The Patchwork Girl of Oz

By L. Frank Baum

Author of The Road to Oz, Dorothy and The Wizard in Oz, The Emerald City of Oz, The Land of Oz, Ozma of Oz, etc.


1. Ojo and Unc Nunkie
2. The Crooked Magician
3. The Patchwork Girl
4. The Glass Cat
5. A Terrible Accident
6. The Journey
7. The Troublesome Phonograph
8. The Foolish Owl and the Wise Donkey
9. They Meet the Woozy
10. Shaggy Man to the Rescue
11. A Good Friend
12. The Giant Porcupine
13. Scraps and the Scarecrow
14. Ojo Breaks the Law
15. Ozma's Prisoner
16. Princess Dorothy
17. Ozma and Her Friends
18. Ojo is Forgiven
19. Trouble with the Tottenhots
20. The Captive Yoop
21. Hip Hopper the Champion
22. The Joking Horners
23. Peace is Declared
24. Ojo Finds the Dark Well
25. They Bribe the Lazy Quadling
26. The Trick River
27. The Tin Woodman Objects
28. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz


	Through the kindness of Dorothy Gale of Kansas, afterward Princess
Dorothy of Oz, an humble writer in the United States of America was once
appointed Royal Historian of Oz, with the privilege of writing the
chronicle of that wonderful fairyland.  But after making six books about
the adventures of those interesting but queer people who live in the Land
of Oz, the Historian learned with sorrow that by an edict of the Supreme
Ruler, Ozma of Oz, her country would thereafter be rendered invisible to
all who lived outside its borders and that all communications with Oz
would, in the future, be cut off.
	The children who had learned to look for the books about Oz and
who loved the stories about the gay and happy people inhabiting that
favored country, were as sorry as their Historian that there would be no
more books of Oz stories.  They wrote many letters asking if the
Historian did not know of some adventures to write about that had 
happened before the Land of Oz was shut out from all the rest of the
world.  But he did not know of any.  Finally one of the children inquired
why we couldn't hear from Princess Dorothy by wireless telegraph, which
would enable her to communicate to the Historian whatever happened in the
far-off Land of Oz without his seeing her, or even knowing just where Oz
	That seemed a good idea; so the Historian rigged up a high tower
in his back yard, and took lessons in wireless telegraphy until he
understood it, and then began to call "Princess Dorothy of Oz" by sending
messages into the air.
	Now, it wasn't likely that Dorothy would be looking for wireless
messages or would heed the call; but one thing the Historian was sure of,
and that was that the powerful Sorceress, Glinda, would know what he was
doing and that he desired to communicate with Dorothy.  For Glinda has a
big book in which is recorded every event that takes place anywhere in
the world, just the moment that it happens, and so of course the book
would tell her about the wireless message.
	And that was the way Dorothy heard that the Historian wanted to
speak with her, and there was a Shaggy Man in the Land of Oz who knew how
to telegraph a wireless reply.  The result was that the Historian begged
so hard to be told the latest news of Oz, so that he could write it down
for the children to read, that Dorothy asked permission of Ozma and Ozma
graciously consented.
	That is why, after two long years of waiting, another Oz story is
now presented to the children of America.  This would not have been
possible had not some clever man invented the "wireless" and an equally
clever child suggested the idea of reaching the mysterious Land of Oz by
its means.



1. Ojo and Unc Nunkie

	"Where's the butter, Unc Nunkie?" asked Ojo.
	Unc looked out of the window and stroked his long beard.  Then he
turned to the Munchkin boy and shook his head.
	"Isn't," said he.
	"Isn't any butter?  That's too bad, Unc.  Where's the jam then?"
inquired Ojo, standing on a stool so he could look through all the
shelves of the cupboard.  But Unc Nunkie shook his head again.
	"Gone," he said.
	"No jam, either?  And no cake--no jelly--no apples--nothing but
	"All," said Unc, again stroking his beard as he gazed from the
	The little boy brought the stool and sat beside his uncle,
munching the dry bread slowly and seeming in deep thought.
	"Nothing grows in our yard but the bread tree," he mused, "and
there are only two more loaves on that tree; and they're not ripe yet.
Tell me, Unc; why are we so poor?"
	The old Munchkin turned and looked at Ojo.  He had kindly eyes,
but he hadn't smiled or laughed in so long that the boy had forgotten
that Unc Nunkie could look any other way than solemn.  And Unc never
spoke any more words than he was obliged to, so his little nephew, who
lived alone with him, had learned to understand a great deal from one word.
	"Why are we so poor, Unc?" repeated the boy.
	"Not," said the old Munchkin.
	"I think we are," declared Ojo.  "What have we got?"
	"House," said Unc Nunkie.
	"I know; but everyone in the Land of Oz has a place to live. What
else, Unc?"
	"I'm eating the last loaf that's ripe.  There; I've put aside your
share, Unc.  It's on the table, so you can eat it when you get hungry.
But when that is gone, what shall we eat, Unc?"
	The old man shifted in his chair but merely shook his head.
	"Of course," said Ojo, who was obliged to talk because his uncle
would not, "no one starves in the Land of Oz, either.  There is plenty
for everyone, you know; only, if it isn't just where you happen to be,
you must go where it is."
	The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at his small nephew as
if disturbed by his argument.
	"By to-morrow morning," the boy went on, "we must go where there
is something to eat, or we shall grow very hungry and become very unhappy."
	"Where?" asked Unc.
	"Where shall we go?  I don't know, I'm sure," replied Ojo.  "But
YOU must know, Unc.  You must have traveled, in your time, because you're
so old.  I don't remember it, because ever since I could remember
anything we've lived right here in this lonesome, round house, with a
little garden back of it and the thick woods all around.  All I've ever
seen of the great Land of Oz, Unc dear, is the view of that mountain over
at the south, where they say the Hammerheads live--who won't let anybody
go by them--and that mountain at the north, where they say nobody lives."
	"One," declared Unc, correcting him.
	"Oh, yes; one family lives there, I've heard.  That's the Crooked
Magician, who is named Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte.  One year you
told me about them; I think it took you a whole year, Unc, to say as much
as I've just said about the Crooked Magician and his wife. They live high 
up on the mountain, and the good Munchkin Country, where the fruits and
flowers grow, is just the other side.  It's funny you and I should live
here all alone, in the middle of the forest, isn't it?"
	"Yes," said Unc.
	"Then let's go away and visit the Munchkin Country and its jolly,
good-natured people.  I'd love to get a sight of something besides woods,
Unc Nunkie."
	"Too little," said Unc.
	"Why, I'm not so little as I used to be," answered the boy
earnestly. "I think I can walk as far and as fast through the woods as
you can, Unc.  And now that nothing grows in our back yard that is good
to eat, we must go where there is food."
	Unc Nunkie made no reply for a time.  Then he shut down the window
and turned his chair to face the room, for the sun was sinking behind the
treetops and it was growing cool.
	By and by Ojo lighted the fire and the logs blazed freely in the
broad fireplace.  The two sat in the firelight a long time--the old,
white-bearded Munchkin and the little boy.  Both were thinking. When it
grew quite dark outside, Ojo said:
	"Eat your bread, Unc, and then we will go to bed."
	But Unc Nunkie did not eat the bread; neither did he go directly
to bed. Long after his little nephew was sound asleep in the corner of
the room the old man sat by the fire, thinking.

2. The Crooked Magician

	Just at dawn next morning, Unc Nunkie laid his hand tenderly on
Ojo's head and awakened him.
	"Come," he said.
	Ojo dressed.  He wore blue silk stockings, blue knee-pants with
gold buckles, a blue ruffled waist and a jacket of bright blue braided
with gold.  His shoes were of blue leather and turned up at the toes, 
which were pointed.  His hat had a peaked crown and a flat brim, and
around the brim was a row of tiny golden bells that tinkled when he
moved.  This was the native costume of those who inhabited the Munchkin
Country of the Land of Oz, so Unc Nunkie's dress was much like that of
his nephew.  Instead of shoes, the old man wore boots with turnover tops
and his blue coat had wide cuffs of gold braid.
	The boy noticed that his uncle had not eaten the bread, and
supposed the old man had not been hungry.  Ojo was hungry, though; so he
divided the piece of bread upon the table and ate his half for breakfast,
washing it down with fresh, cool water from the brook. Unc put the other
piece of bread in his jacket pocket, after which he again said, as he
walked out through the doorway, "Come."
	Ojo was well pleased.  He was dreadfully tired of living all
alone in the woods and wanted to travel and see people.  For a long time
he had wished to explore the beautiful Land of Oz in which they lived.
When they were outside, Unc simply latched the door and started up the
path.  No one would disturb their little house, even if anyone came so
far into the thick forest while they were gone.
	At the foot of the mountain that separated the Country of the
Munchkins from the Country of the Gillikins, the path divided. One way
led to the left and the other to the right--straight up the mountain.
Unc Nunkie took this right-hand path and Ojo followed without asking why.
He knew it would take them to the house of the Crooked Magician, whom he
had never seen but who was their nearest neighbor.
	All the morning they trudged up the mountain path and at noon Unc
and Ojo sat on a fallen tree-trunk and ate the last of the bread which
the old Munchkin had placed in his pocket.  Then they started on again
and two hours later came in sight of the house of Dr. Pipt.
	It was a big house, round, as were all the Munchkin houses, and
painted blue, which is the distinctive color of the Munchkin Country of
Oz.  There was a pretty garden around the house, where blue trees and
blue flowers grew in abundance and in one place were beds of blue
cabbages, blue carrots and blue lettuce, all of which were delicious to
eat.  In Dr. Pipt's garden grew bun-trees, cake-trees, cream-puff bushes,
blue buttercups which yielded excellent blue butter and a row of
chocolate-caramel plants. 

 Paths of blue gravel divided the vegetable and flower beds and a wider
path led up to the front door. The place was in a clearing on the
mountain, but a little way off was the grim forest, which completely
surrounded it.
	Unc knocked at the door of the house and a chubby, pleasant-faced
woman, dressed all in blue, opened it and greeted the visitors with a
	"Ah," said Ojo; "you must be Dame Margolotte, the good wife of Dr.
	"I am, my dear, and all strangers are welcome to my home."
	"May we see the famous Magician, Madam?"
	"He is very busy just now," she said, shaking her head doubtfully.
"But come in and let me give you something to eat, for you must have
traveled far in order to get to our lonely place."
	"We have," replied Ojo, as he and Unc entered the house.  "We have
come from a far lonelier place than this."
	"A lonelier place!  And in the Munchkin Country?" she exclaimed.
"Then it must be somewhere in the Blue Forest."
	"It is, good Dame Margolotte."
	"Dear me!" she said, looking at the man, "you must be Unc Nunkie,
known as the Silent One."  Then she looked at the boy.  "And you must be
Ojo the Unlucky," she added.
	"Yes," said Unc.
	"I never knew I was called the Unlucky," said Ojo, soberly; "but
it is really a good name for me."
	"Well," remarked the woman, as she bustled around the room and set
the table and brought food from the cupboard, "you were unlucky to live
all alone in that dismal forest, which is much worse than the forest
around here; but perhaps your luck will change, now you are away from it.  
If, during your travels, you can manage to lose that 'Un' at the
beginning of your name 'Unlucky,' you will then become Ojo the Lucky,
which will be a great improvement."
	"How can I lose that 'Un,' Dame Margolotte?"
	"I do not know how, but you must keep the matter in mind and
perhaps the chance will come to you," she replied.
	Ojo had never eaten such a fine meal in all his life.  There was a
savory stew, smoking hot, a dish of blue peas, a bowl of sweet milk of a
delicate blue tint and a blue pudding with blue plums in it.  When the
visitors had eaten heartily of this fare the woman said to them:
	"Do you wish to see Dr. Pipt on business or for pleasure?"
	Unc shook his head.
	"We are traveling," replied Ojo, "and we stopped at your house
just to rest and refresh ourselves.  I do not think Unc Nunkie cares very
much to see the famous Crooked Magician; but for my part I am curious to
look at such a great man."
	The woman seemed thoughtful.
	"I remember that Unc Nunkie and my husband used to be friends,
many years ago," she said, "so perhaps they will be glad to meet again.
The Magician is very busy, as I said, but if you will promise not to
disturb him you may come into his workshop and watch him prepare a
wonderful charm."
	"Thank you," replied the boy, much pleased.  "I would like to do
	She led the way to a great domed hall at the back of the house,
which was the Magician's workshop.  There was a row of windows extending
nearly around the sides of the circular room, which rendered the place
very light, and there was a back door in addition to the one leading to
the front part of the house.  Before the row of windows a broad seat was
built and there were some chairs and benches in the room besides.  At one
end stood a great fireplace, in which a blue log was blazing with a blue
flame, and over the fire hung four kettles in a row, all bubbling and
steaming at a great rate.  The Magician was stirring all four of these
kettles at the same time, two with his hands and two with his feet, to
the latter, wooden ladles being strapped, for this man was so very  
crooked that his legs were as handy as his arms.
	Unc Nunkie came forward to greet his old friend, but not being
able to shake either his hands or his feet, which were all occupied in
stirring, he patted the Magician's bald head and asked: "What?"
	"Ah, it's the Silent One," remarked Dr. Pipt without looking up,
"and he wants to know what I'm making.  Well, when it is quite finished
this compound will be the wonderful Powder of Life, which no one knows
how to make but myself.  Whenever it is sprinkled on anything, that thing
will at once come to life, no matter what it is.  It takes me several
years to make this magic Powder, but at this moment I am pleased to say
it is nearly done.  You see, I am making it for my good wife Margolotte,
who wants to use some of it for a purpose of her own. Sit down and make
yourself comfortable, Unc Nunkie, and after I've finished my task I will
talk to you."
	"You must know," said Margolotte, when they were all seated
together on the broad window-seat, "that my husband foolishly gave away
all the Powder of Life he first made to old Mombi the Witch, who used to
live in the Country of the Gillikins, to the north of here.  Mombi gave
to Dr. Pipt a Powder of Perpetual Youth in exchange for his Powder of
Life, but she cheated him wickedly, for the Powder of Youth was no good
and could work no magic at all."
	"Perhaps the Powder of Life couldn't either," said Ojo.
	"Yes; it is perfection," she declared.  "The first lot we tested
on our Glass Cat, which not only began to live but has lived ever since.
She's somewhere around the house now."
	"A Glass Cat!" exclaimed Ojo, astonished.
	"Yes; she makes a very pleasant companion, but admires herself a
little more than is considered modest, and she positively refuses to
catch mice," explained Margolotte.  "My husband made the cat some pink
brains, but they proved to be too high-bred and particular for a cat, so
she thinks it is undignified in[sic] her to catch mice.  Also, she has a
pretty blood-red heart, but it is made of stone--a ruby, I think--and so
is rather hard and unfeeling.  I think the next Glass Cat the Magician
makes will have neither brains nor heart, for then it will not object to
catching mice and may prove of some use to us."
	"What did old Mombi the Witch do with the Powder of Life your
husband gave her?" asked the boy.
	"She brought Jack Pumpkinhead to life, for one thing," was the
reply. "I suppose you've heard of Jack Pumpkinhead.  He is now living
near the Emerald City and is a great favorite with the Princess Ozma, who
rules all the Land of Oz."
	"No; I've never heard of him," remarked Ojo.  "I'm afraid I don't
know much about the Land of Oz.  You see, I've lived all my life with Unc
Nunkie, the Silent One, and there was no one to tell me anything."
	"That is one reason you are Ojo the Unlucky," said the woman, in
a sympathetic tone.  "The more one knows, the luckier he is, for
knowledge is the greatest gift in life."
	"But tell me, please, what you intend to do with this new lot of
the Powder of Life, which Dr. Pipt is making.  He said his wife wanted it
for some especial purpose."
	"So I do," she answered.  "I want it to bring my Patchwork Girl
to life."
	"Oh!  A Patchwork Girl?  What is that?" Ojo asked, for this
seemed even more strange and unusual than a Glass Cat.
	"I think I must show you my Patchwork Girl," said Margolotte,
laughing at the boy's astonishment, "for she is rather difficult to
explain. But first I will tell you that for many years I have longed for
a servant to help me with the housework and to cook the meals and wash
the dishes.  No servant will come here because the place is so lonely and
out-of-the-way, so my clever husband, the Crooked Magician, proposed that
I make a girl out of some sort of material and he would make her live by
sprinkling over her the Powder of Life.  This seemed an excellent
suggestion and at once Dr. Pipt set to work to make a new batch of his
magic powder.  He has been at it a long, long while, and so I have had
plenty of time to make the girl.  Yet that task was not so easy as you
may suppose.  At first I couldn't think what to make her of, but finally
in searching through a chest I came across an old patchwork quilt, which
my grandmother once made when she was young."
	"What is a patchwork quilt?" asked Ojo.
	"A bed-quilt made of patches of different kinds and colors of
cloth, all neatly sewed together.  The patches are of all shapes and
sizes, so a patchwork quilt is a very pretty and gorgeous thing to look
at. Sometimes it is called a 'crazy-quilt,' because the patches and
colors are so mixed up.  We never have used my grandmother's many-colored
patchwork quilt, handsome as it is, for we Munchkins do not care for any
color other than blue, so it has been packed away in the chest for about
a hundred years.  When I found it, I said to myself that it would do
nicely for my servant girl, for when she was brought to life she would
not be proud or haughty, as the Glass Cat is, for such a dreadful mixture
of colors would discourage her from trying to be as dignified as the blue
Munchkins are."
	"Is blue the only respectable color, then?" inquired Ojo.
	"Yes, for a Munchkin.  All our country is blue, you know.  But in
other parts of Oz the people favor different colors.  At the Emerald
City, where our Princess Ozma lives, green is the popular color.  But all
Munchkins prefer blue to anything else and when my housework girl is
brought to life she will find herself to be of so many unpopular colors
that she'll never dare be rebellious or impudent, as servants are
sometimes liable to be when they are made the same way their mistresses
	Unc Nunkie nodded approval.
	"Good i-dea," he said; and that was a long speech for Unc Nunkie
because it was two words.
	"So I cut up the quilt," continued Margolotte, "and made from it
a very well-shaped girl, which I stuffed with cotton-wadding.  I will
show you what a good job I did," and she went to a tall cupboard and
threw open the doors.
	Then back she came, lugging in her arms the Patchwork Girl, which
she set upon the bench and propped up so that the figure would not tumble

3. The Patchwork Girl

	Ojo examined this curious contrivance with wonder.  The Patchwork
Girl was taller than he, when she stood upright, and her body was plump
and rounded because it had been so neatly stuffed with cotton.
Margolotte had first made the girl's form from the patchwork quilt and
then she had dressed it with a patchwork skirt and an apron with pockets
in it--using the same gay material throughout.  Upon the feet she had
sewn a pair of red leather shoes with pointed toes.  All the fingers and
thumbs of the girl's hands had been carefully formed and stuffed and
stitched at the edges, with gold plates at the ends to serve as finger-nails.
	"She will have to work, when she comes to life," said Margolotte.
	The head of the Patchwork Girl was the most curious part of her.
While she waited for her husband to finish making his Powder of Life the
woman had found ample time to complete the head as her fancy dictated,
and she realized that a good servant's head must be properly constructed.
The hair was of brown yarn and hung down on her neck in several neat
braids.  Her eyes were two silver suspender-buttons cut from a pair of
the Magician's old trousers, and they were sewed on with black threads,
which formed the pupils of the eyes.  Margolotte had puzzled over the
ears for some time, for these were important if the servant was to hear
distinctly, but finally she had made them out of thin plates of gold and
attached them in place by means of stitches through tiny holes bored in
the metal.  Gold is the most common metal in the Land of Oz and is used
for many purposes because it is soft and pliable.
	The woman had cut a slit for the Patchwork Girl's mouth and sewn
two rows of white pearls in it for teeth, using a strip of scarlet plush
for a tongue.  This mouth Ojo considered very artistic and lifelike, and
Margolotte was pleased when the boy praised it.  There were almost too
many patches on the face of the girl for her to be considered strictly
beautiful, for one cheek was yellow and the other red, her chin blue, her
forehead purple and the center, where her nose had been formed and
padded, a bright yellow.
	"You ought to have had her face all pink," suggested the boy.
	"I suppose so; but I had no pink cloth," replied the woman.
"Still, I cannot see as it matters much, for I wish my Patchwork Girl to
be useful rather than ornamental.  If I get tired looking at her patched
face I can whitewash it."
	"Has she any brains?" asked Ojo.
	"No; I forgot all about the brains!" exclaimed the woman.  "I am
glad you reminded me of them, for it is not too late to supply them, by
any means.  Until she is brought to life I can do anything I please with
this girl.  But I must be careful not to give her too much brains, and
those she has must be such as are fitted to the station she is to occupy
in life.  In other words, her brains musn't be very good."
	"Wrong," said Unc Nunkie.
	"No; I am sure I am right about that," returned the woman.
	"He means," explained Ojo, "that unless your servant has good
brains she won't know how to obey you properly, nor do the things you ask
her to do."
	"Well, that may be true," agreed Margolotte; "but, on the
contrary, a servant with too much brains is sure to become independent
and high-and-mighty and feel above her work.  This is a very delicate
task, as I said, and I must take care to give the girl just the right
quantity of the right sort of brains.  I want her to know just enough,
but not too much."
	With this, she went to another cupboard which was filled with
shelves. All the shelves were lined with blue glass bottles, neatly
labeled by the Magician to show what they contained.  One whole shelf was
marked: "Brain Furniture," and the bottles on this shelf were labeled as
follows: "Obedience," "Cleverness," "Judgment," "Courage," "Ingenuity,"
"Amiability," "Learning," "Truth," "Poesy," "Self-Reliance."
	"Let me see," said Margolotte; "of those qualities she must have
'Obedience' first of all," and she took down the bottle bearing that
label and poured from it upon a dish several grains of the contents.
"'Amiability' is also good and 'Truth.'"  She poured into the dish a
quantity from each of these bottles.  "I think that will do," she
continued, "for the other qualities are not needed in a servant."
	Unc Nunkie, who with Ojo stood beside her, touched the bottle
marked "Cleverness."
	"Little," said he.
	"A little 'Cleverness'?  Well, perhaps you are right, sir," said
she, and was about to take down the bottle when the  Crooked Magician
suddenly called to her excitedly from the fireplace.
	"Quick, Margolotte!  Come and help me."
	She ran to her husband's side at once and helped him lift the
four kettles from the fire.  Their contents had all boiled away, leaving
in the bottom of each kettle a few grains of fine white powder.  Very
carefully the Magician removed this powder, placing it all together in a
golden dish, where he mixed it with a golden spoon.  When the mixture was
complete there was scarcely a handful, all told.
	"That," said Dr. Pipt in a pleased and triumphant tone, "is the
wonderful Powder of Life, which I alone in the world know how to make. It
has taken me nearly six years to prepare these precious grains of dust,
but the little heap on that dish is worth the price of a kingdom and many
a king would give all he has to possess it.  When it has become cooled I
will place it in a small bottle; but meantime I must watch it carefully,
lest a gust of wind blow it away or scatter it."
	Unc Nunkie, Margolotte and the Magician all stood looking at the
marvelous Powder, but Ojo was more interested just then in the Patchwork
Girl's brains.  Thinking it both unfair and unkind to deprive her of any
good qualities that were handy, the boy took down every bottle on the
shelf and poured some of the contents in Margolotte's dish.  No one saw
him do this, for all were looking at the Powder of Life; but soon the
woman remembered what she had been doing, and came back to the cupboard.
	"Let's see," she remarked; "I was about to give my girl a little
'Cleverness,' which is the Doctor's substitute for 'Intelligence,'--a
quality he has not yet learned how to manufacture."  Taking down the
bottle of "Cleverness" she added some of the powder to the heap on the
dish.  Ojo became a bit uneasy at this, for he had already put quite a
lot of the "Cleverness" powder in the dish; but he dared not interfere
and so he comforted himself with the thought that one cannot have too
much cleverness.
	Margolotte now carried the dish of brains to the bench.  Ripping
the seam of the patch on the girl's forehead, she placed the powder
within the head and then sewed up the seam as neatly and securely as
	"My girl is all ready for your Powder of Life, my dear," she said
to her husband.  But the Magician replied:
	"This powder must not be used before tomorrow morning; but I
think it is now cool enough to be bottled."  He selected a small gold
bottle with a pepper-box top, so that the powder might be sprinkled on
any object through the small holes.  Very carefully he placed the Powder
of Life in the gold bottle and then locked it up in a drawer of his cabinet.
	"At last," said he, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "I have
ample leisure for a good talk with my old friend Unc Nunkie.  So let us
sit down cozily and enjoy ourselves.  After stirring those four kettles
for six years I am glad to have a little rest."
	"You will have to do most of the talking," said Ojo, "for Unc is
called the Silent One and uses few words."
	"I know; but that renders your uncle a most agreeable companion
and gossip," declared Dr. Pipt.  "Most people talk too much, so it is a
relief to find one who talks too little."
	Ojo looked at the Magician with much awe and curiosity.
	"Don't you find it very annoying to be so crooked?" he asked.
	"No; I am quite proud of my person," was the reply.  "I suppose I
am the only Crooked Magician in all the world.  Some others are accused
of being crooked, but I am the only genuine."
	He was really very crooked and Ojo wondered how he managed to do
so many things with such a twisted body.  When he sat down upon a crooked
chair that had been made to fit him, one knee was under his chin and the
other near the small of his back; but he was a cheerful man and his face
bore a pleasant and agreeable expression.
	"I am not allowed to perform magic, except for my own amusement,"
he told his visitors, as he lighted a pipe with a crooked stem and began
to smoke.  "Too many people were working magic in the Land of Oz, and so
our lovely Princess Ozma put a stop to it.
        I think she was quite right.  There were several wicked Witches
who caused a lot of trouble; but now they are all out of business and only
the great Sorceress, Glinda the Good, is permitted to practice her arts,
which never harm anybody.  The Wizard of Oz, who used to be a humbug and
knew no magic at all, has been taking lessons of Glinda, and I'm told he
is getting to be a pretty good Wizard; but he is merely the assistant of
the great Sorceress.  I've the right to make a servant girl for my wife,
you know, or a Glass Cat to catch our mice--which she refuses to do--but
I am forbidden to work magic for others, or to use it as a profession."
	"Magic must be a very interesting study," said Ojo.
	"It truly is," asserted the Magician.  "In my time I've performed
some magical feats that were worthy of the skill of Glinda the Good. For
instance, there's the Powder of Life, and my Liquid of Petrifaction,
which is contained in that bottle on the shelf yonder--over the window."
	"What does the Liquid of Petrifaction do?" inquired the boy.
	"Turns everything it touches to solid marble.  It's an invention
of my own, and I find it very useful.  Once two of those dreadful
Kalidahs, with bodies like bears and heads like tigers, came here from
the forest to attack us; but I sprinkled some of that Liquid on them, and
instantly they turned to marble.  I now use them as ornamental statuary
in my garden.  This table looks to you like wood, and once it really was
wood; but I sprinkled a few drops of the Liquid of Petrifaction on it and
now it is marble.  It will never break nor wear out."
	"Fine!" said Unc Nunkie, wagging his head and stroking his long
gray beard.
	"Dear me; what a chatterbox you're getting to be, Unc," remarked
the Magician, who was pleased with the compliment.  But just then there
came a scratching at the back door and a shrill voice cried:
	"Let me in!  Hurry up, can't you?  Let me in!"
	Margolotte got up and went to the door.
	"Ask like a good cat, then," she said.
	"Mee-ee-ow-w-w!  There; does that suit your royal highness?"
asked the voice, in scornful accents.
	"Yes; that's proper cat talk," declared the woman, and opened the
	At once a cat entered, came to the center of the room and stopped
short at the sight of strangers.  Ojo and Unc Nunkie both stared at it
with wide open eyes, for surely no such curious creature had ever existed
before--even in the Land of Oz.

