boy, "and rather obstinate, too."
"Why don’t you
make him some ears?" asked Jack. "Then you can tell him what to
do."
"That’s a splendid
idea!" said Tip. "How did you happen to think of it?"
"Why, I didn’t
think of it," answered the Pumpkinhead; "I didn’t need to, for it’s
the simplest and easiest thing to do."
So Tip got out his
knife and fashioned some ears out of the bark of a small tree.
"I mustn’t make them
too big," he said, as he whittled, "or our horse would become a
donkey."
"How is
that?" inquired Jack, from the roadside.
"Why, a horse has
bigger ears than a man; and a donkey has bigger ears than a horse,"
explained Tip.
"Then, if my ears
were longer, would I be a horse?" asked Jack.
"My friend,"
said Tip, gravely, "you’ll never be anything but a Pumpkinhead, no matter
how big your ears are."
"Oh,"
returned Jack, nodding; "I think I understand."
"If you do, you’re
a wonder," remarked the boy "but there’s no harm in thinking you
understand. I guess these ears are ready now. Will you hold the horse while I
stick them on?"
"Certainly, if you’ll
help me up," said Jack.
So Tip raised him to
his feet, and the Pumpkinhead went to the horse and held its head while the boy
bored two holes in it with his knife-blade and inserted the ears.
"They make him
look very handsome," said Jack, admiringly.
But those words, spoken
close to the Saw-Horse, and being the first sounds he had ever heard, so
startled the animal that he made a bound forward and tumbled Tip on one side
and Jack on the other. Then he continued to rush forward as if frightened by
the clatter of his own foot-steps.
"Whoa!"
shouted Tip, picking himself up; "whoa! you idiot whoa!" The Saw-
Horse would probably have paid no attention to this, but just then it stepped a
leg into a gopher-hole and stumbled head-over-heels to the ground, where it lay
upon its back, frantically waving its four legs in the air.
Tip ran up to it.
"You’re a nice
sort of a horse, I must say!" he exclaimed. "Why didn’t you stop when
I yelled ’whoa?’"
"Does ’whoa’ mean
to stop?" asked the Saw-Horse, in a surprised voice, as it rolled its eyes
upward to look at the boy.
"Of course it
does," answered Tip.
"And a hole in the
ground means to stop, also, doesn’t it?" continued the horse.
"To be sure;
unless you step over it," said Tip.
"What a strange
place this is," the creature exclaimed, as if amazed. "What am I
doing here, anyway?"
"Why, I’ve brought
you to life," answered the boy "but it won’t hurt you any, if you
mind me and do as I tell you."
"Then I will do as
you tell me," replied the Saw-Horse, humbly. "But what happened to
me, a moment ago? I don’t seem to be just right, someway."
"You’re upside
down," explained Tip. "But just keep those legs still a minute and I’ll
set you right side up again."
"How many sides
have I?" asked the creature, wonderingly.
"Several," said
Tip, briefly. "But do keep those legs still."
The Saw-Horse now
became quiet, and held its legs rigid; so that Tip, after several efforts, was
able to roll him over and set him upright.
"Ah, I seem all
right now," said the queer animal, with a sigh.
"One of your ears
is broken," Tip announced, after a careful examination. "I’ll have to
make a new one."
Then he led the
Saw-Horse back to where Jack was vainly struggling to regain his feet, and
after assisting the Pumpkinhead to stand upright Tip whittled out a new ear and
fastened it to the horse’s head.
"Now," said
he, addressing his steed, "pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. ’Whoa!’
means to stop; ’Get-Up!’ means to walk forward; ’Trot!’ means to go as fast as
you can. Understand?"
"I believe I
do," returned the horse.
"Very good. We are
all going on a journey to the Emerald City, to see His Majesty, the Scarecrow;
and Jack Pumpkinhead is going to ride on your back, so he won’t wear out his
joints."
"I don’t
mind," said the Saw-Horse. "Anything that suits you suits me."
Then Tip assisted Jack
to get upon the horse.
"Hold on
tight," he cautioned, "or you may fall off and crack your pumpkin
head."
"That would be
horrible!" said Jack, with a shudder. "What shall I hold on to?"
"Why, hold on to
his ears," replied Tip, after a moment’s hesitation.
"Don’t do
that!" remonstrated the Saw-Horse; "for then I can’t hear."
That seemed reasonable,
so Tip tried to think of something else.
"I’ll fix
it!" said he, at length. He went into the wood and cut a short length of
limb from a young, stout tree. One end of this he sharpened to a point, and
then he dug a hole in the back of the Saw-Horse, just behind its head. Next he
brought a piece of rock from the road and hammered the post firmly into the
animal’s back.
"Stop! Stop!"
shouted the horse; "you’re jarring me terribly."
"Does it
hurt?" asked the boy.
"Not exactly
hurt," answered the animal; "but it makes me quite nervous to be
jarred."
"Well, it’s all
over now" said Tip, encouragingly. "Now, Jack, be sure to hold fast
to this post and then you can’t fall off and get smashed."
So Jack held on tight,
and Tip said to the horse:
"Get up."
The obedient creature
at once walked forward, rocking from side to side as he raised his feet from
the ground.
Tip walked beside the
Saw-Horse, quite content with this addition to their party. Presently he began
to whistle.
"What does that
sound mean?" asked the horse.
"Don’t pay any
attention to it," said Tip. "I’m just whistling, and that only means
I’m pretty well satisfied."
"I’d whistle
myself, if I could push my lips together," remarked Jack. "I fear,
dear father, that in some respects I am sadly lacking."
After journeying on for
some distance the narrow path they were following turned into a broad roadway,
paved with yellow brick. By the side of the road Tip noticed a sign-post that
read:
"NINE MILES TO THE
EMERALD CITY."
But it was now growing
dark, so he decided to camp for the night by the roadside and to resume the
journey next morning by daybreak. He led the Saw- Horse to a grassy mound upon
which grew several bushy trees, and carefully assisted the Pumpkinhead to
alight.
"I think I’ll lay
you upon the ground, overnight," said the boy. "You will be safer
that way."
"How about
me?" asked the Saw-Horse.
"It won’t hurt you
to stand," replied Tip; "and, as you can’t sleep, you may as well
watch out and see that no one comes near to disturb us."
Then the boy stretched
himself upon the grass beside the Pumpkinhead, and being greatly wearied by the
journey was soon fast asleep.
At daybreak Tip was
awakened by the Pumpkinhead. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bathed in a
little brook, and then ate a portion of his bread and cheese. Having thus
prepared for a new day the boy said:
"Let us start at
once. Nine miles is quite a distance, but we ought to reach the Emerald City by
noon if no accidents happen." So the Pumpkinhead was again perched upon
the back of the Saw-Horse and the journey was resumed.
Tip noticed that the
purple tint of the grass and trees had now faded to a dull lavender, and before
long this lavender appeared to take on a greenish tinge that gradually brightened
as they drew nearer to the great City where the Scarecrow ruled.
The little party had
traveled but a short two miles upon their way when the road of yellow brick was
parted by a broad and swift river. Tip was puzzled how to cross over; but after
a time he discovered a man in a ferry-boat approaching from the other side of
the stream.
When the man reached
the bank Tip asked:
"Will you row us
to the other side?"
"Yes, if you have
money," returned the ferryman, whose face looked cross and disagreeable.
"But I have no
money," said Tip.
"None at
all?" inquired the man.
"None at
all," answered the boy.
"Then I’ll not
break my back rowing you over," said the ferryman, decidedly.
"What a nice
man!" remarked the Pumpkinhead, smilingly.
The ferryman stared at
him, but made no reply. Tip was trying to think, for it was a great
disappointment to him to find his journey so suddenly brought to an end.
"I must certainly
get to the Emerald City," he said to the boatman; "but how can I
cross the river if you do not take me?"
The man laughed, and it
was not a nice laugh.
"That wooden horse
will float," said he; "and you can ride him across. As for the
pumpkinheaded loon who accompanies you, let him sink or swim it won’t matter
greatly which."
"Don’t worry about
me," said Jack, smiling pleasantly upon the crabbed ferryman; "I’m
sure I ought to float beautifully."
Tip thought the
experiment was worth making, and the Saw-Horse, who did not know what danger
meant, offered no objections whatever. So the boy led it down into the water
and climbed upon its back. Jack also waded in up to his knees and grasped the
tail of the horse so that he might keep his pumpkin head above the water.
"Now," said
Tip, instructing the Saw-Horse, "if you wiggle your legs you will probably
swim; and if you swim we shall probably reach the other side."
The Saw-Horse at once
began to wiggle its legs, which acted as oars and moved the adventurers slowly
across the river to the opposite side. So successful was the trip that
presently they were climbing, wet and dripping, up the grassy bank.
Tip’s trouser-legs and
shoes were thoroughly soaked; but the Saw-Horse had floated so perfectly that
from his knees up the boy was entirely dry. As for the Pumpkinhead, every
stitch of his gorgeous clothing dripped water.
"The sun will soon
dry us," said Tip "and, anyhow, we are now safely across, in spite of
the ferryman, and can continue our journey.
"I didn’t mind
swimming, at all," remarked the horse.
"Nor did I,"
added Jack.
They soon regained the
road of yellow brick, which proved to be a continuation of the road they had
left on the other side, and then Tip once more mounted the Pumpkinhead upon the
back of the Saw-Horse.
"If you ride
fast," said he, "the wind will help to dry your clothing. I will hold
on to the horse’s tail and run after you. In this way we all will become dry in
a very short time."
"Then the horse
must step lively," said Jack.
"I’ll do my
best," returned the Saw-Horse, cheerfully.
Tip grasped the end of
the branch that served as tail to the Saw-Horse, and called loudly:
"Get-up!"
The horse started at a
good pace, and Tip followed behind. Then he decided they could go faster, so he
shouted: "Trot!"
Now, the Saw-Horse
remembered that this word was the command to go as fast as he could; so he
began rocking along the road at a tremendous pace, and Tip had hard work --
running faster than he ever had before in his life -- to keep his feet.
Soon he was out of
breath, and although he wanted to call "Whoa!" to the horse, he found
he could not get the word out of his throat. Then the end of the tail he was
clutching, being nothing more than a dead branch, suddenly broke away, and the
next minute the boy was rolling in the dust of the road, while the horse and
its pumpkin-headed rider dashed on and quickly disappeared in the distance.
By the time Tip had
picked himself up and cleared the dust from his throat so he could say
"Whoa!" there was no further need of saying it, for the horse was
long since out of sight.
So he did the only
sensible thing he could do. He sat down and took a good rest, and afterward
began walking along the road.
"Some time I will
surely overtake them," he reflected; "for the road will end at the
gates of the Emerald City, and they can go no further than that."
Meantime Jack was
holding fast to the post and the Saw-Horse was tearing along the road like a
racer. Neither of them knew Tip was left behind, for the Pumpkinhead did not
look around and the Saw-Horse couldn’t.
As he rode, Jack
noticed that the grass and trees had become a bright emerald-green in color, so
he guessed they were nearing the Emerald City even before the tall spires and
domes came into sight.
At length a high wall
of green stone, studded thick with emeralds, loomed up before them; and fearing
the Saw-Horse would not know enough to stop and so might smash them both
against this wall, Jack ventured to cry "Whoa!" as loud as he could.
So suddenly did the
horse obey that had it not been for his post Jack would have been pitched off
head foremost, and his beautiful face ruined.
"That was a fast ride,
dear father!" he exclaimed; and then, hearing no reply, he turned around
and discovered for the first time that Tip was not there.
This apparent desertion
puzzled the Pumpkinhead, and made him uneasy. And while he was wondering what
had become of the boy, and what he ought to do next under such trying
circumstances, the gateway in the green wall opened and a man came out.
This man was short and
round, with a fat face that seemed remarkably good- natured. He was clothed all
in green and wore a high, peaked green hat upon his head and green spectacles
over his eyes. Bowing before the Pumpkinhead he said:
"I am the Guardian
of the Gates of the Emerald City. May I inquire who you are, and what is your
business?"
"My name is Jack
Pumpkinhead," returned the other, smilingly; "but as to my business,
I haven’t the least idea in the world what it is."
The Guardian of the
Gates looked surprised, and shook his head as if dissatisfied with the reply.
"What are you, a
man or a pumpkin?" he asked, politely.
"Both, if you
please," answered Jack.
"And this wooden
horse -- is it alive?" questioned the Guardian.
The horse rolled one
knotty eye upward and winked at Jack. Then it gave a prance and brought one leg
down on the Guardian’s toes.
"Ouch!" cried
the man; "I’m sorry I asked that question. But the answer is most
convincing. Have you any errand, sir, in the Emerald City?"
"It seems to me
that I have," replied the Pumpkinhead, seriously; "but I cannot think
what it is. My father knows all about it, but he is not here."
"This is a strange
affair very strange!" declared the Guardian. "But you seem harmless.
Folks do not smile so delightfully when they mean mischief."
"As for
that," said Jack, "I cannot help my smile, for it is carved on my
face with a jack-knife."
"Well, come with
me into my room," resumed the Guardian, "and I will see what can be
done for you."
So Jack rode the
Saw-Horse through the gateway into a little room built into the wall. The
Guardian pulled a bell-cord, and presently a very tall soldier -- clothed in a
green uniform -- entered from the opposite door. This soldier carried a long
green gun over his shoulder and had lovely green whiskers that fell quite to
his knees. The Guardian at once addressed him, saying:
"Here is a strange
gentleman who doesn’t know why he has come to the Emerald City, or what he
wants. Tell me, what shall we do with him?"
The Soldier with the
Green Whiskers looked at Jack with much care and curiosity. Finally he shook
his head so positively that little waves rippled down his whiskers, and then he
said:
"I must take him
to His Majesty, the Scarecrow."
But what will His
Majesty, the Scarecrow, do with him?" asked the Guardian of the Gates.
"That is His
Majesty’s business," returned the soldier. "I have troubles enough of
my own. All outside troubles must be turned over to His Majesty. So put the
spectacles on this fellow, and I’ll take him to the royal palace."
So the Guardian opened
a big box of spectacles and tried to fit a pair to Jack’s great round eyes.
"I haven’t a pair
in stock that will really cover those eyes up," said the little man, with
a sigh; "and your head is so big that I shall be obliged to tie the
spectacles on."
"But why need I
wear spectacles?" asked Jack.
"It’s the fashion
here," said the Soldier, "and they will keep you from being blinded
by the glitter and glare of the gorgeous Emerald City."
"Oh!"
exclaimed Jack. "Tie them on, by all means. I don’t wish to be
blinded."
"Nor I!"
broke in the Saw-Horse; so a pair of green spectacles was quickly fastened over
the bulging knots that served it for eyes.
Then the Soldier with
the Green Whiskers led them through the inner gate and they at once found
themselves in the main street of the magnificent Emerald City.
Sparkling green gems
ornamented the fronts of the beautiful houses and the towers and turrets were
all faced with emeralds. Even the green marble pavement glittered with precious
stones, and it was indeed a grand and marvelous sight to one who beheld it for
the first time.
However, the
Pumpkinhead and the Saw-Horse, knowing nothing of wealth and beauty, paid
little attention to the wonderful sights they saw through their green
spectacles. They calmly followed after the green soldier and scarcely noticed
the crowds of green people who stared at them in surprise. When a green dog ran
out and barked at them the Saw- Horse promptly kicked at it with its wooden leg
and sent the little animal howling into one of the houses; but nothing more
serious than this happened to interrupt their progress to the royal palace.
The Pumpkinhead wanted
to ride up the green marble steps and straight into the Scarecrow’s presence;
but the soldier would not permit that. So Jack dismounted, with much
difficulty, and a servant led the Saw-Horse around to the rear while the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers escorted the Pumpkinhead into the palace, by
the front entrance.
The stranger was left
in a handsomely furnished waiting room while the soldier went to announce him.
It so happened that at this hour His Majesty was at leisure and greatly bored
for want of something to do, so he ordered his visitor to be shown at once into
his throne room.
Jack felt no fear or
embarrassment at meeting the ruler of this magnificent city, for he was
entirely ignorant of all worldly customs. But when he entered the room and saw
for the first time His Majesty the Scarecrow seated upon his glittering throne,
he stopped short in amazement.
I suppose every reader
of this book knows what a scarecrow is; but Jack Pumpkinhead, never having seen
such a creation, was more surprised at meeting the remarkable King of the
Emerald City than by any other one experience of his brief life.
His Majesty the
Scarecrow was dressed in a suit of faded blue clothes, and his head was merely
a small sack stuffed with straw, upon which eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth had
been rudely painted to represent a face. The clothes were also stuffed with
straw, and that so unevenly or carelessly that his Majesty’s legs and arms
seemed more bumpy than was necessary. Upon his hands were gloves with long
fingers, and these were padded with cotton. Wisps of straw stuck out from the
monarch’s coat and also from his neck and boot-tops. Upon his head he wore a heavy
golden crown set thick with sparkling jewels, and the weight of this crown
caused his brow to sag in wrinkles, giving a thoughtful expression to the
painted face. Indeed, the crown alone betokened majesty; in all else the,
Scarecrow King was but a simple scarecrow -- flimsy, awkward, and
unsubstantial.
But if the strange
appearance of his Majesty the Scarecrow seemed startling to Jack, no less
wonderful was the form of the Pumpkinhead to the Scarecrow. The purple trousers
and pink waistcoat and red shirt hung loosely over the wooden joints Tip had
manufactured, and the carved face on the pumpkin grinned perpetually, as if its
wearer considered life the jolliest thing imaginable.
At first, indeed, His
Majesty thought his queer visitor was laughing at him, and was inclined to
resent such a liberty; but it was not without reason that the Scarecrow had
attained the reputation of being the wisest personage in the Land of Oz. He
made a more careful examination of his visitor, and soon discovered that Jack’s
features were carved into a smile and that he could not look grave if he wished
to.
The King was the first
to speak. After regarding Jack for some minutes he said, in a tone of wonder:
"Where on earth
did you come from, and how do you happen to be alive?"
"I beg your
Majesty’s pardon," returned the Pumpkinhead; "but I do not understand
you."
"What don’t you
understand?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Why, I don’t
understand your language. You see, I came from the Country of the Gillikins, so
that I am a foreigner."
"Ah, to be
sure!" exclaimed the Scarecrow. "I myself speak the language of the
Munchkins, which is also the language of the Emerald City. But you, I suppose,
speak the language of the Pumpkinheads?"
"Exactly so, your
Majesty" replied the other, bowing; "so it will be impossible for us
to understand one another."
"That is
unfortunate, certainly," said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. "We must
have an interpreter."
"What is an
interpreter?" asked Jack.
"A person who
understands both my language and your own. When I say anything, the interpreter
can tell you what I mean; and when you say anything the interpreter can tell me
what you mean. For the interpreter can speak both languages as well as
understand them."
"That is certainly
clever," said Jack, greatly pleased at finding so simple a way out of the
difficulty.
So the Scarecrow
commanded the Soldier with the Green Whiskers to search among his people until
he found one who understood the language of the Gillikins as well as the language
of the Emerald City, and to bring that person to him at once.
When the Soldier had
departed the Scarecrow said:
"Won’t you take a
chair while we are waiting?"
"Your Majesty
forgets that I cannot understand you," replied the Pumpkinhead. "If
you wish me to sit down you must make a sign for me to do so." The
Scarecrow came down from his throne and rolled an armchair to a position behind
the Pumpkinhead. Then he gave Jack a sudden push that sent him sprawling upon
the cushions in so awkward a fashion that he doubled up like a jackknife, and
had hard work to untangle himself.
"Did you
understand that sign?" asked His Majesty, politely.
"Perfectly,"
declared Jack, reaching up his arms to turn his head to the front, the pumpkin
having twisted around upon the stick that supported it.
"You seem hastily
made," remarked the Scarecrow, watching Jack’s efforts to straighten
himself.
"Not more so than
your Majesty," was the frank reply.
"There is this
difference between us," said the Scarecrow, "that whereas I will
bend, but not break, you will break, but not bend."
At this moment the
soldier returned leading a young girl by the hand. She seemed very sweet and
modest, having a pretty face and beautiful green eyes and hair. A dainty green
silk skirt reached to her knees, showing silk stockings embroidered with
pea-pods, and green satin slippers with bunches of lettuce for decorations
instead of bows or buckles. Upon her silken waist clover leaves were
embroidered, and she wore a jaunty little jacket trimmed with sparkling
emeralds of a uniform size.
"Why, it’s little
Jellia Jamb!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, as the green maiden bowed her
pretty head before him. "Do you understand the language of the Gillikins,
my dear?"
"Yes, your
Majesty, she answered, "for I was born in the North Country."
"Then you shall be
our interpreter," said the Scarecrow, "and explain to this
Pumpkinhead all that I say, and also explain to me all that he says. Is this
arrangement satisfactory?" he asked, turning toward his guest.
"Very satisfactory
indeed," was the reply.
"Then ask him, to
begin with," resumed the Scarecrow, turning to Jellia, "what brought
him to the Emerald City"
But instead of this the
girl, who had been staring at Jack, said to him:
"You are certainly
a wonderful creature. Who made you?"
"A boy named
Tip," answered Jack.
"What does he
say?" inquired the Scarecrow. "My ears must have deceived me. What
did he say?"
"He says that your
Majesty’s brains seem to have come loose," replied the girl, demurely.
The Scarecrow moved
uneasily upon his throne, and felt of his head with his left hand.
"What a fine thing
it is to understand two different languages," he said, with a perplexed
sigh. "Ask him, my dear, if he has any objection to being put in jail for
insulting the ruler of the Emerald City."
"I didn’t insult
you!" protested Jack, indignantly.
"Tut -- tut!"
cautioned the Scarecrow "wait, until Jellia translates my speech. What
have we got an interpreter for, if you break out in this rash way?"
"All right, I’ll
wait," replied the Pumpkinhead, in a surly tone -- although his face
smiled as genially as ever. "Translate the speech, young woman."