4. The Glass Cat

	The cat was made of glass, so clear and transparent that you
could see through it as easily as through a window.  In the top of its
head, however, was a mass of delicate pink balls which looked like
jewels, and it had a heart made of a blood-red ruby.  The eyes were two
large emeralds, but aside from these colors all the rest of the animal
was clear glass, and it had a spun-glass tail that was really beautiful.
	"Well, Doc Pipt, do you mean to introduce us, or not?" demanded
the cat, in a tone of annoyance.  "Seems to me you are forgetting your
	"Excuse me," returned the Magician.  "This is Unc Nunkie, the
descendant of the former kings of the Munchkins, before this country
became a part of the Land of Oz."
	"He needs a hair-cut," observed the cat, washing its face.
	"True," replied Unc, with a low chuckle of amusement.
	"But he has lived alone in the heart of the forest for many
years," the Magician explained; "and although that is a barbarous
country, there are no barbers there."
	"Who is the dwarf?" asked the cat.
	"That is not a dwarf, but a boy," answered the Magician.  "You
have never seen a boy before.  He is now small because he is young.  With
more years he will grow big and become as tall as Unc Nunkie."
	"Oh, is that magic?" the glass animal inquired.
	"Yes; but it is Nature's magic, which is more wonderful than any
art known to man.  For instance, my magic made you, and made you live;
and it was a poor job because you are useless and a bother to me; but I
can't make you grow.  You will always be the same size--and the same
saucy, inconsiderate Glass Cat, with pink brains and a hard ruby heart."
	"No one can regret more than I the fact that you made me,"
asserted the cat, crouching upon the floor and slowly swaying its
spun-glass tail from side to side.  "Your world is a very uninteresting
place. I've wandered through your gardens and in the forest until I'm
tired of it all, and when I come into the house the conversation of your
fat wife and of yourself bores me dreadfully."
	"That is because I gave you different brains from those we
ourselves possess--and much too good for a cat," returned Dr. Pipt.
	"Can't you take 'em out, then, and replace 'em with pebbles, so
that I won't feel above my station in life?" asked the cat, pleadingly.
	"Perhaps so.  I'll try it after I've brought the Patchwork Girl
to life," he said.
	The cat walked up to the bench on which the Patchwork Girl
reclined and looked at her attentively.
	"Are you going to make that dreadful thing live?" she asked.
	The Magician nodded.
	"It is intended to be my wife's servant maid," he said.  "When
she is alive she will do all our work and mind the house.  But you are
not to order her around, Bungle, as you do us.  You must treat the
Patchwork Girl respectfully."
	"I won't.  I couldn't respect such a bundle of scraps under any
	"If you don't, there will be more scraps than you will like,"
cried Margolotte, angrily.
	"Why didn't you make her pretty to look at?" asked the cat.  "You
made me pretty--very pretty, indeed--and I love to watch my pink brains
roll around when they're working, and to see my precious red heart beat."
She went to a long mirror, as she said this, and stood before it, looking
at herself with an air of much pride.  "But that poor patched thing will
hate herself, when she's once alive," continued the cat. "If I were you,
I'd use her for a mop, and make another servant that is prettier."
	"You have a perverted taste," snapped Margolotte, much annoyed at
this frank criticism.  "I think the Patchwork Girl is beautiful,
considering what she's made of.  Even the rainbow hasn't as many colors,
and you must admit that the rainbow is a pretty thing."
	The Glass Cat yawned and stretched herself upon the floor.
	"Have your own way," she said.  "I'm sorry for the Patchwork
Girl, that's all."
	Ojo and Unc Nunkie slept that night in the Magician's house, and
the boy was glad to stay because he was anxious to see the Patchwork Girl
brought to life.  The Glass Cat was also a wonderful creature to little
Ojo, who had never seen or known anything of magic before, although he
had lived in the Fairyland of Oz ever since he was born. Back there in
the woods nothing unusual ever happened.  Unc Nunkie, who might have been
King of the Munchkins, had not his people united with all the other
countries of Oz in acknowledging Ozma as their sole ruler, had retired
into this forgotten forest nook with his baby nephew and they had lived
all alone there.  Only that the neglected garden had failed to grow food
for them, they would always have lived in the solitary Blue Forest; but
now they had started out to mingle with other people, and the first place
they came to proved so interesting that Ojo could scarcely sleep a wink
all night.
	Margolotte was an excellent cook and gave them a fine breakfast.
While they were all engaged in eating, the good woman said:
	"This is the last meal I shall have to cook for some time, for
right after breakfast Dr. Pipt has promised to bring my new servant to
life. I shall let her wash the breakfast dishes and sweep and dust the
house. What a relief it will be!"
	"It will, indeed, relieve you of much drudgery," said the
Magician. "By the way, Margolotte, I thought I saw you getting some
brains from the cupboard, while I was busy with my kettles.  What
qualities have you given your new servant?"
	"Only those that an humble servant requires," she answered. "I do
not wish her to feel above her station, as the Glass Cat does. That would
make her discontented and unhappy, for of course she must always be a
	Ojo was somewhat disturbed as he listened to this, and the boy
began to fear he had done wrong in adding all those different qualities
of brains to the lot Margolotte had prepared for the servant.  But it was
too late now for regret, since all the brains were securely sewn up
inside the Patchwork Girl's head.  He might have confessed what he had
done and thus allowed Margolotte and her husband to change the brains;
but he was afraid of incurring their anger.  He believed that Unc had
seen him add to the brains, and Unc had not said a word against it; but
then, Unc never did say anything unless it was absolutely necessary.
	As soon as breakfast was over they all went into the Magician's
big workshop, where the Glass Cat was lying before the mirror and the
Patchwork Girl lay limp and lifeless upon the bench.
	"Now then," said Dr. Pipt, in a brisk tone, "we shall perform one
of the greatest feats of magic possible to man, even in this marvelous
Land of Oz.  In no other country could it be done at all.  I think we
ought to have a little music while the Patchwork Girl comes to life. It
is pleasant to reflect that the first sounds her golden ears will hear
will be delicious music."
	As he spoke he went to a phonograph, which screwed fast to a
small table, and wound up the spring of the instrument and adjusted the
big gold horn.
	"The music my servant will usually hear," remarked Margolotte,
"will be my orders to do her work.  But I see no harm in allowing her to
listen to this unseen band while she wakens to her first realization of
life.  My orders will beat the band, afterward."
	The phonograph was now playing a stirring march tune and the
Magician unlocked his cabinet and took out the gold bottle containing the
Powder of Life.
	They all bent over the bench on which the Patchwork Girl
reclined. Unc Nunkie and Margolotte stood behind, near the windows, Ojo
at one side and the Magician in front, where he would have freedom to
sprinkle the powder.  The Glass Cat came near, too, curious to watch the
important scene.
	"All ready?" asked Dr. Pipt.
	"All is ready," answered his wife.
	So the Magician leaned over and shook from the bottle some grains
of the wonderful Powder, and they fell directly on the Patchwork Girl's
head and arms.

5. A Terrible Accident

	"It will take a few minutes for this powder to do its work,"
remarked the Magician, sprinkling the body up and down with much care.
	But suddenly the Patchwork Girl threw up one arm, which knocked
the bottle of powder from the crooked man's hand and sent it flying
across the room.  Unc Nunkie and Margolotte were so startled that they
both leaped backward and bumped together, and Unc's head joggled the
shelf above them and upset the bottle containing the Liquid of
	The Magician uttered such a wild cry that Ojo jumped away and the
Patchwork Girl sprang after him and clasped her stuffed arms around him
in terror.  The Glass Cat snarled and hid under the table, and so it was
that when the powerful Liquid of Petrifaction was spilled it fell only
upon the wife of the Magician and the uncle of Ojo.  With these two the
charm worked promptly.  They stood motionless and stiff as marble
statues, in exactly the positions they were in when the Liquid struck them.
	Ojo pushed the Patchwork Girl away and ran to Unc Nunkie, filled
with a terrible fear for the only friend and protector he had ever known.
When he grasped Unc's hand, it was cold and hard.  Even the long gray
beard was solid marble.  The Crooked Magician was dancing around the room
in a frenzy of despair, calling upon his wife to forgive him, to speak to
him, to come to life again!
	The Patchwork Girl, quickly recovering from her fright, now came
nearer and looked from one to another of the people with deep interest.
Then she looked at herself and laughed.  Noticing the mirror, she stood
before it and examined her extraordinary features with amazement--her
button eyes, pearl-bead teeth and puffy nose. Then, addressing her
reflection in the glass, she exclaimed:

	"Whee, but there's a gaudy dame!
	Makes a paint-box blush with shame.
	Razzle-dazzle, fizzle-fazzle!
	Howdy-do, Miss What's-your-name?"

	She bowed, and the reflection bowed.  Then she laughed again,
long and merrily, and the Glass Cat crept out from under the table and
	"I don't blame you for laughing at yourself.  Aren't you horrid?"
	"Horrid?" she replied.  "Why, I'm thoroughly delightful.  I'm an
Original, if you please, and therefore incomparable.  Of all the comic,
absurd, rare and amusing creatures the world contains, I must be the
supreme freak.  Who but poor Margolotte could have managed to invent such
an unreasonable being as I?  But I'm glad--I'm awfully glad!--that I'm
just what I am, and nothing else."
	"Be quiet, will you?" cried the frantic Magician; "be quiet and
let me think!  If I don't think I shall go mad."
	"Think ahead," said the Patchwork Girl, seating herself in a
chair. "Think all you want to.  I don't mind."
	"Gee! but I'm tired playing that tune," called the phonograph,
speaking through its horn in a brazen, scratchy voice.  "If you don't
mind, Pipt, old boy, I'll cut it out and take a rest."
	The Magician looked gloomily at the music-machine.
	"What dreadful luck!" he wailed, despondently.  "The Powder of
Life must have fallen on the phonograph."
	He went up to it and found that the gold bottle that contained
the precious powder had dropped upon the stand and scattered its
live-giving grains over the machine.  The phonograph was very much alive,
and began dancing a jig with the legs of the table to which it was
attached, and this dance so annoyed Dr. Pipt that he kicked the thing
into a corner and pushed a bench against it, to hold it quiet.
	"You were bad enough before," said the Magician, resentfully;
"but a live phonograph is enough to drive every sane person in the Land
of Oz stark crazy."
	"No insults, please," answered the phonograph in a surly tone.
"You did it, my boy; don't blame me."
	"You've bungled everything, Dr. Pipt," added the Glass Cat,
	"Except me," said the Patchwork Girl, jumping up to whirl merrily
around the room.
	"I think," said Ojo, almost ready to cry through grief over Unc
Nunkie's sad fate, "it must all be my fault, in some way.  I'm called Ojo
the Unlucky, you know."
	"That's nonsense, kiddie," retorted the Patchwork Girl
cheerfully. "No one can be unlucky who has the intelligence to direct his
own actions.  The unlucky ones are those who beg for a chance to think,
like poor Dr. Pipt here.  What's the row about, anyway, Mr. Magic-maker?"
	"The Liquid of Petrifaction has accidentally fallen upon my dear
wife and Unc Nunkie and turned them into marble," he sadly replied.
	"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that powder on them and
bring them to life again?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	The Magician gave a jump.
	"I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully cried, and grabbed up the
golden bottle, with which he ran to Margolotte.
	Said the Patchwork Girl:

	"Higgledy, piggledy, dee--
	 What fools magicians be!
	 His head's so thick
	 He can't think quick,
	 So he takes advice from me."

	Standing upon the bench, for he was so crooked he could not reach
the top of his wife's head in any other way, Dr. Pipt began shaking the
bottle.  But not a grain of powder came out.  He pulled off the cover,
glanced within, and then threw the bottle from him with a wail of
	"Gone--gone!  Every bit gone," he cried.  "Wasted on that
miserable phonograph when it might have saved my dear wife!"
	Then the Magician bowed his head on his crooked arms and began to
	Ojo was sorry for him.  He went up to the sorrowful man and said
	"You can make more Powder of Life, Dr. Pipt."
	"Yes; but it will take me six years--six long, weary years of
stirring four kettles with both feet and both hands," was the agonized
reply. "Six years! while poor Margolotte stands watching me as a marble image."
	"Can't anything else be done?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	The Magician shook his head.  Then he seemed to remember
something and looked up.
	"There is one other compound that would destroy the magic spell
of the Liquid of Petrifaction and restore my wife and Unc Nunkie to
life," said he.  "It may be hard to find the things I need to make this
magic compound, but if they were found I could do in an instant what will
otherwise take six long, weary years of stirring kettles with both hands
and both feet."
	"All right; let's find the things, then," suggested the Patchwork
Girl.  "That seems a lot more sensible than those stirring times with the
	"That's the idea, Scraps," said the Glass Cat, approvingly.  "I'm
glad to find you have decent brains.  Mine are exceptionally good.  You
can see 'em work; they're pink."
	"Scraps?" repeated the girl.  "Did you call me 'Scraps'?  Is that
my name?"
	"I--I believe my poor wife had intended to name you 'Angeline,'"
said the Magician.
	"But I like 'Scraps' best," she replied with a laugh.  "It fits me
better, for my patchwork is all scraps, and nothing else.  Thank you for
naming me, Miss Cat.  Have you any name of your own?"
	"I have a foolish name that Margolotte once gave me, but which is
quite undignified for one of my importance," answered the cat.  "She
called me 'Bungle.'"
	"Yes," said the Magician; "you were a sad bungle, taken all in
all.  I was wrong to make you as I did, for a more useless, conceited and
brittle thing never before existed."
	"I'm not so brittle as you think," retorted the cat.  "I've been
alive a good many years, for Dr. Pipt experimented on me with the first
magic Powder of Life he ever made, and so far I've never broken or
cracked or chipped any part of me."
	"You seem to have a chip on your shoulder," laughed the Patchwork
Girl, and the cat went to the mirror to see.
	"Tell me," pleaded Ojo, speaking to the Crooked Magician, "what
must we find to make the compound that will save Unc Nunkie?"
	"First," was the reply, "I must have a six-leaved clover.  That
can only be found in the green country around the Emerald City, and
six-leaved clovers are very scarce, even there."
	"I'll find it for you," promised Ojo.
	"The next thing," continued the Magician, "is the left wing of a
yellow butterfly.  That color can only be found in the yellow country of
the Winkies, West of the Emerald City."
	"I'll find it," declared Ojo.  "Is that all?"
	"Oh, no; I'll get my Book of Recipes and see what comes next."
	Saying this, the Magician unlocked a drawer of his cabinet and
drew out a small book covered with blue leather.  Looking through the
pages he found the recipe he wanted and said: "I must have a gill of
water from a dark well."
	"What kind of a well is that, sir?" asked the boy.
	"One where the light of day never penetrates.  The water must be
put in a gold bottle and brought to me without any light ever reaching it."
	"I'll get the water from the dark well," said Ojo.
	"Then I must have three hairs from the tip of a Woozy's tail, and
a drop of oil from a live man's body."
	Ojo looked grave at this.
	"What is a Woozy, please?" he inquired.
	"Some sort of an animal.  I've never seen one, so I can't
describe it," replied the Magician.
	"If I can find a Woozy, I'll get the hairs from its tail," said
Ojo. "But is there ever any oil in a man's body?"
	The Magician looked in the book again, to make sure.
	"That's what the recipe calls for," he replied, "and of course we
must get everything that is called for, or the charm won't work.  The
book doesn't say 'blood'; it says 'oil,' and there must be oil somewhere
in a live man's body or the book wouldn't ask for it."
	"All right," returned Ojo, trying not to feel discouraged; "I'll
try to find it."
	The Magician looked at the little Munchkin boy in a doubtful way
and said:
	"All this will mean a long journey for you; perhaps several long
journeys; for you must search through several of the different countries
of Oz in order to get the things I need."
	"I know it, sir; but I must do my best to save Unc Nunkie."
	"And also my poor wife Margolotte.  If you save one you will save
the other, for both stand there together and the same compound will
restore them both to life.  Do the best you can, Ojo, and while you are
gone I shall begin the six years' job of making a new batch of the Powder
of Life.  Then, if you should unluckily fail to secure any of the things
needed, I will have lost no time.  But if you succeed, you must return
here as quickly as you can, and that will save me much tiresome stirring
of four kettles with both feet and both hands."
	"I will start on my journey at once, sir," said the boy.
	"And I will go with you," declared the Patchwork Girl.
	"No, no!" exclaimed the Magician.  "You have no right to leave
this house.  You are only a servant and have not been discharged."
	Scraps, who had been dancing up and down the room, stopped and
looked at him.
	"What is a servant?" she asked.
	"One who serves.  A--a sort of slave," he explained.
	"Very well," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'm going to serve you and
your wife by helping Ojo find the things you need.  You need a lot, you
know, such as are not easily found."
	"It is true," sighed Dr. Pipt.  "I am well aware that Ojo has
undertaken a serious task."
	Scraps laughed, and resuming her dance, she said:

	"Here's a job for a boy of brains:
	 A drop of oil from a live man's veins;
	 A six-leaved clover; three nice hairs
	 From a Woozy's tail, the book declares
	 Are needed for the magic spell,
	 And water from a pitch-dark well.
	 The yellow wing of a butterfly
	 To find must Ojo also try,
	 And if he gets them without harm,
	 Doc Pipt will make the magic charm;
	 But if he doesn't get 'em, Unc
	 Will always stand a marble chunk."

	The Magician looked at her thoughtfully.
	"Poor Margolotte must have given you some of the quality of poesy,
by mistake," he said.  "And if that is true, I didn't make a very good
article when I prepared it, or else you got an overdose or an underdose.
However, I believe I shall let you go with Ojo, for my poor wife will not
need your services until she is restored to life. Also I think you may be
able to help the boy, for your head seems to contain some thoughts I did
not expect to find in it.  But be very careful of yourself, for you're a 
souvenir of my dear Margolotte.  Try not to get ripped, or your stuffing
may fall out.  One of your eyes seems loose, and you may have to sew it
on tighter.  If you talk too much, you'll wear out your scarlet plush
tongue, which ought to have been hemmed on the edges.  And remember you
belong to me and must return here as soon as your mission is accomplished."
	"I'm going with Scraps and Ojo," announced the Glass Cat.
	"You can't," said the Magician.
	"Why not?"
	"You'd get broken in no time, and you couldn't be a bit of use to
the boy and the Patchwork Girl."
	"I beg to differ with you," returned the cat, in a haughty tone.
"Three heads are better than two, and my pink brains are beautiful. You
can see 'em work."
	"Well, go along," said the Magician, irritably.  "You're only an
annoyance, anyhow, and I'm glad to get rid of you."
	"Thank you for nothing, then," answered the cat, stiffly.
	Dr. Pipt took a small basket from a cupboard and packed several
things in it.  Then he handed it to Ojo.
	"Here is some food and a bundle of charms," he said.  "It is all
I can give you, but I am sure you will find friends on your journey who
will assist you in your search.  Take care of the Patchwork Girl and
bring her safely back, for she ought to prove useful to my wife.  As for
the Glass Cat--properly named Bungle--if she bothers you I now give you
my permission to break her in two, for she is not respectful and does not
obey me.  I made a mistake in giving her the pink brains, you see."
	Then Ojo went to Unc Nunkie and kissed the old man's marble face
very tenderly.
	"I'm going to try to save you, Unc," he said, just as if the
marble image could hear him; and then he shook the crooked hand of the
Crooked Magician, who was already busy hanging the four kettles in the
fireplace, and picking up his basket left the house.
	The Patchwork Girl followed him, and after them came the Glass Cat.

6. The Journey

	Ojo had never traveled before and so he only knew that the path
down the mountainside led into the open Munchkin Country, where large
numbers of people dwelt.  Scraps was quite new and not supposed to know
anything of the Land of Oz, while the Glass Cat admitted she had never
wandered very far away from the Magician's house.  There was only one
path before them, at the beginning, so they could not miss their way, and
for a time they walked through the thick forest in silent thought, each
one impressed with the importance of the adventure they had undertaken.
	Suddenly the Patchwork Girl laughed.  It was funny to see her
laugh, because her cheeks wrinkled up, her nose tipped, her silver button
eyes wrinkled and her mouth curled at the corners in a comical way.
	"Has something pleased you?" asked Ojo, who was feeling solemn
and joyless through thinking upon his uncle's sad fate.
	"Yes," she answered.  "Your world pleases me, for it's a queer
world, and life in it is queerer still.  Here am I, made from an old
bedquilt and intended to be a slave to Margolotte, rendered free as air
by an accident that none of you could foresee.  I am enjoying life and
seeing the world, while the woman who made me is standing helpless as a
block of wood.  If that isn't funny enough to laugh at, I don't know what is."
	"You're not seeing much of the world yet, my poor, innocent
Scraps," remarked the Cat.  "The world doesn't consist wholly of the
trees that are on all sides of us."
	"But they're part of it; and aren't they pretty trees?" returned
Scraps, bobbing her head until her brown yarn curls fluttered in the
breeze. "Growing between them I can see lovely ferns and wild-flowers,
and soft green mosses.  If the rest of your world is half as beautiful I
shall be glad I'm alive."
	"I don't know what the rest of the world is like, I'm sure," said
the cat; "but I mean to find out."
	"I have never been out of the forest," Ojo added; "but to me the
trees are gloomy and sad and the wild-flowers seem lonesome.  It must be
nicer where there are no trees and there is room for lots of people to
live together."
	"I wonder if any of the people we shall meet will be as splendid
as I am," said the Patchwork Girl.  "All I have seen so far, have pale,
colorless skins and clothes as blue as the country they live in, while I
am of many gorgeous colors--face and body and clothes.  That is why I am
bright and contented, Ojo, while you are blue and sad."
	"I think I made a mistake in giving you so many sorts of brains,"
observed the boy.  "Perhaps, as the Magician said, you have an overdose,
and they may not agree with you."
	"What had you to do with my brains?" asked Scraps.
	"A lot," replied Ojo.  "Old Margolotte meant to give you only a
few--just enough to keep you going--but when she wasn't looking I added a
good many more, of the best kinds I could find in the Magician's cupboard."
	"Thanks," said the girl, dancing along the path ahead of Ojo and
then dancing back to his side.  "If a few brains are good, many brains
must be better."
	"But they ought to be evenly balanced," said the boy, "and I had
no time to be careful.  From the way you're acting, I guess the dose was
badly mixed."
	"Scraps hasn't enough brains to hurt her, so don't worry,"
remarked the cat, which was trotting along in a very dainty and graceful
manner. "The only brains worth considering are mine, which are pink.  You
can see 'em work."
	After walking a long time they came to a little brook that
trickled across the path, and here Ojo sat down to rest and eat something
from his basket.  He found that the Magician had given him part of a loaf
of bread and a slice of cheese.  He broke off some of the bread and was
surprised to find the loaf just as large as it was before.  It was the
same way with the cheese: however much he broke off from the slice, it
remained exactly the same size.
	"Ah," said he, nodding wisely; "that's magic.  Dr. Pipt has
enchanted the bread and the cheese, so it will last me all through my
journey, however much I eat."
	"Why do you put those things into your mouth?" asked Scraps,
gazing at him in astonishment.  "Do you need more stuffing?  Then why
don't you use cotton, such as I am stuffed with?"
	"I don't need that kind," said Ojo.
	"But a mouth is to talk with, isn't it?"
	"It is also to eat with," replied the boy.  "If I didn't put food
into my mouth, and eat it, I would get hungry and starve."
	"Ah, I didn't know that," she said.  "Give me some."
	Ojo handed her a bit of the bread and she put it in her mouth.
	"What next?" she asked, scarcely able to speak.
	"Chew it and swallow it," said the boy.
	Scraps tried that.  Her pearl teeth were unable to chew the bread
and beyond her mouth there was no opening.  Being unable to swallow she
threw away the bread and laughed.
	"I must get hungry and starve, for I can't eat," she said.
	"Neither can I," announced the cat; "but I'm not fool enough to
try. Can't you understand that you and I are superior people and not made
like these poor humans?"
	"Why should I understand that, or anything else?" asked the girl.
"Don't bother my head by asking conundrums, I beg of you.  Just let me
discover myself in my own way."
	With this she began amusing herself by leaping across the brook
and back again.
	"Be careful, or you'll fall in the water," warned Ojo.
	"Never mind."
	"You'd better.  If you get wet you'll be soggy and can't walk.
Your colors might run, too," he said.
	"Don't my colors run whenever I run?" she asked.
	"Not in the way I mean.  If they get wet, the reds and greens and
yellows and purples of your patches might run into each other and become
just a blur--no color at all, you know."
	"Then," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'll be careful, for if I
spoiled my splendid colors I would cease to be beautiful."
	"Pah!" sneered the Glass Cat, "such colors are not beautiful;
they're ugly and in bad taste.  Please notice that my body has no color
at all.  I'm transparent, except for my exquisite red heart and my lovely
pink brains--you can see 'em work."
	"Shoo--shoo--shoo!" cried Scraps, dancing around and laughing.
"And your horrid green eyes, Miss Bungle!  You can't see your eyes, but
we can, and I notice you're very proud of what little color you have.
Shoo, Miss Bungle, shoo--shoo--shoo!  If you were all colors and many
colors, as I am, you'd be too stuck up for anything."  She leaped over
the cat and back again, and the startled Bungle crept close to a tree to
escape her.  This made Scraps laugh more heartily than ever, and she said:

	 The cat has lost her shoe.
	 Her tootsie's bare, but she don't care,
	 So what's the odds to you?"

	"Dear me, Ojo," said the cat; "don't you think the creature is a
little bit crazy?"
	"It may be," he answered, with a puzzled look.
	"If she continues her insults I'll scratch off her
suspender-button eyes," declared the cat.
	"Don't quarrel, please," pleaded the boy, rising to resume the
journey.  "Let us be good comrades and as happy and cheerful as possible,
for we are likely to meet with plenty of trouble on our way."
	It was nearly sundown when they came to the edge of the forest and
saw spread out before them a delightful landscape.  There were broad blue 
fields stretching out for miles over the valley, which was dotted
everywhere with pretty, blue domed houses, none of which, however, was
very near to the place where they stood.  Just at the point where the
path left the forest stood a tiny house covered with leaves from the
trees, and before this stood a Munchkin man with an axe in his hand.  He
seemed very much surprised when Ojo and Scraps and the Glass Cat came out
of the woods, but as the Patchwork Girl approached nearer he sat down
upon a bench and laughed so hard that he could not speak for a long time.
	This man was a woodchopper and lived all alone in the little
house. He had bushy blue whiskers and merry blue eyes and his blue
clothes were quite old and worn.
	"Mercy me!" exclaimed the woodchopper, when at last he could stop
laughing.  "Who would think such a funny harlequin lived in the Land of
Oz?  Where did you come from, Crazy-quilt?"
	"Do you mean me?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"Of course," he replied.
	"You misjudge my ancestry.  I'm not a crazy-quilt; I'm
patchwork," she said.
	"There's no difference," he replied, beginning to laugh again.
"When my old grandmother sews such things together she calls it a
crazy-quilt; but I never thought such a jumble could come to life."
	"It was the Magic Powder that did it," explained Ojo.
	"Oh, then you must have come from the Crooked Magician on the
mountain.  I might have known it, for--Well, I declare! here's a glass
cat.  But the Magician will get in trouble for this; it's against the law
for anyone to work magic except Glinda the Good and the royal Wizard of
Oz.  If you people--or things--or glass spectacles--or crazy-quilts, or
whatever you are, go near the Emerald City, you'll be arrested."
	"We're going there, anyhow," declared Scraps, sitting upon the
bench and swinging her stuffed legs.

	"If any of us takes a rest,
	 We'll be arrested sure,
	 And get no restitution
	'Cause the rest we must endure."

	"I see," said the woodchopper, nodding; "you're as crazy as the
crazy-quilt you're made of."
	"She really IS crazy," remarked the Glass Cat.  "But that isn't to
be wondered at when you remember how many different things she's made of.
For my part, I'm made of pure glass--except my jewel heart and my pretty
pink brains.  Did you notice my brains, stranger?  You can see 'em work."
	"So I can," replied the woodchopper; "but I can't see that they
accomplish much.  A glass cat is a useless sort of thing, but a Patchwork
Girl is really useful.  She makes me laugh, and laughter is the best
thing in life.  There was once a woodchopper, a friend of mine, who was
made all of tin, and I used to laugh every time I saw him."
	"A tin woodchopper?" said Ojo.  "That is strange."
	"My friend wasn't always tin," said the man, "but he was careless
with his axe, and used to chop himself very badly.  Whenever he lost an
arm or a leg, he had it replaced with tin; so after a while he was all tin."
	"And could he chop wood then?" asked the boy.
	"He could if he didn't rust his tin joints.  But one day he met
Dorothy in the forest and went with her to the Emerald City, where he
made his fortune.  He is now one of the favorites of Princess Ozma, and
she has made him the Emperor of the Winkies--the Country where all is
	"Who is Dorothy?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
	"A little maid who used to live in Kansas, but is now a Princess
of Oz.  She's Ozma's best friend, they say, and lives with her in the
royal palace."
	"Is Dorothy made of tin?" inquired Ojo.
	"Is she patchwork, like me?" inquired Scraps.
	"No," said the man; "Dorothy is flesh, just as I am.  I know of
only one tin person, and that is Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman; and there
will never be but one Patchwork Girl, for any magician that sees you will
refuse to make another one like you."
	"I suppose we shall see the Tin Woodman, for we are going to the
Country of the Winkies," said the boy.
	"What for?" asked the woodchopper.
	"To get the left wing of a yellow butterfly."
	"It is a long journey," declared the man, "and you will go
through lonely parts of Oz and cross rivers and traverse dark forests
before you get there."
	"Suits me all right," said Scraps.  "I'll get a chance to see the
	"You're crazy, girl.  Better crawl into a rag-bag and hide there;
or give yourself to some little girl to play with.  Those who travel are
likely to meet trouble; that's why I stay at home."
	The woodcutter then invited them all to stay the night at his
little hut, but they were anxious to get on and so left him and continued
along the path, which was broader, now, and more distinct.
	They expected to reach some other house before it grew dark, but
the twilight was brief and Ojo soon began to fear they had made a mistake
in leaving the woodchopper.
	"I can scarcely see the path," he said at last.  "Can you see it,
	"No," replied the Patchwork Girl, who was holding fast to the
boy's arm so he could guide her.
	"I can see," declared the Glass Cat.  "My eyes are better than
yours, and my pink brains--"
	"Never mind your pink brains, please," said Ojo hastily; "just
run ahead and show us the way.  Wait a minute and I'll tie a string to
you; for then you can lead us."
	He got a string from his pocket and tied it around the cat's
neck, and after that the creature guided them along the path.  They had
proceeded in this way for about an hour when a twinkling blue light
appeared ahead of them.
	"Good! there's a house at last," cried Ojo.  "When we reach it
the good people will surely welcome us and give us a night's lodging."
But however far they walked the light seemed to get no nearer, so by and
by the cat stopped short, saying:
	"I think the light is traveling, too, and we shall never be able
to catch up with it.  But here is a house by the roadside, so why go farther?"
	"Where is the house, Bungle?"
	"Just here beside us, Scraps."
	Ojo was now able to see a small house near the pathway.  It was
dark and silent, but the boy was tired and wanted to rest, so he went up
to the door and knocked.
	"Who is there?" cried a voice from within.
	"I am Ojo the Unlucky, and with me are Miss Scraps Patchwork and
the Glass Cat," he replied.
	"What do you want?" asked the Voice.
	"A place to sleep," said Ojo.
	"Come in, then; but don't make any noise, and you must go
directly to bed," returned the Voice.
	Ojo unlatched the door and entered.  It was very dark inside and
he could see nothing at all.  But the cat exclaimed, "Why, there's no one
	"There must be," said the boy.  "Some one spoke to me."
	"I can see everything in the room," replied the cat, "and no one
is present but ourselves.  But here are three beds, all made up, so we
may as well go to sleep."
	"What is sleep?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
	"It's what you do when you go to bed," said Ojo.
	"But why do you go to bed?" persisted the Patchwork Girl.
	"Here, here!  You are making altogether too much noise," cried
the Voice they had heard before.  "Keep quiet, strangers, and go to bed."
	The cat, which could see in the dark, looked sharply around for
the owner of the Voice, but could discover no one, although the Voice had
seemed close beside them.  She arched her back a little and seemed
afraid.  Then she whispered to Ojo: "Come!" and led him to a bed.
	With his hands the boy felt of the bed and found it was big and
soft, with feather pillows and plenty of blankets.  So he took off his
shoes and hat and crept into the bed.  Then the cat led Scraps to another
bed and the Patchwork Girl was puzzled to know what to do with it.
	"Lie down and keep quiet," whispered the cat, warningly.
	"Can't I sing?" asked Scraps.
	"Can't I whistle?" asked Scraps.
	"Can't I dance till morning, if I want to?" asked Scraps.
	"You must keep quiet," said the cat, in a soft voice.
	"I don't want to," replied the Patchwork Girl, speaking as loudly
as usual.  "What right have you to order me around?  If I want to talk,
or yell, or whistle--"
	Before she could say anything more an unseen hand seized her
firmly and threw out of the door, which closed behind her with a sharp
slam. She found herself bumping and rolling in the road and when she got
up and tried to open the door of the house again she found it locked.
	"What has happened to Scraps?" asked Ojo.
	"Never mind.  Let's go to sleep, or something will happen to us,"
answered the Glass Cat.
	So Ojo snuggled down in his bed and fell asleep, and he was so
tired that he never wakened until broad daylight.

7. The Troublesome Phonograph


	When the boy opened his eyes the next morning he looked carefully
around the room.  These small Munchkin houses seldom had more than one
room in them.  That in which Ojo now found himself had three beds, set
all in a row on one side of it.  The Glass Cat lay asleep on one bed, Ojo
was in the second, and the third was neatly made up and smoothed for the
day.  On the other side of the room was a round table on which breakfast
was already placed, smoking hot.  Only one chair was drawn up to the
table, where  a place was set for one person.  No one seemed to be in the
room except the boy and Bungle.
	Ojo got up and put on his shoes.  Finding a toilet stand at the
head of his bed he washed his face and hands and brushed his hair.  Then
he went to the table and said:
	"I wonder if this is my breakfast."
	"Eat it!" commanded a Voice at his side, so near that Ojo jumped.
But no person could he see.
	He was hungry, and the breakfast looked good; so he sat down and
ate all he wanted.  Then, rising, he took his hat and wakened the Glass Cat.
	"Come on, Bungle," said he; "we must go."
	He cast another glance about the room and, speaking to the air,
he said: "Whoever lives here has been kind to me, and I'm much obliged."
	There was no answer, so he took his basket and went out the door,
the cat following him.  In the middle of the path sat the Patchwork Girl,
playing with pebbles she had picked up.
	"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed cheerfully.  "I thought you
were never coming out.  It has been daylight a long time."
	"What did you do all night?" asked the boy.
	"Sat here and watched the stars and the moon," she replied.
"They're interesting.  I never saw them before, you know."
	"Of course not," said Ojo.
	"You were crazy to act so badly and get thrown outdoors,"
remarked Bungle, as they renewed their journey.
	"That's all right," said Scraps.  "If I hadn't been thrown out I
wouldn't have seen the stars, or the big gray wolf."
	"What wolf?" inquired Ojo.
	"The one that came to the door of the house three times during
the night."
	"I don't see why that should be," said the boy, thoughtfully;
"there was plenty to eat in that house, for I had a fine breakfast, and I
slept in a nice bed."
	"Don't you feel tired?" asked the Patchwork Girl, noticing that
the boy yawned.
	"Why, yes; I'm as tired as I was last night; and yet I slept very
	"And aren't you hungry?"
	"It's strange," replied Ojo.  "I had a good breakfast, and yet I
think I'll now eat some of my crackers and cheese."
	Scraps danced up and down the path.  Then she sang:

	 The wolf is at the door,
	 There's nothing to eat but a bone without meat,
	 And a bill from the grocery store."

	"What does that mean?" asked Ojo.
	"Don't ask me," replied Scraps.  "I say what comes into my head,
but of course I know nothing of a grocery store or bones without meat
or--very much else."
	"No," said the cat; "she's stark, staring, raving crazy, and her
brains can't be pink, for they don't work properly."
	"Bother the brains!" cried Scraps.  "Who cares for 'em, anyhow?
Have you noticed how beautiful my patches are in this sunlight?"
	Just then they heard a sound as of footsteps pattering along the
path behind them and all three turned to see what was coming.  To their
astonishment they beheld a small round table running as fast as its four
spindle legs could carry it, and to the top was screwed fast a phonograph
with a big gold horn.
	"Hold on!" shouted the phonograph.  "Wait for me!"
	"Goodness me; it's that music thing which the Crooked Magician
scattered the Powder of Life over," said Ojo.
	"So it is," returned Bungle, in a grumpy tone of voice; and then,
as the phonograph overtook them, the Glass Cat added sternly: "What are
you doing here, anyhow?"
	"I've run away," said the music thing.  "After you left, old Dr.
Pipt and I had a dreadful quarrel and he threatened to smash me to pieces
if I didn't keep quiet.  Of course I wouldn't do that, because a
talking-machine is supposed to talk and make a noise--and sometimes
music.  So I slipped out of the house while the Magician was stirring his
four kettles and I've been running after you all night.  Now that I've
found such pleasant company, I can talk and play tunes all I want to."
	Ojo was greatly annoyed by this unwelcome addition to their
party.  At first he did not know what to say to the newcomer, but a
little thought decided him not to make friends.
	"We are traveling on important business," he declared, "and
you'll excuse me if I say we can't be bothered."
	"How very impolite!" exclaimed the phonograph.
	"I'm sorry, but it's true," said the boy.  "You'll have to go
somewhere else."
	"This is very unkind treatment, I must say," whined the
phonograph, in an injured tone.  "Everyone seems to hate me, and yet I
was intended to amuse people."
	"It isn't you we hate, especially," observed the Glass Cat; "it's
your dreadful music.  When I lived in the same room with you I was much
annoyed by your squeaky horn.  It growls and grumbles and clicks and
scratches so it spoils the music, and your machinery rumbles so that the
racket drowns every tune you attempt."
	"That isn't my fault; it's the fault of my records.  I must admit
that I haven't a clear record," answered the machine.
	"Just the same, you'll have to go away," said Ojo.
	"Wait a minute," cried Scraps.  "This music thing interests me.
I remember to have heard music when I first came to life, and I would
like to hear it again.  What is your name, my poor abused phonograph?"
	"Victor Columbia Edison," it answered.
	"Well, I shall call you 'Vic' for short," said the Patchwork
Girl. "Go ahead and play something."
	"It'll drive you crazy," warned the cat.
	"I'm crazy now, according to your statement.  Loosen up and reel
out the music, Vic."
	"The only record I have with me," explained the phonograph, "is
the one the Magician attached just before we had our quarrel.  It's a
highly classical composition."
	"A what?" inquired Scraps.
	"It is classical music, and considered the best and most puzzling
ever manufactured.  You're supposed to like it, whether you do or not,
and if you don't, the proper thing is to look as if you did.  Understand?"
	"Not in the least," said Scraps.
	"Then listen!"
	At once the machine began to play and in a few minutes Ojo put
his hands to his ears to shut out the sounds and the cat snarled and
Scraps began to laugh.
	"Cut it out, Vic," she said.  "That's enough."
	But the phonograph continued playing the dreary tune, so Ojo
seized the crank, jerked it free and threw it into the road.  However,
the moment the crank struck the ground it bounded back to the machine
again and began winding it up.  And still the music played.
	"Let's run!" cried Scraps, and they all started and ran down the
path as fast as they could go.  But the phonograph was right behind them
and could run and play at the same time.  It called out reproachfully:
	"What's the matter?  Don't you love classical music?"
	"No, Vic," said Scraps, halting.  "We will passical the classical
and preserve what joy we have left.  I haven't any nerves, thank
goodness, but your music makes my cotton shrink."
	"Then turn over my record.  There's a rag-time tune on the other
side," said the machine.
	"What's rag-time?"
	"The opposite of classical."
	"All right," said Scraps, and turned over the record.
	The phonograph now began to play a jerky jumble of sounds which
proved so bewildering that after a moment Scraps stuffed her patchwork
apron into the gold horn and cried: "Stop--stop!  That's the other
extreme. It's extremely bad!"
	Muffled as it was, the phonograph played on.
	"If you don't shut off that music I'll smash your record,"
threatened Ojo.
	The music stopped at that and the machine turned its horn from
one to another and said with great indignation: "What's the matter now?
Is it possible you can't appreciate rag-time?"
	"Scraps ought to, being rags herself," said the cat; "but I simply
can't stand it; it makes my whiskers curl."
	"It is, indeed, dreadful!" exclaimed Ojo, with a shudder.
	"It's enough to drive a crazy lady mad," murmured the Patchwork
Girl. "I'll tell you what, Vic," she added as she smoothed out her apron
and put it on again, "for some reason or other you've missed your guess.
You're not a concert; you're a nuisance."
	"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast," asserted the
phonograph sadly.
	"Then we're not savages.  I advise you to go home and beg the
Magician's pardon."
	"Never!  He'd smash me."
	"That's what we shall do, if you stay here," Ojo declared.
	"Run along, Vic, and bother some one else," advised Scraps. "Find
some one who is real wicked, and stay with him till he repents. In that
way you can do some good in the world."
	The music thing turned silently away and trotted down a side
path, toward a distant Munchkin village.
	"Is that the way WE go?" asked Bungle anxiously.
	"No," said Ojo; "I think we shall keep straight ahead, for this
path is the widest and best.  When we come to some house we will inquire
the way to the Emerald City."

8. The Foolish Owl and the Wise Donkey

	On they went, and half an hour's steady walking brought them to a
house somewhat better than the two they had already passed.  It stood 
close to the roadside and over the door was a sign that read: "Miss
Foolish Owl and Mr. Wise Donkey: Public Advisers."
	When Ojo read this sign aloud Scraps said laughingly, "Well, here
is a place to get all the advice we want, maybe more than we need. Let's
go in."
	The boy knocked at the door.
	"Come in!" called a deep bass voice.
	So they opened the door and entered the house, where a little
light-brown donkey, dressed in a blue apron and a blue cap, was engaged
in dusting the furniture with a blue cloth.  On a shelf over the window
sat a great blue owl with a blue sunbonnet on her head, blinking her big,
round eyes at the visitors.
	"Good morning," said the donkey, in his deep voice, which seemed
bigger than he was.  "Did you come to us for advice?"
	"Why, we came, anyhow," replied Scraps, "and now we are here, we
may as well have some advice.  It's free, isn't it?"
	"Certainly," said the donkey.  "Advice doesn't cost
anything--unless you follow it.  Permit me to say, by the way, that you
are the queerest lot of travelers that ever came to my shop.  Judging you
merely by appearances, I think you'd better talk to the Foolish Owl yonder."
	They turned to look at the bird, which fluttered its wings and
stared back at them with its big eyes.
	"Hoot-ti-toot-ti-toot!" cried the owl.

	 Riddle-cum, tiddle-cum,

	"That beats your poetry, Scraps," said Ojo.
	"It's just nonsense!" declared the Glass Cat.
	"But it's good advice for the foolish," said the donkey,
admiringly. "Listen to my partner, and you can't go wrong."
	Said the owl in a grumbling voice:

	"Patchwork Girl has come to life;
	 No one's sweetheart, no one's wife;
	 Lacking sense and loving fun,
	 She'll be snubbed by everyone."

	"Quite a compliment!  Quite a compliment, I declare," exclaimed
the donkey, turning to look at Scraps.  "You are certainly a wonder, my
dear, and I fancy you'd make a splendid pincushion.  If you belonged to
me, I'd wear smoked glasses when I looked at you."
	"Why?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"Because you are so gay and gaudy."
	"It is my beauty that dazzles you," she asserted.  "You Munchkin
people all strut around in your stupid blue color, while I--"
	"You are wrong in calling me a Munchkin," interrupted the donkey,
"for I was born in the Land of Mo and came to visit the Land of Oz on the
day it was shut off from all the rest of the world.  So here I am obliged
to stay, and I confess it is a very pleasant country to live in."
	"Hoot-ti-toot!" cried the owl:

	"Ojo's searching for a charm,
	'Cause Unc Nunkie's come to harm.
	 Charms are scarce; they're hard to get;
	 Ojo's got a job, you bet!"