"His Majesty
inquires if you are hungry, said Jellia.
"Oh, not at
all!" answered Jack, more pleasantly, "for it is impossible for me to
eat."
"It’s the same way
with me," remarked the Scarecrow. "What did he say, Jellia, my
dear?"
"He asked if you
were aware that one of your eyes is painted larger than the other," said
the girl, mischievously.
"Don’t you believe
her, your Majesty, cried Jack.
"Oh, I don’t,"
answered the Scarecrow, calmly. Then, casting a sharp look at the girl, he
asked:
"Are you quite
certain you understand the languages of both the Gillikins and the
Munchkins?"
"Quite certain,
your Majesty," said Jellia Jamb, trying hard not to laugh in the face of
royalty.
"Then how is it
that I seem to understand them myself?" inquired the Scarecrow.
"Because they are
one and the same!" declared the girl, now laughing merrily. "Does not
your Majesty know that in all the land of Oz but one language is spoken?"
"Is it indeed
so?" cried the Scarecrow, much relieved to hear this; "then I might
easily have been my own interpreter!"
"It was all my
fault, your Majesty," said Jack, looking rather foolish," I thought
we must surely speak different languages, since we came from different
countries."
"This should be a
warning to you never to think," returned the Scarecrow, severely.
"For unless one can think wisely it is better to remain a dummy -- which
you most certainly are."
"I am! -- I surely
am!" agreed the Pumpkinhead.
"It seems to
me," continued the Scarecrow, more mildly, "that your manufacturer
spoiled some good pies to create an indifferent man."
"I assure your
Majesty that I did not ask to be created," answered Jack.
"Ah! It was the
same in my case," said the King, pleasantly. And so, as we differ from all
ordinary people, let us become friends."
"With all my
heart!" exclaimed Jack.
"What! Have you a
heart?" asked the Scarecrow, surprised.
"No; that was only
imaginative -- I might say, a figure of speech," said the other.
"Well, your most
prominent figure seems to be a figure of wood; so I must beg you to restrain an
imagination which, having no brains, you have no right to exercise,"
suggested the Scarecrow, warningly.
"To be sure!"
said Jack, without in the least comprehending.
His Majesty then dismissed
Jellia Jamb and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, and when they were gone he
took his new friend by the arm and led him into the courtyard to play a game of
quoits.
Tip was so anxious to
rejoin his man Jack and the Saw-Horse that he walked a full half the distance
to the Emerald City without stopping to rest. Then he discovered that he was
hungry and the crackers and cheese he had provided for the Journey had all been
eaten.
While wondering what he
should do in this emergency he came upon a girl sitting by the roadside. She
wore a costume that struck the boy as being remarkably brilliant: her silken
waist being of emerald green and her skirt of four distinct colors -- blue in
front, yellow at the left side, red at the back and purple at the right side.
Fastening the waist in front were four buttons -- the top one blue, the next
yellow, a third red and the last purple.
The splendor of this
dress was almost barbaric; so Tip was fully justified in staring at the gown
for some moments before his eyes were attracted by the pretty face above it.
Yes, the face was pretty enough, he decided; but it wore an expression of
discontent coupled to a shade of defiance or audacity.
While the boy stared
the girl looked upon him calmly. A lunch basket stood beside her, and she held
a dainty sandwich in one hand and a hard-boiled egg in the other, eating with
an evident appetite that aroused Tip’s sympathy.
He was just about to
ask a share of the luncheon when the girl stood up and brushed the crumbs from
her lap.
"There!" said
she; "it is time for me to go. Carry that basket for me and help yourself
to its contents if you are hungry."
Tip seized the basket
eagerly and began to eat, following for a time the strange girl without
bothering to ask questions. She walked along before him with swift strides, and
there was about her an air of decision and importance that led him to suspect
she was some great personage.
Finally, when he had
satisfied his hunger, he ran up beside her and tried to keep pace with her
swift footsteps -- a very difficult feat, for she was much taller than he, and
evidently in a hurry.
"Thank you very
much for the sandwiches," said Tip, as he trotted along. "May I ask
your name?"
"I am General
Jinjur," was the brief reply.
"Oh!" said
the boy surprised. "What sort of a General?"
"I command the
Army of Revolt in this war," answered the General, with unnecessary
sharpness.
"Oh!" he
again exclaimed. "I didn’t know there was a war."
"You were not
supposed to know it," she returned, "for we have kept it a secret;
and considering that our army is composed entirely of girls," she added,
with some pride, "it is surely a remarkable thing that our Revolt is not yet
discovered."
"It is,
indeed," acknowledged Tip. "But where is your army?"
"About a mile from
here," said General Jinjur. "The forces have assembled from all parts
of the Land of Oz, at my express command. For this is the day we are to conquer
His Majesty the Scarecrow, and wrest from him the throne. The Army of Revolt
only awaits my coming to march upon the Emerald City."
"Well!"
declared Tip, drawing a long breath, "this is certainly a surprising
thing! May I ask why you wish to conquer His Majesty the Scarecrow?"
"Because the
Emerald City has been ruled by men long enough, for one reason," said the
girl.
"Moreover, the
City glitters with beautiful gems, which might far better be used for rings,
bracelets and necklaces; and there is enough money in the King’s treasury to
buy every girl in our Army a dozen new gowns. So we intend to conquer the City
and run the government to suit ourselves."
Jinjur spoke these
words with an eagerness and decision that proved she was in earnest.
"But war is a terrible
thing," said Tip, thoughtfully.
"This war will be
pleasant," replied the girl, cheerfully.
"Many of you will
be slain!" continued the boy, in an awed voice.
"Oh, no",
said Jinjur. "What man would oppose a girl, or dare to harm her? And there
is not an ugly face in my entire Army."
Tip laughed.
"Perhaps you are
right," said he. "But the Guardian of the Gate is considered a
faithful Guardian, and the King’s Army will not let the City be conquered
without a struggle."
"The Army is old
and feeble," replied General Jinjur, scornfully. "His strength has
all been used to grow whiskers, and his wife has such a temper that she has
already pulled more than half of them out by the roots. When the Wonderful
Wizard reigned the Soldier with the Green Whiskers was a very good Royal Army,
for people feared the Wizard. But no one is afraid of the Scarecrow, so his
Royal Army don’t count for much in time of war."
After this conversation
they proceeded some distance in silence, and before long reached a large
clearing in the forest where fully four hundred young women were assembled.
These were laughing and talking together as gaily as if they had gathered for a
picnic instead of a war of conquest.
They were divided into
four companies, and Tip noticed that all were dressed in costumes similar to
that worn by General Jinjur. The only real difference was that while those
girls from the Munchkin country had the blue strip in front of their skirts,
those from the country of the Quadlings had the red strip in front; and those
from the country of the Winkies had the yellow strip in front, and the Gillikin
girls wore the purple strip in front. All had green waists, representing the
Emerald City they intended to conquer, and the top button on each waist indicated
by its color which country the wearer came from. The uniforms were Jaunty and
becoming, and quite effective when massed together.
Tip thought this
strange Army bore no weapons whatever; but in this he was wrong. For each girl
had stuck through the knot of her back hair two long, glittering
knitting-needles.
General Jinjur
immediately mounted the stump of a tree and addressed her army.
"Friends,
fellow-citizens, and girls!" she said; "we are about to begin our
great Revolt against the men of Oz! We march to conquer the Emerald City -- to
dethrone the Scarecrow King -- to acquire thousands of gorgeous gems -- to
rifle the royal treasury -- and to obtain power over our former
oppressors!"
"Hurrah!"
said those who had listened; but Tip thought most of the Army was too much
engaged in chattering to pay attention to the words of the General.
The command to march
was now given, and the girls formed themselves into four bands, or companies,
and set off with eager strides toward the Emerald City.
The boy followed after
them, carrying several baskets and wraps and packages which various members of
the Army of Revolt had placed in his care. It was not long before they came to
the green granite walls of the City and halted before the gateway.
The Guardian of the
Gate at once came out and looked at them curiously, as if a circus had come to
town. He carried a bunch of keys swung round his neck by a golden chain; his
hands were thrust carelessly into his pockets, and he seemed to have no idea at
all that the City was threatened by rebels. Speaking pleasantly to the girls,
he said:
"Good morning, my
dears! What can I do for you?"
"Surrender
instantly!" answered General Jinjur, standing before him and frowning as
terribly as her pretty face would allow her to.
"Surrender!"
echoed the man, astounded. "Why, it’s impossible. It’s against the law! I
never heard of such a thing in my life."
"Still, you must
surrender!" exclaimed the General, fiercely. "We are revolting!"
"You don’t look
it," said the Guardian, gazing from one to another, admiringly.
"But we are!"
cried Jinjur, stamping her foot, impatiently; "and we mean to conquer the
Emerald City!"
"Good
gracious!" returned the surprised Guardian of the Gates; "what a
nonsensical idea! Go home to your mothers, my good girls, and milk the cows and
bake the bread. Don’t you know it’s a dangerous thing to conquer a city?"
"We are not
afraid!" responded the General; and she looked so determined that it made
the Guardian uneasy.
So he rang the bell for
the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, and the next minute was sorry he had done
so. For immediately he was surrounded by a crowd of girls who drew the
knitting-needles from their hair and began Jabbing them at the Guardian with
the sharp points dangerously near his fat cheeks and blinking eyes.
The poor man howled
loudly for mercy and made no resistance when Jinjur drew the bunch of keys from
around his neck.
Followed by her Army
the General now rushed to the gateway, where she was confronted by the Royal
Army of Oz -- which was the other name for the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.
"Halt!" he
cried, and pointed his long gun full in the face of the leader.
Some of the girls
screamed and ran back, but General Jinjur bravely stood her ground and said,
reproachfully:
"Why, how now?
Would you shoot a poor, defenceless girl?"
"No," replied
the soldier. "for my gun isn’t loaded."
"Not loaded?"
"No; for fear of
accidents. And I’ve forgotten where I hid the powder and shot to load it with.
But if you’ll wait a short time I’ll try to hunt them up."
"Don’t trouble
yourself," said Jinjur, cheerfully. Then she turned to her Army and cried:
"Girls, the gun
isn’t loaded!"
"Hooray,"
shrieked the rebels, delighted at this good news, and they proceeded to rush
upon the Soldier with the Green Whiskers in such a crowd that it was a wonder
they didn’t stick the knitting-needles into one another.
But the Royal Army of
Oz was too much afraid of women to meet the onslaught. He simply turned about
and ran with all his might through the gate and toward the royal palace, while
General Jinjur and her mob flocked into the unprotected City.
In this way was the
Emerald City captured without a drop of blood being spilled. The Army of Revolt
had become an Army of Conquerors!
Tip slipped away from
the girls and followed swiftly after the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. The
invading army entered the City more slowly, for they stopped to dig emeralds
out of the walls and paving-stones with the points of their knitting-needles. So
the Soldier and the boy reached the palace before the news had spread that the
City was conquered.
The Scarecrow and Jack
Pumpkinhead were still playing at quoits in the courtyard when the game was
interrupted by the abrupt entrance of the Royal Army of Oz, who came flying in
without his hat or gun, his clothes in sad disarray and his long beard floating
a yard behind him as he ran.
"Tally one for
me," said the Scarecrow, calmly "What’s wrong, my man?" he
added, addressing the Soldier.
"Oh! your Majesty
-- your Majesty! The City is conquered!" gasped the Royal Army, who was
all out of breath.
"This is quite
sudden," said the Scarecrow. "But please go and bar all the doors and
windows of the palace, while I show this Pumpkinhead how to throw a quoit."
The Soldier hastened to
do this, while Tip, who had arrived at his heels, remained in the courtyard to
look at the Scarecrow with wondering eyes.
His Majesty continued
to throw the quoits as coolly as if no danger threatened his throne, but the
Pumpkinhead, having caught sight of Tip, ambled toward the boy as fast as his
wooden legs would go.
"Good afternoon,
noble parent!" he cried, delightedly." I’m glad to see you are here.
That terrible Saw-Horse ran away with me."
"I suspected
it," said Tip. "Did you get hurt? Are you cracked at all?"
"No, I arrived
safely," answered Jack, "and his Majesty has been very kind indeed to
me.
At this moment the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers returned, and the Scarecrow asked:
"By the way, who
has conquered me?"
"A regiment of
girls, gathered from the four corners of the Land of Oz," replied the
Soldier, still pale with fear.
"But where was my
Standing Army at the time?" inquired his Majesty, looking at the Soldier,
gravely.
"Your Standing
Army was running," answered the fellow, honestly; "for no man could
face the terrible weapons of the invaders."
"Well," said
the Scarecrow, after a moment’s thought, "I don’t mind much the loss of my
throne, for it’s a tiresome job to rule over the Emerald City. And this crown
is so heavy that it makes my head ache. But I hope the Conquerors have no
intention of injuring me, just because I happen to be the King."
"I heard them,
say" remarked Tip, with some hesitation, "that they intend to make a
rag carpet of your outside and stuff their sofa-cushions with your
inside."
"Then I am really
in danger," declared his Majesty, positively, "and it will be wise
for me to consider a means to escape."
"Where can you
go?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead.
"Why, to my friend
the Tin Woodman, who rules over the Winkies, and calls himself their
Emperor," was the answer. "I am sure he will protect me."
Tip was looking out the
window.
"The palace is
surrounded by the enemy," said he "It is too late to escape. They
would soon tear you to pieces."
The Scarecrow sighed.
"In an
emergency," he announced, "it is always a good thing to pause and
reflect. Please excuse me while I pause and reflect."
"But we also are
in danger," said the Pumpkinhead, anxiously." If any of these girls
understand cooking, my end is not far off!"
"Nonsense!"
exclaimed the Scarecrow. "they’re too busy to cook, even if they know
how!"
"But should I
remain here a prisoner for any length of time," protested Jack," I’m
liable to spoil."
"Ah! then you
would not be fit to associate with," returned the Scarecrow. "The
matter is more serious than I suspected."
"You," said
the Pumpkinhead, gloomily, "are liable to live for many years. My life is
necessarily short. So I must take advantage of the few days that remain to
me."
"There, there! Don’t
worry," answered the Scarecrow soothingly; "if you’ll keep quiet long
enough for me to think, I’ll try to find some way for us all to escape."
So the others waited in
patient silence while the Scarecrow walked to a corner and stood with his face
to the wall for a good five minutes. At the end of that time he faced them with
a more cheerful expression upon his painted face.
"Where is the
Saw-Horse you rode here?" he asked the Pumpkinhead.
"Why, I said he
was a jewel, and so your man locked him up in the royal treasury," said
Jack.
"It was the only
place I could think of your Majesty," added the Soldier, fearing he had
made a blunder.
"It pleases me
very much," said the Scarecrow. "Has the animal been fed?"
"Oh, yes; I gave
him a heaping peck of sawdust."
"Excellent!"
cried the Scarecrow. "Bring the horse here at once."
The Soldier hastened
away, and presently they heard the clattering of the horse’s wooden legs upon
the pavement as he was led into the courtyard.
His Majesty regarded
the steed critically. "He doesn’t seem especially graceful!" he
remarked, musingly. "but I suppose he can run?"
"He can,
indeed," said Tip, gazing upon the Saw-Horse admiringly.
"Then, bearing us
upon his back, he must make a dash through the ranks of the rebels and carry us
to my friend the Tin Woodman," announced the Scarecrow.
"He can’t carry
four!" objected Tip.
"No, but he may be
induced to carry three," said his Majesty. "I shall therefore leave my
Royal Army Behind. For, from the ease with which he was conquered, I have
little confidence in his powers."
"Still, he can
run," declared Tip, laughing.
"I expected this
blow" said the Soldier, sulkily; "but I can bear it. I shall disguise
myself by cutting off my lovely green whiskers. And, after all, it is no more
dangerous to face those reckless girls than to ride this fiery, untamed wooden
horse!"
"Perhaps you are
right," observed his Majesty. "But, for my part, not being a soldier,
I am fond of danger. Now, my boy, you must mount first. And please sit as close
to the horse’s neck as possible."
Tip climbed quickly to
his place, and the Soldier and the Scarecrow managed to hoist the Pumpkinhead
to a seat just behind him. There remained so little space for the King that he
was liable to fall off as soon as the horse started.
"Fetch a
clothesline," said the King to his Army, "and tie us all together.
Then if one falls off we will all fall off."
And while the Soldier
was gone for the clothesline his Majesty continued, "it is well for me to
be careful, for my very existence is in danger."
"I have to be as
careful as you do," said Jack.
"Not
exactly," replied the Scarecrow. "for if anything happened to me,
that would be the end of me. But if anything happened to you, they could use
you for seed."
The Soldier now
returned with a long line and tied all three firmly together, also lashing them
to the body of the Saw-Horse; so there seemed little danger of their tumbling
off.
"Now throw open
the gates," commanded the Scarecrow, "and we will make a dash to
liberty or to death."
The courtyard in which
they were standing was located in the center of the great palace, which
surrounded it on all sides. But in one place a passage led to an outer gateway,
which the Soldier had barred by order of his sovereign. It was through this
gateway his Majesty proposed to escape, and the Royal Army now led the
Saw-Horse along the passage and unbarred the gate, which swung backward with a
loud crash.
"Now," said
Tip to the horse, "you must save us all. Run as fast as you can for the
gate of the City, and don’t let anything stop you."
"All right!"
answered the Saw-Horse, gruffly, and dashed away so suddenly that Tip had to
gasp for breath and hold firmly to the post he had driven into the creature’s
neck.
Several of the girls,
who stood outside guarding the palace, were knocked over by the Saw-Horse’s mad
rush. Others ran screaming out of the way, and only one or two jabbed their
knitting-needles frantically at the escaping prisoners. Tip got one small prick
in his left arm, which smarted for an hour afterward; but the needles had no
effect upon the Scarecrow or Jack Pumpkinhead, who never even suspected they
were being prodded.
As for the Saw-Horse,
he made a wonderful record upsetting a fruit cart, overturning several meek
looking men, and finally bowling over the new Guardian of the Gate -- a fussy
little fat woman appointed by General Jinjur.
Nor did the impetuous
charger stop then. Once outside the walls of the Emerald City he dashed along
the road to the West with fast and violent leaps that shook the breath out of
the boy and filled the Scarecrow with wonder.
Jack had ridden at this
mad rate once before, so he devoted every effort to holding, with both hands,
his pumpkin head upon its stick, enduring meantime the dreadful jolting with
the courage of a philosopher.
"Slow him up! Slow
him up!" shouted the Scarecrow. "My straw is all shaking down into my
legs."
But Tip had no breath
to speak, so the Saw-Horse continued his wild career unchecked and with
unabated speed.
Presently they came to
the banks of a wide river, and without a pause the wooden steed gave one final
leap and launched them all in mid-air.
A second later they
were rolling, splashing and bobbing about in the water, the horse struggling
frantically to find a rest for its feet and its riders being first plunged
beneath the rapid current and then floating upon the surface like corks.
Tip was well soaked and
dripping water from every angle of his body. But he managed to lean forward and
shout in the ear of the Saw-Horse:
"Keep still, you
fool! Keep still!"
The horse at once
ceased struggling and floated calmly upon the surface, its wooden body being as
buoyant as a raft.
"What does that
word ’fool’ mean?" enquired the horse.
"It is a term of
reproach," answered Tip, somewhat ashamed of the expression. "I only
use it when I am angry."
"Then it pleases
me to be able to call you a fool, in return," said the horse. "For I
did not make the river, nor put it in our way; so only a term of, reproach is
fit for one who becomes angry with me for falling into the water."
"That is quite
evident," replied Tip; "so I will acknowledge myself in the
wrong." Then he called out to the Pumpkinhead: "are you all right,
Jack?"
There was no reply. So
the boy called to the King "are you all right, your majesty?"
The Scarecrow groaned.
"I’m all wrong,
somehow," he said, in a weak voice. "How very wet this water
is!"
Tip was bound so
tightly by the cord that he could not turn his head to look at his companions;
so he said to the Saw-Horse:
"Paddle with your
legs toward the shore."
The horse obeyed, and
although their progress was slow they finally reached the opposite river bank
at a place where it was low enough to enable the creature to scramble upon dry
land.
With some difficulty
the boy managed to get his knife out of his pocket and cut the cords that bound
the riders to one another and to the wooden horse. He heard the Scarecrow fall
to the ground with a mushy sound, and then he himself quickly dismounted and
looked at his friend Jack.
The wooden body, with
its gorgeous clothing, still sat upright upon the horse’s back; but the pumpkin
head was gone, and only the sharpened stick that served for a neck was visible.
As for the Scarecrow, the straw in his body had shaken down with the jolting
and packed itself into his legs and the lower part of his body -- which
appeared very plump and round while his upper half seemed like an empty sack.
Upon his head the Scarecrow still wore the heavy crown, which had been sewed on
to prevent his losing it; but the head was now so damp and limp that the weight
of the gold and jewels sagged forward and crushed the painted face into a mass
of wrinkles that made him look exactly like a Japanese pug dog.
Tip would have laughed
-- had he not been so anxious about his man Jack. But the Scarecrow, however
damaged, was all there, while the pumpkin head that was so necessary to Jack’s
existence was missing; so the boy seized a long pole that fortunately lay near
at hand and anxiously turned again toward the river.
Far out upon the waters
he sighted the golden hue of the pumpkin, which gently bobbed up and down with
the motion of the waves. At that moment it was quite out of Tip’s reach, but
after a time it floated nearer and still nearer until the boy was able to reach
it with his pole and draw it to the shore. Then he brought it to the top of the
bank, carefully wiped the water from its pumpkin face with his handkerchief,
and ran with it to Jack and replaced the head upon the man’s neck.
"Dear me!"
were Jack’s first words. "What a dreadful experience! I wonder if water is
liable to spoil pumpkins?"
Tip did not think a
reply was necessary, for he knew that the Scarecrow also stood in need of his
help. So he carefully removed the straw from the King’s body and legs, and
spread it out in the sun to dry. The wet clothing he hung over the body of the
Saw-Horse.
"If water spoils
pumpkins," observed Jack, with a deep sigh, "then my days are
numbered."
"I’ve never
noticed that water spoils pumpkins," returned Tip; "unless the water
happens to be boiling. If your head isn’t cracked, my friend, you must be in
fairly good condition."
"Oh, my head isn’t
cracked in the least," declared Jack, more cheerfully.
"Then don’t
worry," retorted the boy. "Care once killed a cat."
"Then," said
Jack, seriously, "I am very glad indeed that I am not a cat."
The sun was fast drying
their clothing, and Tip stirred up his Majesty’s straw so that the warm rays
might absorb the moisture and make it as crisp and dry as ever. When this had
been accomplished he stuffed the Scarecrow into symmetrical shape and smoothed
out his face so that he wore his usual gay and charming expression.
"Thank you very
much," said the monarch, brightly, as he walked about and found himself to
be well balanced. "There are several distinct advantages in being a
Scarecrow. For if one has friends near at hand to repair damages, nothing very
serious can happen to you."
"I wonder if hot
sunshine is liable to crack pumpkins," said Jack, with an anxious ring in
his voice.
"Not at all -- not
at all!" replied the Scarecrow, gaily." All you need fear, my boy, is
old age. When your golden youth has decayed we shall quickly part company --
but you needn’t look forward to it; we’ll discover the fact ourselves, and
notify you. But come! Let us resume our journey. I am anxious to greet my
friend the Tin Woodman."
So they remounted the
Saw-Horse, Tip holding to the post, the Pumpkinhead clinging to Tip, and the
Scarecrow with both arms around the wooden form of Jack.
"Go slowly, for
now there is no danger of pursuit," said Tip to his steed.
"All right!"
responded the creature, in a voice rather gruff.
"Aren’t you a
little hoarse?" asked the Pumpkinhead politely.
The Saw-Horse gave an
angry prance and rolled one knotty eye backward toward Tip.
"See here,"
he growled, "can’t you protect me from insult?"
"To be sure!"
answered Tip, soothingly. "I am sure Jack meant no harm. And it will not
do for us to quarrel, you know; we must all remain good friends."
"I’ll have nothing
more to do with that Pumpkinhead," declared the Saw- Horse, viciously.
"he loses his head too easily to suit me."
There seemed no fitting
reply to this speech, so for a time they rode along in silence.
After a while the
Scarecrow remarked:
"This reminds me
of old times. It was upon this grassy knoll that I once saved Dorothy from the
Stinging Bees of the Wicked Witch of the West."
"Do Stinging Bees
injure pumpkins?" asked Jack, glancing around fearfully.
"They are all
dead, so it doesn’t matter," replied the Scarecrow." And here is
where Nick Chopper destroyed the Wicked Witch’s Grey Wolves."
"Who was Nick
Chopper?" asked Tip.
"That is the name
of my friend the Tin Woodman, answered his Majesty. And here is where the
Winged Monkeys captured and bound us, and flew away with little Dorothy,"
he continued, after they had traveled a little way farther.
"Do Winged Monkeys
ever eat pumpkins?" asked Jack, with a shiver of fear.
"I do not know;
but you have little cause to, worry, for the Winged Monkeys are now the slaves
of Glinda the Good, who owns the Golden Cap that commands their services,"
said the Scarecrow, reflectively.
Then the stuffed
monarch became lost in thought recalling the days of past adventures. And the
Saw-Horse rocked and rolled over the flower-strewn fields and carried its
riders swiftly upon their way.
*****************************
Twilight fell, bye and
bye, and then the dark shadows of night. So Tip stopped the horse and they all
proceeded to dismount.
"I’m tired
out," said the boy, yawning wearily; "and the grass is soft and cool.
Let us lie down here and sleep until morning."
"I can’t
sleep," said Jack.
"I never do,"
said the Scarecrow.
"I do not even
know what sleep is," said the Saw-Horse.
"Still, we must
have consideration for this poor boy, who is made of flesh and blood and bone,
and gets tired," suggested the Scarecrow, in his usual thoughtful manner.
"I remember it was the same way with little Dorothy. We always had to sit
through the night while she slept."
"I’m sorry,"
said Tip, meekly, "but I can’t help it. And I’m dreadfully hungry,
too!"
"Here is a new
danger!" remarked Jack, gloomily. "I hope you are not fond of eating
pumpkins."
"Not unless they’re
stewed and made into pies," answered the boy, laughing. "So have no
fears of me, friend Jack."
"What a coward
that Pumpkinhead is!" said the Saw-Horse, scornfully.
"You might be a
coward yourself, if you knew you were liable to spoil!" retorted Jack,
angrily.
"There! --
there!" interrupted the Scarecrow; "don’t let us quarrel. We all have
our weaknesses, dear friends; so we must strive to be considerate of one
another. And since this poor boy is hungry and has nothing whatever to eat, let
us all remain quiet and allow him to sleep; for it is said that in sleep a
mortal may forget even hunger."
"Thank you!"
exclaimed Tip, gratefully. "Your Majesty is fully as good as you are wise
-- and that is saying a good deal!"
He then stretched
himself upon the grass and, using the stuffed form of the Scarecrow for a
pillow, was presently fast asleep.
Tip awoke soon after
dawn, but the Scarecrow had already risen and plucked, with his clumsy fingers,
a double-handful of ripe berries from some bushes near by. These the boy ate
greedily, finding them an ample breakfast, and afterward the little party
resumed its Journey.
After an hour’s ride
they reached the summit of a hill from whence they espied the City of the
Winkies and noted the tall domes of the Emperor’s palace rising from the
clusters of more modest dwellings.
The Scarecrow became
greatly animated at this sight, and exclaimed:
"How delighted I
shall be to see my old friend the Tin Woodman again! I hope that he rules his
people more successfully than I have ruled mine!"
Is the Tin Woodman the
Emperor of the Winkies?" asked the horse.
"Yes, indeed. They
invited him to rule over them soon after the Wicked Witch was destroyed; and as
Nick Chopper has the best heart in all the world I am sure he has proved an
excellent and able emperor."
"I thought that ’Emperor’
was the title of a person who rules an empire," said Tip, "and the
Country of the Winkies is only a Kingdom."
"Don’t mention
that to the Tin Woodman!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, earnestly. "You
would hurt his feelings terribly. He is a proud man, as he has every reason to
be, and it pleases him to be termed Emperor rather than King."
"I’m sure it makes
no difference to me," replied the boy.
The Saw-Horse now
ambled forward at a pace so fast that its riders had hard work to stick upon
its back; so there was little further conversation until they drew up beside
the palace steps.
An aged Winkie, dressed
in a uniform of silver cloth, came forward to assist them to alight. Said the
Scarecrow to his personage:
"Show us at once
to your master, the Emperor."
The man looked from one
to another of the party in an embarrassed way, and finally answered:
"I fear I must ask
you to wait for a time. The Emperor is not receiving this morning."
"How is
that?" enquired the Scarecrow, anxiously." I hope nothing has
happened to him."
"Oh, no; nothing
serious," returned the man. "But this is his Majesty’s day for being
polished; and just now his august presence is thickly smeared with
putz-pomade."
"Oh, I see!"
cried the Scarecrow, greatly reassured. "My friend was ever inclined to be
a dandy, and I suppose he is now more proud than ever of his personal
appearance."
"He is,
indeed," said the man, with a polite bow. "Our mighty Emperor has
lately caused himself to be nickel-plated."
"Good
Gracious!" the Scarecrow exclaimed at hearing this. "If his wit bears
the same polish, how sparkling it must be! But show us in -- I’m sure the
Emperor will receive us, even in his present state"
"The Emperor’s
state is always magnificent," said the man. "But I will venture to
tell him of your arrival, and will receive his commands concerning you."
So the party followed
the servant into a splendid ante-room, and the Saw- Horse ambled awkwardly
after them, having no knowledge that a horse might be expected to remain
outside.
The travelers were at first
somewhat awed by their surroundings, and even the Scarecrow seemed impressed as
he examined the rich hangings of silver cloth caught up into knots and fastened
with tiny silver axes. Upon a handsome center-table stood a large silver
oil-can, richly engraved with scenes from the past adventures of the Tin
Woodman, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow: the lines of the
engraving being traced upon the silver in yellow gold. On the walls hung
several portraits, that of the Scarecrow seeming to be the most prominent and
carefully executed, while a the large painting of the famous Wizard of Oz, in
act of presenting the Tin Woodman with a heart, covered almost one entire end
of the room.
While the visitors
gazed at these things in silent admiration they suddenly heard a loud voice in
the next room exclaim:
"Well! well! well!
What a great surprise!"
And then the door burst
open and Nick Chopper rushed into their midst and caught the Scarecrow in a
close and loving embrace that creased him into many folds and wrinkles.
"My dear old
friend! My noble comrade!" cried the Tin Woodman, joyfully. "how
delighted!," I am to meet you once again.
And then he released
the Scarecrow and held him at arms’ length while he surveyed the beloved,
painted features.
But, alas! the face of
the Scarecrow and many portions of his body bore great blotches of putz-pomade;
for the Tin Woodman, in his eagerness to welcome his friend, had quite
forgotten the condition of his toilet and had rubbed the thick coating of paste
from his own body to that of his comrade.
"Dear me!"
said the Scarecrow dolefully. "What a mess I’m in!"
"Never mind, my
friend," returned the Tin Woodman," I’ll send you to my Imperial
Laundry, and you’ll come out as good as new."
"Won’t I be mangled?"
asked the Scarecrow.
"No, indeed!"
was the reply. "But tell me, how came your Majesty here? and who are your
companions?"
The Scarecrow, with
great politeness, introduced Tip and Jack Pumpkinhead, and the latter personage
seemed to interest the Tin Woodman greatly.
"You are not very
substantial, I must admit," said the Emperor. "but you are certainly
unusual, and therefore worthy to become a member of our select society."
"I thank your
Majesty, said Jack, humbly.
"I hope you are
enjoying good health?" continued the Woodman.
"At present,
yes;" replied the Pumpkinhead, with a sigh; "but I am in constant
terror of the day when I shall spoil."
"Nonsense!"
said the Emperor -- but in a kindly, sympathetic tone. "Do not, I beg of
you, dampen today’s sun with the showers of tomorrow. For before your head has
time to spoil you can have it canned, and in that way it may be preserved
indefinitely."
Tip, during this
conversation, was looking at the Woodman with undisguised amazement, and
noticed that the celebrated Emperor of the Winkies was composed entirely of
pieces of tin, neatly soldered and riveted together into the form of a man. He
rattled and clanked a little, as he moved, but in the main he seemed to be most
cleverly constructed, and his appearance was only marred by the thick coating
of polishing-paste that covered him from head to foot.
The boy’s intent gaze
caused the Tin Woodman to remember that he was not in the most presentable
condition, so he begged his friends to excuse him while he retired to his
private apartment and allowed his servants to polish him. This was accomplished
in a short time, and when the emperor returned his nickel-plated body shone so
magnificently that the Scarecrow heartily congratulated him on his improved
appearance.
"That nickel-plate
was, I confess, a happy thought," said Nick; "and it was the more
necessary because I had become somewhat scratched during my adventurous
experiences. You will observe this engraved star upon my left breast. It not
only indicates where my excellent heart lies, but covers very neatly the patch
made by the Wonderful Wizard when he placed that valued organ in my breast with
his own skillful hands."
"Is your heart,
then, a hand-organ?" asked the Pumpkinhead, curiously.
"By no
means," responded the emperor, with dignity. "It is, I am convinced,
a strictly orthodox heart, although somewhat larger and warmer than most people
possess."
Then he turned to the
Scarecrow and asked:
"Are your subjects
happy and contented, my dear friend?"
"I cannot,
say" was the reply. "for the girls of Oz have risen in revolt and
driven me out of the emerald City."
"Great Goodness!"
cried the Tin Woodman, "What a calamity! They surely do not complain of
your wise and gracious rule?"
"No; but they say
it is a poor rule that don’t work both ways," answered the Scarecrow;
"and these females are also of the opinion that men have ruled the land
long enough. So they have captured my city, robbed the treasury of all its
jewels, and are running things to suit themselves."
"Dear me! What an
extraordinary idea!" cried the Emperor, who was both shocked and
surprised.
"And I heard some
of them say," said Tip, "that they intend to march here and capture
the castle and city of the Tin Woodman."
"Ah! we must not
give them time to do that," said the Emperor, quickly; "we will go at
once and recapture the Emerald City and place the Scarecrow again upon his
throne."
"I was sure you
would help me," remarked the Scarecrow in a pleased voice. "How large
an army can you assemble?"
"We do not need an
army," replied the Woodman. "We four, with the aid of my gleaming
axe, are enough to strike terror into the hearts of the rebels."
"We five,"
corrected the Pumpkinhead.
"Five?"
repeated the Tin Woodman.
"Yes; the
Saw-Horse is brave and fearless," answered Jack, forgetting his recent
quarrel with the quadruped.
The Tin Woodman looked
around him in a puzzled way, for the Saw-Horse had until now remained quietly
standing in a corner, where the Emperor had not noticed him. Tip immediately
called the odd-looking creature to them, and it approached so awkwardly that it
nearly upset the beautiful center-table and the engraved oil-can.
"I begin to
think," remarked the Tin Woodman as he looked earnestly at the Saw-Horse,
"that wonders will never cease! How came this creature alive?"
"I did it with a
magic powder," modestly asserted the boy. "and the Saw- Horse has
been very useful to us."
"He enabled us to
escape the rebels," added the Scarecrow.
"Then we must
surely accept him as a comrade," declared the emperor. "A live
Saw-Horse is a distinct novelty, and should prove an interesting study. Does he
know anything?"
"Well, I cannot
claim any great experience in life," the Saw-Horse answered for himself.
"but I seem to learn very quickly, and often it occurs to me that I know
more than any of those around me."
"Perhaps you
do," said the emperor; "for experience does not always mean wisdom.
But time is precious Just now, so let us quickly make preparations to start
upon our Journey.
The emperor called his
Lord High Chancellor and instructed him how to run the kingdom during his
absence. Meanwhile the Scarecrow was taken apart and the painted sack that
served him for a head was carefully laundered and restuffed with the brains
originally given him by the great Wizard. His clothes were also cleaned and
pressed by the Imperial tailors, and his crown polished and again sewed upon
his head, for the Tin Woodman insisted he should not renounce this badge of
royalty. The Scarecrow now presented a very respectable appearance, and
although in no way addicted to vanity he was quite pleased with himself and
strutted a trifle as he walked. While this was being done Tip mended the wooden
limbs of Jack Pumpkinhead and made them stronger than before, and the Saw-Horse
was also inspected to see if he was in good working order.
Then bright and early
the next morning they set out upon the return Journey to the emerald City, the
Tin Woodman bearing upon his shoulder a gleaming axe and leading the way, while
the Pumpkinhead rode upon the Saw-Horse and Tip and the Scarecrow walked upon either
side to make sure that he didn’t fall off or become damaged.
Now, General Jinjur --
who, you will remember, commanded the Army of Revolt -- was rendered very
uneasy by the escape of the Scarecrow from the Emerald City. She feared, and
with good reason, that if his Majesty and the Tin Woodman Joined forces, it
would mean danger to her and her entire army; for the people of Oz had not yet
forgotten the deeds of these famous heroes, who had passed successfully through
so many startling adventures.
So Jinjur sent
post-haste for old Mombi, the witch, and promised her large rewards if she
would come to the assistance of the rebel army.
Mombi was furious at
the trick Tip had played upon her as well as at his escape and the theft of the
precious Powder of Life; so she needed no urging to induce her to travel to the
Emerald City to assist Jinjur in defeating the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman,
who had made Tip one of their friends.
Mombi had no sooner
arrived at the royal palace than she discovered, by means of her secret magic,
that the adventurers were starting upon their Journey to the Emerald City; so
she retired to a small room high up in a tower and locked herself in while she
practised such arts as she could command to prevent the return of the Scarecrow
and his companions.
That was why the Tin
Woodman presently stopped and said:
"Something very
curious has happened. I ought to know by heart and every step of this Journey,
yet I fear we have already lost our way."
"That is quite
impossible!" protested the Scarecrow. "Why do you think, my dear
friend, that we have gone astray?"
"Why, here before
us is a great field of sunflowers -- and I never saw this field before in all
my life."
At these words they all
looked around, only to find that they were indeed surrounded by a field of tall
stalks, every stalk bearing at its top a gigantic sunflower. And not only were
these flowers almost blinding in their vivid hues of red and gold, but each one
whirled around upon its stalk like a miniature wind-mill, completely dazzling
the vision of the beholders and so mystifying them that they knew not which way
to turn.
"It’s
witchcraft!" exclaimed Tip.
While they paused,
hesitating and wondering, the Tin Woodman uttered a cry of impatience and
advanced with swinging axe to cut down the stalks before him. But now the
sunflowers suddenly stopped their rapid whirling, and the travelers plainly saw
a girl’s face appear in the center of each flower. These lovely faces looked
upon the astonished band with mocking smiles, and then burst into a chorus of
merry laughter at the dismay their appearance caused.
"Stop! stop!"
cried Tip, seizing the Woodman’s arm; "they’re alive! they’re girls!"
At that moment the
flowers began whirling again, and the faces faded away and were lost in the
rapid revolutions.
The Tin Woodman dropped
his axe and sat down upon the ground.
"It would be
heartless to chop down those pretty creatures," said he, despondently.
"and yet I do not know how else we can proceed upon our way"
"They looked to me
strangely like the faces of the Army of Revolt," mused the Scarecrow.
"But I cannot conceive how the girls could have followed us here so
quickly."
"I believe it’s
magic," said Tip, positively, "and that someone is playing a trick
upon us. I’ve known old Mombi do things like that before. Probably it’s nothing
more than an illusion, and there are no sunflowers here at all."
"Then let us shut
our eyes and walk forward," suggested the Woodman.
"Excuse me,"
replied the Scarecrow. "My eyes are not painted to shut. Because you
happen to have tin eyelids, you must not imagine we are all built in the same
way."
"And the eyes of
the Saw-Horse are knot eyes," said Jack, leaning forward to examine them.
"Nevertheless, you
must ride quickly forward," commanded Tip, "and we will follow after
you and so try to escape. My eyes are already so dazzled that I can scarcely
see."
So the Pumpkinhead rode
boldly forward, and Tip grasped the stub tail of the Saw-Horse and followed
with closed eyes. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman brought up the rear, and
before they had gone many yards a Joyful shout from Jack announced that the way
was clear before them.
Then all paused to look
backward, but not a trace of the field of sunflowers remained.
More cheerfully, now
they proceeded upon their Journey; but old Mombi had so changed the appearance
of the landscape that they would surely have been lost had not the Scarecrow
wisely concluded to take their direction from the sun. For no witch-craft could
change the course of the sun, and it was therefore a safe guide.
However, other
difficulties lay before them. The Saw-Horse stepped into a rabbit hole and fell
to the ground. The Pumpkinhead was pitched high into the air, and his history
would probably have ended at that exact moment had not the Tin Woodman
skillfully caught the pumpkin as it descended and saved it from injury.
Tip soon had it fitted
to the neck again and replaced Jack upon his feet. But the Saw-Horse did not
escape so easily. For when his leg was pulled from the rabbit hole it was found
to be broken short off, and must be replaced or repaired before he could go a
step farther.
"This is quite
serious," said the Tin Woodman." If there were trees near by I might
soon manufacture another leg for this animal; but I cannot see even a shrub for
miles around."
"And there are
neither fences nor houses in this part of the land of Oz," added the
Scarecrow, disconsolately.
"Then what shall
we do?" enquired the boy.
"I suppose I must
start my brains working," replied his Majesty the Scarecrow; "for
experience has, taught me that I can do anything if I but take time to think it
out."
"Let us all
think," said Tip; "and perhaps we shall find a way to repair the
Saw-Horse."
So they sat in a row
upon the grass and began to think, while the Saw-Horse occupied itself by
gazing curiously upon its broken limb.
"Does it
hurt?" asked the Tin Woodman, in a soft, sympathetic voice.
"Not in the
least," returned the Saw-Horse; "but my pride is injured to find that
my anatomy is so brittle."
For a time the little
group remained in silent thought. Presently the Tin Woodman raised his head and
looked over the fields.
"What sort of
creature is that which approaches us?" he asked, wonderingly.
The others followed his
gaze, and discovered coming toward them the most extraordinary object they had
ever beheld. It advanced quickly and noiselessly over the soft grass and in a
few minutes stood before the adventurers and regarded them with an astonishment
equal to their own.
The Scarecrow was calm
under all circumstances.
"Good
morning!" he said, politely.
The stranger removed
his hat with a flourish, bowed very low, and then responded:
"Good morning, one
and all. I hope you are, as an aggregation, enjoying excellent health. Permit
me to present my card."
With this courteous
speech it extended a card toward the Scarecrow, who accepted it, turned it over
and over, and handed it with a shake of his head to Tip.
The boy read aloud:
"MR. H. M.
WOGGLE-BUG, T. E."
"Dear me!"
ejaculated the Pumpkinhead, staring somewhat intently.
"How very
peculiar!" said the Tin Woodman.
Tip’s eyes were round
and wondering, and the Saw-Horse uttered a sigh and turned away its head.
"Are you really a
Woggle-Bug?" enquired the Scarecrow.
"Most certainly,
my dear sir!" answered the stranger, briskly. "Is not my name upon
the card?"
"It is," said
the Scarecrow. "But may I ask what ’H. M.’ stands for?"
"’H. M.’ means
Highly Magnified," returned the Woggle-Bug, proudly.
"Oh, I see."
The Scarecrow viewed the stranger critically. "And are you, in truth,
highly magnified?"
"Sir," said
the Woggle-Bug, "I take you for a gentleman of judgment and discernment.