	"Is the owl so very foolish?" asked the boy.
	"Extremely so," replied the donkey.  "Notice what vulgar
expressions she uses.  But I admire the owl for the reason that she IS
positively foolish.  Owls are supposed to be so very wise, generally,
that a foolish one is unusual, and you perhaps know that anything or
anyone unusual is sure to be interesting to the wise."
	The owl flapped its wings again, muttering these words:

	"It's hard to be a glassy cat--
	 No cat can be more hard than that;
	 She's so transparent, every act
	Is clear to us, and that's a fact."

	"Have you noticed my pink brains?" inquired Bungle, proudly. "You
can see 'em work."
	"Not in the daytime," said the donkey.  "She can't see very well
by day, poor thing.  But her advice is excellent.  I advise you all to
follow it."
	"The owl hasn't given us any advice, as yet," the boy declared.
	"No?  Then what do you call all those sweet poems?"
	"Just foolishness," replied Ojo.  "Scraps does the same thing."
	"Foolishness!  Of course!  To be sure!  The Foolish Owl must be
foolish or she wouldn't be the Foolish Owl.  You are very complimentary
to my partner, indeed," asserted the donkey, rubbing his front hoofs
together as if highly pleased.
	"The sign says that YOU are wise," remarked Scraps to the donkey.
"I wish you would prove it."
	"With great pleasure," returned the beast.  "Put me to the test,
my dear Patches, and I'll prove my wisdom in the wink of an eye."
	"What is the best way to get to the Emerald City?" asked Ojo.
	"Walk," said the donkey.
	"I know; but what road shall I take?" was the boy's next question.
	"The road of yellow bricks, of course.  It leads directly to the
Emerald City."
	"And how shall we find the road of yellow bricks?"
	"By keeping along the path you have been following.  You'll come
to the yellow bricks pretty soon, and you'll know them when you see them
because they're the only yellow things in the blue country."
	"Thank you," said the boy.  "At last you have told me something."
	"Is that the extent of your wisdom?" asked Scraps.
	"No," replied the donkey; "I know many other things, but they
wouldn't interest you.  So I'll give you a last word of advice: move on,
for the sooner you do that the sooner you'll get to the Emerald City of Oz."
	"Hoot-ti-toot-ti-toot-ti-too!" screeched the owl;

	"Off you go! fast or slow
	 Where you're going you don't know.
	 Patches, Bungle, Munchkin lad,
	 Facing fortunes good and bad,
	 Meeting dangers grave and sad,
	 Sometimes worried, sometimes glad--
	 Where you're going you don't know,
	 Nor do I, but off you go!"

	"Sounds like a hint, to me," said the Patchwork Girl.
	"Then let's take it and go," replied Ojo.
	They said good-bye to the Wise Donkey and the Foolish Owl and at
once resumed their journey.

9. They Meet the Woozy


	"There seem to be very few houses around here, after all,"
remarked Ojo, after they had walked for a time in silence.
	"Never mind," said Scraps; "we are not looking for houses, but
rather the road of yellow bricks.  Won't it be funny to run across
something yellow in this dismal blue country?"
	"There are worse colors than yellow in this country," asserted the
Glass Cat, in a spiteful tone.
	"Oh; do you mean the pink pebbles you call your brains, and your
red heart and green eyes?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"No; I mean you, if you must know it," growled the cat.
	"You're jealous!" laughed Scraps.  "You'd give your whiskers for a
lovely variegated complexion like mine."
	"I wouldn't!" retorted the cat.  "I've the clearest complexion in
the world, and I don't employ a beauty-doctor, either."
	"I see you don't," said Scraps.
	"Please don't quarrel," begged Ojo.  "This is an important
journey, and quarreling makes me discouraged.  To be brave, one must be
cheerful, so I hope you will be as good-tempered as possible."
	They had traveled some distance when suddenly they faced a high
fence which barred any further progress straight ahead.  It ran directly
across the road and enclosed a small forest of tall trees, set close
together.  When the group of adventurers peered through the bars of the
fence, they thought this forest looked more gloomy and forbidding than
any they had ever seen before.
	They soon discovered that the path they had been following now
made a bend and passed around the enclosure, but what made Ojo stop and
look thoughtful was a sign painted on the fence which read:

	"That means," he said, "that there's a Woozy inside that fence,
and the Woozy must be a dangerous animal or they wouldn't tell people to
beware of it."
	"Let's keep out, then," replied Scraps.  "That path is outside the
fence, and Mr. Woozy may have all his little forest to himself, for all
we care."
	"But one of our errands is to find a Woozy," Ojo explained.  "The
Magician wants me to get three hairs from the end of a Woozy's tail."
	"Let's go on and find some other Woozy," suggested the cat.  "This
one is ugly and dangerous, or they wouldn't cage him up.  Maybe we shall
find another that is tame and gentle."
	"Perhaps there isn't any other, at all," answered Ojo.  "The sign
doesn't say: 'Beware A Woozy', it says: 'Beware THE Woozy,' which may
mean there's only one in all the Land of Oz."
	"Then," said Scraps, "suppose we go in and find him?  Very likely
if we ask him politely to let us pull three hairs out of the tip of his
tail he won't hurt us."
	"It would hurt HIM, I'm sure, and that would make him cross," said
the cat.
	"You needn't worry, Bungle," remarked the Patchwork Girl; "for if
there is danger you can climb a tree.  Ojo and I are not afraid; are we,
	"I am, a little," the boy admitted; "but this danger must be
faced, if we intend to save poor Unc Nunkie.  How shall we get over the
	"Climb," answered Scraps, and at once she began climbing up the
rows of bars.  Ojo followed and found it more easy than he had expected.
When they got to the top of the fence they began to get down on the other
side and soon were in the forest.  The Glass Cat, being small, crept
between the lower bars and joined them.
	Here there was no path of any sort, so they entered the woods,
the boy leading the way, and wandered through the trees until they were
nearly in the center of the forest.  They now came upon a clear space in
which stood a rocky cave.
	So far they had met no living creature, but when Ojo saw the cave
he knew it must be the den of the Woozy.
	It is hard to face any savage beast without a sinking of the
heart, but still more terrifying is it to face an unknown beast, which
you have never seen even a picture of.  So there is little wonder that
the pulses of the Munchkin boy beat fast as he and his companions stood
facing the cave.  The opening was perfectly square, and about big enough
to admit a goat.
	"I guess the Woozy is asleep," said Scraps.  "Shall I throw in a
stone, to waken him?"
	"No; please don't," answered Ojo, his voice trembling a little.
"I'm in no hurry."
	But he had not long to wait, for the Woozy heard the sound of
voices and came trotting out of his cave.  As this is the only Woozy that
has ever lived, either in the Land of Oz or out of it, I must describe it
to you.
	The creature was all squares and flat surfaces and edges.  Its
head was an exact square, like one of the building-blocks a child plays
with; therefore it had no ears, but heard sounds through two openings in
the upper corners.  Its nose, being in the center of a square surface,
was flat, while the mouth was formed by the opening of the lower edge of
the block.  The body of the Woozy was much larger than its head, but was
likewise block-shaped--being twice as long as it was wide and high.  The
tail was square and stubby and perfectly straight, and the four legs were
made in the same way, each being four-sided. The animal was covered with
a thick, smooth skin and had no hair at all except at the extreme end of
its tail, where there grew exactly three stiff, stubby hairs.  The beast
was dark blue in color and his face was not fierce or ferocious in
expression, but rather good-humored and droll.
	Seeing the strangers, the Woozy folded his hind legs as if they
had been hinged and sat down to look his visitors over.
	"Well, well," he exclaimed; "what a queer lot you are!  At first
I thought some of those miserable Munchkin farmers had come to annoy me,
but I am relieved to find you in their stead.  It is plain to me that you
are a remarkable group--as remarkable in your way as I am in mine--and so
you are welcome to my domain.  Nice place, isn't it?  But
lonesome--dreadfully lonesome."
	"Why did they shut you up in here?" asked Scraps, who was
regarding the queer, square creature with much curiosity.
	"Because I eat up all the honey-bees which the Munchkin farmers
who live around here keep to make them honey."
	"Are you fond of eating honey-bees?" inquired the boy.
	"Very.  They are really delicious.  But the farmers did not like
to lose their bees and so they tried to destroy me.  Of course they
couldn't do that."
	"Why not?"
	"My skin is so thick and tough that nothing can get through it to
hurt me.  So, finding they could not destroy me, they drove me into this
forest and built a fence around me.  Unkind, wasn't it?"
	"But what do you eat now?" asked Ojo.
	"Nothing at all.  I've tried the leaves from the trees and the
mosses and creeping vines, but they don't seem to suit my taste.  So,
there being no honey-bees here, I've eaten nothing for years."
	"You must be awfully hungry," said the boy.  "I've got some bread
and cheese in my basket.  Would you like that kind of food?"
	"Give me a nibble and I will try it; then I can tell you better
whether it is grateful to my appetite," returned the Woozy.
	So the boy opened his basket and broke a piece off the loaf of
bread. He tossed it toward the Woozy, who cleverly caught it in his mouth
and ate it in a twinkling.
	"That's rather good," declared the animal.  "Any more?"
	"Try some cheese," said Ojo, and threw down a piece.
	The Woozy ate that, too, and smacked its long, thin lips.
	"That's mighty good!" it exclaimed.  "Any more?"
	"Plenty," replied Ojo.  So he sat down on a stump and fed the
Woozy bread and cheese for a long time; for, no matter how much the boy
broke off, the loaf and the slice remained just as big.
	"That'll do," said the Woozy, at last; "I'm quite full.  I hope
the strange food won't give me indigestion."
	"I hope not," said Ojo.  "It's what I eat."
	"Well, I must say I'm much obliged, and I'm glad you came,"
announced the beast.  "Is there anything I can do in return for your
	"Yes," said Ojo earnestly, "you have it in your power to do me a
great favor, if you will."
	"What is it?" asked the Woozy.  "Name the favor and I will grant it."
	"I--I want three hairs from the tip of your tail," said Ojo, with
some hesitation.
	"Three hairs!  Why, that's all I have--on my tail or anywhere
else," exclaimed the beast.
	"I know; but I want them very much."
	"They are my sole ornaments, my prettiest feature," said the
Woozy, uneasily.  "If I give up those three hairs I--I'm just a blockhead."
	"Yet I must have them," insisted the boy, firmly, and he then
told the Woozy all about the accident to Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, and
how the three hairs were to be a part of the magic charm that would
restore them to life.  The beast listened with attention and when Ojo had
finished the recital it said, with a sigh:
	"I always keep my word, for I pride myself on being square.  So
you may have the three hairs, and welcome.  I think, under such
circumstances, it would be selfish in me to refuse you."
	"Thank you!  Thank you very much," cried the boy, joyfully.  "May
I pull out the hairs now?"
	"Any time you like," answered the Woozy.
	So Ojo went up to the queer creature and taking hold of one of
the hairs began to pull.  He pulled harder.  He pulled with all his
might; but the hair remained fast.
	"What's the trouble?" asked the Woozy, which Ojo had dragged here
and there all around the clearing in his endeavor to pull out the hair.
	"It won't come," said the boy, panting.
	"I was afraid of that," declared the beast.  "You'll have to pull
	"I'll help you," exclaimed Scraps, coming to the boy's side. "You
pull the hair, and I'll pull you, and together we ought to get it out easily."
	"Wait a jiffy," called the Woozy, and then it went to a tree and
hugged it with its front paws, so that its body couldn't be dragged
around by the pull.  "All ready now.  Go ahead!"
	Ojo grasped the hair with both hands and pulled with all his
strength, while Scraps seized the boy around his waist and added her
strength to his.  But the hair wouldn't budge.  Instead, it slipped out
of Ojo's hands and he and Scraps both rolled upon the ground in a heap and
never stopped until they bumped against the rocky cave.
	"Give it up," advised the Glass Cat, as the boy arose and
assisted the Patchwork Girl to her feet.  "A dozen strong men couldn't
pull out those hairs.  I believe they're clinched on the under side of
the Woozy's thick skin."
	"Then what shall I do?" asked the boy, despairingly.  "If on our
return I fail to take these three hairs to the Crooked Magician, the
other things I have come to seek will be of no use at all, and we cannot
restore Unc Nunkie and Margolotte to life."
	"They're goners, I guess," said the Patchwork Girl.
	"Never mind," added the cat.  "I can't see that old Unc and
Margolotte are worth all this trouble, anyhow."
	But Ojo did not feel that way.  He was so disheartened that he
sat down upon a stump and began to cry.
	The Woozy looked at the boy thoughtfully.
	"Why don't you take me with you?" asked the beast.  "Then, when
at last you get to the Magician's house, he can surely find some way to
pull out those three hairs."
	Ojo was overjoyed at this suggestion.
	"That's it!" he cried, wiping away the tears and springing to his
feet with a smile.  "If I take the three hairs to the Magician, it won't
matter if they are still in your body."
	"It can't matter in the least," agreed the Woozy.
	"Come on, then," said the boy, picking up his basket; "let us
start at once.  I have several other things to find, you know."
	But the Glass Cat gave a little laugh and inquired in her scornful way:
"How do you intend to get the beast out of this forest?"
	That puzzled them all for a time.
	"Let us go to the fence, and then we may find a way," suggested
Scraps.  So they walked through the forest to the fence, reaching it at a
point exactly opposite that where they had entered the enclosure.
	"How did you get in?" asked the Woozy.
	"We climbed over," answered Ojo.
	"I can't do that," said the beast.  "I'm a very swift runner, for
I can overtake a honey-bee as it flies; and I can jump very high, which
is the reason they made such a tall fence to keep me in.  But I can't
climb at all, and I'm too big to squeeze between the bars of the fence."
	Ojo tried to think what to do.
	"Can you dig?" he asked.
	"No," answered the Woozy, "for I have no claws.  My feet are
quite flat on the bottom of them.  Nor can I gnaw away the boards, as I
have no teeth."
	"You're not such a terrible creature, after all," remarked Scraps.
	"You haven't heard me growl, or you wouldn't say that," declared
the Woozy.  "When I growl, the sound echoes like thunder all through the
valleys and woodlands, and children tremble with fear, and women cover
their heads with their aprons, and big men run and hide.  I suppose there
is nothing in the world so terrible to listen to as the growl of a Woozy."
	"Please don't growl, then," begged Ojo, earnestly.
	"There is no danger of my growling, for I am not angry.  Only
when angry do I utter my fearful, ear-splitting, soul-shuddering growl.
Also, when I am angry, my eyes flash fire, whether I growl or not."
	"Real fire?" asked Ojo.
	"Of course, real fire.  Do you suppose they'd flash imitation
fire?" inquired the Woozy, in an injured tone.
	"In that case, I've solved the riddle," cried Scraps, dancing
with glee.  "Those fence boards are made of wood, and if the Woozy stands
close to the fence and lets his eyes flash fire, they might set fire to
the fence and burn it up.  Then he could walk away with us easily, being
	"Ah, I have never thought of that plan, or I would have been free
long ago," said the Woozy.  "But I cannot flash fire from my eyes unless
I am very angry."
	"Can't you get angry 'bout something, please?" asked Ojo.
	"I'll try.  You just say 'Krizzle-Kroo' to me."
	"Will that make you angry?" inquired the boy.
	"Terribly angry."
	"What does it mean?" asked Scraps.
	"I don't know; that's what makes me so angry," replied the Woozy.
	He then stood close to the fence, with his head near one of the
boards, and Scraps called out "Krizzle-Kroo!"  Then Ojo said
"Krizzle-Kroo!" and the Glass Cat said "Krizzle-Kroo!"  The Woozy began
to tremble with anger and small sparks darted from his eyes.  Seeing
this, they all cried "Krizzle-Kroo!" together, and that made the beast's
eyes flash fire so fiercely that the fence-board caught the sparks and
began to smoke.  Then it burst into flame, and the Woozy stepped back and
said triumphantly:
	"Aha!  That did the business, all right.  It was a happy thought
for you to yell all together, for that made me as angry as I have ever
been. Fine sparks, weren't they?"
	"Reg'lar fireworks," replied Scraps admiringly.
	In a few moments the board had burned to a distance of several
feet, leaving an opening big enough for them all to pass through. Ojo
broke some branches from a tree and with them whipped the fire until it
was extinguished.
	"We don't want to burn the whole fence down," said he, "for the
flames would attract the attention of the Munchkin farmers, who would
then come and capture the Woozy again.  I guess they'll be rather
surprised when they find he's escaped."
	"So they will," declared the Woozy, chuckling gleefully.  "When
they find I'm gone the farmers will be badly scared, for they'll expect
me to eat up their honey-bees, as I did before."
	"That reminds me," said the boy, "that you must promise not to
eat honey-bees while you are in our company."
	"None at all?"
	"Not a bee.  You would get us all into trouble, and we can't
afford to have any more trouble than is necessary.  I'll feed you all the
bread and cheese you want, and that must satisfy you."
	"All right; I'll promise," said the Woozy, cheerfully.  "And when
I promise anything you can depend on it, 'cause I'm square."
	"I don't see what difference that makes," observed the Patchwork
Girl, as they found the path and continued their journey.  "The shape
doesn't make a thing honest, does it?"
	"Of course it does," returned the Woozy, very decidedly.  "No one
could trust that Crooked Magician, for instance, just because he IS
crooked; but a square Woozy couldn't do anything crooked if he wanted to."
	"I am neither square nor crooked," said Scraps, looking down at
her plump body.
	"No; you're round, so you're liable to do anything," asserted the
Woozy.  "Do not blame me, Miss Gorgeous, if I regard you with suspicion.
Many a satin ribbon has a cotton back."
	Scraps didn't understand this, but she had an uneasy misgiving
that she had a cotton back herself.  It would settle down, at times, and
make her squat and dumpy, and then she had to roll herself in the road
until her body stretched out again.

10. Shaggy Man to the Rescue

	They had not gone very far before Bungle, who had run on ahead,
came bounding back to say that the road of yellow bricks was just before
them.  At once they hurried forward to see what this famous road looked
	It was a broad road, but not straight, for it wandered over hill
and dale and picked out the easiest places to go.  All its length and
breadth was paved with smooth bricks of a bright yellow color, so it was
smooth and level except in a few places where the bricks had crumbled or
been removed, leaving holes that might cause the unwary to stumble.
	"I wonder," said Ojo, looking up and down the road, "which way to
	"Where are you bound for?" asked the Woozy.
	"The Emerald City," he replied.
	"Then go west," said the Woozy.  "I know this road pretty well,
for I've chased many a honey-bee over it."
	"Have you ever been to the Emerald City?" asked Scraps.
	"No.  I am very shy by nature, as you may have noticed, so I
haven't mingled much in society."
	"Are you afraid of men?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
	"Me?  With my heart-rending growl--my horrible, shudderful growl?
I should say not.  I am not afraid of anything," declared the Woozy.
	"I wish I could say the same," sighed Ojo.  "I don't think we
need be afraid when we get to the Emerald City, for Unc Nunkie has told
me that Ozma, our girl Ruler, is very lovely and kind, and tries to help
everyone who is in trouble.  But they say there are many dangers lurking
on the road to the great Fairy City, and so we must be very careful."
	"I hope nothing will break me," said the Glass Cat, in a nervous
voice. "I'm a little brittle, you know, and can't stand many hard
	"If anything should fade the colors of my lovely patches it would
break my heart," said the Patchwork Girl.
	"I'm not sure you have a heart," Ojo reminded her.
	"Then it would break my cotton," persisted Scraps.  "Do you think
they are all fast colors, Ojo?" she asked anxiously.
	"They seem fast enough when you run," he replied; and then,
looking ahead of them, he exclaimed: "Oh, what lovely trees!"
	They were certainly pretty to look upon, and the travelers
hurried forward to observe them more closely.
	"Why, they're not trees at all," said Scraps; "they are just
monstrous plants."
	That is what they really were: masses of great broad leaves which
rose from the ground far into the air, until they towered twice as high
as the top of the Patchwork Girl's head, who was a little taller than
Ojo.  The plants formed rows on both sides of the road and from each
plant rose a dozen or more of the big, broad leaves, which swayed
continually from side to side, although no wind was blowing.  But the
most curious thing about the swaying leaves was their color.  They seemed
to have a general groundwork of blue, but here and there other colors
glinted at times through the blue--gorgeous yellows, turning to pink,
purple, orange and scarlet, mingled with more sober browns and
grays--each appearing as a blotch or stripe anywhere on a leaf and then
disappearing, to be replaced by some other color of a different shape.
	The changeful coloring of the leaves was very beautiful, but it
was bewildering, as well, and the novelty of the scene drew our travelers
close to the line of plants, where they stood watching them with rapt
	Suddenly a leaf bent lower than usual and touched the Patchwork
Girl. Swiftly it enveloped her in its embrace, covering her completely in
its thick folds, and then it swayed back upon its stem.
	"Why, she's gone!" gasped Ojo, in amazement, and listening
carefully he thought he could hear the muffled screams of Scraps coming
from the center of the folded leaf.  But, before he could think what he
ought to do to save her, another leaf bent down and captured the Glass
Cat, rolling around the little creature until she was completely hidden,
and then straightening up again upon its stem.
	"Look out," cried the Woozy.  "Run!  Run fast, or you are lost."
	Ojo turned and saw the Woozy running swiftly up the road.  But
the last leaf of the row of plants seized the beast even as he ran and
instantly he disappeared from sight.
	The boy had no chance to escape.  Half a dozen of the great
leaves were bending toward him from different directions and as he stood
hesitating one of them clutched him in its embrace.  In a flash he was in
the dark.  Then he felt himself gently lifted until he was swaying in the
air, with the folds of the leaf hugging him on all sides.
	At first he struggled hard to escape, crying out in anger: "Let
me go! Let me go!"  But neither struggles nor protests had any effect
whatever.  The leaf held him firmly and he was a prisoner.
	Then Ojo quieted himself and tried to think.  Despair fell upon
him when he remembered that all his little party had been captured, even
as he was, and there was none to save them.
	"I might have expected it," he sobbed, miserably.  "I'm Ojo the
Unlucky, and something dreadful was sure to happen to me."
	He pushed against the leaf that held him and found it to be soft,
but thick and firm.  It was like a great bandage all around him and he
found it difficult to move his body or limbs in order to change their
	The minutes passed and became hours.  Ojo wondered how long one
could live in such a condition and if the leaf would gradually sap his
strength and even his life, in order to feed itself.  The little Munchkin
boy had never heard of any person dying in the Land of Oz, but he knew
one could suffer a great deal of pain.  His greatest fear at this time
was that he would always remain imprisoned in the beautiful leaf and
never see the light of day again.
	No sound came to him through the leaf; all around was intense
silence. Ojo wondered if Scraps had stopped screaming, or if the folds of
the leaf prevented his hearing her.  By and by he thought he heard a
whistle, as of some one whistling a tune.  Yes; it really must be some
one whistling, he decided, for he could follow the strains of a pretty
Munchkin melody that Unc Nunkie used to sing to him.  The sounds were low
and sweet and, although they reached Ojo's ears very faintly, they were
clear and harmonious.
	Could the leaf whistle, Ojo wondered?  Nearer and nearer came the
sounds and then they seemed to be just the other side of the leaf that
was hugging him.
	Suddenly, the whole leaf toppled and fell, carrying the boy with
it, and while he sprawled at full length the folds slowly relaxed and set
him free.  He scrambled quickly to his feet and found that a strange man
was standing before him--a man so curious in appearance that the boy
stared with round eyes.
	He was a big man, with shaggy whiskers, shaggy eyebrows, shaggy
hair--but kindly blue eyes that were gentle as those of a cow.  On his
head was a green velvet hat with a jeweled band, which was all shaggy
around the brim.  Rich but shaggy laces were at his throat; a coat with
shaggy edges was decorated with diamond buttons; the velvet breeches had
jeweled buckles at the knees and shags all around the bottoms.  On his
breast hung a medallion bearing a picture of Princess Dorothy of Oz, and
in his hand, as he stood looking at Ojo, was a sharp knife shaped like a
	"Oh!" exclaimed Ojo, greatly astonished at the sight of this
stranger; and then he added: "Who has saved me, sir?"
	"Can't you see?" replied the other, with a smile; "I'm the Shaggy
	"Yes; I can see that," said the boy, nodding.  "Was it you who
rescued me from the leaf?"
	"None other, you may be sure.  But take care, or I shall have to
rescue you again."
	Ojo gave a jump, for he saw several broad leaves leaning toward
him; but the Shaggy Man began to whistle again, and at the sound the
leaves all straightened up on their stems and kept still.
	The man now took Ojo's arm and led him up the road, past the last
of the great plants, and not till he was safely beyond their reach did he
cease his whistling.
	"You see, the music charms 'em," said he.  "Singing or
whistling--it doesn't matter which--makes 'em behave, and nothing else
will. I always whistle as I go by 'em and so they always let me alone.
To-day as I went by, whistling, I saw a leaf curled and knew there must
be something inside it.  I cut down the leaf with my knife and--out you
popped.  Lucky I passed by, wasn't it?"
	"You were very kind," said Ojo, "and I thank you.  Will you
please rescue my companions, also?"
	"What companions?" asked the Shaggy Man.
	"The leaves grabbed them all," said the boy.  "There's a
Patchwork Girl and--"
	"A what?"
	"A girl made of patchwork, you know.  She's alive and her name is
Scraps.  And there's a Glass Cat--"
	"Glass?" asked the Shaggy Man.
	"All glass."
	"And alive?"
	"Yes," said Ojo; "she has pink brains.  And there's a Woozy--"
	"What's a Woozy?" inquired the Shaggy Man.
	"Why, I--I--can't describe it," answered the boy, greatly
perplexed. "But it's a queer animal with three hairs on the tip of its
tail that won't come out and--"
	"What won't come out?" asked the Shaggy Man; "the tail?"
	"The hairs won't come out.  But you'll see the Woozy, if you'll
please rescue it, and then you'll know just what it is."
	"Of course," said the Shaggy Man, nodding his shaggy head.  And
then he walked back among the plants, still whistling, and found the
three leaves which were curled around Ojo's traveling companions.  The
first leaf he cut down released Scraps, and on seeing her the Shaggy Man
threw back his shaggy head, opened wide his mouth and laughed so shaggily
and yet so merrily that Scraps liked him at once.  Then he took off his
hat and made her a low bow, saying:
	"My dear, you're a wonder.  I must introduce you to my friend the
	When he cut down the second leaf he rescued the Glass Cat, and
Bungle was so frightened that she scampered away like a streak and soon
had joined Ojo, when she sat down beside him panting and trembling.  The
last plant of all the row had captured the Woozy, and a big bunch in the
center of the curled leaf showed plainly where he was.  With his sharp
knife the Shaggy Man sliced off the stem of the leaf and as it fell and
unfolded out trotted the Woozy and escaped beyond the reach of any more
of the dangerous plants.