Does it not occur to you that I am several thousand times greater than any
Woggle-Bug you ever saw before? Therefore it is plainly evident that I am Highly
Magnified, and there is no good reason why you should doubt the fact."
"Pardon me,"
returned the Scarecrow. "My brains are slightly mixed since I was last
laundered. Would it be improper for me to ask, also, what the ’T.E.’ at the end
of your name stands for?"
"Those letters
express my degree," answered the Woggle-Bug, with a condescending smile.
"To be more explicit, the initials mean that I am Thoroughly
Educated."
"Oh!" said
the Scarecrow, much relieved.
Tip had not yet taken
his eyes off this wonderful personage. What he saw was a great, round, buglike
body supported upon two slender legs which ended in delicate feet -- the toes
curling upward. The body of the Woggle-Bug was rather flat, and judging from
what could be seen of it was of a glistening dark brown color upon the back,
while the front was striped with alternate bands of light brown and white,
blending together at the edges. Its arms were fully as slender as its legs, and
upon a rather long neck was perched its head -- not unlike the head of a man, except
that its nose ended in a curling antenna, or "feeler," and its ears
from the upper points bore antennae that decorated the sides of its head like
two miniature, curling pig tails. It must be admitted that the round, black
eyes were rather bulging in appearance; but the expression upon the Woggle-Bug’s
face was by no means unpleasant.
For dress the insect
wore a dark-blue swallowtail coat with a yellow silk lining and a flower in the
button-hole; a vest of white duck that stretched tightly across the wide body;
knickerbockers of fawn-colored plush, fastened at the knees with gilt buckles;
and, perched upon its small head, was jauntily set a tall silk hat.
Standing upright before
our amazed friends the Woggle-Bug appeared to be fully as tall as the Tin
Woodman; and surely no bug in all the Land of Oz had ever before attained so
enormous a size.
"I confess,"
said the Scarecrow, "that your abrupt appearance has caused me surprise,
and no doubt has startled my companions. I hope, however, that this circumstance
will not distress you. We shall probably get used to you in time."
"Do not apologize,
I beg of you!" returned the Woggle-Bug, earnestly. "It affords me
great pleasure to surprise people; for surely I cannot be classed with ordinary
insects and am entitled to both curiosity and admiration from those I
meet."
"You are,
indeed," agreed his Majesty.
"If you will
permit me to seat myself in your august company," continued the stranger,
"I will gladly relate my history, so that you will be better able to
comprehend my unusual -- may I say remarkable? -- appearance."
"You may say what
you please," answered the Tin Woodman, briefly.
So the Woggle-Bug sat
down upon the grass, facing the little group of wanderers, and told them the
following story:
"It is but honest
that I should acknowledge at the beginning of my recital that I was born an
ordinary Woggle-Bug," began the creature, in a frank and friendly tone.
"Knowing no better, I used my arms as well as my legs for walking, and
crawled under the edges of stones or hid among the roots of grasses with no
thought beyond finding a few insects smaller than myself to feed upon.
"The chill nights
rendered me stiff and motionless, for I wore no clothing, but each morning the
warm rays of the sun gave me new life and restored me to activity. A horrible
existence is this, but you must remember it is the regular ordained existence
of Woggle-Bugs, as well as of many other tiny creatures that inhabit the earth.
"But Destiny had
singled me out, humble though I was, for a grander fate! One day I crawled near
to a country school house, and my curiosity being excited by the monotonous hum
of the students within, I made bold to enter and creep along a crack between
two boards until I reached the far end, where, in front of a hearth of glowing
embers, sat the master at his desk.
"No one noticed so
small a creature as a Woggle-Bug, and when I found that the hearth was even
warmer and more comfortable than the sunshine, I resolved to establish my
future home beside it. So I found a charming nest between two bricks and hid
myself therein for many, many months.
"Professor
Nowitall is, doubtless, the most famous scholar in the land of Oz, and after a
few days I began to listen to the lectures and discourses he gave his pupils.
Not one of them was more attentive than the humble, unnoticed Woggle-Bug, and I
acquired in this way a fund of knowledge that I will myself confess is simply
marvelous. That is why I place ’T.E.’ Thoroughly Educated upon my cards; for my
greatest pride lies in the fact that the world cannot produce another
Woggle-Bug with a tenth part of my own culture and erudition."
"I do not blame
you," said the Scarecrow. "Education is a thing to be proud of. I’m
educated myself. The mess of brains given me by the Great Wizard is considered
by my friends to be unexcelled."
"Nevertheless,"
interrupted the Tin Woodman, "a good heart is, I believe, much more
desirable than education or brains."
"To me," said
the Saw-Horse, "a good leg is more desirable than either."
"Could seeds be
considered in the light of brains?" enquired the Pumpkinhead, abruptly.
"Keep quiet!"
commanded Tip, sternly.
"Very well, dear
father," answered the obedient Jack.
The Woggle-Bug listened
patiently -- even respectfully -- to these remarks, and then resumed his story.
"I must have lived
fully three years in that secluded school-house hearth," said he,
"drinking thirstily of the ever-flowing fount of limpid knowledge before
me."
"Quite
poetical," commented the Scarecrow, nodding his head approvingly.
"But one,
day" continued the Bug, "a marvelous circumstance occurred that
altered my very existence and brought me to my present pinnacle of greatness.
The Professor discovered me in the act of crawling across the hearth, and
before I could escape he had caught me between his thumb and forefinger.
"’My dear
children,’ said he, ’I have captured a Woggle-Bug -- a very rare and
interesting specimen. Do any of you know what a Woggle-Bug is?’
"’No!’ yelled the
scholars, in chorus.
"’Then,’ said the
Professor, ’I will get out my famous magnifying-glass and throw the insect upon
a screen in a highly-magnified condition, that you may all study carefully its
peculiar construction and become acquainted with its habits and manner of life.’
"He then brought
from a cupboard a most curious instrument, and before I could realize what had
happened I found myself thrown upon a screen in a highly-magnified state --
even as you now behold me.
"The students
stood up on their stools and craned their heads forward to get a better view of
me, and two little girls jumped upon the sill of an open window where they
could see more plainly.
"’Behold!’ cried
the Professor, in a loud voice, ’this highly-magnified Woggle-Bug; one of the
most curious insects in existence!’
"Being Thoroughly
Educated, and knowing what is required of a cultured gentleman, at this
juncture I stood upright and, placing my hand upon my bosom, made a very polite
bow. My action, being unexpected, must have startled them, for one of the
little girls perched upon the window-sill gave a scream and fell backward out
the window, drawing her companion with her as she disappeared.
"The Professor
uttered a cry of horror and rushed away through the door to see if the poor
children were injured by the fall. The scholars followed after him in a wild
mob, and I was left alone in the school-room, still in a Highly-Magnified state
and free to do as I pleased.
"It immediately occurred
to me that this was a good opportunity to escape. I was proud of my great size,
and realized that now I could safely travel anywhere in the world, while my
superior culture would make me a fit associate for the most learned person I
might chance to meet.
"So, while the
Professor picked the little girls -- who were more frightened than hurt -- off
the ground, and the pupils clustered around him closely grouped, I calmly
walked out of the school-house, turned a corner, and escaped unnoticed to a grove
of trees that stood near"
"Wonderful!"
exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, admiringly.
"It was,
indeed," agreed the Woggle-Bug. "I have never ceased to congratulate
myself for escaping while I was Highly Magnified; for even my excessive
knowledge would have
proved of little use to me had I remained a tiny, insignificant insect."
"I didn’t know
before," said Tip, looking at the Woggle-Bug with a puzzled expression,
"that insects wore clothes."
"Nor do they, in
their natural state," returned the stranger. "But in the course of my
wanderings I had the good fortune to save the ninth life of a tailor -- tailors
having, like cats, nine lives, as you probably know. The fellow was exceedingly
grateful, for had he lost that ninth life it would have been the end of him; so
he begged permission to furnish me with the stylish costume I now wear. It fits
very nicely, does it not?" and the Woggle-Bug stood up and turned himself
around slowly, that all might examine his person.
"He must have been
a good tailor," said the Scarecrow, somewhat enviously.
"He was a
good-hearted tailor, at any rate," observed Nick Chopper.
"But where were
you going, when you met us?" Tip asked the Woggle-Bug.
"Nowhere in
particular," was the reply, "although it is my intention soon to
visit the Emerald City and arrange to give a course of lectures to select
audiences on the ’Advantages of Magnification.’"
"We are bound for
the Emerald City now," said the Tin Woodman; "so, if it pleases you
to do so, you are welcome to travel in our company."
The Woggle-Bug bowed
with profound grace.
"It will give me
great pleasure," said he "to accept your kind invitation; for nowhere
in the Land of Oz could I hope to meet with so congenial a company."
"That is
true," acknowledged the Pumpkinhead. "We are quite as congenial as
flies and honey."
"But -- pardon me
if I seem inquisitive -- are you not all rather -- ahem! rather unusual?"
asked the Woggle-Bug, looking from one to another with unconcealed interest.
"Not more so than
yourself," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything in life is unusual
until you get accustomed to it."
"What rare
philosophy!" exclaimed the Woggle-Bug, admiringly.
"Yes; my brains
are working well today," admitted the Scarecrow, an accent of pride in his
voice.
"Then, if you are
sufficiently rested and refreshed, let us bend our steps toward the Emerald
City," suggested the magnified one.
"We can’t,"
said Tip. "The Saw-Horse has broken a leg, so he can’t bend his steps. And
there is no wood around to make him a new limb from. And we can’t leave the
horse behind because the Pumpkinhead is so stiff in his Joints that he has to
ride."
"How very
unfortunate!" cried the Woggle-Bug. Then he looked the party over
carefully and said:
"If the
Pumpkinhead is to ride, why not use one of his legs to make a leg for the horse
that carries him? I judge that both are made of wood."
"Now, that is what
I call real cleverness," said the Scarecrow, approvingly. "I wonder
my brains did not think of that long ago! Get to work, my dear Nick, and fit
the Pumpkinhead’s leg to the Saw-Horse."
Jack was not especially
pleased with this idea; but he submitted to having his left leg amputated by
the Tin Woodman and whittled down to fit the left leg of the Saw-Horse. Nor was
the Saw-Horse especially pleased with the operation, either; for he growled a
good deal about being "butchered," as he called it, and afterward
declared that the new leg was a disgrace to a respectable Saw-Horse.
"I beg you to be
more careful in your speech," said the Pumpkinhead, sharply.
"Remember, if you please, that it is my leg you are abusing."
"I cannot forget
it," retorted the Saw-Horse, "for it is quite as flimsy as the rest
of your person."
"Flimsy! me
flimsy!" cried Jack, in a rage. "How dare you call me flimsy?"
"Because you are
built as absurdly as a jumping-jack," sneered the horse, rolling his
knotty eyes in a vicious manner. "Even your head won’t stay straight, and
you never can tell whether you are looking backwards or forwards!"
"Friends, I
entreat you not to quarrel!" pleaded the Tin Woodman, anxiously." As
a matter of fact, we are none of us above criticism; so let us bear with each
others’ faults."
"An excellent
suggestion," said the Woggle-Bug, approvingly. "You must have an
excellent heart, my metallic friend."
"I have,"
returned Nick, well pleased. "My heart is quite the best part of me. But
now let us start upon our Journey.
They perched the
one-legged Pumpkinhead upon the Saw-Horse, and tied him to his seat with cords,
so that he could not possibly fall off.
And then, following the
lead of the Scarecrow, they all advanced in the direction of the Emerald City.
They soon discovered
that the Saw-Horse limped, for his new leg was a trifle too long. So they were
obliged to halt while the Tin Woodman chopped it down with his axe, after which
the wooden steed paced along more comfortably. But the Saw-Horse was not
entirely satisfied, even yet.
"It was a shame
that I broke my other leg!" it growled.
"On the
contrary," airily remarked the Woggle-Bug, who was walking alongside,
"you should consider the accident most fortunate. For a horse is never of
much use until he has been broken."
"I beg your
pardon," said Tip, rather provoked, for he felt a warm interest in both
the Saw-Horse and his man Jack; "but permit me to say that your joke is a
poor one, and as old as it is poor."
"Still, it is a
Joke," declared the Woggle-Bug; firmly, "and a Joke derived from a
play upon words is considered among educated people to be eminently
proper."
"What does that
mean?" enquired the Pumpkinhead, stupidly.
"It means, my dear
friend," explained the Woggle-Bug, "that our language contains many
words having a double meaning; and that to pronounce a joke that allows both
meanings of a certain word, proves the joker a person of culture and
refinement, who has, moreover, a thorough command of the language."
"I don’t believe
that," said Tip, plainly; "anybody can make a pun."
"Not so,"
rejoined the Woggle-Bug, stiffly. "It requires education of a high order.
Are you educated, young sir?"
"Not
especially," admitted Tip.
"Then you cannot
judge the matter. I myself am Thoroughly Educated, and I say that puns display
genius. For instance, were I to ride upon this Saw- Horse, he would not only be
an animal he would become an equipage. For he would then be a
horse-and-buggy."
At this the Scarecrow
gave a gasp and the Tin Woodman stopped short and looked reproachfully at the
Woggle-Bug. At the same time the Saw-Horse loudly snorted his derision; and
even the Pumpkinhead put up his hand to hide the smile which, because it was
carved upon his face, he could not change to a frown.
But the Woggle-Bug
strutted along as if he had made some brilliant remark, and the Scarecrow was
obliged to say:
"I have heard, my
dear friend, that a person can become over-educated; and although I have a high
respect for brains, no matter how they may be arranged or classified, I begin
to suspect that yours are slightly tangled. In any event, I must beg you to
restrain your superior education while in our society."
"We are not very
particular," added the Tin Woodman; "and we are exceedingly kind
hearted. But if your superior culture gets leaky again -- " He did not
complete the sentence, but he twirled his gleaming axe so carelessly that the
Woggle-Bug looked frightened, and shrank away to a safe distance.
The others marched on
in silence, and the Highly Magnified one, after a period of deep thought, said
in an humble voice:
"I will endeavor
to restrain myself."
"That is all we
can expect," returned the Scarecrow pleasantly; and good nature being thus
happily restored to the party, they proceeded upon their way.
When they again stopped
to allow Tip to rest -- the boy being the only one that seemed to tire -- the
Tin Woodman noticed many small, round holes in the grassy meadow.
"This must be a
village of the Field Mice," he said to the Scarecrow." I wonder if my
old friend, the Queen of the Mice, is in this neighborhood."
"If she is, she
may be of great service to us," answered the Scarecrow, who was impressed
by a sudden thought. "See if you can call her, my dear Nick."
So the Tin Woodman blew
a shrill note upon a silver whistle that hung around his neck, and presently a
tiny grey mouse popped from a near-by hole and advanced fearlessly toward them.
For the Tin Woodman had once saved her life, and the Queen of the Field Mice
knew he was to be trusted."
"Good day, your
Majesty, said Nick, politely addressing the mouse; "I trust you are
enjoying good health?"
"Thank you, I am
quite well," answered the Queen, demurely, as she sat up and displayed the
tiny golden crown upon her head. "Can I do anything to assist my old
friends?"
"You can, indeed,"
replied the Scarecrow, eagerly. "Let me, I intreat you, take a dozen of
your subjects with me to the Emerald City."
"Will they be
injured in any way?" asked the Queen, doubtfully.
"I think
not," replied the Scarecrow. "I will carry them hidden in the straw
which stuffs my body, and when I give them the signal by unbuttoning my jacket,
they have only to rush out and scamper home again as fast as they can. By doing
this they will assist me to regain my throne, which the Army of Revolt has
taken from me."
"In that
case," said the Queen, "I will not refuse your request. Whenever you
are ready, I will call twelve of my most intelligent subjects."
"I am ready
now" returned the Scarecrow. Then he lay flat upon the ground and
unbuttoned his jacket, displaying the mass of straw with which he was stuffed.
The Queen uttered a
little piping call, and in an instant a dozen pretty field mice had emerged
from their holes and stood before their ruler, awaiting her orders.
What the Queen said to
them none of our travelers could understand, for it was in the mouse language;
but the field mice obeyed without hesitation, running one after the other to
the Scarecrow and hiding themselves in the straw of his breast.
When all of the twelve
mice had thus concealed themselves, the Scarecrow buttoned his Jacket securely
and then arose and thanked the Queen for her kindness.
"One thing more
you might do to serve us," suggested the Tin Woodman; "and that is to
run ahead and show us the way to the Emerald City. For some enemy is evidently
trying to prevent us from reaching it."
"I will do that
gladly," returned the Queen. "Are you ready?"
The Tin Woodman looked
at Tip.
"I’m rested,"
said the boy. "Let us start."
Then they resumed their
journey, the little grey Queen of the Field Mice running swiftly ahead and then
pausing until the travelers drew near, when away she would dart again.
Without this unerring
guide the Scarecrow and his comrades might never have gained the Emerald City;
for many were the obstacles thrown in their way by the arts of old Mombi. Yet
not one of the obstacles really existed -- all were cleverly contrived
deceptions. For when they came to the banks of a rushing river that threatened
to bar their way the little Queen kept steadily on, passing through the seeming
flood in safety; and our travelers followed her without encountering a single
drop of water.
Again, a high wall of
granite towered high above their heads and opposed their advance. But the grey
Field Mouse walked straight through it, and the others did the same, the wall
melting into mist as they passed it.
Afterward, when they
had stopped for a moment to allow Tip to rest, they saw forty roads branching
off from their feet in forty different directions; and soon these forty roads
began whirling around like a mighty wheel, first in one direction and then in
the other, completely bewildering their vision.
But the Queen called
for them to follow her and darted off in a straight line; and when they had
gone a few paces the whirling pathways vanished and were seen no more.
Mombi’s last trick was
the most fearful of all. She sent a sheet of crackling flame rushing over the
meadow to consume them; and for the first time the Scarecrow became afraid and
turned to fly.
"If that fire
reaches me I will be gone in no time!" said he, trembling until his straw
rattled. "It’s the most dangerous thing I ever encountered."
"I’m off,
too!" cried the Saw-Horse, turning and prancing with agitation; "for
my wood is so dry it would burn like kindlings."
"Is fire dangerous
to pumpkins?" asked Jack, fearfully.
"You’ll be baked
like a tart -- and so will I!"
answered the
Woggle-Bug, getting down on all fours so he could run the faster.
But the Tin Woodman,
having no fear of fire, averted the stampede by a few sensible words.
"Look at the Field
Mouse!" he shouted. "The fire does not burn her in the least. In
fact, it is no fire at all, but only a deception."
Indeed, to watch the
little Queen march calmly through the advancing flames restored courage to
every member of the party, and they followed her without being even scorched.
"This is surely a
most extraordinary adventure," said the Woggle-Bug, who was greatly
amazed; "for it upsets all the Natural Laws that I heard Professor
Nowitall teach in the school-house."
"Of course it
does," said the Scarecrow, wisely. "All magic is unnatural, and for
that reason is to be feared and avoided. But I see before us the gates of the
Emerald City, so I imagine we have now overcome all the magical obstacles that
seemed to oppose us."
Indeed, the walls of
the City were plainly visible, and the Queen of the Field Mice, who had guided
them so faithfully, came near to bid them good- bye.
"We are very
grateful to your Majesty for your kind assistance," said the Tin Woodman,
bowing before the pretty creature.
"I am always
pleased to be of service to my friends," answered the Queen, and in a
flash she had darted away upon her journey home.
Approaching the gateway
of the Emerald City the travelers found it guarded by two girls of the Army of
Revolt, who opposed their entrance by drawing the knitting-needles from their
hair and threatening to prod the first that came near.
But the Tin Woodman was
not afraid."
At the worst they can
but scratch my beautiful nickel-plate," he said. "But there will be
no ’worst,’ for I think I can manage to frighten these absurd soldiers very
easily. Follow me closely, all of you!"
Then, swinging his axe
in a great circle to right and left before him, he advanced upon the gate, and
the others followed him without hesitation.
The girls, who had
expected no resistance whatever, were terrified by the sweep of the glittering
axe and fled screaming into the city; so that our travelers passed the gates in
safety and marched down the green marble pavement of the wide street toward the
royal palace.
"At this rate we
will soon have your Majesty upon the throne again," said the Tin Woodman,
laughing at his easy conquest of the guards.
"Thank you, friend
Nick," returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. "Nothing can resist your
kind heart and your sharp axe."
As they passed the rows
of houses they saw through the open doors that men were sweeping and dusting
and washing dishes, while the women sat around in groups, gossiping and
laughing.
"What has
happened?" the Scarecrow asked a sad-looking man with a bushy beard, who
wore an apron and was wheeling a baby-carriage along the sidewalk.
"Why, we’ve had a
revolution, your Majesty as you ought to know very well," replied the man;
"and since you went away the women have been running things to suit
themselves. I’m glad you have decided to come back and restore order, for doing
housework and minding the children is wearing out the strength of every man in
the Emerald City."
"Hm!" said
the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. "If it is such hard work as you say, how did
the women manage it so easily?"
"I really do not
know" replied the man, with a deep sigh. "Perhaps the women are made
of castiron."
No movement was made,
as they passed along the street, to oppose their progress. Several of the women
stopped their gossip long enough to cast curious looks upon our friends, but
immediately they would turn away with a laugh or a sneer and resume their
chatter. And when they met with several girls belonging to the Army of Revolt,
those soldiers, instead of being alarmed or appearing surprised, merely stepped
out of the way and allowed them to advance without protest.
This action rendered
the Scarecrow uneasy."
I’m afraid we are
walking into a trap," said he.
"Nonsense!"
returned Nick Chopper, confidently; "the silly creatures are conquered
already!"
But the Scarecrow shook
his head in a way that expressed doubt, and Tip said:
"It’s too easy,
altogether. Look out for trouble ahead."
"I will,"
returned his Majesty. Unopposed they reached the royal palace and marched up
the marble steps, which had once been thickly crusted with emeralds but were
now filled with tiny holes where the jewels had been ruthlessly torn from their
settings by the Army of Revolt. And so far not a rebel barred their way.
Through the arched hallways
and into the magnificent throne room marched the Tin Woodman and his followers,
and here, when the green silken curtains fell behind them, they saw a curious
sight.
Seated within the
glittering throne was General Jinjur, with the Scarecrow’s second-best crown
upon her head, and the royal sceptre in her right hand. A box of caramels, from
which she was eating, rested in her lap, and the girl seemed entirely at ease
in her royal surroundings.
The Scarecrow stepped
forward and confronted her, while the Tin Woodman leaned upon his axe and the
others formed a half-circle back of his Majesty’s person.
"How dare you sit
in my throne?" demanded the Scarecrow, sternly eyeing the intruder.
"Don’t you know you are guilty of treason, and that there is a law against
treason?"
"The throne
belongs to whoever is able to take it," answered Jinjur, as she slowly ate
another caramel. "I have taken it, as you see; so just now I am the Queen,
and all who oppose me are guilty of treason, and must be punished by the law
you have just mentioned."
This view of the case
puzzled the Scarecrow.
"How is it, friend
Nick?" he asked, turning to the Tin Woodman.
"Why, when it
comes to Law, I have nothing to, say" answered that personage. "for
laws were never meant to be understood, and it is foolish to make the
attempt."
"Then what shall
we do?" asked the Scarecrow, in dismay.
"Why don’t you
marry the Queen? And then you can both rule," suggested the Woggle-Bug.
Jinjur glared at the
insect fiercely. "Why don’t you send her back to her mother, where she
belongs?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead.
Jinjur frowned.
"Why don’t you
shut her up in a closet until she behaves herself, and promises to be
good?" enquired Tip. Jinjur’s lip curled scornfully.
"Or give her a
good shaking!" added the Saw-Horse.
"No," said
the Tin Woodman, "we must treat the poor girl with gentleness. Let us give
her all the Jewels she can carry, and send her away happy and contented."
At this Queen Jinjur
laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her pretty hands together thrice, as
if for a signal.
"You are very
absurd creatures," said she; "but I am tired of your nonsense and
have no time to bother with you longer."
While the monarch and
his friends listened in amazement to this impudent speech, a startling thing
happened. The Tin Woodman’s axe was snatched from his grasp by some person
behind him, and he found himself disarmed and helpless. At the same instant a
shout of laughter rang in the ears of the devoted band, and turning to see
whence this came they found themselves surrounded by the Army of Revolt, the
girls bearing in either hand their glistening knitting-needles. The entire
throne room seemed to be filled with the rebels, and the Scarecrow and his
comrades realized that they were prisoners.
"You see how
foolish it is to oppose a woman’s wit," said Jinjur, gaily; "and this
event only proves that I am more fit to rule the Emerald City than a Scarecrow.
I bear you no ill will, I assure you; but lest you should prove troublesome to
me in the future I shall order you all to be destroyed. That is, all except the
boy, who belongs to old Mombi and must be restored to her keeping. The rest of
you are not human, and therefore it will not be wicked to demolish you. The
Saw-Horse and the Pumpkinhead’s body I will have chopped up for kindling- wood;
and the pumpkin shall be made into tarts. The Scarecrow will do nicely to start
a bonfire, and the tin man can be cut into small pieces and fed to the goats.
As for this immense Woggle-Bug -- "
"Highly Magnified,
if you please!" interrupted the insect.
"I think I will
ask the cook to make green-turtle soup of you," continued the Queen,
reflectively.
The Woggle-Bug
shuddered.
"Or, if that won’t
do, we might use you for a Hungarian goulash, stewed and highly spiced,"
she added, cruelly.
This programme of
extermination was so terrible that the prisoners looked upon one another in a
panic of fear. The Scarecrow alone did not give way to despair. He stood
quietly before the Queen and his brow was wrinkled in deep thought as he strove
to find some means to escape.
While thus engaged he
felt the straw within his breast move gently. At once his expression changed
from sadness to joy, and raising his hand he quickly unbuttoned the front of
his jacket.
This action did not
pass unnoticed by the crowd of girls clustering about him, but none of them
suspected what he was doing until a tiny grey mouse leaped from his bosom to
the floor and scampered away between the feet of the Army of Revolt. Another
mouse quickly followed; then another and another, in rapid succession. And
suddenly such a scream of terror went up from the Army that it might easily
have filled the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight that ensued
turned to a stampede, and the stampede to a panic.
For while the startled
mice rushed wildly about the room the Scarecrow had only time to note a whirl
of skirts and a twinkling of feet as the girls disappeared from the palace --
pushing and crowding one another in their mad efforts to escape.
The Queen, at the first
alarm, stood up on the cushions of the throne and began to dance frantically
upon her tiptoes. Then a mouse ran up the cushions, and with a terrified leap
poor Jinjur shot clear over the head of the Scarecrow and escaped through an
archway -- never pausing in her wild career until she had reached the city
gates.
So, in less time than I
can explain, the throne room was deserted by all save the Scarecrow and his
friends, and the Woggle-Bug heaved a deep sigh of relief as he exclaimed:
"Thank goodness,
we are saved!"
"For a time,
yes;" answered the Tin Woodman. "But the enemy will soon return, I
fear."
"Let us bar all
the entrances to the palace!" said the Scarecrow. "Then we shall have
time to think what is best to be done."
So all except Jack
Pumpkinhead, who was still tied fast to the Saw-Horse, ran to the various
entrances of the royal palace and closed the heavy doors, bolting and locking
them securely. Then, knowing that the Army of Revolt could not batter down the
barriers in several days, the adventurers gathered once more in the throne room
for a council of war.
"It seems to
me," began the Scarecrow, when all were again assembled in the throne
room, "that the girl Jinjur is quite right in claiming to be Queen. And if
she is right, then I am wrong, and we have no business to be occupying her
palace."
"But you were the
King until she came," said the Woggle-Bug, strutting up and down with his
hands in his pockets; "so it appears to me that she is the interloper
instead of you."
"Especially as we
have just conquered her and put her to flight," added the Pumpkinhead, as
he raised his hands to turn his face toward the Scarecrow.
"Have we really
conquered her?" asked the Scarecrow, quietly. "Look out of the
window, and tell me what you see."
Tip ran to the window
and looked out.
"The palace is
surrounded by a double row of girl soldiers," he announced.
"I thought
so," returned the Scarecrow. "We are as truly their prisoners as we
were before the mice frightened them from the palace."
"My friend is
right," said Nick Chopper, who had been polishing his breast with a bit of
chamois-leather. "Jinjur is still the Queen, and we are her
prisoners."
"But I hope she
cannot get at us," exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, with a shiver of fear.
"She threatened to make tarts of me, you know."
"Don’t
worry," said the Tin Woodman. "It cannot matter greatly. If you stay
shut up here you will spoil in time, anyway. A good tart is far more admirable
than a decayed intellect."
"Very true,"
agreed the Scarecrow.
"Oh, dear!"
moaned Jack; "what an unhappy lot is mine! Why, dear father, did you not
make me out of tin -- or even out of straw -- so that I would keep
indefinitely."
"Shucks!"
returned Tip, indignantly. "You ought to be glad that I made you at
all." Then he added, reflectively, "everything has to come to an end,
some time."
"But I beg to
remind you," broke in the Woggle-Bug, who had a distressed look in his
bulging, round eyes, "that this terrible Queen Jinjur suggested making a
goulash of me -- Me! the only Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated
Woggle-Bug in the wide, wide world!"
"I think it was a
brilliant idea," remarked the Scarecrow, approvingly.
"Don’t you imagine
he would make a better soup?" asked the Tin Woodman, turning toward his
friend.
"Well,
perhaps," acknowledged the Scarecrow.
The Woggle-Bug groaned.
"I can see, in my
mind’s eye," said he, mournfully, "the goats eating small pieces of
my dear comrade, the Tin Woodman, while my soup is being cooked on a bonfire
built of the Saw-Horse and Jack Pumpkinhead’s body, and Queen Jinjur watches me
boil while she feeds the flames with my friend the Scarecrow!"
This morbid picture
cast a gloom over the entire party, making them restless and anxious.
"It can’t happen
for some time," said the Tin Woodman, trying to speak cheerfully;
"for we shall be able to keep Jinjur out of the palace until she manages
to break down the doors."
"And in the
meantime I am liable to starve to death, and so is the Woggle- Bug,"
announced Tip.
"As for me,"
said the Woggle-Bug, "I think that I could live for some time on Jack
Pumpkinhead. Not that I prefer pumpkins for food; but I believe they are
somewhat nutritious, and Jack’s head is large and plump."
"How
heartless!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman, greatly shocked. "Are we
cannibals, let me ask? Or are we faithful friends?"
"I see very
clearly that we cannot stay shut up in this palace," said the Scarecrow,
with decision. "So let us end this mournful talk and try to discover a
means to escape."
At this suggestion they
all gathered eagerly around the throne, wherein was seated the Scarecrow, and
as Tip sat down upon a stool there fell from his pocket a pepper-box, which
rolled upon the floor.
"What is
this?" asked Nick Chopper, picking up the box.
"Be careful!"
cried the boy. "That’s my Powder of Life. Don’t spill it, for it is nearly
gone."
"And what is the
Powder of Life?" enquired the Scarecrow, as Tip replaced the box carefully
in his pocket.
"It’s some magical
stuff old Mombi got from a crooked sorcerer," explained the boy. "She
brought Jack to life with it, and afterward I used it to bring the Saw-Horse to
life. I guess it will make anything live that is sprinkled with it; but there’s
only about one dose left."
"Then it is very
precious," said the Tin Woodman.
"Indeed it
is," agreed the Scarecrow. "It may prove our best means of escape
from our difficulties. I believe I will think for a few minutes; so I will
thank you, friend Tip, to get out your knife and rip this heavy crown from my
forehead."
Tip soon cut the
stitches that had fastened the crown to the Scarecrow’s head, and the former
monarch of the Emerald City removed it with a sigh of relief and hung it on a
peg beside the throne.
"That is my last
memento of royalty" said he; "and I’m glad to get rid of it. The
former King of this City, who was named Pastoria, lost the crown to the Wonderful
Wizard, who passed it on to me. Now the girl Jinjur claims it, and I sincerely
hope it will not give her a headache."
"A kindly thought,
which I greatly admire," said the Tin Woodman, nodding approvingly.
"And now I will
indulge in a quiet think," continued the Scarecrow, lying back in the
throne.
The others remained as
silent and still as possible, so as not to disturb him; for all had great
confidence in the extraordinary brains of the Scarecrow.
And, after what seemed
a very long time indeed to the anxious watchers, the thinker sat up, looked
upon his friends with his most whimsical expression, and said:
"My brains work
beautifully today. I’m quite proud of them. Now, listen! If we attempt to
escape through the doors of the palace we shall surely be captured. And, as we
can’t escape through the ground, there is only one other thing to be done. We
must escape through the air!"
He paused to note the
effect of these words; but all his hearers seemed puzzled and unconvinced.
"The Wonderful
Wizard escaped in a balloon," he continued. "We don’t know how to
make a balloon, of course; but any sort of thing that can fly through the air
can carry us easily. So I suggest that my friend the Tin Woodman, who is a
skillful mechanic, shall build some sort of a machine, with good strong wings,
to carry us; and our friend Tip can then bring the Thing to life with his
magical powder."
"Bravo!"
cried Nick Chopper.
"What splendid
brains!" murmured Jack.
"Really quite
clever!" said the Educated Woggle-Bug.
"I believe it can
be done," declared Tip; "that is, if the Tin Woodman is equal to
making the Thing."
"I’ll do my
best," said Nick, cheerily; "and, as a matter of fact, I do not often
fail in what I attempt. But the Thing will have to be built on the roof of the
palace, so it can rise comfortably into the air."
"To be sure,"
said the Scarecrow.
"Then let us
search through the palace," continued the Tin Woodman, "and carry all
the material we can find to the roof, where I will begin my work."
"First,
however," said the Pumpkinhead, "I beg you will release me from this
horse, and make me another leg to walk with. For in my present condition I am
of no use to myself or to anyone else."
So the Tin Woodman knocked
a mahogany center-table to pieces with his axe and fitted one of the legs,
which was beautifully carved, on to the body of Jack Pumpkinhead, who was very
proud of the acquisition.
"It seems
strange," said he, as he watched the Tin Woodman work, "that my left
leg should be the most elegant and substantial part of me."
"That proves you
are unusual," returned the Scarecrow. "and I am convinced that the
only people worthy of consideration in this world are the unusual ones. For the
common folks are like the leaves of a tree, and live and die unnoticed."
"Spoken like a
philosopher!" cried the Woggle-Bug, as he assisted the Tin Woodman to set
Jack upon his feet.
"How do you feel
now?" asked Tip, watching the Pumpkinhead stump around to try his new leg."
As good as new"
answered Jack, Joyfully, "and quite ready to assist you all to
escape."
"Then let us get
to work," said the Scarecrow, in a business-like tone.
So, glad to be doing
anything that might lead to the end of their captivity, the friends separated
to wander over the palace in search of fitting material to use in the
construction of their aerial machine.
When the adventurers
reassembled upon the roof it was found that a remarkably queer assortment of
articles had been selected by the various members of the party. No one seemed
to have a very clear idea of what was required, but all had brought something.
The Woggle-Bug had
taken from its position over the mantle-piece in the great hallway the head of
a Gump, which was adorned with wide-spreading antlers; and this, with great
care and greater difficulty, the insect had carried up the stairs to the roof.
This Gump resembled an Elk’s head, only the nose turned upward in a saucy
manner and there were whiskers upon its chin, like those of a billy-goat. Why
the Woggle-Bug selected this article he could not have explained, except that
it had aroused his curiosity.
Tip, with the aid of
the Saw-Horse, had brought a large, upholstered sofa to the roof. It was an
oldfashioned piece of furniture, with high back and ends, and it was so heavy
that even by resting the greatest weight upon the back of the Saw-Horse, the
boy found himself out of breath when at last the clumsy sofa was dumped upon
the roof.
The Pumpkinhead had
brought a broom, which was the first thing he saw. The Scarecrow arrived with a
coil of clothes-lines and ropes which he had taken from the courtyard, and in
his trip up the stairs he had become so entangled in the loose ends of the ropes
that both he and his burden tumbled in a heap upon the roof and might have
rolled off if Tip had not rescued him.
The Tin Woodman
appeared last. He also had been to the courtyard, where he had cut four great,
spreading leaves from a huge palm-tree that was the pride of all the
inhabitants of the Emerald City.
"My dear
Nick!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, seeing what his friend had done; "you
have been guilty of the greatest crime any person can commit in the Emerald
City. If I remember rightly, the penalty for chopping leaves from the royal
palm-tree is to be killed seven times and afterward imprisoned for life."
"It cannot be
helped now" answered the Tin Woodman, throwing down the big leaves upon
the roof. "But it may be one more reason why it is necessary for us to
escape. And now let us see what you have found for me to work with."
Many were the doubtful
looks cast upon the heap of miscellaneous material that now cluttered the roof,
and finally the Scarecrow shook his head and remarked:
"Well, if friend
Nick can manufacture, from this mess of rubbish, a Thing that will fly through
the air and carry us to safety, then I will acknowledge him to be a better
mechanic than I suspected."
But the Tin Woodman
seemed at first by no means sure of his powers, and only after polishing his
forehead vigorously with the chamois-leather did he resolve to undertake the
task.
"The first thing
required for the machine," said he, "is a body big enough to carry
the entire party. This sofa is the biggest thing we have, and might be used for
a body. But, should the machine ever tip sideways, we would all slide off and
fall to the ground."
"Why not use two
sofas?" asked Tip. "There’s another one just like this down
stairs."
"That is a very
sensible suggestion," exclaimed the Tin Woodman. "You must fetch the
other sofa at once."
So Tip and the
Saw-Horse managed, with much labor, to get the second sofa to the roof; and
when the two were placed together, edge to edge, the backs and ends formed a
protecting rampart all around the seats.
"Excellent!"
cried the Scarecrow. "We can ride within this snug nest quite at our
ease."
The two sofas were now
bound firmly together with ropes and clothes-lines, and then Nick Chopper
fastened the Gump’s head to one end.
"That will show
which is the front end of the Thing," said he, greatly pleased with the
idea." And, really, if you examine it critically, the Gump looks very well
as a figure-head. These great palm-leaves, for which I have endangered my life
seven times, must serve us as wings."
"Are they strong
enough?" asked the boy.
"They are as
strong as anything we can get," answered the Woodman; "and although
they are not in proportion to the Thing’s body, we are not in a position to be
very particular."
So he fastened the
palm-leaves to the sofas, two on each side.
Said the Woggle-Bug,
with considerable admiration:
"The Thing is now
complete, and only needs to be brought to life."
"Stop a
moment!" exclaimed Jack." Are you not going to use my broom?"
"What for?" asked
the Scarecrow.
"Why, it can be
fastened to the back end for a tail," answered the Pumpkinhead.
"Surely you would not call the Thing complete without a tail."
"Hm!" said
the Tin Woodman, "I do not see the use of a tail. We are not trying to
copy a beast, or a fish, or a bird. All we ask of the Thing is to carry us
through the air.
"Perhaps, after
the Thing is brought to life, it can use a tail to steer with," suggested
the Scarecrow. "For if it flies through the air it will not be unlike a
bird, and I’ve noticed that all birds have tails, which they use for a rudder
while flying."
"Very well,"
answered Nick, "the broom shall be used for a tail," and he fastened
it firmly to the back end of the sofa body.
Tip took the pepper-box
from his pocket.
"The Thing looks
very big," said he, anxiously; "and I am not sure there is enough
powder left to bring all of it to life. But I’ll make it go as far as
possible."
"Put most on the
wings," said Nick Chopper; "for they must be made as strong as
possible."
"And don’t forget
the head!" exclaimed the Woggle-Bug.
"Or the
tail!" added Jack Pumpkinhead.
"Do be
quiet," said Tip, nervously; "you must give me a chance to work the
magic charm in the proper manner."
Very carefully he began
sprinkling the Thing with the precious powder. Each of the four wings was first
lightly covered with a layer. then the sofas were sprinkled, and the broom
given a slight coating.
"The head! The
head! Don’t, I beg of you, forget the head!" cried the Woggle-Bug,
excitedly.
"There’s only a
little of the powder left," announced Tip, looking within the box."
And it seems to me it is more important to bring the legs of the sofas to life
than the head."
"Not so,"
decided the Scarecrow. "Every thing must have a head to direct it; and
since this creature is to fly, and not walk, it is really unimportant whether
its legs are alive or not."
So Tip abided by this
decision and sprinkled the Gump’s head with the remainder of the powder.
"Now" said
he, "keep silence while I work the, charm!"
Having heard old Mombi
pronounce the magic words, and having also succeeded in bringing the Saw-Horse
to life, Tip did not hesitate an instant in speaking the three cabalistic
words, each accompanied by the peculiar gesture of the hands.
It was a grave and
impressive ceremony.
As he finished the
incantation the Thing shuddered throughout its huge bulk, the Gump gave the
screeching cry that is familiar to those animals, and then the four wings began
flopping furiously.
Tip managed to grasp a
chimney, else he would have been blown off the roof by the terrible breeze
raised by the wings. The Scarecrow, being light in weight, was caught up bodily
and borne through the air until Tip luckily seized him by one leg and held him
fast. The Woggle-Bug lay flat upon the roof and so escaped harm, and the Tin
Woodman, whose weight of tin anchored him firmly, threw both arms around Jack
Pumpkinhead and managed to save him. The Saw-Horse toppled over upon his back
and lay with his legs waving helplessly above him.
And now, while all were
struggling to recover themselves, the Thing rose slowly from the roof and
mounted into the air.
"Here! Come
back!" cried Tip, in a frightened voice, as he clung to the chimney with
one hand and the Scarecrow with the other. "Come back at once, I command
you!"
It was now that the
wisdom of the Scarecrow, in bringing the head of the Thing to life instead of
the legs, was proved beyond a doubt. For the Gump, already high in the air,
turned its head at Tip’s command and gradually circled around until it could
view the roof of the palace.
"Come back!"
shouted the boy, again.
And the Gump obeyed,
slowly and gracefully waving its four wings in the air until the Thing had
settled once more upon the roof and become still.
"This," said
the Gump, in a squeaky voice not at all proportioned to the size of its great
body, "is the most novel experience I ever heard of. The last thing I
remember distinctly is walking through the forest and hearing a loud noise.
Something probably killed me then, and it certainly ought to have been the end
of me. Yet here I am, alive again, with four monstrous wings and a body which I
venture to say would make any respectable animal or fowl weep with shame to
own. What does it all mean? Am I a Gump, or am I a juggernaut?" The
creature, as it spoke, wiggled its chin whiskers in a very comical manner.
"You’re just a
Thing," answered Tip, "with a Gump’s head on it. And we have made you
and brought you to life so that you may carry us through the air wherever we
wish to go."
"Very good!"
said the Thing. "As I am not a Gump, I cannot have a Gump’s pride or
independent spirit. So I may as well become your servant as anything else. My
only satisfaction is that I do not seem to have a very strong constitution, and
am not likely to live long in a state of slavery."
"Don’t say that, I
beg of you!" cried the Tin Woodman, whose excellent heart was strongly
affected by this sad speech." Are you not feeling well today?"
"Oh, as for
that," returned the Gump, "it is my first day of existence; so I
cannot Judge whether I am feeling well or ill." And it waved its broom
tail to and fro in a pensive manner.
"Come, come!"
said the Scarecrow, kindly. "do try, to be more cheerful and take life as
you find it. We shall be kind masters, and will strive to render your existence
as pleasant as possible. Are you willing to carry us through the air wherever
we wish to go?"
"Certainly,"
answered the Gump. "I greatly prefer to navigate the air. For should I
travel on the earth and meet with one of my own species, my embarrassment would
be something awful!"