11. A Good Friend

	Soon the entire party was gathered on the road of yellow bricks,
quite beyond the reach of the beautiful but treacherous plants.  The
Shaggy Man, staring first at one and then at the other, seemed greatly
pleased and interested.
	"I've seen queer things since I came to the Land of Oz," said he,
"but never anything queerer than this band of adventurers.  Let us sit
down a while, and have a talk and get acquainted."
	"Haven't you always lived in the Land of Oz?" asked the Munchkin
	"No; I used to live in the big, outside world.  But I came here
once with Dorothy, and Ozma let me stay."
	"How do you like Oz?" asked Scraps.  "Isn't the country and the
climate grand?"
	"It's the finest country in all the world, even if it is a
fairyland, and I'm happy every minute I live in it," said the Shaggy Man.
"But tell me something about yourselves."
	So Ojo related the story of his visit to the house of the Crooked
Magician, and how he met there the Glass Cat, and how the Patchwork Girl
was brought to life and of the terrible accident to Unc Nunkie and
Margolotte.  Then he told how he had set out to find the five different
things which the Magician needed to make a charm that would restore the
marble figures to life, one requirement being three hairs from a Woozy's
	"We found the Woozy," explained the boy, "and he agreed to give
us the three hairs; but we couldn't pull them out.  So we had to bring
the Woozy along with us."
	"I see," returned the Shaggy Man, who had listened with interest
to the story.  "But perhaps I, who am big and strong, can pull those
three hairs from the Woozy's tail."
	"Try it, if you like," said the Woozy.
	So the Shaggy Man tried it, but pull as hard as he could he
failed to get the hairs out of the Woozy's tail.  So he sat down again
and wiped his shaggy face with a shaggy silk handkerchief and said: "It
doesn't matter.  If you can keep the Woozy until you get the rest of the
things you need, you can take the beast and his three hairs to the
Crooked Magician and let him find a way to extract 'em.  What are the
other things you are to find?"
	"One," said Ojo, "is a six-leaved clover."
	"You ought to find that in the fields around the Emerald City,"
said the Shaggy Man.  "There is a Law against picking six-leaved clovers,
but I think I can get Ozma to let you have one."
	"Thank you," replied Ojo.  "The next thing is the left wing of a
yellow butterfly."
	"For that you must go to the Winkie Country," the Shaggy Man
declared. "I've never noticed any butterflies there, but that is the
yellow country of Oz and it's ruled by a good friend of mine, the Tin
	"Oh, I've heard of him!" exclaimed Ojo.  "He must be a wonderful man."
	"So he is, and his heart is wonderfully kind.  I'm sure the Tin
Woodman will do all in his power to help you to save your Unc Nunkie and
poor Margolotte."
	"The next thing I must find," said the Munchkin boy, "is a gill
of water from a dark well."
	"Indeed!  Well, that is more difficult," said the Shaggy Man,
scratching his left ear in a puzzled way.  "I've never heard of a dark
well; have you?"
	"No," said Ojo.
	"Do you know where one may be found?" inquired the Shaggy Man.
	"I can't imagine," said Ojo.
	"Then we must ask the Scarecrow."
	"The Scarecrow!  But surely, sir, a scarecrow can't know anything."
	"Most scarecrows don't, I admit," answered the Shaggy Man.  "But
this Scarecrow of whom I speak is very intelligent.  He claims to possess
the best brains in all Oz."
	"Better than mine?" asked Scraps.
	"Better than mine?" echoed the Glass Cat.  "Mine are pink, and
you can see 'em work."
	"Well, you can't see the Scarecrow's brains work, but they do a
lot of clever thinking," asserted the Shaggy Man.  "If anyone knows where
a dark well is, it's my friend the Scarecrow."
	"Where does he live?" inquired Ojo.
	"He has a splendid castle in the Winkie Country, near to the
palace of his friend the Tin Woodman, and he is often to be found in the
Emerald City, where he visits Dorothy at the royal palace."
	"Then we will ask him about the dark well," said Ojo.
	"But what else does this Crooked Magician want?" asked the Shaggy Man.
	"A drop of oil from a live man's body."
	"Oh; but there isn't such a thing."
	"That is what I thought," replied Ojo; "but the Crooked Magician
said it wouldn't be called for by the recipe if it couldn't be found, and
therefore I must search until I find it."
	"I wish you good luck," said the Shaggy Man, shaking his head
doubtfully; "but I imagine you'll have a hard job getting a drop of oil
from a live man's body.  There's blood in a body, but no oil."
	"There's cotton in mine," said Scraps, dancing a little jig.
	"I don't doubt it," returned the Shaggy Man admiringly.  "You're
a regular comforter and as sweet as patchwork can be.  All you lack is
	"I hate dignity," cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air
and then trying to catch it as it fell.  "Half the fools and all the wise
folks are dignified, and I'm neither the one nor the other."
	"She's just crazy," explained the Glass Cat.
	The Shaggy Man laughed.
	"She's delightful, in her way," he said.  "I'm sure Dorothy will
be pleased with her, and the Scarecrow will dote on her.  Did you say you
were traveling toward the Emerald City?"
	"Yes," replied Ojo.  "I thought that the best place to go, at
first, because the six-leaved clover may be found there."
	"I'll go with you," said the Shaggy Man, "and show you the way."
	"Thank you," eclaimed Ojo.  "I hope it won't put you out any."
	"No," said the other, "I wasn't going anywhere in particular.
I've been a rover all my life, and although Ozma has given me a suite of
beautiful rooms in her palace I still get the wandering fever once in a
while and start out to roam the country over.  I've been away from the
Emerald City several weeks, this time, and now that I've met you and your
friends I'm sure it will interest me to accompany you to the great city
of Oz and introduce you to my friends."
	"That will be very nice," said the boy, gratefully.
	"I hope your friends are not dignified," observed Scraps.
	"Some are, and some are not," he answered; "but I never criticize
my friends.  If they are really true friends, they may be anything they
like, for all of me."
	"There's some sense in that," said Scraps, nodding her queer head
in approval.  "Come on, and let's get to the Emerald City as soon as
possible."  With this she ran up the path, skipping and dancing, and then
turned to await them.
	"It is quite a distance from here to the Emerald City," remarked
the Shaggy Man, "so we shall not get there to-day, nor to-morrow.
Therefore let us take the jaunt in an easy manner.  I'm an old traveler
and have found that I never gain anything by being in a hurry. 'Take it
easy' is my motto.  If you can't take it easy, take it as easy as you can."
	After walking some distance over the road of yellow bricks Ojo
said he was hungry and would stop to eat some bread and cheese.  He
offered a portion of the food to the Shaggy Man, who thanked him but
refused it.
	"When I start out on my travels," said he, "I carry along enough
square meals to last me several weeks.  Think I'll indulge in one now, as
long as we're stopping anyway."
	Saying this, he took a bottle from his pocket and shook from it a
tablet about the size of one of Ojo's finger-nails.
	"That," announced the Shaggy Man, "is a square meal, in condensed
form.  Invention of the great Professor Woggle-Bug, of the Royal College
of Athletics.  It contains soup, fish, roast meat, salad,
apple-dumplings, ice cream and chocolate-drops, all boiled down to this
small size, so it can be conveniently carried and swallowed when you are
hungry and need a square meal."
	"I'm square," said the Woozy.  "Give me one, please."
	So the Shaggy Man gave the Woozy a tablet from his bottle and the
beast ate it in a twinkling.
	"You have now had a six course dinner," declared the Shaggy Man.
	"Pshaw!" said the Woozy, ungratefully.  "I want to taste
something. There's no fun in that sort of eating."
	"One should only eat to sustain life," replied the Shaggy Man,
"and that tablet is equal to a peck of other food."
	"I don't care for it.  I want something I can chew and taste,"
grumbled the Woozy.
	"You are quite wrong, my poor beast," said the Shaggy Man in a
tone of pity.  "Think how tired your jaws would get chewing a square meal
like this, if it were not condensed to the size of a small tablet--which
you can swallow in a jiffy."
	"Chewing isn't tiresome; it's fun," maintained the Woozy. "I
always chew the honey-bees when I catch them.  Give me some bread and
cheese, Ojo."
	"No, no!  You've already eaten a big dinner!" protested the
Shaggy Man.
	"May be," answered the Woozy; "but I guess I'll fool myself by
munching some bread and cheese.  I may not be hungry, having eaten all
those things you gave me, but I consider this eating business a matter of
taste, and I like to realize what's going into me."
	Ojo gave the beast what he wanted, but the Shaggy Man shook his
shaggy head reproachfully and said there was no animal so obstinate or
hard to convince as a Woozy.
	At this moment a patter of footsteps was heard, and looking up
they saw the live phonograph standing before them.  It seemed to have
passed through many adventures since Ojo and his comrades last saw the
machine, for the varnish of its wooden case was all marred and dented and
scratched in a way that gave it an aged and disreputable appearance.
	"Dear me!" exclaimed Ojo, staring hard.  "What has happened to you?"
	"Nothing much," replied the phonograph in a sad and depressed
voice. "I've had enough things thrown at me, since I left you, to stock a
department store and furnish half a dozen bargain-counters."
	"Are you so broken up that you can't play?" asked Scraps.
	"No, I still am able to grind out delicious music.  Just now I've
a record on tap that is really superb," said the phonograph, growing more
	"That is too bad," remarked Ojo.  "We've no objection to you as a
machine, you know; but as a music-maker we hate you."
	"Then why was I ever invented?" demanded the machine, in a tone
of indignant protest.
	They looked at one another inquiringly, but no one could answer
such a puzzling question.  Finally, the Shaggy Man said:
	"I'd like to hear the phonograph play."
	Ojo sighed.  "We've been very happy since we met you, sir," he said.
	"I know.  But a little misery, at times, makes one appreciate
happiness more.  Tell me, Phony, what is this record like, which you say
you have on tap?"
	"It's a popular song, sir.  In all civilized lands the common
people have gone wild over it."
	"Makes civilized folks wild folks, eh?  Then it's dangerous."
	"Wild with joy, I mean," explained the phonograph.  "Listen.
This song will prove a rare treat to you, I know.  It made the author
rich--for an author.  It is called 'My Lulu.'"
	Then the phonograph began to play.  A strain of odd, jerky sounds
was followed by these words, sung by a man through his nose with great
vigor of expression:

	"Ah wants mah Lulu, mah coal-black Lulu;
	 Ah wants mah loo-loo, loo-loo, loo-loo, Lu!
	 Ah loves mah Lulu, mah coal-black Lulu,
	 There ain't nobody else loves loo-loo, Lu!"

	"Here--shut that off!" cried the Shaggy Man, springing to his
feet. "What do you mean by such impertinence?"
	"It's the latest popular song," declared the phonograph, speaking
in a sulky tone of voice.
	"A popular song?"
	"Yes.  One that the feeble-minded can remember the words of and
those ignorant of music can whistle or sing.  That makes a popular song
popular, and the time is coming when it will take the place of all other
	"That time won't come to us, just yet," said the Shaggy Man,
sternly; "I'm something of a singer myself, and I don't intend to be
throttled by any Lulus like your coal-black one.  I shall take you all
apart, Mr. Phony, and scatter your pieces far and wide over the country,
as a matter of kindness to the people you might meet if allowed to run
around loose.  Having performed this painful duty I shall--"
	But before he could say more the phonograph turned and dashed up
the road as fast as its four table-legs could carry it, and soon it had
entirely disappeared from their view.
	The Shaggy Man sat down again and seemed well pleased.  "Some one
else will save me the trouble of scattering that phonograph," said he;
"for it is not possible that such a music-maker can last long in the Land
of Oz.  When you are rested, friends, let us go on our way."
	During the afternoon the travelers found themselves in a lonely
and uninhabited part of the country.  Even the fields were no longer
cultivated and the country began to resemble a wilderness.  The road of
yellow bricks seemed to have been neglected and became uneven and more
difficult to walk upon.  Scrubby underbrush grew on either side of the
way, while huge rocks were scattered around in abundance.
	But this did not deter Ojo and his friends from trudging on, and
they beguiled the journey with jokes and cheerful conversation.  Toward
evening they reached a crystal spring which gushed from a tall rock by
the roadside and near this spring stood a deserted cabin.  Said the
Shaggy Man, halting here:
	"We may as well pass the night here, where there is shelter for
our heads and good water to drink.  Road beyond here is pretty hard;
worst we shall have to travel; so let's wait until morning before we
tackle it."
	They agreed to this and Ojo found some brushwood in the cabin and
made a fire on the hearth.  The fire delighted Scraps, who danced before
it until Ojo warned her she might set fire to herself and burn up.  After
that the Patchwork Girl kept at a respectful distance from the darting
flames, but the Woozy lay down before the fire like a big dog and seemed
to enjoy its warmth.
	For supper the Shaggy Man ate one of his tablets, but Ojo stuck
to his bread and cheese as the most satisfying food.  He also gave a
portion to the Woozy.
	When darkness came on and they sat in a circle on the cabin
floor, facing the firelight--there being no furniture of any sort in the
place--Ojo said to the Shaggy Man:
	"Won't you tell us a story?"
	"I'm not good at stories," was the reply; "but I sing like a bird."
	"Raven, or crow?" asked the Glass Cat.
	"Like a song bird.  I'll prove it.  I'll sing a song I composed
myself. Don't tell anyone I'm a poet; they might want me to write a book.
Don't tell 'em I can sing, or they'd want me to make records for that
awful phonograph.  Haven't time to be a public benefactor, so I'll just
sing you this little song for your own amusement."
	They were glad enough to be entertained, and listened with
interest while the Shaggy Man chanted the following verses to a tune that
was not unpleasant:

	"I'll sing a song of Ozland, where wondrous creatures dwell
	 And fruits and flowers and shady bowers abound in every dell,
	 Where magic is a science and where no one shows surprise
	 If some amazing thing takes place before his very eyes.

	 Our Ruler's a bewitching girl whom fairies love to please;
	 She's always kept her magic sceptre to enforce decrees
	 To make her people happy, for her heart is kind and true
	 And to aid the needy and distressed is what she longs to do.

	 And then there's Princess Dorothy, as sweet as any rose,
	 A lass from Kansas, where they don't grow fairies, I suppose;
	 And there's the brainy Scarecrow, with a body stuffed with straw,
	 Who utters words of wisdom rare that fill us all with awe.

	 I'll not forget Nick Chopper, the Woodman made of Tin,
	 Whose tender heart thinks killing time is quite a dreadful sin,
	 Nor old Professor Woggle-Bug, who's highly magnified
	 And looks so big to everyone that he is filled with pride.

	 Jack Pumpkinhead's a dear old chum who might be called a chump,
	 But won renown by riding round upon a magic Gump;
	 The Sawhorse is a splendid steed and though he's made of wood
	 He does as many thrilling stunts as any meat horse could.

	 And now I'll introduce a beast that ev'ryone adores--
	 The Cowardly Lion shakes with fear 'most ev'ry time he roars,
	 And yet he does the bravest things that any lion might,
	 Because he knows that cowardice is not considered right.

	 There's Tiktok--he's a clockwork man and quite a funny sight--
	 He talks and walks mechanically, when he's wound up tight;
	 And we've a Hungry Tiger who would babies love to eat
	 But never does because we feed him other kinds of meat.

	 It's hard to name all of the freaks this noble Land's acquired;
	 'Twould make my song so very long that you would soon be tired;
	 But give attention while I mention one wise Yellow Hen
	 And Nine fine Tiny Piglets living in a golden pen.

	 Just search the whole world over--sail the seas from coast to coast--
	 No other nation in creation queerer folk can boast;
	 And now our rare museum will include a Cat of Glass,
	 A Woozy, and--last but not least--a crazy Patchwork Lass."

	Ojo was so pleased with this song that he applauded the singer by
clapping his hands, and Scraps followed suit by clapping her padded
fingers together, although they made no noise.  The cat pounded on the
floor with her glass paws--gently, so as not to break them--and the
Woozy, which had been asleep, woke up to ask what the row was about.
	"I seldom sing in public, for fear they might want me to start an
opera company," remarked the Shaggy Man, who was pleased to know his
effort was appreciated.  "Voice, just now, is a little out of training;
rusty, perhaps."
	"Tell me," said the Patchwork Girl earnestly, "do all those queer
people you mention really live in the Land of Oz?"
	"Every one of 'em.  I even forgot one thing: Dorothy's Pink
	"For goodness sake!" exclaimed Bungle, sitting up and looking
interested.  "A Pink Kitten?  How absurd!  Is it glass?"
	"No; just ordinary kitten."
	"Then it can't amount to much.  I have pink brains, and you can
see 'em work."
	"Dorothy's kitten is all pink--brains and all--except blue eyes.
Name's Eureka.  Great favorite at the royal palace," said the Shaggy Man,
	The Glass Cat seemed annoyed.
	"Do you think a pink kitten--common meat--is as pretty as I am?"
she asked.
	"Can't say.  Tastes differ, you know," replied the Shaggy Man,
yawning again.  "But here's a pointer that may be of service to you: make
friends with Eureka and you'll be solid at the palace."
	"I'm solid now; solid glass."
	"You don't understand," rejoined the Shaggy Man, sleepily.
"Anyhow, make friends with the Pink Kitten and you'll be all right.  If
the Pink Kitten despises you, look out for breakers."
	"Would anyone at the royal palace break a Glass Cat?"
	"Might.  You never can tell.  Advise you to purr soft and look
humble--if you can.  And now I'm going to bed."
	Bungle considered the Shaggy Man's advice so carefully that her
pink brains were busy long after the others of the party were fast asleep.