"I can appreciate
that," said the Tin Woodman, sympathetically.
"And yet,"
continued the Thing, "when I carefully look you over, my masters, none of
you seems to be constructed much more artistically than I am."
"Appearances are
deceitful," said the Woggle-Bug, earnestly. "I am both Highly
Magnified and Thoroughly Educated."
"Indeed!"
murmured the Gump, indifferently.
"And my brains are
considered remarkably rare specimens," added the Scarecrow, proudly.
"How
strange!" remarked the Gump.
"Although I am of
tin," said the Woodman, "I own a heart altogether the warmest and
most admirable in the whole world."
"I’m delighted to
hear it," replied the Gump, with a slight cough.
"My smile,"
said Jack Pumpkinhead, "is worthy your best attention. It is always the
same."
"Semper
idem," explained the Woggle-Bug, pompously; and the Gump turned to stare
at him.
"And I,"
declared the Saw-Horse, filling in an awkward pause, "am only remarkable
because I can’t help it."
"I am proud,
indeed, to meet with such exceptional masters," said the Gump, in a
careless tone. "If I could but secure so complete an introduction to
myself, I would be more than satisfied."
"That will come in
time," remarked the Scarecrow. "To ’Know Thyself’ is considered quite
an accomplishment, which it has taken us, who are your elders, months to perfect.
But now," he added, turning to the others, "let us get aboard and
start upon our journey."
"Where shall we
go?" asked Tip, as he clambered to a seat on the sofas and assisted the
Pumpkinhead to follow him.
"In the South
Country rules a very delightful Queen called Glinda the Good, who I am sure
will gladly receive us," said the Scarecrow, getting into the Thing
clumsily. "Let us go to her and ask her advice."
"That is cleverly
thought of," declared Nick Chopper, giving the Woggle-Bug a boost and then
toppling the Saw-Horse into the rear end of the cushioned seats." I know
Glinda the Good, and believe she will prove a friend indeed."
"Are we all
ready?" asked the boy.
"Yes,"
announced the Tin Woodman, seating himself beside the Scarecrow.
"Then," said
Tip, addressing the Gump, "be kind enough to fly with us to the Southward;
and do not go higher than to escape the houses and trees, for it makes me dizzy
to be up so far."
"All right,"
answered the Gump, briefly.
It flopped its four
huge wings and rose slowly into the air; and then, while our little band of
adventurers clung to the backs and sides of the sofas for support, the Gump
turned toward the South and soared swiftly and majestically away.
"The scenic
effect, from this altitude, is marvelous," commented the educated
Woggle-Bug, as they rode along.
"Never mind the
scenery," said the Scarecrow. "Hold on tight, or you may get a
tumble. The Thing seems to rock badly.’
"It will be dark
soon," said Tip, observing that the sun was low on the horizon.
"Perhaps we should have waited until morning. I wonder if the Gump can fly
in the night."
"I’ve been
wondering that myself," returned the Gump quietly. "You see, this is
a new experience to me. I used to have legs that carried me swiftly over the
ground. But now my legs feel as if they were asleep."
"They are,"
said Tip. "We didn’t bring ’em to life."
"You’re expected
to fly," explained the Scarecrow. "not to walk."
"We can walk
ourselves," said the Woggle-Bug."
I begin to understand
what is required of me," remarked the Gump; "so I will do my best to
please you," and he flew on for a time in silence.
Presently Jack
Pumpkinhead became uneasy.
"I wonder if
riding through the air is liable to spoil pumpkins," he said.
"Not unless you
carelessly drop your head over the side," answered the Woggle-Bug.
"In that event your head would no longer be a pumpkin, for it would become
a squash."
"Have I not asked
you to restrain these unfeeling jokes?" demanded Tip, looking at the
Woggle-Bug with a severe expression.
"You have; and I’ve
restrained a good many of them," replied the insect. "But there are
opportunities for so many excellent puns in our language that, to an educated
person like myself, the temptation to express them is almost
irresistible."
"People with more
or less education discovered those puns centuries ago," said Tip.
"Are you
sure?" asked the Woggle-Bug, with a startled look.
"Of course I
am," answered the boy. "An educated Woggle-Bug may be a new thing;
but a Woggle-Bug education is as old as the hills, judging from the display you
make of it."
The insect seemed much
impressed by this remark, and for a time maintained a meek silence.
The Scarecrow, in
shifting his seat, saw upon the cushions the pepper-box which Tip had cast
aside, and began to examine it.
"Throw it
overboard," said the boy; "it’s quite empty now, and there’s no use
keeping it."
"Is it really
empty?" asked the Scarecrow, looking curiously into the box.
"Of course it is,"
answered Tip. "I shook out every grain of the powder.
"Then the box has
two bottoms," announced the Scarecrow, "for the bottom on the inside
is fully an inch away from the bottom on the outside."
"Let me see,"
said the Tin Woodman, taking the box from his friend. "Yes," he
declared, after looking it over, "the thing certainly has a false bottom.
Now, I wonder what that is for?"
"Can’t you get it
apart, and find out?" enquired Tip, now quite interested in the mystery.
"Why, yes; the
lower bottom unscrews," said the Tin Woodman. "My fingers are rather
stiff; please see if you can open it."
He handed the
pepper-box to Tip, who had no difficulty in unscrewing the bottom. And in the
cavity below were three silver pills, with a carefully folded paper lying
underneath them.
This paper the boy
proceeded to unfold, taking care not to spill the pills, and found several
lines clearly written in red ink.
"Read it
aloud," said the Scarecrow. so Tip read, as follows:
"DR. NIKIDIK’S CELEBRATED WISHING PILLS. "Directions for Use:
Swallow one pill; count seventeen by twos; then make a Wish. -The Wish will
immediately be granted. CAUTION: Keep in a Dry
and Dark Place." "Why,
this is a very valuable discovery!" cried the Scarecrow.
"It is,
indeed," replied Tip, gravely. "These pills may be of great use to
us. I wonder if old Mombi knew they were in the bottom of the pepper-box. I
remember hearing her say that she got the Powder of Life from this same
Nikidik."
"He must be a
powerful Sorcerer!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman; "and since the powder
proved a success we ought to have confidence in the pills."
"But how,"
asked the Scarecrow, "can anyone count seventeen by twos? Seventeen is an
odd number."
"That is
true," replied Tip, greatly disappointed. "No one can possibly count
seventeen by twos."
"Then the pills
are of no use to us," wailed the Pumpkinhead; "and this fact
overwhelms me with grief. For I had intended wishing that my head would never
spoil."
"Nonsense!"
said the Scarecrow, sharply. "If we could use the pills at all we would
make far better wishes than that."
"I do not see how
anything could be better," protested poor Jack. "If you were liable
to spoil at any time you could understand my anxiety."
"For my
part," said the Tin Woodman, "I sympathize with you in every respect.
But since we cannot count seventeen by twos, sympathy is all you are liable to
get."
By this time it had
become quite dark, and the voyagers found above them a cloudy sky, through
which the rays of the moon could not penetrate.
The Gump flew steadily
on, and for some reason the huge sofa-body rocked more and more dizzily every
hour.
The Woggle-Bug declared
he was sea-sick; and Tip was also pale and somewhat distressed. But the others
clung to the backs of the sofas and did not seem to mind the motion as long as
they were not tipped out.
Darker and darker grew
the night, and on and on sped the Gump through the black heavens. The travelers
could not even see one another, and an oppressive silence settled down upon
them.
After a long time Tip,
who had been thinking deeply, spoke.
"How are we to
know when we come to the pallace of Glinda the Good?" he asked.
"It’s a long way
to Glinda’s palace," answered the Woodman; "I’ve traveled it."
"But how are we to
know how fast the Gump is flying?" persisted the boy. "We cannot see
a single thing down on the earth, and before morning we may be far beyond the
place we want to reach."
"That is all true
enough," the Scarecrow replied, a little uneasily. "But I do not see
how we can stop just now; for we might alight in a river, or on, the top of a
steeple; and that would be a great disaster."
So they permitted the
Gump to fly on, with regular flops of its great wings, and waited patiently for
morning.
Then Tip’s fears were
proven to be well founded; for with the first streaks of gray dawn they looked
over the sides of the sofas and discovered rolling plains dotted with queer
villages, where the houses, instead of being dome- shaped -- as they all are in
the Land of Oz -- had slanting roofs that rose to a peak in the center. Odd
looking animals were also moving about upon the open plains, and the country
was unfamiliar to both the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, who had formerly visited
Glinda the Good’s domain and knew it well.
"We are
lost!" said the Scarecrow, dolefully. "The Gump must have carried us
entirely out of the Land of Oz and over the sandy deserts and into the terrible
outside world that Dorothy told us about."
"We must get
back," exclaimed the Tin Woodman, earnestly. "we must get back as
soon as possible!"
"Turn
around!" cried Tip to the Gump. "turn as quickly as you can!"
"If I do I shall
upset," answered the Gump. "I’m not at all used to flying, and the
best plan would be for me to alight in some place, and then I can turn around
and take a fresh start."
Just then, however,
there seemed to be no stopping-place that would answer their purpose. They flew
over a village so big that the Woggle-Bug declared it was a city. and then they
came to a range of high mountains with many deep gorges and steep cliffs
showing plainly.
"Now is our chance
to stop," said the boy, finding they were very close to the mountain tops.
Then he turned to the Gump and commanded: "Stop at the first level place
you see!"
"Very well,"
answered the Gump, and settled down upon a table of rock that stood between two
cliffs.
But not being
experienced in such matters, the Gump did not judge his speed correctly; and
instead of coming to a stop upon the flat rock he missed it by half the width
of his body, breaking off both his right wings against the sharp edge of the
rock and then tumbling over and over down the cliff.
Our friends held on to
the sofas as long as they could, but when the Gump caught on a proJecting rock
the Thing stopped suddenly -- bottom side up -- and all were immediately dumped
out.
By good fortune they
fell only a few feet; for underneath them was a monster nest, built by a colony
of Jackdaws in a hollow ledge of rock; so none of them -- not even the
Pumpkinhead -- was injured by the fall. For Jack found his precious head
resting on the soft breast of the Scarecrow, which made an excellent cushion;
and Tip fell on a mass of leaves and papers, which saved him from injury. The
Woggle-Bug had bumped his round head against the Saw-Horse, but without causing
him more than a moment’s inconvenience.
The Tin Woodman was at
first much alarmed; but finding he had escaped without even a scratch upon his
beautiful nickle-plate he at once regained his accustomed cheerfulness and
turned to address his comrades.
"Our Journey had
ended rather suddenly," said he; "and we cannot justly blame our
friend the Gump for our accident, because he did the best he could under the
circumstances. But how we are ever to escape from this nest I must leave to
someone with better brains than I possess."
Here he gazed at the
Scarecrow; who crawled to the edge of the nest and looked over. Below them was
a sheer precipice several hundred feet in depth. Above them was a smooth cliff
unbroken save by the point of rock where the wrecked body of the Gump still
hung suspended from the end of one of the sofas. There really seemed to be no
means of escape, and as they realized their helpless plight the little band of
adventurers gave way to their bewilderment.
"This is a worse
prison than the palace," sadly remarked the Woggle-Bug.
"I wish we had
stayed there," moaned Jack. "I’m afraid the mountain air isn’t good
for pumpkins."
"It won’t be when
the Jackdaws come back," growled the Saw-Horse, which lay waving its legs
in a vain endeavor to get upon its feet again. "Jackdaws are especially
fond of pumpkins."
"Do you think the
birds will come here?" asked Jack, much distressed.
"Of course they
will," said Tip; "for this is their nest. And there must be hundreds
of them," he continued, "for see what a lot of things they have
brought here!"
Indeed, the nest was
half filled with a most curious collection of small articles for which the
birds could have no use, but which the thieving Jackdaws had stolen during many
years from the homes of men. And as the nest was safely hidden where no human
being could reach it, this lost property would never be recovered.
The Woggle-Bug, searching
among the rubbish -- for the Jackdaws stole useless things as well as valuable
ones -- turned up with his foot a beautiful diamond necklace. This was so
greatly admired by the Tin Woodman that the Woggle-Bug presented it to him with
a graceful speech, after which the Woodman hung it around his neck with much
pride, rejoicing exceedingly when the big diamonds glittered in the sun’s rays.
But now they heard a
great jabbering and flopping of wings, and as the sound grew nearer to them Tip
exclaimed:
"The Jackdaws are
coming! And if they find us here they will surely kill us in their anger."
"I was afraid of
this!" moaned the Pumpkinhead. "My time has come!"
"And mine,
also!" said the Woggle-Bug; "for Jackdaws are the greatest enemies of
my race."
The others were not at
all afraid; but the Scarecrow at once decided to save those of the party who
were liable to be injured by the angry birds. So he commanded Tip to take off
Jack’s head and lie down with it in the bottom of the nest, and when this was done
he ordered the Woggle-Bug to lie beside Tip. Nick Chopper, who knew from past
experience Just what to do, then took the Scarecrow to pieces (all except his
head) and scattered the straw over Tip and the Woggle-Bug, completely covering
their bodies.
Hardly had this been
accomplished when the flock of Jackdaws reached them. Perceiving the intruders
in their nest the birds flew down upon them with screams of rage.
The Tin Woodman was
usually a peaceful man, but when occasion required he could fight as fiercely
as a Roman gladiator. So, when the Jackdaws nearly knocked him down in their
rush of wings, and their sharp beaks and claws threatened to damage his
brilliant plating, the Woodman picked up his axe and made it whirl swiftly
around his head.
But although many were
beaten off in this way, the birds were so numerous and so brave that they
continued the attack as furiously as before. Some of them pecked at the eyes of
the Gump, which hung over the nest in a helpless condition; but the Gump’s eyes
were of glass and could not be injured. Others of the Jackdaws rushed at the
Saw-Horse; but that animal, being still upon his back, kicked out so viciously
with his wooden legs that he beat off as many assailants as did the Woodman’s
axe.
Finding themselves thus
opposed, the birds fell upon the Scarecrow’s straw, which lay at the center of
the nest, covering Tip and the Woggle-Bug and Jack’s pumpkin head, and began
tearing it away and flying off with it, only to let it drop, straw by straw
into the great gulf beneath.
The Scarecrow’s head,
noting with dismay this wanton destruction of his interior, cried to the Tin
Woodman to save him; and that good friend responded with renewed energy. His
axe fairly flashed among the Jackdaws, and fortunately the Gump began wildly
waving the two wings remaining on the left side of its body. The flutter of
these great wings filled the Jackdaws with terror, and when the Gump by its
exertions freed itself from the peg of rock on which it hung, and sank flopping
into the nest, the alarm of the birds knew no bounds and they fled screaming
over the mountains.
When the last foe had
disappeared, Tip crawled from under the sofas and assisted the Woggle-Bug to
follow him.
"We are
saved!" shouted the boy, delightedly.
"We are,
indeed!" responded the Educated Insect, fairly hugging the stiff head of
the Gump in his joy. "and we owe it all to the flopping of the Thing, and
the good axe of the Woodman!"
"If I am saved,
get me out of here!" called Jack; whose head was still beneath the sofas;
and Tip managed to roll the pumpkin out and place it upon its neck again. He
also set the Saw-Horse upright, and said to it:
"We owe you many
thanks for the gallant fight you made."
"I really think we
have escaped very nicely," remarked the Tin Woodman, in a tone of pride.
"Not so!"
exclaimed a hollow voice.
At this they all turned
in surprise to look at the Scarecrow’s head, which lay at the back of the nest.
"I am completely
ruined!" declared the Scarecrow, as he noted their astonishment. "For
where is the straw that stuffs my body?"
The awful question
startled them all. They gazed around the nest with horror, for not a vestige of
straw remained. The Jackdaws had stolen it to the last wisp and flung it all
into the chasm that yawned for hundreds of feet beneath the nest.
"My poor, poor
friend!" said the Tin Woodman, taking up the Scarecrow’s head and
caressing it tenderly; "whoever could imagine you would come to this
untimely end?"
"I did it to save
my friends," returned the head; "and I am glad that I perished in so
noble and unselfish a manner."
"But why are you
all so despondent?" inquired the Woggle-Bug. "The Scarecrow’s
clothing is still safe."
"Yes,"
answered the Tin Woodman; "but our friend’s clothes are useless without
stuffing."
"Why not stuff him
with money?" asked Tip.
"Money!" they
all cried, in an amazed chorus.
"To be sure,"
said the boy. "In the bottom of the nest are thousands of dollar bills --
and two-dollar bills -- and five-dollar bills -- and tens, and twenties, and
fifties. There are enough of them to stuff a dozen Scarecrows. Why not use the
money?"
The Tin Woodman began
to turn over the rubbish with the handle of his axe; and, sure enough, what
they had first thought only worthless papers were found to be all bills of
various denominations, which the mischievous Jackdaws had for years been
engaged in stealing from the villages and cities they visited.
There was an immense
fortune lying in that inaccessible nest; and Tip’s suggestion was, with the
Scarecrow’s consent, quickly acted upon.
They selected all the
newest and cleanest bills and assorted them into various piles. The Scarecrow’s
left leg and boot were stuffed with five- dollar bills; his right leg was
stuffed with ten-dollar bills, and his body so closely filled with fifties,
one-hundreds and one-thousands that he could scarcely button his jacket with
comfort.
"You are now"
said the Woggle-Bug, impressively, when the task had been completed, "the
most valuable member of our party; and as you are among faithful friends there
is little danger of your being spent."
"Thank you,"
returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. "I feel like a new man; and although
at first glance I might be mistaken for a Safety Deposit Vault, I beg you to
remember that my Brains are still composed of the same old material. And these
are the possessions that have always made me a person to be depended upon in an
emergency."
"Well, the
emergency is here," observed Tip; "and unless your brains help us out
of it we shall be compelled to pass the remainder of our lives in this
nest."
"How about these
wishing pills?" enquired the Scarecrow, taking the box from his jacket
pocket. "Can’t we use them to escape?"
"Not unless we can
count seventeen by twos," answered the Tin Woodman. "But our friend
the Woggle-Bug claims to be highly educated, so he ought easily to figure out
how that can be done."
"It isn’t a
question of education," returned the Insect; "it’s merely a question
of mathematics. I’ve seen the professor work lots of sums on the blackboard,
and he claimed anything could be done with x’s and y’s and a’s, and such
things, by mixing them up with plenty of plusses and minuses and equals, and so
forth. But he never said anything, so far as I can remember, about counting up
to the odd number of seventeen by the even numbers of twos."
"Stop! stop!"
cried the Pumpkinhead. "You’re making my head ache."
"And mine,"
added the Scarecrow. "Your mathematics seem to me very like a bottle of
mixed pickles the more you fish for what you want the less chance you have of
getting it. I am certain that if the thing can be accomplished at all, it is in
a very simple manner."
"Yes," said
Tip. "old Mombi couldn’t use x’s and minuses, for she never went to
school."
"Why not start
counting at a half of one?" asked the Saw-Horse, abruptly. "Then
anyone can count up to seventeen by twos very easily."
They looked at each
other in surprise, for the Saw-Horse was considered the most stupid of the
entire party.
"You make me quite
ashamed of myself," said the Scarecrow, bowing low to the Saw-Horse.
"Nevertheless, the
creature is right," declared the Woggle-Bug; for twice one-half is one,
and if you get to one it is easy to count from one up to seventeen by
twos."
"I wonder I didn’t
think of that myself," said the Pumpkinhead.
"I don’t,"
returned the Scarecrow. "You’re no wiser than the rest of us, are you? But
let us make a wish at once. Who will swallow the first pill?"
"Suppose you do
it," suggested Tip.
"I can’t,"
said the Scarecrow.
"Why not? You’ve a
mouth, haven’t you?" asked the boy.
"Yes; but my mouth
is painted on, and there’s no swallow connected with it,’ answered the
Scarecrow. "In fact," he continued, looking from one to another
critically, "I believe the boy and the Woggle-Bug are the only ones in our
party that are able to swallow."
Observing the truth of
this remark, Tip said:
"Then I will
undertake to make the first wish. Give me one of the Silver Pills."
This the Scarecrow
tried to do; but his padded gloves were too clumsy to clutch so small an
object, and he held the box toward the boy while Tip selected one of the pills
and swallowed it.
"Count!"
cried the Scarecrow.
"One-half, one,
three, five, seven, nine, eleven,!" counted Tip. thirteen, fifteen,
seventeen.
"Now wish!"
said the Tin Woodman anxiously:
But Just then the boy
began to suffer such fearful pains that he became alarmed.
"The pill has
poisoned me!" he gasped; "O -- h! O-o-o-o-o! Ouch! Murder! Fire!
O-o-h!" and here he rolled upon the bottom of the nest in such contortions
that he frightened them all.
"What can we do
for you. Speak, I beg!" entreated the Tin Woodman, tears of sympathy
running down his nickel cheeks.
"I -- I don’t
know!" answered Tip. "O -- h! I wish I’d never swallowed that
pill!"
Then at once the pain
stopped, and the boy rose to his feet again and found the Scarecrow looking
with amazement at the end of the pepper-box.
"What’s
happened?" asked the boy, a little ashamed of his recent exhibition.
"Why, the three
pills are in the box again!" said the Scarecrow.
"Of course they
are," the Woggle-Bug declared. "Didn’t Tip wish that he’d never
swallowed one of them? Well, the wish came true, and he didn’t swallow one of
them. So of course they are all three in the box."
"That may be; but
the pill gave me a dreadful pain, just the same," said the boy.
"Impossible!"
declared the Woggle- Bug. "If you have never swallowed it, the pill can
not have given you a pain. And as your wish, being granted, proves you did not
swallow the pill, it is also plain that you suffered no pain."
"Then it was a
splendid imitation of a pain," retorted Tip, angrily. "Suppose you
try the next pill yourself. We’ve wasted one wish already."
"Oh, no, we haven’t!"
protested the Scarecrow. "Here are still three pills in the box, and each
pill is good for a wish."
"Now you’re making
my head ache," said Tip. "I can’t understand the thing at all. But I
won’t take another pill, I promise you!" and with this remark he retired
sulkily to the back of the nest.
"Well," said
the Woggle-Bug, "it remains for me to save us in my most Highly Magnified
and Thoroughly Educated manner; for I seem to be the only one able and willing
to make a wish. Let me have one of the pills."
He swallowed it without
hesitation, and they all stood admiring his courage while the Insect counted
seventeen by twos in the same way that Tip had done. And for some reason --
perhaps because Woggle-Bugs have stronger stomachs than boys -- the silver
pellet caused it no pain whatever.
"I wish the Gump’s
broken wings mended, and as good as new!" said the Woggle-Bug, in a slow;
impressive voice.
All turned to look at
the Thing, and so quickly had the wish been granted that the Gump lay before
them in perfect repair, and as well able to fly through the air as when it had
first been brought to life on the roof of the palace.
"Hooray!"
shouted the Scarecrow, gaily. "We can now leave this miserable Jackdaws’
nest whenever we please."
"But it is nearly
dark," said the Tin Woodman; "and unless we wait until morning to
make our flight we may get into more trouble. I don’t like these night trips,
for one never knows what will happen."
So it was decided to
wait until daylight, and the adventurers amused themselves in the twilight by
searching the Jackdaws’ nest for treasures.
The Woggle-Bug found
two handsome bracelets of wrought gold, which fitted his slender arms very
well. The Scarecrow took a fancy for rings, of which there were many in the
nest. Before long he had fitted a ring to each finger of his padded gloves, and
not being content with that display he added one more to each thumb. As he
carefully chose those rings set with sparkling stones, such as rubies,
amethysts and sapphires, the Scarecrow’s hands now presented a most brilliant
appearance.
"This nest would
be a picnic for Queen Jinjur," said he, musingly. "for as nearly as I
can make out she and her girls conquered me merely to rob my city of its
emeralds."
The Tin Woodman was
content with his diamond necklace and refused to accept any additional
decorations; but Tip secured a fine gold watch, which was attached to a heavy
fob, and placed it in his pocket with much pride. He also pinned several
jeweled brooches to Jack Pumpkinhead’s red waistcoat, and attached a lorgnette,
by means of a fine chain, to the neck of the Saw- Horse.
"It’s very
pretty," said the creature, regarding the lorgnette approvingly; "but
what is it for?"
None of them could
answer that question, however; so the Saw-Horse decided it was some rare
decoration and became very fond of it.
That none of the party
might be slighted, they ended by placing several large seal rings upon the
points of the Gump’s antlers, although that odd personage seemed by no means
gratified by the attention.
Darkness soon fell upon
them, and Tip and the Woggle-Bug went to sleep while the others sat down to
wait patiently for the day.
Next morning they had
cause to congratulate themselves upon the useful condition of the Gump; for
with daylight a great flock of Jackdaws approached to engage in one more battle
for the possession of the nest.
But our adventurers did
not wait for the assault. They tumbled into the cushioned seats of the sofas as
quickly as possible, and Tip gave the word to the Gump to start.
At once it rose into
the air, the great wings flopping strongly and with regular motions, and in a
few moments they were so far from the nest that the chattering Jackdaws took
possession without any attempt at pursuit.
The Thing flew due
North, going in the same direction from whence it had come. At least, that was
the Scarecrow’s opinion, and the others agreed that the Scarecrow was the best
judge of direction. After passing over several cities and villages the Gump
carried them high above a broad plain where houses became more and more
scattered until they disappeared altogether. Next came the wide, sandy desert
separating the rest of the world from the Land of Oz, and before noon they saw
the dome-shaped houses that proved they were once more within the borders of
their native land.
"But the houses
and fences are blue," said the Tin Woodman, "and that indicates we
are in the land of the Munchkins, and therefore a long distance from Glinda the
Good."
"What shall we
do?" asked the boy, turning to their guide.
"I don’t
know" replied the Scarecrow, frankly. "If we were at the Emerald City
we could then move directly southward, and so reach our destination. But we
dare not go to the Emerald City, and the Gump is probably carrying us further
in the wrong direction with every flop of its wings."
"Then the
Woggle-Bug must swallow another pill," said Tip, decidedly, "and wish
us headed in the right direction."
"Very well,"
returned the Highly Magnified one; "I’m willing."
But when the Scarecrow
searched in his pocket for the pepper-box containing the two silver Wishing
Pills, it was not to be found. Filled with anxiety, the voyagers hunted
throughout every inch of the Thing for the precious box; but it had disappeared
entirely.
And still the Gump flew
onward, carrying them they knew not where.
"I must have left
the pepper-box in the Jackdaws’ nest," said the Scarecrow, at length.
"It is a great
misfortune," the Tin Woodman declared. "But we are no worse off than
before we discovered the Wishing Pills."
"We are better
off," replied Tip. "for the one pill we used has enabled us to escape
from that horrible nest."
"Yet the loss of
the other two is serious, and I deserve a good scolding for my
carelessness," the Scarecrow rejoined, penitently. "For in such an
unusual party as this accidents are liable to happen any moment, and even now
we may be approaching a new danger."
No one dared contradict
this, and a dismal silence ensued.
The Gump flew steadily
on.
Suddenly Tip uttered an
exclamation of surprise. "We must have reached the South Country," he
cried, "for below us everything is red!"
Immediately they all
leaned over the backs of the sofas to look -- all except Jack, who was too
careful of his pumpkin head to risk its slipping off his neck. Sure enough; the
red houses and fences and trees indicated they were within the domain of Glinda
the Good; and presently, as they glided rapidly on, the Tin Woodman recognized
the roads and buildings they passed, and altered slightly the flight of the
Gump so that they might reach the palace of the celebrated Sorceress.
"Good!" cried
the Scarecrow, delightedly. "We do not need the lost Wishing Pills now,
for we have arrived at our destination."
Gradually the Thing
sank lower and nearer to the ground until at length it came to rest within the
beautiful gardens of Glinda, settling upon a velvety green lawn close by a
fountain which sent sprays of flashing gems, instead of water, high into the
air, whence they fell with a soft, tinkling sound into the carved marble basin
placed to receive them.
Everything was very
gorgeous in Glinda’s gardens, and while our voyagers gazed about with admiring
eyes a company of soldiers silently appeared and surrounded them. But these
soldiers of the great Sorceress were entirely different from those of Jinjur’s
Army of Revolt, although they were likewise girls. For Glinda’s soldiers wore
neat uniforms and bore swords and spears; and they marched with a skill and
precision that proved them well trained in the arts of war.
The Captain commanding
this troop -- which was Glinda’s private Body Guard - - recognized the
Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman at once, and greeted them with respectful
salutations.
"Good day!"
said the Scarecrow, gallantly removing his hat, while the Woodman gave a
soldierly salute; "we have come to request an audience with your fair
Ruler."
"Glinda is now
within her palace, awaiting you," returned the Captain; "for she saw
you coming long before you arrived."
"That is
strange!" said Tip, wondering.
"Not at all,"
answered the Scarecrow, "for Glinda the Good is a mighty Sorceress, and
nothing that goes on in the Land of Oz escapes her notice. I suppose she knows
why we came as well as we do ourselves."
"Then what was the
use of our coming?" asked Jack, stupidly.
"To prove you are
a Pumpkinhead!" retorted the Scarecrow. "But, if the Sorceress
expects us, we must not keep her waiting."
So they all clambered
out of the sofas and followed the Captain toward the palace -- even the
Saw-Horse taking his place in the queer procession.
Upon her throne of
finely wrought gold sat Glinda, and she could scarcely repress a smile as her
peculiar visitors entered and bowed before her. Both the Scarecrow and the Tin
Woodman she knew and liked; but the awkward Pumpkinhead and Highly Magnified
Woggle-Bug were creatures she had never seen before, and they seemed even more
curious than the others. As for the Saw-Horse, he looked to be nothing more
than an animated chunk of wood; and he bowed so stiffly that his head bumped
against the floor, causing a ripple of laughter among the soldiers, in which
Glinda frankly joined.
"I beg to announce
to your glorious highness," began the Scarecrow, in a solemn voice,
"that my Emerald City has been overrun by a crowd of impudent girls with
knitting-needles, who have enslaved all the men, robbed the streets and public
buildings of all their emerald jewels, and usurped my throne."
"I know it,"
said Glinda.
"They also
threatened to destroy me, as well as all the good friends and allies you see
before you," continued the Scarecrow. "and had we not managed to
escape their clutches our days would long since have ended."
"I know it,"
repeated Glinda.
"Therefore I have
come to beg your assistance," resumed the Scarecrow, "for I believe
you are always glad to succor the unfortunate and oppressed."
"That is true,"
replied the Sorceress, slowly. "But the Emerald City is now ruled by
General Jinjur, who has caused herself to be proclaimed Queen. What right have
I to oppose her?"
"Why, she stole
the throne from me," said the Scarecrow.
"And how came you
to possess the throne?" asked Glinda.
"I got it from the
Wizard of Oz, and by the choice of the people," returned the Scarecrow,
uneasy at such questioning.
"And where did the
Wizard get it?" she continued gravely.
"I am told he took
it from Pastoria, the former King," said the Scarecrow, becoming confused
under the intent look of the Sorceress.
"Then,"
declared Glinda, "the throne of the Emerald City belongs neither to you
nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizard usurped it."
"That is true,"
acknowledged the Scarecrow, humbly; "but Pastoria is now dead and gone,
and some one must rule in his place."
"Pastoria had a
daughter, who is the rightful heir to the throne of the Emerald City. Did you
know that?" questioned the Sorceress.
"No," replied
the Scarecrow. "But if the girl still lives I will not stand in her way.
It will satisfy me as well to have Jinjur turned out, as an impostor, as to
regain the throne myself. In fact, it isn’t much fun to be King, especially if
one has good brains. I have known for some time that I am fitted to occupy a
far more exalted position. But where is the girl who owns the throne, and what
is her name?"
"Her name is
Ozma," answered Glinda. "But where she is I have tried in vain to
discover. For the Wizard of Oz, when he stole the throne from Ozma’s father,
hid the girl in some secret place; and by means of a magical trick with which I
am not familiar he also managed to prevent her being discovered -- even by so
experienced a Sorceress as myself."
"That is
strange," interrupted the Woggle-Bug, pompously. "I have been
informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a humbug!"
"Nonsense!"
exclaimed the Scarecrow, much provoked by this speech. "Didn’t he give me
a wonderful set of brains?"
"There’s no humbug
about my heart," announced the Tin Woodman, glaring indignantly at the
Woggle-Bug.
"Perhaps I was
misinformed," stammered the Insect, shrinking back; "I never knew the
Wizard personally."
"Well, we
did," retorted the Scarecrow, "and he was a very great Wizard, I
assure you. It is true he was guilty of some slight impostures, but unless he
was a great Wizard how -- let me ask -- could he have hidden this girl Ozma so
securely that no one can find her?"
"I -- I give it
up!" replied the Woggle-Bug, meekly.
"That is the most
sensible speech you’ve made," said the Tin Woodman.
"I must really
make another effort to discover where this girl is hidden," resumed the
Sorceress, thoughtfully. "I have in my library a book in which is
inscribed every action of the Wizard while he was in our land of Oz -- or, at
least, every action that could be observed by my spies. This book I will read
carefully tonight, and try to single out the acts that may guide us in
discovering the lost Ozma. In the meantime, pray amuse yourselves in my palace
and command my servants as if they were your own. I will grant you another
audience tomorrow."
With this gracious
speech Glinda dismissed the adventurers, and they wandered away through the
beautiful gardens, where they passed several hours enjoying all the delightful
things with which the Queen of the Southland had surrounded her royal palace.
On the following
morning they again appeared before Glinda, who said to them:
"I have searched
carefully through the records of the Wizard’s actions, and among them I can
find but three that appear to have been suspicious. He ate beans with a knife,
made three secret visits to old Mombi, and limped slightly on his left
foot."
"Ah! that last is
certainly suspicious!" exclaimed the Pumpkinhead.
"Not
necessarily," said the Scarecrow. "he may, have had corns. Now, it
seems to me his eating beans with a knife is more suspicious."
"Perhaps it is a
polite custom in Omaha, from which great country the Wizard originally
came," suggested the Tin Woodman.
"It may be,"
admitted the Scarecrow.
"But why,"
asked Glinda, "did he make three secret visits to old Mombi?"
"Ah! Why,
indeed!" echoed the Woggle-Bug, impressively.
"We know that the
Wizard taught the old woman many of his tricks of magic," continued
Glinda; "and this he would not have done had she not assisted him in some
way. So we may suspect with good reason that Mombi aided him to hide the girl
Ozma, who was the real heir to the throne of the Emerald City, and a constant
danger to the usurper. For, if the people knew that she lived, they would
quickly make her their Queen and restore her to her rightful position."
"An able
argument!" cried the Scarecrow. "I have no doubt that Mombi was mixed
up in this wicked business. But how does that knowledge help us?"
"We must find
Mombi," replied Glinda, "and force her to tell where the girl is
hidden."
"Mombi is now with
Queen Jinjur, in the Emerald, City" said Tip. "It was she who threw
so many obstacles in our pathway, and made Jinjur threaten to destroy my
friends and give me back into the old witch’s power."
"Then,"
decided Glinda, "I will march with my army to the Emerald City, and take
Mombi prisoner. After that we can, perhaps, force her to tell the truth about
Ozma."
"She is a terrible
old woman!" remarked Tip, with a shudder at the thought of Mombi’s black
kettle; "and obstinate, too."
"I am quite
obstinate myself," returned the Sorceress, with a sweet smile. "so I
do not fear Mombi in the least. Today I will make all necessary preparations,
and we will march upon the Emerald City at daybreak tomorrow."
The Army of Glinda the
Good looked very grand and imposing when it assembled at daybreak before the
palace gates. The uniforms of the girl soldiers were pretty and of gay colors,
and their silver-tipped spears were bright and glistening, the long shafts
being inlaid with mother-of-pearl. All the officers wore sharp, gleaming swords,
and shields edged with peacock- feathers; and it really seemed that no foe
could by any possibility defeat such a brilliant army.
The Sorceress rode in a
beautiful palanquin which was like the body of a coach, having doors and
windows with silken curtains; but instead of wheels, which a coach has, the
palanquin rested upon two long, horizontal bars, which were borne upon the
shoulders of twelve servants.
The Scarecrow and his
comrades decided to ride in the Gump, in order to keep up with the swift march
of the army; so, as soon as Glinda had started and her soldiers had marched
away to the inspiring strains of music played by the royal band, our friends climbed
into the sofas and followed. The Gump flew along slowly at a point directly
over the palanquin in which rode the Sorceress.
"Be careful,"
said the Tin Woodman to the Scarecrow, who was leaning far over the side to
look at the army below. "You might fall."
"It wouldn’t
matter," remarked the educated Woggle-Bug. "he can’t get broke so
long as he is stuffed with money."
"Didn’t I ask
you" began Tip, in a reproachful voice.
"You did!"
said the Woggle-Bug, promptly. "And I beg your pardon. I will really try
to restrain myself."
"You’d
better," declared the boy. "That is, if you wish to travel in our
company."
"Ah! I couldn’t
bear to part with you now," murmured the Insect, feelingly; so Tip let the
subject drop.
The army moved steadily
on, but night had fallen before they came to the walls of the Emerald City. By
the dim light of the new moon, however, Glinda’s forces silently surrounded the
city and pitched their tents of scarlet silk upon the greensward. The tent of
the Sorceress was larger than the others, and was composed of pure white silk,
with scarlet banners flying above it. A tent was also pitched for the Scarecrow’s
party; and when these preparations had been made, with military precision and
quickness, the army retired to rest.
Great was the amazement
of Queen Jinjur next morning when her soldiers came running to inform her of
the vast army surrounding them. She at once climbed to a high tower of the
royal palace and saw banners waving in every direction and the great white tent
of Glinda standing directly before the gates.
"We are surely
lost!" cried Jinjur, in despair; "for how can our knitting- needles
avail against the long spears and terrible swords of our foes?"
"The best thing we
can do," said one of the girls, "is to surrender as quickly as
possible, before we get hurt."
"Not so,"
returned Jinjur, more bravely. "The enemy is still outside the walls, so
we must try to gain time by engaging them in parley. Go you with a flag of
truce to Glinda and ask her why she has dared to invade my dominions, and what
are her demands."
So the girl passed
through the gates, bearing a white flag to show she was on a mission of peace,
and came to Glinda’s tent. "Tell your Queen," said the Sorceress to
the girl, "that she must deliver up to me old Mombi, to be my prisoner. If
this is done I will not molest her farther."
Now when this message
was delivered to the Queen it filled her with dismay, for Mombi was her chief
counsellor, and Jinjur was terribly afraid of the old hag. But she sent for
Mombi, and told her what Glinda had said.
"I see trouble
ahead for all of us," muttered the old witch, after glancing into a magic
mirror she carried in her pocket. "But we may even yet escape by deceiving
this sorceress, clever as she thinks herself."
"Don’t you think
it will be safer for me to deliver you into her hands?" asked Jinjur,
nervously.
"If you do, it
will cost you the throne of the Emerald City!" answered the witch,
positively. "But if you will let me have my own way, I can save us both
very easily."
"Then do as you
please," replied Jinjur, "for it is so aristocratic to be a Queen
that I do not wish to be obliged to return home again, to make beds and wash
dishes for my mother."
So Mombi called Jellia
Jamb to her, and performed a certain magical rite with which she was familiar.
As a result of the enchantment Jellia took on the form and features of Mombi,
while the old witch grew to resemble the girl so closely that it seemed
impossible anyone could guess the deception.
"Now," said
old Mombi to the Queen, "let your soldiers deliver up this girl to Glinda.
She will think she has the real Mombi in her power, and so will return
immediately to her own country in the South."
Therefore Jellia,
hobbling along like an aged woman, was led from the city gates and taken before
Glinda.
"Here is the
person you demanded," said one of the guards, "and our Queen now begs
you will go away, as you promised, and leave us in peace."
"That I will
surely do," replied Glinda, much pleased; "if this is really the
person she seems to be."
"It is certainly
old Mombi," said the guard, who believed she was speaking the truth; and
then Jinjur’s soldiers returned within the city’s gates.
The Sorceress quickly
summoned the Scarecrow and his friends to her tent, and began to question the
supposed Mombi about the lost girl Ozma. But Jellia knew nothing at all of this
affair, and presently she grew so nervous under the questioning that she gave
way and began to weep, to Glinda’s great astonishment.
"Here is some
foolish trickery!" said the Sorceress, her eyes flashing with anger.
"This is not Mombi at all, but some other person who has been made to
resemble her! Tell me," she demanded, turning to the trembling girl,
"what is your name?"
This Jellia dared not
tell, having been threatened with death by the witch if she confessed the
fraud. But Glinda, sweet and fair though she was, understood magic better than
any other person in the Land of Oz. So, by uttering a few potent words and
making a peculiar gesture, she quickly transformed the girl into her proper
shape, while at the same time old Mombi, far away in Jinjur’s palace, suddenly
resumed her own crooked form and evil features.
"Why, it’s Jellia
Jamb!" cried the Scarecrow, recognizing in the girl one of his old
friends.
"It’s our
interpreter!" said the Pumpkinhead, smiling pleasantly.
Then Jellia was forced
to tell of the trick Mombi had played and she also begged Glinda’s protection,
which the Sorceress readily granted. But Glinda was now really angry, and sent
word to Jinjur that the fraud was discovered and she must deliver up the real
Mombi or suffer terrible consequences. Jinjur was prepared for this message,
for the witch well understood, when her natural form was thrust upon her, that
Glinda had discovered her trickery. But the wicked old creature had already
thought up a new deception, and had made Jinjur promise to carry it out. So the
Queen said to Glinda’s messenger:
"Tell your
mistress that I cannot find Mombi anywhere, but that Glinda is welcome to enter
the city and search herself for the old woman. She may also bring her friends
with her, if she likes; but if she does not find Mombi by sundown, the
Sorceress must promise to go away peaceably and bother us no more."
Glinda agreed to these
terms, well knowing that Mombi was somewhere within the city walls. So Jinjur
caused the gates to be thrown open, and Glinda marched in at the head of a
company of soldiers, followed by the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, while Jack
Pumpkinhead rode astride the Saw-Horse, and the Educated, Highly Magnified
Woggle-Bug sauntered behind in a dignified manner. Tip walked by the side of
the Sorceress, for Glinda had conceived a great liking for the boy.
Of course old Mombi had
no intention of being found by Glinda; so, while her enemies were marching up
the street, the witch transformed herself into a red rose growing upon a bush
in the garden of the palace. It was a clever idea, and a trick Glinda did not
suspect; so several precious hours were spent in a vain search for Mombi.
As sundown approached
the Sorceress realized she had been defeated by the superior cunning of the
aged witch; so she gave the command to her people to march out of the city and
back to their tents.
The Scarecrow and his
comrades happened to be searching in the garden of the palace just then, and
they turned with disappointment to obey Glinda’s command. But before they left
the garden the Tin Woodman, who was fond of flowers, chanced to espy a big red
rose growing upon a bush; so he plucked the flower and fastened it securely in
the tin buttonhole of his tin bosom.
As he did this he
fancied he heard a low moan proceed from the rose; but he paid no attention to
the sound, and Mombi was thus carried out of the city and into Glinda’s camp
without anyone having a suspicion that they had succeeded in their quest.
The Witch was at first
frightened at finding herself captured by the enemy; but soon she decided that
she was exactly as safe in the Tin Woodman’s button-hole as growing upon the
bush. For no one knew the rose and Mombi to be one, and now that she was
without the gates of the City her chances of escaping altogether from Glinda
were much improved.