12. The Giant Porcupine


	Next morning they started out bright and early to follow the road
of yellow bricks toward the Emerald City.  The little Munchkin boy was 
beginning to feel tired from the long walk, and he had a great many
things to think of and consider besides the events of the journey.  At the
wonderful Emerald City, which he would presently reach, were so many
strange and curious people that he was half afraid of meeting them and
wondered if they would prove friendly and kind.  Above all else, he could
not drive from his mind the important errand on which he had come, and he
was determined to devote every energy to finding the things that were
necessary to prepare the magic recipe.  He believed that until dear Unc
Nunkie was restored to life he could feel no joy in anything, and often
he wished that Unc could be with him, to see all the astonishing things
Ojo was seeing.  But alas Unc Nunkie was now a marble statue in the house
of the Crooked Magician and Ojo must not falter in his efforts to save him.
	The country through which they were passing was still rocky and
deserted, with here and there a bush or a tree to break the dreary
landscape.  Ojo noticed one tree, especially, because it had such long,
silky leaves and was so beautiful in shape.  As he approached it he
studied the tree earnestly, wondering if any fruit grew on it or if it
bore pretty flowers.
	Suddenly he became aware that he had been looking at that tree a
long time--at least for five minutes--and it had remained in the same
position, although the boy had continued to walk steadily on.  So he
stopped short, and when he stopped, the tree and all the landscape, as
well as his companions, moved on before him and left him far behind.
	Ojo uttered such a cry of astonishment that it aroused the Shaggy
Man, who also halted.  The others then stopped, too, and walked back to
the boy.
	"What's wrong?" asked the Shaggy Man.
	"Why, we're not moving forward a bit, no matter how fast we
walk," declared Ojo.  "Now that we have stopped, we are moving backward!
Can't you see?  Just notice that rock."
	Scraps looked down at her feet and said:
	"The yellow bricks are not moving."
	"But the whole road is," answered Ojo.
	"True; quite true," agreed the Shaggy Man.  "I know all about the
tricks of this road, but I have been thinking of something else and
didn't realize where we were."
	"It will carry us back to where we started from," predicted Ojo,
beginning to be nervous.
	"No," replied the Shaggy Man; "it won't do that, for I know a
trick to beat this tricky road.  I've traveled this way before, you know.
Turn around, all of you, and walk backward."
	"What good will that do?" asked the cat.
	"You'll find out, if you obey me," said the Shaggy Man.
	So they all turned their backs to the direction in which they
wished to go and began walking backward.  In an instant Ojo noticed they
were gaining ground and as they proceeded in this curious way they soon
passed the tree which had first attracted his attention to their difficulty.
	"How long must we keep this up, Shags?" asked Scraps, who was
constantly tripping and tumbling down, only to get up again with a laugh
at her mishap.
	"Just a little way farther," replied the Shaggy Man.
	A few minutes later he called to them to turn about quickly and
step forward, and as they obeyed the order they found themselves treading
solid ground.
	"That task is well over," observed the Shaggy Man.  "It's a
little tiresome to walk backward, but that is the only way to pass this
part of the road, which has a trick of sliding back and carrying with it
anyone who is walking upon it."
	With new courage and energy they now trudged forward and after a
time came to a place where the road cut through a low hill, leaving high
banks on either side of it.  They were traveling along this cut, talking
together, when the Shaggy Man seized Scraps with one arm and Ojo with
another and shouted: "Stop!"
	"What's wrong now?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"See there!" answered the Shaggy Man, pointing with his finger.
	Directly in the center of the road lay a motionless object that
bristled all over with sharp quills, which resembled arrows.  The body
was as big as a ten-bushel basket, but the projecting quills made it
appear to be four times bigger.
	"Well, what of it?" asked Scraps.
	"That is Chiss, who causes a lot of trouble along this road," was
the reply.
	"Chiss!  What is Chiss?"
	"I think it is merely an overgrown porcupine, but here in Oz they
consider Chiss an evil spirit.  He's different from a reg'lar porcupine,
because he can throw his quills in any direction, which an American
porcupine cannot do.  That's what makes old Chiss so dangerous.  If we
get too near, he'll fire those quills at us and hurt us badly."
	"Then we will be foolish to get too near," said Scraps.
	"I'm not afraid," declared the Woozy.  "The Chiss is cowardly,
I'm sure, and if it ever heard my awful, terrible, frightful growl, it
would be scared stiff."
	"Oh; can you growl?" asked the Shaggy Man.
	"That is the only ferocious thing about me," asserted the Woozy
with evident pride.  "My growl makes an earthquake blush and the thunder
ashamed of itself.  If I growled at that creature you call Chiss, it
would immediately think the world had cracked in two and bumped against
the sun and moon, and that would cause the monster to run as far and as
fast as its legs could carry it."
	"In that case," said the Shaggy Man, "you are now to do us all a
great favor.  Please growl."
	"But you forget," returned the Woozy; "my tremendous growl would
also frighten you, and if you happen to have heart disease you might
	"True; but we must take that risk," decided the Shaggy Man,
bravely. "Being warned of what is to occur we must try to bear the
terrific noise of your growl; but Chiss won't expect it, and it will
scare him away."
	The Woozy hesitated.
	"I'm fond of you all, and I hate to shock you," it said.
	"Never mind," said Ojo.
	"You may be made deaf."
	"If so, we will forgive you."
	"Very well, then," said the Woozy in a determined voice, and
advanced a few steps toward the giant porcupine.  Pausing to look back,
it asked: "All ready?"
	"All ready!" they answered.
	"Then cover up your ears and brace yourselves firmly.  Now
then--look out!"
	The Woozy turned toward Chiss, opened wide its mouth and said:
	"Go ahead and growl," said Scraps.
	"Why, I--I DID growl!" retorted the Woozy, who seemed much astonished.
	"What, that little squeak?" she cried.
	"It is the most awful growl that ever was heard, on land or sea,
in caverns or in the sky," protested the Woozy.  "I wonder you stood the
shock so well.  Didn't you feel the ground tremble?  I suppose Chiss is
now quite dead with fright."
	The Shaggy Man laughed merrily.
	"Poor Wooz!" said he; "your growl wouldn't scare a fly."
	The Woozy seemed to be humiliated and surprised.  It hung its
head a moment as if in shame or sorrow, but then it said with renewed
confidence: "Anyhow, my eyes can flash fire; and good fire, too; good
enough to set fire to a fence!"
	"That is true," declared Scraps; "I saw it done myself.  But your
ferocious growl, isn't as loud as the tick of a beetle--or one of Ojo's
snores when he's fast asleep."
	"Perhaps," said the Woozy, humbly, "I have been mistaken about my
growl.  It has always sounded very fearful to me, but that may have been
because it was so close to my ears."
	"Never mind," Ojo said soothingly; "it is a great talent to be
able to flash fire from your eyes.  No one else can do that."
	As they stood hesitating what to do Chiss stirred and suddenly a
shower of quills came flying toward them, almost filling the air, they
were so many.  Scraps realized in an instant that they had gone too near
to Chiss for safety, so she sprang in front of Ojo and shielded him from
the darts, which stuck their points into her own body until she resembled
one of those targets they shoot arrows at in archery games.  The Shaggy
Man dropped flat on his face to avoid the shower, but one quill struck
him in the leg and went far in.  As for the Glass Cat, the quills rattled
off her body without making even a scratch, and the skin of the Woozy was
so thick and tough that he was not hurt at all.
	When the attack was over they all ran to the Shaggy Man, who was
moaning and groaning, and Scraps promptly pulled the quill out of his
leg.  Then up he jumped and ran over to Chiss, putting his foot on the
monster's neck and holding it a prisoner.  The body of the great
porcupine was now as smooth as leather, except for the holes where the
quills had been, for it had shot every single quill in that one wicked
	"Let me go!" it shouted angrily.  "How dare you put your foot on
	"I'm going to do worse than that, old boy," replied the Shaggy
Man. "You have annoyed travelers on this road long enough, and now I
shall put an end to you."
	"You can't!" returned Chiss.  "Nothing can kill me, as you know
perfectly well."
	"Perhaps that is true," said the Shaggy Man in a tone of
disappointment.  "Seems to me I've been told before that you can't be
killed.  But if I let you go, what will you do?"
	"Pick up my quills again," said Chiss in a sulky voice.
	"And then shoot them at more travelers?  No; that won't do.  You
must promise me to stop throwing quills at people."
	"I won't promise anything of the sort," declared Chiss.
	"Why not?"
	"Because it is my nature to throw quills, and every animal must do
what Nature intends it to do.  It isn't fair for you to blame me. If it
were wrong for me to throw quills, then I wouldn't be made with quills to
throw.  The proper thing for you to do is to keep out of my way."
	"Why, there's some sense in that argument," admitted the Shaggy
Man, thoughtfully; "but people who are strangers, and don't know you are
here, won't be able to keep out of your way."
	"Tell you what," said Scraps, who was trying to pull the quills
out of her own body, "let's gather up all the quills and take them away
with us; then old Chiss won't have any left to throw at people."
	"Ah, that's a clever idea.  You and Ojo must gather up the quills
while I hold Chiss a prisoner; for, if I let him go, he will get some of
his quills and be able to throw them again."
	So Scraps and Ojo picked up all the quills and tied them in a
bundle so they might easily be carried.  After this the Shaggy Man
released Chiss and let him go, knowing that he was harmless to injure anyone.
	"It's the meanest trick I ever heard of," muttered the porcupine
gloomily.  "How would you like it, Shaggy Man, if I took all your shags
away from you?"
	"If I threw my shags and hurt people, you would be welcome to
capture them," was the reply.
	Then they walked on and left Chiss standing in the road sullen
and disconsolate.  The Shaggy Man limped as he walked, for his wound
still hurt him, and Scraps was much annoyed because the quills had left a
number of small holes in her patches.
	When they came to a flat stone by the roadside the Shaggy Man sat
down to rest, and then Ojo opened his basket and took out the bundle of
charms the Crooked Magician had given him.
	"I am Ojo the Unlucky," he said, "or we would never have met that
dreadful porcupine.  But I will see if I can find anything among these
charms which will cure your leg."
	Soon he discovered that one of the charms was labeled: "For flesh
wounds," and this the boy separated from the others.  It was only a bit
of dried root, taken from some unknown shrub, but the boy rubbed it upon
the wound made by the quill and in a few moments the place was healed
entirely and the Shaggy Man's leg was as good as ever.
	"Rub in on the holes in my patches," suggested Scraps, and Ojo
tried it, but without any effect.
	"The charm you need is a needle and thread," said the Shaggy Man.
"But do not worry, my dear; those holes do not look badly, at all."
	"They'll let in the air, and I don't want people to think I'm
airy, or that I've been stuck up," said the Patchwork Girl.
	"You were certainly stuck up until we pulled out those quills,"
observed Ojo, with a laugh.
	So now they went on again and coming presently to a pond of muddy
water they tied a heavy stone to the bundle of quills and sunk it to the
bottom of the pond to avoid carrying it farther.

13. Scraps and the Scarecrow


	From here on the country improved and the desert places began to
give way to fertile spots; still no houses were yet to be seen near the
road.  There were some hills, with valleys between them, and on reaching
the top of one of these hills the travelers found before them a high
wall, running to the right and the left as far as their eyes could reach.
Immediately in front of them, where the wall crossed the roadway, stood a
gate having stout iron bars that extended from top to bottom.  They
found, on coming nearer, that this gate was locked with a great padlock,
rusty through lack of use.
	"Well," said Scraps, "I guess we'll stop here."
	"It's a good guess," replied Ojo.  "Our way is barred by this
great wall and gate.  It looks as if no one had passed through in many
	"Looks are deceiving," declared the Shaggy Man, laughing at their
disappointed faces, "and this barrier is the most deceiving thing in all
	"It prevents our going any farther, anyhow," said Scraps.  "There
is no one to mind the gate and let people through, and we've no key to
the padlock."
	"True," replied Ojo, going a little nearer to peep through the
bars of the gate.  "What shall we do, Shaggy Man?  If we had wings we
might fly over the wall, but we cannot climb it and unless we get to the
Emerald City I won't be able to find the things to restore Unc Nunkie to
	"All very true," answered the Shaggy Man, quietly; "but I know
this gate, having passed through it many times."
	"How?" they all eagerly inquired.
	"I'll show you how," said he.  He stood Ojo in the middle of the
road and placed Scraps just behind him, with her padded hands on his
shoulders.  After the Patchwork Girl came the Woozy, who held a part of
her skirt in his mouth.  Then, last of all, was the Glass Cat, holding
fast to the Woozy's tail with her glass jaws.
	"Now," said the Shaggy Man, "you must all shut your eyes tight,
and keep them shut until I tell you to open them."
	"I can't," objected Scraps.  "My eyes are buttons, and they won't
	So the Shaggy Man tied his red handkerchief over the Patchwork
Girl's eyes and examined all the others to make sure they had their eyes
fast shut and could see nothing.
	"What's the game, anyhow--blind-man's-buff?" asked Scraps.
	"Keep quiet!" commanded the Shaggy Man, sternly.  "All ready?
Then follow me."
	He took Ojo's hand and led him forward over the road of yellow
bricks, toward the gate.  Holding fast to one another they all followed
in a row, expecting every minute to bump against the iron bars.  The
Shaggy Man also had his eyes closed, but marched straight ahead,
nevertheless, and after he had taken one hundred steps, by actual count,
he stopped and said:
	"Now you may open your eyes."
	They did so, and to their astonishment found the wall and the
gateway far behind them, while in front the former Blue Country of the
Munchkins had given way to green fields, with pretty farm-houses
scattered among them.
	"That wall," explained the Shaggy Man, "is what is called an
optical illusion.  It is quite real while you have your eyes open, but if
you are not looking at it the barrier doesn't exist at all.  It's the
same way with many other evils in life; they seem to exist, and yet it's
all seeming and not true.  You will notice that the wall--or what we
thought was a wall--separates the Munchkin Country from the green country
that surrounds the Emerald City, which lies exactly in the center of Oz.
There are two roads of yellow bricks through the Munchkin Country, but
the one we followed is the best of the two. Dorothy once traveled the
other way, and met with more dangers than we did.  But all our troubles
are over for the present, as another day's journey will being us to the
great Emerald City."
	They were delighted to know this, and proceeded with new courage.
In a couple of hours they stopped at a farmhouse, where the people were
very hospitable and invited them to dinner.  The farm folk regarded
Scraps with much curiosity but no great astonishment, for they were
accustomed to seeing extraordinary people in the Land of Oz.
	The woman of this house got her needle and thread and sewed up
the holes made by the porcupine quills in the Patchwork Girl's body,
after which Scraps was assured she looked as beautiful as ever.
	"You ought to have a hat to wear," remarked the woman, "for that
would keep the sun from fading the colors of your face.  I have some
patches and scraps put away, and if you will wait two or three days I'll
make you a lovely hat that will match the rest of you."
	"Never mind the hat," said Scraps, shaking her yarn braids; "it's
a kind offer, but we can't stop.  I can't see that my colors have faded a
particle, as yet; can you?"
	"Not much," replied the woman.  "You are still very gorgeous, in
spite of your long journey."
	The children of the house wanted to keep the Glass Cat to play
with, so Bungle was offered a good home if she would remain; but the cat
was too much interested in Ojo's adventures and refused to stop.
	"Children are rough playmates," she remarked to the Shaggy Man,
"and although this home is more pleasant than that of the Crooked
Magician I fear I would soon be smashed to pieces by the boys and girls."
	After they had rested themselves they renewed their journey,
finding the road now smooth and pleasant to walk upon and the country
growing more beautiful the nearer they drew to the Emerald City.
	By and by Ojo began to walk on the green grass, looking carefully
around him.
	"What are you trying to find?" asked Scraps.
	"A six-leaved clover," said he.
	"Don't do that!" exclaimed the Shaggy Man, earnestly.  "It's
against the Law to pick a six-leaved clover.  You must wait until you get
Ozma's consent."
	"She wouldn't know it," declared the boy.
	"Ozma knows many things," said the Shaggy Man.  "In her room is a
Magic Picture that shows any scene in the Land of Oz where strangers or
travelers happen to be.  She may be watching the picture of us even now,
and noticing everything that we do."
	"Does she always watch the Magic Picture?" asked Ojo.
	"Not always, for she has many other things to do; but, as I said,
she may be watching us this very minute."
	"I don't care," said Ojo, in an obstinate tone of voice; "Ozma's
only a girl."
	The Shaggy Man looked at him in surprise.
	"You ought to care for Ozma," said he, "if you expect to save
your uncle.  For, if you displease our powerful Ruler, your journey will
surely prove a failure; whereas, if you make a friend of Ozma, she will
gladly assist you.  As for her being a girl, that is another reason why
you should obey her laws, if you are courteous and polite. Everyone in Oz
loves Ozma and hates her enemies, for she is as just as she is powerful."
	Ojo sulked a while, but finally returned to the road and kept
away from the green clover.  The boy was moody and bad tempered for an
hour or two afterward, because he could really see no harm in picking a
six-leaved clover, if he found one, and in spite of what the Shaggy Man
had said he considered Ozma's law to be unjust.
	They presently came to a beautiful grove of tall and stately
trees, through which the road wound in sharp curves--first one way and
then another.  As they were walking through this grove they heard some
one in the distance singing, and the sounds grew nearer and nearer until
they could distinguish the words, although the bend in the road still hid
the singer.  The song was something like this:

	"Here's to the hale old bale of straw
	 That's cut from the waving grain,
	 The sweetest sight man ever saw
	 In forest, dell or plain.
	 It fills me with a crunkling joy
	 A straw-stack to behold,
	 For then I pad this lucky boy
	 With strands of yellow gold."

	"Ah!" exclaimed the Shaggy Man; "here comes my friend the Scarecrow."
	"What, a live Scarecrow?" asked Ojo.
	"Yes; the one I told you of.  He's a splendid fellow, and very
intelligent.  You'll like him, I'm sure."
	Just then the famous Scarecrow of Oz came around the bend in the
road, riding astride a wooden Sawhorse which was so small that its
rider's legs nearly touched the ground.
	The Scarecrow wore the blue dress of the Munchkins, in which
country he was made, and on his head was set a peaked hat with a flat
brim trimmed with tinkling bells.  A rope was tied around his waist to
hold him in shape, for he was stuffed with straw in every part of him
except the top of his head, where at one time the Wizard of Oz had placed
sawdust, mixed with needles and pins, to sharpen his wits.  The head
itself was merely a bag of cloth, fastened to the body at the neck, and
on the front of this bag was painted the face--ears, eyes, nose and
	The Scarecrow's face was very interesting, for it bore a comical
and yet winning expression, although one eye was a bit larger than the
other and the ears were not mates.  The Munchkin farmer who had made the
Scarecrow had neglected to sew him together with close stitches and
therefore some of the straw with which he was stuffed was inclined to
stick out between the seams.  His hands consisted of padded white gloves,
with the fingers long and rather limp, and on his feet he wore Munchkin
boots of blue leather with broad turns at the tops of them.
	The Sawhorse was almost as curious as its rider.  It had been
rudely made, in the beginning, to saw logs upon, so that its body was a
short length of a log, and its legs were stout branches fitted into four
holes made in the body.  The tail was formed by a small branch that had
been left on the log, while the head was a gnarled bump on one end of the
body.  Two knots of wood formed the eyes, and the mouth was a gash
chopped in the log.  When the Sawhorse first came to life it had no ears
at all, and so could not hear; but the boy who then owned him had
whittled two ears out of bark and stuck them in the head, after which the
Sawhorse heard very distinctly.
	This queer wooden horse was a great favorite with Princess Ozma,
who had caused the bottoms of its legs to be shod with plates of gold, so
the wood would not wear away.  Its saddle was made of cloth-of-gold
richly encrusted with precious gems.  It had never worn a bridle.
	As the Scarecrow came in sight of the party of travelers, he
reined in his wooden steed and dismounted, greeting the Shaggy Man with a
smiling nod.  Then he turned to stare at the Patchwork Girl in wonder,
while she in turn stared at him.
	"Shags," he whispered, drawing the Shaggy Man aside, "pat me into
shape, there's a good fellow!"
	While his friend punched and patted the Scarecrow's body, to
smooth out the humps, Scraps turned to Ojo and whispered: "Roll me out,
please; I've sagged down dreadfully from walking so much and men like to
see a stately figure."
	She then fell upon the ground and the boy rolled her back and
forth like a rolling-pin, until the cotton had filled all the spaces in
her patchwork covering and the body had lengthened to its fullest extent.
Scraps and the Scarecrow both finished their hasty toilets at the same
time, and again they faced each other.
	"Allow me, Miss Patchwork," said the Shaggy Man, "to present my
friend, the Right Royal Scarecrow of Oz.  Scarecrow, this is Miss Scraps
Patches; Scraps, this is the Scarecrow.  Scarecrow--Scraps;
	They both bowed with much dignity.
	"Forgive me for staring so rudely," said the Scarecrow, "but you
are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld."
	"That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,"
murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her
head.  "But, tell me, good sir, are you not a trifle lumpy?"
	"Yes, of course; that's my straw, you know.  It bunches up,
sometimes, in spite of all my efforts to keep it even.  Doesn't your
straw ever bunch?"
	"Oh, I'm stuffed with cotton," said Scraps.  "It never bunches,
but it's inclined to pack down and make me sag."
	"But cotton is a high-grade stuffing.  I may say it is even more
stylish, not to say aristocratic, than straw," said the Scarecrow
politely.  "Still, it is but proper that one so entrancingly lovely
should have the best stuffing there is going.  I--er--I'm SO glad I've
met you, Miss Scraps!  Introduce us again, Shaggy."
	"Once is enough," replied the Shaggy Man, laughing at his
friend's enthusiasm.
	"Then tell me where you found her, and--Dear me, what a queer
cat! What are YOU made of, gelatine?"
	"Pure glass," answered the cat, proud to have attracted the
Scarecrow's attention.  "I am much more beautiful than the Patchwork
Girl.  I'm transparent, and Scraps isn't; I've pink brains--you can see
'em work; and I've a ruby heart, finely polished, while Scraps hasn't any
heart at all."
	"No more have I," said the Scarecrow, shaking hands with Scraps,
as if to congratulate her on the fact.  "I've a friend, the Tin Woodman,
who has a heart, but I find I get along pretty well without one.  And
so--Well, well! here's a little Munchkin boy, too.  Shake hands, my
little man.  How are you?"
	Ojo placed his hand in the flabby stuffed glove that served the
Scarecrow for a hand, and the Scarecrow pressed it so cordially that the
straw in his glove crackled.
	Meantime, the Woozy had approached the Sawhorse and began to
sniff at it. The Sawhorse resented this familiarity and with a sudden
kick pounded the Woozy squarely on its head with one gold-shod foot.
	"Take that, you monster!" it cried angrily.
	The Woozy never even winked.
	"To be sure," he said; "I'll take anything I have to.  But don't
make me angry, you wooden beast, or my eyes will flash fire and burn you
	The Sawhorse rolled its knot eyes wickedly and kicked again, but
the Woozy trotted away and said to the Scarecrow:
	"What a sweet disposition that creature has!  I advise you to
chop it up for kindling-wood and use me to ride upon.  My back is flat
and you can't fall off."
	"I think the trouble is that you haven't been properly
introduced," said the Scarecrow, regarding the Woozy with much wonder,
for he had never seen such a queer animal before.  "The Sawhorse is the
favorite steed of Princess Ozma, the Ruler of the Land of Oz, and he
lives in a stable decorated with pearls and emeralds, at the rear of the
royal palace.  He is swift as the wind, untiring, and is kind to his
friends.  All the people of Oz respect the Sawhorse highly, and when I
visit Ozma she sometimes allows me to ride him--as I am doing to-day. Now
you know what an important personage the Sawhorse is, and if some
one--perhaps yourself--will tell me your name, your rank and station, and
your history, it will give me pleasure to relate them to the Sawhorse.
This will lead to mutual respect and friendship."
	The Woozy was somewhat abashed by this speech and did not know how
to reply.  But Ojo said:
	"This square beast is called the Woozy, and he isn't of much
importance except that he has three hairs growing on the tip of his tail."
	The Scarecrow looked and saw that this was true.
	"But," said he, in a puzzled way, "what makes those three hairs
important?  The Shaggy Man has thousands of hairs, but no one has ever
accused him of being important."
	So Ojo related the sad story of Unc Nunkie's transformation into a
marble statue, and told how he had set out to find the things the Crooked
Magician wanted, in order to make a charm that would restore his uncle to
life.  One of the requirements was three hairs from a Woozy's tail, but
not being able to pull out the hairs they had been obliged to take the
Woozy with them.
	The Scarecrow looked grave as he listened and he shook his head
several times, as if in disapproval.
	"We must see Ozma about this matter," he said.  "That Crooked
Magician is breaking the Law by practicing magic without a license, and
I'm not sure Ozma will allow him to restore your uncle to life."
	"Already I have warned the boy of that," declared the Shaggy Man.
	At this Ojo began to cry.  "I want my Unc Nunkie!" he exclaimed.
"I know how he can be restored to life, and I'm going to do it--Ozma or
no Ozma!  What right has this girl Ruler to keep my Unc Nunkie a statue
	"Don't worry about that just now," advised the Scarecrow.  "Go on
to the Emerald City, and when you reach it have the Shaggy Man take you
to see Dorothy.  Tell her your story and I'm sure she will help you.
Dorothy is Ozma's best friend, and if you can win her to your side your
uncle is pretty safe to live again."  Then he turned to the Woozy and
said: "I'm afraid you are not important enough to be introduced to the
Sawhorse, after all."
	"I'm a better beast than he is," retorted the Woozy, indignantly.
"My eyes can flash fire, and his can't."
	"Is this true?" inquired the Scarecrow, turning to the Munchkin boy.
	"Yes," said Ojo, and told how the Woozy had set fire to the fence.
	"Have you any other accomplishments?" asked the Scarecrow.
	"I have a most terrible growl--that is, SOMETIMES," said the
Woozy, as Scraps laughed merrily and the Shaggy Man smiled.  But the
Patchwork Girl's laugh made the Scarecrow forget all about the Woozy. He
said to her:
	"What an admirable young lady you are, and what jolly good
company! We must be better acquainted, for never before have I met a girl
with such exquisite coloring or such natural, artless manners."
	"No wonder they call you the Wise Scarecrow," replied Scraps.
	"When you arrive at the Emerald City I will see you again,"
continued the Scarecrow.  "Just now I am going to call upon an old
friend--an ordinary young lady named Jinjur--who has promised to repaint
my left ear for me.  You may have noticed that the paint on my left ear
has peeled off and faded, which affects my hearing on that side.  Jinjur
always fixes me up when I get weather-worn."
	"When do you expect to return to the Emerald City?" asked the
Shaggy Man.
	"I'll be there this evening, for I'm anxious to have a long talk
with Miss Scraps.  How is it, Sawhorse; are you equal to a swift run?"
	"Anything that suits you suits me," returned the wooden horse.
	So the Scarecrow mounted to the jeweled saddle and waved his hat,
and the Sawhorse darted away so swiftly that they were out of sight in an

14. Ojo Breaks the Law

	"What a queer man," remarked the Munchkin boy, when the party had
resumed its journey.
	"And so nice and polite," added Scraps, bobbing her head.  "I
think he is the handsomest man I've seen since I came to life."
	"Handsome is as handsome does," quoted the Shaggy Man; "but we
must admit that no living scarecrow is handsomer.  The chief merit of my
friend is that he is a great thinker, and in Oz it is considered good
policy to follow his advice."
	"I didn't notice any brains in his head," observed the Glass Cat.
	"You can't see 'em work, but they're there, all right," declared
the Shaggy Man.  "I hadn't much confidence in his brains myself, when
first I came to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I was soon
convinced that the Scarecrow is really wise; and, unless his brains make
him so, such wisdom is unaccountable."
	"Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?" asked Ojo.
	"Not now.  He was once, but he has reformed and now assists
Glinda the Good, who is the Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one
licensed to practice magic or sorcery.  Glinda has taught our old Wizard
a good many clever things, so he is no longer a humbug."
	They walked a little while in silence and then Ojo said:
	"If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to restore Unc Nunkie to
life, what shall I do?"
	The Shaggy Man shook his head.
	"In that case you can't do anything," he said.  "But don't be
discouraged yet.  We will go to Princess Dorothy and tell her your
troubles, and then we will let her talk to Ozma.  Dorothy has the kindest
little heart in the world, and she has been through so many troubles
herself that she is sure to sympathize with you."
	"Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from Kansas?" asked the boy.
	"Yes.  In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale.  I used to know her there,
and she brought me to the Land of Oz.  But now Ozma has made her a
Princess, and Dorothy's Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too."  Here the
Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then he continued:
	"It's a queer country, this Land of Oz; but I like it, nevertheless."
	"What is queer about it?" asked Scraps.
	"You, for instance," said he.
	"Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in your own country?"
she inquired.
	"None with the same gorgeous, variegated beauty," he confessed.
"In America a girl stuffed with cotton wouldn't be alive, nor would
anyone think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt."
	"What a queer country America must be!" she exclaimed in great
surprise.  "The Scarecrow, whom you say is wise, told me I am the most
beautiful creature he has ever seen."
	"I know; and perhaps you are--from a scarecrow point of view,"
replied the Shaggy Man; but why he smiled as he said it Scraps could not
	As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the travelers were filled
with admiration for the splendid scenery they beheld.  Handsome houses
stood on both sides of the road and each had a green lawn before it as
well as a pretty flower garden.
	"In another hour," said the Shaggy Man, "we shall come in sight
of the walls of the Royal City."
	He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind them came the Woozy
and the Glass Cat.  Ojo had lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings
he had received the boy's eyes were fastened on the clover that bordered
the road of yellow bricks and he was eager to discover if such a thing as
a six-leaved clover really existed.
	Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to examine the ground
more closely.  Yes; here at last was a clover with six spreading leaves.
He counted them carefully, to make sure.  In an instant his heart leaped
with joy, for this was one of the important things he had come for--one
of the things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.
	He glanced ahead and saw that none of his companions was looking
back. Neither were any other people about, for it was midway between two
houses.  The temptation was too strong to be resisted.
	"I might search for weeks and weeks, and never find another
six-leaved clover," he told himself, and quickly plucking the stem from
the plant he placed the prized clover in his basket, covering it with the
other things he carried there.  Then, trying to look as if nothing had
happened, he hurried forward and overtook his comrades.
	The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as well as the most
beautiful city in any fairyland, is surrounded by a high, thick wall of
green marble, polished smooth and set with glistening emeralds. There are
four gates, one facing the Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of
the Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings and one facing the
Country of the Gillikins.  The Emerald City lies directly in the center
of these important countries of Oz.  The gates had bars of pure gold, and
on either side of each gateway were built high towers, from which floated
gay banners.  Other towers were set at distances along the walls, which
were broad enough for four people to walk abreast upon.
	This enclosure, all green and gold and glittering with precious
gems, was indeed a wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first
observed it from the top of a little hill; but beyond the wall was the
vast city it surrounded, and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and
minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared their crests far above the
towers of the gateways.  In the center of the city our friends could see
the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as tall as the spires of
the buildings, and the Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the
royal gardens of Princess Ozma.
	They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting their eyes on the
splendor of the Emerald City.
	"Whee!" exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded hands in ecstacy,
"that'll do for me to live in, all right.  No more of the Munchkin
Country for these patches--and no more of the Crooked Magician!"
	"Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt," replied Ojo, looking at her in
amazement.  "You were made for a servant, Scraps, so you are personal
property and not your own mistress."
	"Bother Dr. Pipt!  If he wants me, let him come here and get me.
I'll not go back to his den of my own accord; that's certain.  Only one
place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and that's the Emerald City.
It's lovely!  It's almost as beautiful as I am, Ojo."
	"In this country," remarked the Shaggy Man, "people live wherever
our Ruler tells them to.  It wouldn't do to have everyone live in the
Emerald City, you know, for some must plow the land and raise grains and
fruits and vegetables, while others chop wood in the forests, or fish in
the rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle."
	"Poor things!" said Scraps.
	"I'm not sure they are not happier than the city people," replied
the Shaggy Man.  "There's a freedom and independence in country life that
not even the Emerald City can give one.  I know that lots of the city
people would like to get back to the land.  The Scarecrow lives in the
country, and so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet all three
would be welcome to live in Ozma's palace if they cared to.  Too much
splendor becomes tiresome, you know.  But, if we're to reach the Emerald
City before sundown, we must hurry, for it is yet a long way off."
	The entrancing sight of the city had put new energy into them all
and they hurried forward with lighter steps than before.  There was much
to interest them along the roadway, for the houses were now set more
closely together and they met a good many people who were coming or going
from one place or another.  All these seemed happy-faced, pleasant
people, who nodded graciously to the strangers as they passed, and
exchanged words of greeting.
	At last they reached the great gateway, just as the sun was
setting and adding its red glow to the glitter of the emeralds on the
green walls and spires.  Somewhere inside the city a band could be heard
playing sweet music; a soft, subdued hum, as of many voices, reached
their ears; from the neighboring yards came the low mooing of cows
waiting to be milked.
	They were almost at the gate when the golden bars slid back and a
tall soldier stepped out and faced them.  Ojo thought he had never seen
so tall a man before.  The soldier wore a handsome green and gold
uniform, with a tall hat in which was a waving plume, and he had a belt
thickly encrusted with jewels.  But the most peculiar thing about him was
his long green beard, which fell far below his waist and perhaps made him
seem taller than he really was.
	"Halt!" said the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, not in a stern
voice but rather in a friendly tone.
	They halted before he spoke and stood looking at him.
	"Good evening, Colonel," said the Shaggy Man.  "What's the news
since I left?  Anything important?"
	"Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens," replied the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers, "and they're the cutest little fluffy
yellow balls you ever saw.  The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those
children, I can tell you."
	"She has a right to be," agreed the Shaggy Man.  "Let me see;
that's about seven thousand chicks she has hatched out; isn't it, General?"
	"That, at least," was the reply.  "You will have to visit Billina
and congratulate her."
	"It will give me pleasure to do that," said the Shaggy Man. "But
you will observe that I have brought some strangers home with me. I am
going to take them to see Dorothy."
	"One moment, please," said the soldier, barring their way as they
started to enter the gate.  "I am on duty, and I have orders to execute.
Is anyone in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?"
	"Why, that's me!" cried Ojo, astonished at hearing his name on
the lips of a stranger.
	The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded.  "I thought so," said
he, "and I am sorry to announce that it is my painful duty to arrest you."
	"Arrest me!" exclaimed the boy.  "What for?"
	"I haven't looked to see," answered the soldier.  Then he drew a
paper from his breast pocket and glanced at it.  "Oh, yes; you are to be
arrested for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz."
	"Breaking a law!" said Scraps.  "Nonsense, Soldier; you're
	"Not this time," returned the soldier, with a sigh.  "My dear
child--what are you, a rummage sale or a guess-me-quick?--in me you
behold the Body-Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as well as
the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force of the Emerald City."
	"And only one man!" exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.
	"Only one, and plenty enough.  In my official positions I've had
nothing to do for a good many years--so long that I began to fear I was
absolutely useless--until today.  An hour ago I was called to the
presence of her Highness, Ozma of Oz, and told to arrest a boy named 
Ojo the Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin Country to the
Emerald City and would arrive in a short time.  This command so
astonished me that I nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone has
merited arrest since I can remember.  You are rightly named Ojo the
Unlucky, my poor boy, since you have broken a Law of Oz."
	"But you are wrong," said Scraps.  "Ozma is wrong--you are all
wrong--for Ojo has broken no Law."
	"Then he will soon be free again," replied the Soldier with the
Green Whiskers.  "Anyone accused of crime is given a fair trial by our
Ruler and has every chance to prove his innocence.  But just now Ozma's
orders must be obeyed."
	With this he took from his pocket a pair of handcuffs made of
gold and set with rubies and diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo's

15. Ozma's Prisoner

	The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he made no
resistance at all.  He knew very well he was guilty, but it surprised him
that Ozma also knew it.  He wondered how she had found out so soon that
he had picked the six-leaved clover.  He handed his basket to Scraps and
	"Keep that, until I get out of prison.  If I never get out, take
it to the Crooked Magician, to whom it belongs."
	The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the boy's face,
uncertain whether to defend him or not; but something he read in Ojo's
expression made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save him.  The
Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and grieved, but he knew that Ozma never 
made mistakes and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.
	The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them all through the
gate and into a little room built in the wall.  Here sat a jolly little
man, richly dressed in green and having around his neck a heavy gold
chain to which a number of great golden keys were attached.  This was the
Guardian of the Gate and at the moment they entered his room he was
playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.
	"Listen!" he said, holding up his hand for silence.  "I've just
composed a tune called 'The Speckled Alligator.'  It's in patch-time,
which is much superior to rag-time, and I've composed it in honor of the
Patchwork Girl, who has just arrived."
	"How did you know I had arrived?" asked Scraps, much interested.
	"It's my business to know who's coming, for I'm the Guardian of
the Gate.  Keep quiet while I play you 'The Speckled Alligator.'"
	It wasn't a very bad tune, nor a very good one, but all listened
respectfully while he shut his eyes and swayed his head from side to side
and blew the notes from the little instrument.  When it was all over the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers said:
	"Guardian, I have here a prisoner."
	"Good gracious!  A prisoner?" cried the little man, jumping up
from his chair.  "Which one?  Not the Shaggy Man?"
	"No; this boy."
	"Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself," said the Guardian
of the Gate.  "But what can he have done, and what made him do it?"
	"Can't say," replied the soldier.  "All I know is that he has
broken the Law."
	"But no one ever does that!"
	"Then he must be innocent, and soon will be released.  I hope you
are right, Guardian.  Just now I am ordered to take him to prison.  Get
me a prisoner's robe from your Official Wardrobe."
	The Guardian unlocked a closet and took from it a white robe,
which the soldier threw over Ojo.  It covered him from head to foot, but
had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he could see where to go.  In
this attire the boy presented a very quaint appearance.
	As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading from his room into the
streets of the Emerald City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:
	"I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy, as the Scarecrow
advised, and the Glass Cat and the Woozy may come with us.  Ojo must go
to prison with the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, but he will be well
treated and you need not worry about him."
	"What will they do with him?" asked Scraps.
	"That I cannot tell.  Since I came to the Land of Oz no one has
ever been arrested or imprisoned--until Ojo broke the Law."
	"Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making a big fuss over
nothing," remarked Scraps, tossing her yarn hair out of her eyes with a
jerk of her patched head.  "I don't know what Ojo has done, but it
couldn't be anything very bad, for you and I were with him all the time."
	The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and presently the
Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo in her admiration of the wonderful
city she had entered.
	They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who was led by the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers down a side street toward the prison.
Ojo felt very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but he was
beginning to grow angry because he was treated in such a disgraceful manner.  
Instead of entering the splendid Emerald City as a respectable traveler 
who was entitled to a welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought in
as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that told all he met of his deep
	Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if he had disobeyed
the Law of Oz it was to restore his dear Unc Nunkie to life.  His fault
was more thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter the fact that he
had committed a fault.  At first he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the
more he thought about the unjust treatment he had received--unjust merely
because he considered it so--the more he resented his arrest, blaming
Ozma for making foolish laws and then punishing folks who broke them.
Only a six-leaved clover!  A tiny green plant growing neglected and
trampled under foot.  What harm could there be in picking it?  Ojo began
to think Ozma must be a very bad and oppressive Ruler for such a lovely
fairyland as Oz.  The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but how 
could they?
	The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking these things--which
many guilty prisoners have thought before him--that he scarcely noticed
all the splendor of the city streets through which they passed.  Whenever
they met any of the happy, smiling people, the boy turned his head away
in shame, although none knew who was beneath the robe.
	By and by they reached a house built just beside the great city
wall, but in a quiet, retired place.  It was a pretty house, neatly
painted and with many windows.  Before it was a garden filled with
blooming flowers.  The Soldier with the Green Whiskers led Ojo up the
gravel path to the front door, on which he knocked.
	A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo in his white robe, exclaimed:
	"Goodness me!  A prisoner at last.  But what a small one, Soldier."
	"The size doesn't matter, Tollydiggle, my dear.  The fact remains
that he is a prisoner," said the soldier.  "And, this being the prison,
and you the jailer, it is my duty to place the prisoner in your charge."
	"True.  Come in, then, and I'll give you a receipt for him."
	They entered the house and passed through a hall to a large
circular room, where the woman pulled the robe off from Ojo and looked at
him with kindly interest.  The boy, on his part, was gazing around him in
amazement, for never had he dreamed of such a magnificent apartment as
this in which he stood.  The roof of the dome was of colored glass,
worked into beautiful designs.  The walls were paneled with plates of
gold decorated with gems of great size and many colors, and upon the
tiled floor were soft rugs delightful to walk upon.  The furniture was
framed in gold and upholstered in satin brocade and it consisted of easy
chairs, divans and stools in great variety.  Also there were several
tables with mirror tops and cabinets filled with rare and curious things.
In one place a case filled with books stood against the wall, and 
elsewhere Ojo saw a cupboard containing all sorts of games.
	"May I stay here a little while before I go to prison?" asked the
boy, pleadingly.
	"Why, this is your prison," replied Tollydiggle, "and in me behold
your jailer.  Take off those handcuffs, Soldier, for it is impossible for
anyone to escape from this house."
	"I know that very well," replied the soldier and at once unlocked
the handcuffs and released the prisoner.
	The woman touched a button on the wall and lighted a big
chandelier that hung suspended from the ceiling, for it was growing dark
outside. Then she seated herself at a desk and asked:
	"What name?"
	"Ojo the Unlucky," answered the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.
	"Unlucky?  Ah, that accounts for it," said she.  "What crime?"
	"Breaking a Law of Oz."
	"All right.  There's your receipt, Soldier; and now I'm
responsible for the prisoner.  I'm gladof it, for this is the first time
I've ever had anything to do, in my official capacity," remarked the
jailer, in a pleased tone.
	"It's the same with me, Tollydiggle," laughed the soldier.  "But
my task is finished and I must go and report to Ozma that I've done my
duty like a faithful Police Force, a loyal Army and an honest
Body-Guard--as I hope I am."
	Saying this, he nodded farewell to Tollydiggle and Ojo and went away.
	"Now, then," said the woman briskly, "I must get you some supper,
for you are doubtless hungry.  What would you prefer: planked whitefish,
omelet with jelly or mutton-chops with gravy?"
	Ojo thought about it.  Then he said, "I'll take the chops, if you
	"Very well; amuse yourself while I'm gone; I won't be long," and
then she went out by a door and left the prisoner alone.
	Ojo was much astonished, for not only was this unlike any prison
he had ever heard of, but he was being treated more as a guest than a
criminal.  There were many windows and they had no locks.  There were
three doors to the room and none were bolted.  He cautiously opened one
of the doors and found that it led into a hallway.  But he had no
intention of trying to escape.  If his jailer was willing to trust him in
this way he would not betray her trust, and moreover a hot supper was
being prepared for him and his prison was very pleasant and comfortable.
So he took a book from the case and sat down in a big chair to look at
the pictures.
	This amused him until the woman came in with a large tray and
spread a cloth on one of the tables.  Then she arranged his supper, which
proved the most varied and delicious meal Ojo had ever eaten in his life.
	Tollydiggle sat near him while he ate, sewing on some fancy work
she held in her lap.  When he had finished she cleared the table and then
read to him a story from one of the books.
	"Is this really a prison?" he asked, when she had finished reading.
	"Indeed it is," she replied.  "It is the only prison in the Land of Oz."
	"And am I a prisoner?"
	"Bless the child!  Of course."
	"Then why is the prison so fine, and why are you so kind to me?"
he earnestly asked.
	Tollydiggle seemed surprised by the question, but she presently
	"We consider a prisoner unfortunate.  He is unfortunate in two
ways--because he has done something wrong and because he is deprived of
his liberty.  Therefore we should treat him kindly, because of his
misfortune, for otherwise he would become hard and bitter and would not
be sorry he had done wrong.  Ozma thinks that one who has committed a
fault did so because he was not strong and brave; therefore she puts him
in prison to make him strong and brave.  When that is accomplished he is
no longer a prisoner, but a good and loyal citizen and everyone is glad
that he is now strong enough to resist doing wrong.  You see, it is
kindness that makes one strong and brave; and so we are kind to our prisoners."
	Ojo thought this over very carefully.  "I had an idea," said he,
"that prisoners were always treated harshly, to punish them."
	"That would be dreadful!" cried Tollydiggle.  "Isn't one punished
enough in knowing that he has done wrong?  Don't you wish, Ojo, with all
your heart, that you had not been disobedient and broken a Law of Oz?"
	"I--I hate to be different from other people," he admitted.
	"Yes! one likes to be respected as highly as his neighbors are,"
said the woman.  "When you are tried and found guilty, you will be
obliged to make amends, in some way.  I don't know just what Ozma will do
to you, because this is the first time one of us had broken a Law; but
you may be sure she will be just and merciful.  Here in the Emerald City
people are too happy and contented ever to do wrong; but perhaps you came
from some faraway corner of our land, and having no love for Ozma
carelessly broke one of her Laws."
	"Yes," said Ojo, "I've lived all my life in the heart of a lonely
forest, where I saw no one but dear Unc Nunkie."
	"I thought so," said Tollydiggle.  "But now we have talked
enough, so let us play a game until bedtime."

16. Princess Dorothy

	Dorothy Gale was sitting in one of her rooms in the royal palace,
while curled up at her feet was a little black dog with a shaggy coat and
very bright eyes.  She wore a plain white frock without any jewels or
other ornaments except an emerald-green hair-ribbon, for Dorothy was a
simple little girl and had not been in the least spoiled by the
magnificence surrounding her.  Once the child had lived on the Kansas
prairies, but she seemed marked for adventure, for she had made several
trips to the Land of Oz before she came to live there for good.  Her very
best friend was the beautiful Ozma of Oz, who loved Dorothy so well that
she kept her in her own palace, so as to be near her.  The girl's Uncle
Henry and Aunt Em--the only relatives she had in the world--had also been 
brought here by Ozma and given a pleasant home.  Dorothy knew almost
everybody in Oz, and it was she who had discovered the Scarecrow, the Tin
Woodman and the Cowardly Lion, as well as Tik-tok the Clockwork Man.  Her
life was very pleasant now, and although she had been made a Princess of
Oz by her friend Ozma she did not care much to be a Princess and remained
as sweet as when she had been plain Dorothy Gale of Kansas.
	Dorothy was reading in a book this evening when Jellia Jamb, the
favorite servant-maid of the palace, came to say that the Shaggy Man
wanted to see her.
	"All right," said Dorothy; "tell him to come right up."
	"But he has some queer creatures with him--some of the queerest
I've ever laid eyes on," reported Jellia.
	"Never mind; let 'em all come up," replied Dorothy.
	But when the door opened to admit not only the Shaggy Man, but
Scraps, the Woozy, and the Glass Cat, Dorothy jumped up and looked at her
strange visitors in amazement.  The Patchwork Girl was the most curious
of all and Dorothy was uncertain at first whether Scraps was really alive
or only a dream or a nightmare.  Toto, her dog, slowly uncurled himself
and going to the Patchwork Girl sniffed at her inquiringly; but soon he
lay down again, as if to say he had no interest in such an irregular creation.
	"You're a new one to me," Dorothy said reflectively, addressing
the Patchwork Girl.  "I can't imagine where you've come from."
	"Who, me?" asked Scraps, looking around the pretty room instead
of at the girl.  "Oh, I came from a bed-quilt, I guess.  That's what they
say, anyhow.  Some call it a crazy-quilt and some a patchwork quilt. But
my name is Scraps--and now you know all about me."
	"Not quite all," said Dorothy with a smile.  "I wish you'd tell
me how you came to be alive."
	"That's an easy job," said Scraps, sitting upon a big upholstered
chair and making the springs bounce her up and down.  "Margolotte wanted
a slave, so she made me out of an old bed-quilt she didn't use. Cotton
stuffing, suspender-button eyes, red velvet tongue, pearl beads for
teeth.  The Crooked Magician made a Powder of Life, sprinkled me with it
and--here I am.  Perhaps you've noticed my different colors. A very
refined and educated gentleman named the Scarecrow, whom I met, told me I
am the most beautiful creature in all Oz, and I believe it."
	"Oh!  Have you met our Scarecrow, then?" asked Dorothy, a little
puzzled to understand the brief history related.
	"Yes; isn't he jolly?"
	"The Scarecrow has many good qualities," replied Dorothy.  "But
I'm sorry to hear all this 'bout the Crooked Magician.  Ozma'll be mad as
hops when she hears he's been doing magic again.  She told him not to."
	"He only practices magic for the benefit of his own family,"
explained Bungle, who was keeping at a respectful distance from the
little black dog.
	"Dear me," said Dorothy; "I hadn't noticed you before.  Are you
glass, or what?"
	"I'm glass, and transparent, too, which is more than can be said
of some folks," answered the cat.  "Also I have some lovely pink brains;
you can see 'em work."
	"Oh; is that so?  Come over here and let me see."
	The Glass Cat hesitated, eyeing the dog.
	"Send that beast away and I will," she said.
	"Beast!  Why, that's my dog Toto, an' he's the kindest dog in all
the world.  Toto knows a good many things, too; 'most as much as I do, I
	"Why doesn't he say anything?" asked Bungle.
	"He can't talk, not being a fairy dog," explained Dorothy.  "He's
just a common United States dog; but that's a good deal; and I understand
him, and he understands me, just as well as if he could talk."
	Toto, at this, got up and rubbed his head softly against
Dorothy's hand, which she held out to him, and he looked up into her face
as if he had understood every word she had said.
	"This cat, Toto," she said to him, "is made of glass, so you
mustn't bother it, or chase it, any more than you do my Pink Kitten.
It's prob'ly brittle and might break if it bumped against anything."
	"Woof!" said Toto, and that meant he understood.
	The Glass Cat was so proud of her pink brains that she ventured
to come close to Dorothy, in order that the girl might "see 'em work."
This was really interesting, but when Dorothy patted the cat she found
the glass cold and hard and unresponsive, so she decided at once that
Bungle would never do for a pet.
	"What do you know about the Crooked Magician who lives on the
mountain?" asked Dorothy.
	"He made me," replied the cat; "so I know all about him.  The
Patchwork Girl is new--three or four days old--but I've lived with Dr.
Pipt for years; and, though I don't much care for him, I will say that he
has always refused to work magic for any of the people who come to his
house.  He thinks there's no harm in doing magic things for his own
family, and he made me out of glass because the meat cats drink too much
milk.  He also made Scraps come to life so she could do the housework for
his wife Margolotte."
	"Then why did you both leave him?" asked Dorothy.
	"I think you'd better let me explain that," interrupted the
Shaggy Man, and then he told Dorothy all of Ojo's story, and how Unc
Nunkie and Marg lotte had accidentally been turned to marble by the Liquid
of Petrifaction.  Then he related how the boy had started out in search of
the things needed to make the magic charm, which would restore the
unfortunates to life, and how he had found the Woozy and taken him along
because he could not pull the three hairs out of its tail. Dorothy
listened to all this with much interest, and thought that so far Ojo had
acted very well.  But  hen the Shaggy Man told her of the Munchkin boy's
arrest by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, because he was accused of
wilfully breaking a Law of Oz, the little girl was greatly shocked.
	"What do you s'pose he's done?" she asked.
	"I fear he has picked a six-leaved clover," answered the Shaggy
Man, sadly.  "I did not see him do it, and I warned him that to do so was
against the Law; but perhaps that is what he did, nevertheless."
	"I'm sorry 'bout that," said Dorothy gravely, "for now there will
be no one to help his poor uncle and Margolotte--'cept this Patchwork
Girl, the Woozy and the Glass Cat."
	"Don't mention it," said Scraps.  "That's no affair of mine.
Margolotte and Unc Nunkie are perfect strangers to me, for the moment I
came to life they came to marble."
	"I see," remarked Dorothy with a sigh of regret; " the woman
forgot to give you a heart."
	"I'm glad she did," retorted the Patchwork Girl.  "A heart must
be a great annoyance to one.  It makes a person feel sad or sorry or
devoted or sympathetic--all of which sensations interfere with one's
	"I have a heart," murmured the Glass Cat.  "It's made of a ruby;
but I don't imagine I shall let it bother me about helping Unc Nunkie and
	"That's a pretty hard heart of yours," said Dorothy.  "And the
Woozy, of course--"
	"Why, as for me," observed the Woozy, who was reclining on the
floor with his legs doubled under him, so that he looked much like a
square box, "I have never seen those unfortunate people you are speaking
of, and yet I am sorry for them, having at times been unfortunate myself.
When I was shut up in that forest I longed for some one to help me, and
by and by Ojo came and did help me.  So I'm willing to help his uncle.
I'm only a stupid beast, Dorothy, but I can't help that, and if you'll
tell me what to do to help Ojo and his uncle, I'll gladly do it."
	Dorothy walked over and patted the Woozy on his square head.
	"You're not pretty," she said, "but I like you.  What are you
able to do; anything special?"
	"I can make my eyes flash fire--real fire--when I'm angry.  When
anyone says: 'Krizzle-Kroo' to me I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire."
	"I don't see as fireworks could help Ojo's uncle," remarked
Dorothy. "Can you do anything else?"
	"I--I thought I had a very terrifying growl," said the Woozy,
with hesitation; "but perhaps I was mistaken."
	"Yes," said the Shaggy Man, "you were certainly wrong about
that." Then he turned to Dorothy and added: "What will become of the
Munchkin boy?"
	"I don't know," she said, shaking her head thoughtfully.  "Ozma
will see him 'bout it, of course, and then she'll punish him.  But how, I
don't know, 'cause no one ever has been punished in Oz since I knew
anything about the place.  Too bad, Shaggy Man, isn't it?"
	While they were talking Scraps had been roaming around the room
and looking at all the pretty things it contained.  She had carried Ojo's
basket in her hand, until now when she decided to see what was inside it.
She found the bread and cheese, which she had no use for, and the bundle
of charms, which were curious but quite a mystery to her. Then, turning
these over, she came upon the six-leaved clover which the boy had plucked.
	Scraps was quick-witted, and although she had no heart she
recognized the fact that Ojo was her first friend.  She knew at once that
because the boy had taken the clover he  ad been imprisoned, and she
undersood that Ojo had given her the basket so they would not find the
clover in his possession and have proof of his crime.  So, turning her
head to see that no one noticed her, she took the clover from the basket
and dropped it into a golden vase that stood on Dorothy's table.  Then
she came forward and said to Dorothy:
	"I wouldn't care to help Ojo's uncle, but I will help Ojo.  He
did not break the Law--no one can prove he did--and that green-whiskered
soldier had no right to arrest him."
	"Ozma ordered the boy's arrest," said Dorothy, "and of course she
knew what she was doing.  But if you can prove Ojo is innocent they will
set him free at once."
	"They'll have to prove him guilty, won't they?" asked Scraps.
	"I s'pose so."
	"Well, they can't do that," declared the Patchwork Girl.
	As it was nearly time for Dorothy to dine with Ozma, which she
did every evening, she rang for a servant and ordered the Woozy taken to
a nice room and given plenty of such food as he liked best.
	"That's honey-bees," said the Woozy.
	"You can't eat honey-bees, but you'll be given something just as
nice," Dorothy told him.  Then she had the Glass Cat taken to another
room for the night and the Patchwork Girl she kept in one of her own
rooms, for she was much interested in the strange creature and wanted to
talk with her again and try to understand her better.