"But there is no
hurry," thought Mombi. "I will wait awhile and enjoy the humiliation
of this Sorceress when she finds I have outwitted her." So throughout the
night the rose lay quietly on the Woodman’s bosom, and in the morning, when
Glinda summoned our friends to a consultation, Nick Chopper carried his pretty
flower with him to the white silk tent.
"For some
reason," said Glinda, "we have failed to find this cunning old Mombi;
so I fear our expedition will prove a failure. And for that I am sorry, because
without our assistance little Ozma will never be rescued and restored to her
rightful position as Queen of the Emerald City"
"Do not let us
give up so easily," said the Pumpkinhead. "Let us do something
else."
"Something else
must really be done," replied Glinda, with a smile. "yet I cannot
understand how I have been defeated so easily by an old Witch who knows far
less of magic than I do myself."
"While we are on
the ground I believe it would be wise for us to conquer the Emerald City for
Princess Ozma, and find the girl afterward," said the Scarecrow." And
while the girl remains hidden I will gladly rule in her place, for I understand
the business of ruling much better than Jinjur does."
"But I have
promised not to molest Jinjur," objected Glinda.
"Suppose you all
return with me to my kingdom -- or Empire, rather," said the Tin Woodman,
politely including the entire party in a royal wave of his arm. "It will
give me great pleasure to entertain you in my castle, where there is room
enough and to spare. And if any of you wish to be nickel- plated, my valet will
do it free of all expense."
While the Woodman was
speaking Glinda’s eyes had been noting the rose in his button-hole, and now she
imagined she saw the big red leaves of the flower tremble slightly. This
quickly aroused her suspicions, and in a moment more the Sorceress had decided
that the seeming rose was nothing else than a transformation of old Mombi. At
the same instant Mombi knew she was discovered and must quickly plan an escape,
and as transformations were easy to her she immediately took the form of a
Shadow and glided along the wall of the tent toward the entrance, thinking thus
to disappear.
But Glinda had not only
equal cunning, but far more experience than the Witch. So the Sorceress reached
the opening of the tent before the Shadow, and with a wave of her hand closed
the entrance so securely that Mombi could not find a crack big enough to creep
through. The Scarecrow and his friends were greatly surprised at Glinda’s
actions; for none of them had noted the Shadow. But the Sorceress said to them:
"Remain perfectly
quiet, all of you! For the old Witch is even now with us in this tent, and I
hope to capture her."
These words so alarmed
Mombi that she quickly transformed herself from a shadow to a Black Ant, in
which shape she crawled along the ground, seeking a crack or crevice in which
to hide her tiny body.
Fortunately, the ground
where the tent had been pitched, being Just before the city gates, was hard and
smooth; and while the Ant still crawled about, Glinda discovered it and ran
quickly forward to effect its capture But, Just as her hand was descending, the
Witch, now fairly frantic with fear, made her last transformation, and in the
form of a huge Griffin sprang through the wall of the tent -- tearing the silk
asunder in her rush -- and in a moment had darted away with the speed of a
whirlwind.
Glinda did not hesitate
to follow. She sprang upon the back of the Saw-Horse and cried:
"Now you shall
prove that you have a right to be alive! Run -- run -- run!"
The Saw-Horse ran. Like
a flash he followed the Griffin, his wooden legs moving so fast that they
twinkled like the rays of a star. Before our friends could recover from their
surprise both the Griffin and the Saw-Horse had dashed out of sight.
"Come! Let us
follow!" cried the Scarecrow.
They ran to the place
where the Gump was lying and quickly tumbled aboard.
"Fly!"
commanded Tip, eagerly.
"Where to?"
asked the Gump, in its calm voice.
"I don’t
know," returned Tip, who was very nervous at the delay; "but if you
will mount into the air I think we can discover which way Glinda has
gone."
"Very well,"
returned the Gump, quietly; and it spread its great wings and mounted high into
the air.
Far away, across the
meadows, they could now see two tiny specks, speeding one after the other; and
they knew these specks must be the Griffin and the Saw-Horse. So Tip called the
Gump’s attention to them and bade the creature try to overtake the Witch and
the Sorceress. But, swift as was the Gump’s flight, the pursued and pursuer
moved more swiftly yet, and within a few moments were blotted out against the
dim horizon.
"Let us continue
to follow them, nevertheless," said the Scarecrow. "for the Land of
Oz is of small extent, and sooner or later they must both come to a halt."
Old Mombi had thought
herself very wise to choose the form of a Griffin, for its legs were
exceedingly fleet and its strength more enduring than that of other animals.
But she had not reckoned on the untiring energy of the Saw- Horse, whose wooden
limbs could run for days without slacking their speed. Therefore, after an hour’s
hard running, the Griffin’s breath began to fail, and it panted and gasped
painfully, and moved more slowly than before. Then it reached the edge of the
desert and began racing across the deep sands. But its tired feet sank far into
the sand, and in a few minutes the Griffin fell forward, completely exhausted,
and lay still upon the desert waste.
Glinda came up a moment
later, riding the still vigorous Saw-Horse; and having unwound a slender golden
thread from her girdle the Sorceress threw it over the head of the panting and
helpless Griffin, and so destroyed the magical power of Mombi’s transformation.
For the animal, with
one fierce shudder, disappeared from view, while in its place was discovered
the form of the old Witch, glaring savagely at the serene and beautiful face of
the Sorceress.
"You are my
prisoner, and it is useless for you to struggle any longer," said Glinda,
in her soft, sweet voice. "Lie still a moment, and rest yourself, and then
I will carry you back to my tent."
"Why do you seek
me?" asked Mombi, still scarce able to speak plainly for lack of breath.
"What have I done to you, to be so persecuted?"
"You have done
nothing to me," answered the gentle Sorceress; "but I suspect you
have been guilty of several wicked actions; and if I find it is true that you
have so abused your knowledge of magic, I intend to punish you severely."
"I defy you!"
croaked the old hag. "You dare not harm me!"
Just then the Gump flew
up to them and alighted upon the desert sands beside Glinda. Our friends were
delighted to find that Mombi had finally been captured, and after a hurried consultation
it was decided they should all return to the camp in the Gump. So the Saw-Horse
was tossed aboard, and then Glinda still holding an end of the golden thread
that was around Mombi’s neck, forced her prisoner to climb into the sofas. The
others now followed, and Tip gave the word to the Gump to return.
The Journey was made in
safety, Mombi sitting in her place with a grim and sullen air; for the old hag
was absolutely helpless so long as the magical thread encircled her throat. The
army hailed Glinda’s return with loud cheers, and the party of friends soon
gathered again in the royal tent, which had been neatly repaired during their
absence.
"Now," said
the Sorceress to Mombi, "I want you to tell us why the Wonderful Wizard of
Oz paid you three visits, and what became of the child, Ozma, which so
curiously disappeared."
The Witch looked at
Glinda defiantly, but said not a word.
"Answer me!"
cried the Sorceress.
But still Mombi
remained silent.
"Perhaps she doesn’t
know," remarked Jack.
"I beg you will
keep quiet," said Tip. "You might spoil everything with your
foolishness."
"Very well, dear
father!" returned the Pumpkinhead, meekly.
"How glad I am to
be a Woggle-Bug!" murmured the Highly Magnified Insect, softly. "No
one can expect wisdom to flow from a pumpkin."
"Well," said
the Scarecrow, "what shall we do to make Mombi speak? Unless she tells us
what we wish to know her capture will do us no good at all."
"Suppose we try
kindness," suggested the Tin Woodman. "I’ve heard that anyone can be
conquered with kindness, no matter how ugly they may be."
At this the Witch
turned to glare upon him so horribly that the Tin Woodman shrank back abashed.
Glinda had been
carefully considering what to do, and now she turned to Mombi and said:
"You will gain
nothing, I assure you, by thus defying us. For I am determined to learn the
truth about the girl Ozma, and unless you tell me all that you know, I will
certainly put you to death."
"Oh, no! Don’t do
that!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman. "It would be an awful thing to kill
anyone -- even old Mombi!"
"But it is merely
a threat," returned Glinda. "I shall not put Mombi to death, because
she will prefer to tell me the truth."
"Oh, I see!"
said the tin man, much relieved.
"Suppose I tell
you all that you wish to know,". said Mombi, speaking so suddenly that she
startled them all. "What will you do with me then?"
"In that
case," replied Glinda, "I shall merely ask you to drink a powerful
draught which will cause you to forget all the magic you have ever
learned."
"Then I would
become a helpless old woman!"
"But you would be
alive," suggested the Pumpkinhead, consolingly.
"Do try to keep
silent!" said Tip, nervously.
"I’ll try,"
responded Jack; "but you will admit that it’s a good thing to be
alive."
"Especially if one
happens to be Thoroughly Educated," added the Woggle-Bug, nodding
approval.
"You may make your
choice," Glinda said to old Mombi, "between death if you remain
silent, and the loss of your magical powers if you tell me the truth. But I
think you will prefer to live.
Mombi cast an uneasy
glance at the Sorceress, and saw that she was in earnest, and not to be trifled
with. So she replied, slowly:
"I will answer
your questions."
"That is what I
expected," said Glinda, pleasantly. "You have chosen wisely, I assure
you."
She then motioned to
one of her Captains, who brought her a beautiful golden casket. From this the
Sorceress drew an immense white pearl, attached to a slender chain which she
placed around her neck in such a way that the pearl rested upon her bosom,
directly over her heart.
"Now," said
she, "I will ask my first question: Why did the Wizard pay you three
visits?"
"Because I would
not come to him," answered Mombi.
"That is no answer,"
said Glinda, sternly. "Tell me the truth."
"Well,"
returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, "he visited me to learn the way I make
tea-biscuits."
"Look up!"
commanded the Sorceress.
Mombi obeyed.
"What is the color
of my pearl?" demanded Glinda.
"Why -- it is
black!" replied the old Witch, in a tone of wonder.
"Then you have
told me a falsehood!" cried Glinda, angrily. "Only when the truth is
spoken will my magic pearl remain a pure white in color."
Mombi now saw how
useless it was to try to deceive the Sorceress; so she said, meanwhile scowling
at her defeat:
"The Wizard
brought to me the girl Ozma, who was then no more than a baby, and begged me to
conceal the child."
"That is what I
thought," declared Glinda, calmly. "What did he give you for thus
serving him?"
"He taught me all
the magical tricks he knew. Some were good tricks, and some were only frauds;
but I have remained faithful to my promise."
"What did you do
with the girl?" asked Glinda; and at this question everyone bent forward
and listened eagerly for the reply.
"I enchanted
her," answered Mombi.
"In what
way?"
"I transformed her
into -- into -- "
"Into what?"
demanded Glinda, as the Witch hesitated.
"Into a boy!"
said Mombi, in a low tone."
A boy!" echoed
every voice; and then, because they knew that this old woman had reared Tip
from childhood, all eyes were turned to where the boy stood.
"Yes," said
the old Witch, nodding her head; "that is the Princess Ozma -- the child
brought to me by the Wizard who stole her father’s throne. That is the rightful
ruler of the Emerald City!" and she pointed her long bony finger straight
at the boy.
"I!" cried
Tip, in amazement. "Why, I’m no Princess Ozma -- I’m not a girl!"
Glinda smiled, and
going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her dainty white one.
"You are not a
girl just now" said she, gently, "because Mombi transformed you into
a boy. But you were born a girl, and also a Princess; so you must resume your
proper form, that you may become Queen of the Emerald City."
"Oh, let Jinjur be
the Queen!" exclaimed Tip, ready to cry. "I want to stay a boy, and
travel with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, and the Woggle- Bug, and Jack --
yes! and my friend the Saw-Horse -- and the Gump! I don’t want to be a
girl!"
"Never mind, old
chap," said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; "it don’t hurt to be a girl,
I’m told; and we will all remain your faithful friends just the same. And, to
be honest with you, I’ve always considered girls nicer than boys."
"They’re just as
nice, anyway," added the Scarecrow, patting Tip affectionately upon the
head.
"And they are
equally good students," proclaimed the Woggle-Bug. "I should like to
become your tutor, when you are transformed into a girl again."
"But -- see
here!" said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: "if you become a girl, you
can’t be my dear father any more!"
"No,"
answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. "and I shall not be sorry
to escape the relationship." Then he added, hesitatingly, as he turned to
Glinda: "I might try it for awhile,-just to see how it seems, you know.
But if I don’t like being a girl you must promise to change me into a boy
again."
"Really,"
said the Sorceress, "that is beyond my magic. I never deal in
transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to
make things appear to be what they are not. Only unscrupulous witches use the
art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect your release from her charm, and
restore you to your proper form. It will be the last opportunity she will have
to practice magic."
Now that the truth
about Princes Ozma had been discovered, Mombi did not care what became of Tip;
but she feared Glinda’s anger, and the boy generously promised to provide for
Mombi in her old age if he became the ruler of the Emerald City. So the Witch
consented to effect the transformation, and preparations for the event were at
once made.
Glinda ordered her own
royal couch to be placed in the center of the tent. It was piled high with
cushions covered with rose-colored silk, and from a golden railing above hung
many folds of pink gossamer, completely concealing the interior of the couch.
The first act of the
Witch was to make the boy drink a potion which quickly sent him into a deep and
dreamless sleep. Then the Tin Woodman and the Woggle-Bug bore him gently to the
couch, placed him upon the soft cushions, and drew the gossamer hangings to
shut him from all earthly view.
The Witch squatted upon
the ground and kindled a tiny fire of dried herbs, which she drew from her
bosom. When the blaze shot up and burned clearly old Mombi scattered a handful
of magical powder over the fire, which straightway gave off a rich violet
vapor, filling all the tent with its fragrance and forcing the Saw-Horse to
sneeze -- although he had been warned to keep quiet.
Then, while the others
watched her curiously, the hag chanted a rhythmical verse in words which no one
understood, and bent her lean body seven times back and forth over the fire.
And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witch stood upright and cried
the one word "Yeowa!" in a loud voice.
The vapor floated away;
the atmosphere became, clear again; a whiff of fresh air filled the tent, and
the pink curtains of the couch trembled slightly, as if stirred from within.
Glinda walked to the
canopy and parted the silken hangings. Then she bent over the cushions, reached
out her hand, and from the couch arose the form of a young girl, fresh and
beautiful as a May morning. Her eyes sparkled as two diamonds, and her lips
were tinted like a tourmaline. All adown her back floated tresses of ruddy gold,
with a slender jeweled circlet confining them at the brow. Her robes of silken
gauze floated around her like a cloud, and dainty satin slippers shod her feet.
At this exquisite
vision Tip’s old comrades stared in wonder for the space of a full minute, and
then every head bent low in honest admiration of the lovely Princess Ozma. The
girl herself cast one look into Glinda’s bright face, which glowed with
pleasure and satisfaction, and then turned upon the others. Speaking the words
with sweet diffidence, she said:
"I hope none of
you will care less for me than you did before. I’m just the same Tip, you know;
only -- only -- "
"Only you’re
different!" said the Pumpkinhead; and everyone thought it was the wisest
speech he had ever made.
When the wonderful
tidings reached the ears of Queen Jinjur -- how Mombi the Witch had been
captured; how she had confessed her crime to Glinda; and how the long-lost
Princess Ozma had been discovered in no less a personage than the boy Tip --
she wept real tears of grief and despair.
"To think,"
she moaned, "that after having ruled as Queen, and lived in a palace, I
must go back to scrubbing floors and churning butter again! It is too horrible
to think of! I will never consent!"
So when her soldiers, who
spent most of their time making fudge in the palace kitchens, counseled Jinjur
to resist, she listened to their foolish prattle and sent a sharp defiance to
Glinda the Good and the Princess Ozma. The result was a declaration of war, and
the very next day Glinda marched upon the Emerald City with pennants flying and
bands playing, and a forest of shining spears, sparkling brightly beneath the
sun’s rays.
But when it came to the
walls this brave assembly made a sudden halt; for Jinjur had closed and barred
every gateway, and the walls of the Emerald City were builded high and thick
with many blocks of green marble. Finding her advance thus baffled, Glinda bent
her brows in deep thought, while the Woggle-Bug said, in his most positive
tone:
"We must lay siege
to the city, and starve it into submission. It is the only thing we can
do."
"Not so,"
answered the Scarecrow. "We still have the Gump, and the Gump can still
fly"
The Sorceress turned
quickly at this speech, and her face now wore a bright smile.
"You are
right," she exclaimed, "and certainly have reason to be proud of your
brains. Let us go to the Gump at once!"
So they passed through
the ranks of the army until they came to the place, near the Scarecrow’s tent,
where the Gump lay. Glinda and Princess Ozma mounted first, and sat upon the
sofas. Then the Scarecrow and his friends climbed aboard, and still there was
room for a Captain and three soldiers, which Glinda considered sufficient for a
guard.
Now, at a word from the
Princess, the queer Thing they had called the Gump flopped its palm-leaf wings
and rose into the air, carrying the party of adventurers high above the walls.
They hovered over the palace, and soon perceived Jinjur reclining in a hammock
in the courtyard, where she was comfortably reading a novel with a green cover
and eating green chocolates, confident that the walls would protect her from
her enemies. Obeying a quick command, the Gump alighted safely in this very
courtyard, and before Jinjur had time to do more than scream, the Captain and
three soldiers leaped out and made the former Queen a prisoner, locking strong
chains upon both her wrists.
That act really ended
the war; for the Army of Revolt submitted as soon as they knew Jinjur to be a
captive, and the Captain marched in safety through the streets and up to the
gates of the city, which she threw wide open. Then the bands played their most
stirring music while Glinda’s army marched into the city, and heralds
proclaimed the conquest of the audacious Jinjur and the accession of the
beautiful Princess Ozma to the throne of her royal ancestors.
At once the men of the
Emerald City cast off their aprons. And it is said that the women were so tired
eating of their husbands’ cooking that they all hailed the conquest of Jinjur
with Joy. Certain it is that, rushing one and all to the kitchens of their
houses, the good wives prepared so delicious a feast for the weary men that
harmony was immediately restored in every family.
Ozma’s first act was to
oblige the Army of Revolt to return to her every emerald or other gem stolen
from the public streets and buildings; and so great was the number of precious
stones picked from their settings by these vain girls, that every one of the
royal jewelers worked steadily for more than a month to replace them in their
settings.
Meanwhile the Army of
Revolt was disbanded and the girls sent home to their mothers. On promise of
good behavior Jinjur was likewise released.
Ozma made the loveliest
Queen the Emerald City had ever known; and, although she was so young and
inexperienced, she ruled her people with wisdom and Justice. For Glinda gave
her good advice on all occasions; and the Woggle- Bug, who was appointed to the
important post of Public Educator, was quite helpful to Ozma when her royal
duties grew perplexing.
The girl, in her
gratitude to the Gump for its services, offered the creature any reward it
might name.
"Then,"
replied the Gump, "please take me to pieces. I did not wish to be brought
to life, and I am greatly ashamed of my conglomerate personality. Once I was a
monarch of the forest, as my antlers fully prove; but now, in my present
upholstered condition of servitude, I am compelled to fly through the air -- my
legs being of no use to me whatever. Therefore I beg to be dispersed."
So Ozma ordered the
Gump taken apart. The antlered head was again hung over the mantle-piece in the
hall, and the sofas were untied and placed in the reception parlors. The broom
tail resumed its accustomed duties in the kitchen, and finally, the Scarecrow
replaced all the clotheslines and ropes on the pegs from which he had taken
them on the eventful day when the Thing was constructed.
You might think that
was the end of the Gump; and so it was, as a flying- machine. But the head over
the mantle-piece continued to talk whenever it took a notion to do so, and it
frequently startled, with its abrupt questions, the people who waited in the
hall for an audience with the Queen.
The Saw-Horse, being
Ozma’s personal property, was tenderly cared for; and often she rode the queer
creature along the streets of the Emerald City. She had its wooden legs shod
with gold, to keep them from wearing out, and the tinkle of these golden shoes
upon the pavement always filled the Queen’s subjects with awe as they thought
upon this evidence of her magical powers.
"The Wonderful
Wizard was never so wonderful as Queen Ozma," the people said to one
another, in whispers; "for he claimed to do many things he could not do;
whereas our new Queen does many things no one would ever expect her to
accomplish."
Jack Pumpkinhead
remained with Ozma to the end of his days; and he did not spoil as soon as he
had feared, although he always remained as stupid as ever. The Woggle-Bug tried
to teach him several arts and sciences; but Jack was so poor a student that any
attempt to educate him was soon abandoned.
After Glinda’s army had
marched back home, and peace was restored to the Emerald City, the Tin Woodman
announced his intention to return to his own Kingdom of the Winkies.
"It isn’t a very
big Kingdom," said he to Ozma, "but for that very reason it is easier
to rule; and I have called myself an Emperor because I am an Absolute Monarch,
and no one interferes in any way with my conduct of public or personal affairs.
When I get home I shall have a new coat of nickel plate; for I have become
somewhat marred and scratched lately; and then I shall be glad to have you pay
me a visit."
"Thank you,"
replied Ozma. "Some day I may accept the invitation. But what is to become
of the Scarecrow?"
"I shall return
with my friend the Tin Woodman," said the stuffed one, seriously. "We
have decided never to be parted in the future."
"And I have made
the Scarecrow my Royal Treasurer," explained the Tin Woodman." For it
has occurred to me that it is a good thing to have a Royal Treasurer who is
made of money. What do you think?"
"I think,"
said the little Queen, smiling, "that your friend must be the richest man
in all the world."
"I am," returned
the Scarecrow. "but not on account of my money. For I consider brains far
superior to money, in every way. You may have noticed that if one has money
without brains, he cannot use it to advantage; but if one has brains without
money, they will enable him to live comfortably to the end of his days."
"At the same
time," declared the Tin Woodman, "you must acknowledge that a good
heart is a thing that brains can not create, and that money can not buy.
Perhaps, after all, it is I who am the richest man in all the world."
"You are both
rich, my friends," said Ozma, gently; "and your riches are the only
riches worth having -- the riches of content!"
The End