17. Ozma and Her Friends

	The Shaggy Man had a room of his own in the royal palace, so there
he went to change his shaggy suit of clothes for another just as shaggy
but not so dusty from travel.  He selected a costume of pea-green and
pink satin and velvet, with embroidered shags on all the edges and
iridescent pearls for ornaments.  Then he bathed in an alabaster pool and
brushed his shaggy hair and whiskers the wrong way to make them still
more shaggy.  This accomplished, and arrayed in his splendid shaggy
garments, he went to Ozma's banquet hall and found the Scarecrow, the
Wizard and Dorothy already assembled there.  The Scarecrow had made a
quick trip and returned to the Emerald City with his left ear freshly
	A moment later, while they all stood in waiting, a servant threw
open a door, the orchestra struck up a tune, and Ozma of Oz entered.
	Much has been told and written concerning the beauty of person
and character of this sweet girl Ruler of the Land of Oz--the richest,
the happiest and most delightful fairyland of which we have any
knowledge. Yet with all her queenly qualities Ozma was a real girl and
enjoyed the things in life that other real girls enjoy.  When she sat on
her splendid emerald throne in the great Throne Room of her palace and
made laws and settled disputes and tried to keep all her subjects happy
and contented, she was as dignified and demure as any queen might be; but
when she had thrown aside her jeweled robe of state and her sceptre, and
had retired to her private apartments, the girl--joyous, light-hearted
and free--replaced the sedate Ruler.
	In the banquet hall to-night were gathered only old and trusted
friends, so here Ozma was herself--a mere girl.  She greeted Dorothy with
a kiss, the Shaggy Man with a smile, the little old Wizard with a
friendly handshake, and then she pressed the Scarecrow's stuffed arm and
cried merrily:
	"What a lovely left ear!  Why, it's a hundred times better than
the old one."
	"I'm glad you like it," replied the Scarecrow, well pleased.
"Jinjur did a neat job, didn't she?  And my hearing is now perfect.
Isn't it wonderful what a little paint will do, if it's properly applied?"
	"It really IS wonderful," she agreed, as they all took their
seats; "but the Sawhorse must have made his legs twinkle to have carried
you so far in one day.  I didn't expect you back before to-morrow, at the
	"Well," said the Scarecrow, "I met a charming girl on the road
and wanted to see more of her, so I hurried back."
	Ozma laughed.
	"I know," she returned; "it's the Patchwork Girl.  She is
certainly bewildering, if not strictly beautiful."
	"Have you seen her, then?" the straw man eagerly asked.
	"Only in my Magic Picture, which shows me all scenes of interest
in the Land of Oz."
	"I fear the picture didn't do her justice," said the Scarecrow.
	"It seemed to me that nothing could be more gorgeous," declared
Ozma. "Whoever made that patchwork quilt, from which Scraps was formed,
must have selected the gayest and brightest bits of cloth that ever were
	"I am glad you like her," said the Scarecrow in a satisfied tone.
Although the straw man did not eat, not being made so he could, he often
dined with Ozma and her companions, merely for the pleasure of talking
with them.  He sat at the table and had a napkin and plate, but the
servants knew better than to offer him food.  After a little while he
asked: "Where is the Patchwork Girl now?"
	"In my room," replied Dorothy.  "I've taken a fancy to her; she's
so queer and--and--uncommon."
	"She's half crazy, I think," added the Shaggy Man.
	"But she is so beautiful!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, as if that
fact disarmed all criticism.  They all laughed at his enthusiasm, but the
Scarecrow was quite serious.  Seeing that he was interested in Scraps
they forbore to say anything against her.  The little band of friends
Ozma had gathered around her was so quaintly assorted that much care must
be exercised to avoid hurting their feelings or making any one of them
unhappy.  It was this considerate kindness that held them close friends
and enabled them to enjoy one another's society.
	Another thing they avoided was conversing on unpleasant subjects,
and for that reason Ojo and his troubles were not mentioned during the
dinner.  The Shaggy Man, however, related his adventures with the
monstrous plants which had seized and enfolded the travelers, and told
how he had robbed Chiss, the great porcupine, of the quills which it was
accustomed to throw at people.  Both Dorothy and Ozma were pleased with
this exploit and thought it served Chiss right.
	Then they talked of the Woozy, which was the most remarkable
animal any of them had ever before seen--except, perhaps, the live
Sawhorse. Ozma had never known that her dominions contained such a thing
as a Woozy, there being but one in existence and this being confined in
his forest for many years.  Dorothy said she believed the Woozy was a
good beast, honest and faithful; but she added that she did not care much
for the Glass Cat.
	"Still," said the Shaggy Man, "the Glass Cat is very pretty and
if she were not so conceited over her pink brains no one would object to
her as a companion."
	The Wizard had been eating silently until now, when he looked up
and remarked:
	"That Powder of Life which is made by the Crooked Magician is
really a wonderful thing.  But Dr. Pipt does not know its true value and
he uses it in the most foolish ways."
	"I must see about that," said Ozma, gravely.  Then she smiled
again and continued in a lighter tone: "It was Dr. Pipt's famous Powder
of Life that enabled me to become the Ruler of Oz."
	"I've never heard that story," said the Shaggy Man, looking at
Ozma questioningly.
	"Well, when I was a baby girl I was stolen by an old Witch named
Mombi and transformed into a boy," began the girl Ruler.  "I did not know
who I was and when I grew big enough to work, the Witch made me wait upon
her and carry wood for the fire and hoe in the garden.  One day she came
back from a journey bringing some of the Powder of Life, which Dr. Pipt
had given her.  I had made a pumpkin-headed man and set it up in her path
to frighten her, for I was fond of fun and hated the Witch.  But she knew
what the figure was and to test her Powder of Life she sprinkled some of
it on the man I had made.  It came to life and is now our dear friend
Jack Pumpkinhead.  That night I ran away with Jack to escape punishment,
and I took old Mombi's Powder of Life with me.  During our journey we
came upon a wooden Sawhorse standing by the road and I used the magic
powder to bring it to life. The Sawhorse has been with me ever since.
When I got to the Emerald City the good Sorceress, Glinda, knew who I was
and restored me to my proper person, when I became the rightful Ruler of
this land.  So you see had not old Mombi brought home the Powder of Life
I might never have run away from her and become Ozma of Oz, nor would we
have had Jack Pumpkinhead and the Sawhorse to comfort and amuse us."
	That story interested the Shaggy Man very much, as well as the
others, who had often heard it before.  The dinner being now concluded,
they all went to Ozma's drawing-room, where they passed a pleasant
evening before it came time to retire.

18. Ojo is Forgiven

	The next morning the Soldier with the Green Whiskers went to the
prison and took Ojo away to the royal palace, where he was summoned to
appear before the girl Ruler for judgment.  Again the soldier put upon
the boy the jeweled handcuffs and white prisoner's robe with the peaked
top and holes for the eyes.  Ojo was so ashamed, both of his disgrace and
the fault he had committed, that he was glad to be covered up in this
way, so that people could not see him or know who he was.  He followed
the Soldier with the Green Whiskers very willingly, anxious that his fate
might be decided as soon as possible.
	The inhabitants of the Emerald City were polite people and never
jeered at the unfortunate; but it was so long since they had seen a
prisoner that they cast many curious looks toward the boy and many of
them hurried away to the royal palace to be present during the trial.
	When Ojo was escorted into the great Throne Room of the palace he
found hundreds of people assembled there.  In the magnificent emerald
throne, which sparkled with countless jewels, sat Ozma of Oz in her Robe
of State, which was embroidered with emeralds and pearls.  On her right,
but a little lower, was Dorothy, and on her left the Scarecrow. Still
lower, but nearly in front of Ozma, sat the wonderful Wizard of Oz and on
a small table beside him was the golden vase from Dorothy's room, into
which Scraps had dropped the stolen clover.
	At Ozma's feet crouched two enormous beasts, each the largest and
most powerful of its kind.  Although these beasts were quite free, no one
present was alarmed by them; for the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger
were well known and respected in the Emerald City and they always guarded
the Ruler when she held high court in the Throne Room. There was still
another beast present, but this one Dorothy held in her arms, for it was
her constant companion, the little dog Toto. Toto knew the Cowardly Lion
and the Hungry Tiger and often played and romped with them, for they were
good friends.
	Seated on ivory chairs before Ozma, with a clear space between
them and the throne, were many of the nobility of the Emerald City, lords
and ladies in beautiful costumes, and officials of the kingdom in the
royal uniforms of Oz.  Behind these courtiers were others of less
importance, filling the great hall to the very doors.
	At the same moment that the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
arrived with Ojo, the Shaggy Man entered from a side door, escorting the
Patchwork Girl, the Woozy and the Glass Cat.  All these came to the
vacant space before the throne and stood facing the Ruler.
	"Hullo, Ojo," said Scraps; "how are you?"
	"All right," he replied; but the scene awed the boy and his voice
trembled a little with fear.  Nothing could awe the Patchwork Girl, and
although the Woozy was somewhat uneasy in these splendid surroundings the
Glass Cat was delighted with the sumptuousness of the court and the
impressiveness of the occasion--pretty big words but quite expressive.
	At a sign from Ozma the soldier removed Ojo's white robe and the
boy stood face to face with the girl who was to decide his punishment.
He saw at a glance how lovely and sweet she was, and his heart gave a
bound of joy, for he hoped she would be merciful.
	Ozma sat looking at the prisoner a long time.  Then she said gently:
	"One of the Laws of Oz forbids anyone to pick a six-leaved
clover. You are accused of having broken this Law, even after you had
been warned not to do so."
	Ojo hung his head and while he hesitated how to reply the
Patchwork Girl stepped forward and spoke for him.
	"All this fuss is about nothing at all," she said, facing Ozma
unabashed.  "You can't prove he picked the six-leaved clover, so you've
no right to accuse him of it.  Search him, if you like, but you won't
find the clover; look in his basket and you'll find it's not there.  He
hasn't got it, so I demand that you set this poor Munchkin boy free."
	The people of Oz listened to this defiance in amazement and
wondered at the queer Patchwork Girl who dared talk so boldly to their
Ruler. But Ozma sat silent and motionless and it was the little Wizard
who answered Scraps.
	"So the clover hasn't been picked, eh?" he said.  "I think it
has.  I think the boy hid it in his basket, and then gave the basket to
you. I also think you dropped the clover into this vase, which stood in
Princess Dorothy's room, hoping to get rid of it so it would not prove
the boy guilty.  You're a stranger here, Miss Patches, and so you don't
know that nothing can be hidden from our powerful Ruler's Magic
Picture--nor from the watchful eyes of the humble Wizard of Oz.  Look,
all of you!"  With these words he waved his hands toward the vase on the
table, which Scraps now noticed for the first time.
	From the mouth of the vase a plant sprouted, slowly growing
before their eyes until it became a beautiful bush, and on the topmost
branch appeared the six-leaved clover which Ojo had unfortunately picked.
	The Patchwork Girl looked at the clover and said: "Oh, so you've
found it.  Very well; prove he picked it, if you can."
	Ozma turned to Ojo.
	"Did you pick the six-leaved clover?" she asked.
	"Yes," he replied.  "I knew it was against the Law, but I wanted
to save Unc Nunkie and I was afraid if I asked your consent to pick it
you would refuse me."
	"What caused you to think that?" asked the Ruler.
	"Why, it seemed to me a foolish law, unjust and unreasonable.
Even now I can see no harm in picking a six-leaved clover.  And I--I had
not seen the Emerald City, then, or you, and I thought a girl who would
make such a silly Law would not be likely to help anyone in trouble."
	Ozma regarded him musingly, her chin resting upon her hand; but
she was not angry.  On the contrary she smiled a little at her thoughts
and then grew sober again.
	"I suppose a good many laws seem foolish to those people who do
not understand them," she said; "but no law is ever made without some
purpose, and that purpose is usually to protect all the people and guard
their welfare.  As you are a stranger, I will explain this Law which to
you seems so foolish.  Years ago there were many Witches and Magicians in
the Land of Oz, and one of the things they often used in making their
magic charms and transformations was a six-leaved clover. These Witches
and Magicians caused so much trouble among my people, often using their
powers for evil rather than good, that I decided to forbid anyone to
practice magic or sorcery except Glinda the Good and her assistant, the
Wizard of Oz, both of whom I can trust to use their arts only to benefit
my people and to make them happier.  Since I issued that Law the Land of
Oz has been far more peaceful and quiet; but I learned that some of the
Witches and Magicians were still practicing magic on the sly and using
the six-leaved clovers to make their potions and charms.  Therefore I
made another Law forbidding anyone from plucking a six-leaved clover or
from gathering other plants and herbs which the Witches boil in their
kettles to work magic with.  That has almost put an end to wicked sorcery
in our land, so you see the Law was not a foolish one, but wise and just;
and, in any event, it is wrong to disobey a Law."
	Ojo knew she was right and felt greatly mortified to realize he
had acted and spoken so ridiculously.  But he raised his head and looked
Ozma in the face, saying:
	"I am sorry I have acted wrongly and broken your Law.  I did it
to save Unc Nunkie, and thought I would not be found out.  But I am
guilty of this act and whatever punishment you think I deserve I will
suffer willingly."
	Ozma smiled more brightly, then, and nodded graciously.
	"You are forgiven," she said.  "For, although you have committed
a serious fault, you are now penitent and I think you have been punished
enough.  Soldier, release Ojo the Lucky and--"
	"I beg your pardon; I'm Ojo the UNlucky," said the boy.
	"At this moment you are lucky," said she.  "Release him, Soldier,
and let him go free."
	The people were glad to hear Ozma's decree and murmured their
approval.  As the royal audience was now over, they began to leave the
Throne Room and soon there were none remaining except Ojo and his friends
and Ozma and her favorites.
	The girl Ruler now asked Ojo to sit down and tell her all his
story, which he did, beginning at the time he had left his home in the
forest and ending with his arrival at the Emerald City and his arrest.
Ozma listened attentively and was thoughtful for some moments after the
boy had finished speaking.  Then she said:
	"The Crooked Magician was wrong to make the Glass Cat and the
Patchwork Girl, for it was against the Law.  And if he had not unlawfully
kept the bottle of Liquid of Petrifaction standing on his shelf, the
accident to his wife Margolotte and to Unc Nunkie could not have
occurred.  I can understand, however, that Ojo, who loves his uncle, will
be unhappy unless he can save him.  Also I feel it is wrong to leave
those two victims standing as marble statues, when they ought to be
alive.  So I propose we allow Dr. Pipt to make the magic charm which will
save them, and that we assist Ojo to find the things he is seeking.  What
do you think, Wizard?"
	"That is perhaps the best thing to do," replied the Wizard. "But
after the Crooked Magician has restored those poor people to life you
must take away his magic powers."
	"I will," promised Ozma.
	"Now tell me, please, what magic things must you find?" continued
the Wizard, addressing Ojo.
	"The three hairs from the Woozy's tail I have," said the boy.
"That is, I have the Woozy, and the hairs are in his tail.  The
six-leaved clover I--I--"
	"You may take it and keep it," said Ozma.  "That will not be
breaking the Law, for it is already picked, and the crime of picking it
is forgiven."
	"Thank you!" cried Ojo gratefully.  Then he continued: "The next
thing I must find is a gill of water from a dark well."
	The Wizard shook his head.  "That," said he, "will be a hard
task, but if you travel far enough, you may discover it."
	"I am willing to travel for years, if it will save Unc Nunkie,"
declared Ojo, earnestly.
	"Then you'd better begin your journey at once," advised the Wizard.
	Dorothy had been listening with interest to this conversation.
Now she turned to Ozma and asked: "May I go with Ojo, to help him?"
	"Would you like to?" returned Ozma.
	"Yes.  I know Oz pretty well, but Ojo doesn't know it at all.
I'm sorry for his uncle and poor Margolotte and I'd like to help save
them.  May I go?"
	"If you wish to," replied Ozma.
	"If Dorothy goes, then I must go to take care of her," said the
Scarecrow, decidedly.  "A dark well can only be discovered in some
out-of-the-way place, and there may be dangers there."
	"You have my permission to accompany Dorothy," said Ozma.  "And
while you are gone I will take care of the Patchwork Girl."
	"I'll take care of myself," announced Scraps, "for I'm going with
the Scarecrow and Dorothy.  I promised Ojo to help him find the things he
wants and I'll stick to my promise."
	"Very well," replied Ozma.  "But I see no need for Ojo to take
the Glass Cat and the Woozy."
	"I prefer to remain here," said the cat.  "I've nearly been
nicked half a dozen times, already, and if they're going into dangers
it's best for me to keep away from them."
	"Let Jellia Jamb keep her till Ojo returns," suggested Dorothy.
"We won't need to take the Woozy, either, but he ought to be saved
because of the three hairs in his tail."
	"Better take me along," said the Woozy.  "My eyes can flash fire,
you know, and I can growl--a little."
	"I'm sure you'll be safer here," Ozma decided, and the Woozy made
no further objection to the plan.
	After consulting together they decided that Ojo and his party
should leave the very next day to search for the gill of water from a
dark well, so they now separated to make preparations for the journey.
	Ozma gave the Munchkin boy a room in the palace for that night
and the afternoon he passed with Dorothy--getting acquainted, as she
said--and receiving advice from the Shaggy Man as to where they must go.
The Shaggy Man had wandered in many parts of Oz, and so had Dorothy, for
that matter, yet neither of them knew where a dark well was to be found.
	"If such a thing is anywhere in the settled parts of Oz," said
Dorothy, "we'd prob'ly have heard of it long ago.  If it's in the wild
parts of the country, no one there would need a dark well.  P'raps there
isn't such a thing."
	"Oh, there must be!" returned Ojo, positively; "or else the
recipe of Dr. Pipt wouldn't call for it."
	"That's true," agreed Dorothy; "and, if it's anywhere in the Land
of Oz, we're bound to find it."
	"Well, we're bound to SEARCH for it, anyhow," said the Scarecrow.
"As for finding it, we must trust to luck."
	"Don't do that," begged Ojo, earnestly.  "I'm called Ojo the
Unlucky, you know."

19. Trouble with the Tottenhots

	A day's journey from the Emerald City brought the little band of
adventurers to the home of Jack Pumpkinhead, which was a house formed
from the shell of an immense pumpkin.  Jack had made it himself and was
very proud of it.  There was a door and several windows, and through the
top was stuck a stove-pipe that led from a small stove inside.  The door
was reached by a flight of three steps and there was a good floor on
which was arranged some furniture that was quite comfortable.
	It is certain that Jack Pumpkinhead might have had a much finer
house to live in had he wanted it, for Ozma loved the stupid fellow, who
had been her earliest companion; but Jack preferred his pumpkin house, as
it matched himself very well, and in this he was not so stupid, after all.
	The body of this remarkable person was made of wood, branches of
trees of various sizes having been used for the purpose.  This wooden
framework was covered by a red shirt--with white spots in it--blue
trousers, a yellow vest, a jacket of green-and-gold and stout leather
shoes.  The neck was a sharpened stick on which the pumpkin head was set,
and the eyes, ears, nose and mouth were carved on the skin of the
pumpkin, very like a child's jack-o'-lantern.
	The house of this interesting creation stood in the center of a
vast pumpkin-field, where the vines grew in profusion and bore pumpkins
of extraordinary size as well as those which were smaller.  Some of the
pumpkins now ripening on the vines were almost as large as Jack's house,
and he told Dorothy he intended to add another pumpkin to his mansion.
	The travelers were cordially welcomed to this quaint domicile and
invited to pass the night there, which they had planned to do. The
Patchwork Girl was greatly interested in Jack and examined him admiringly.
	"You are quite handsome," she said; "but not as really beautiful
as the Scarecrow."
	Jack turned, at this, to examine the Scarecrow critically, and
his old friend slyly winked one painted eye at him.
	"There is no accounting for tastes," remarked the Pumpkinhead,
with a sigh.  "An old crow once told me I was very fascinating, but of
course the bird might have been mistaken.  Yet I have noticed that the
crows usually avoid the Scarecrow, who is a very honest fellow, in his
way, but stuffed.  I am not stuffed, you will observe; my body is good
solid hickory."
	"I adore stuffing," said the Patchwork Girl.
	"Well, as for that, my head is stuffed with pumpkin-seeds,"
declared Jack.  "I use them for brains, and when they are fresh I am
intellectual.  Just now, I regret to say, my seeds are rattling a bit, so
I must soon get another head."
	"Oh; do you change your head?" asked Ojo.
	"To be sure.  Pumpkins are not permanent, more's the pity, and in
time they spoil.  That is why I grow such a great field of pumpkins--that
I may select a new head whenever necessary."
	"Who carves the faces on them?" inquired the boy.
	"I do that myself.  I lift off my old head, place it on a table
before me, and use the face for a pattern to go by.  Sometimes the faces
I carve are better than others--more expressive and cheerful, you
know--but I think they average very well."
	Before she had started on the journey Dorothy had packed a
knapsack with the things she might need, and this knapsack the Scarecrow
carried strapped to his back.  The little girl wore a plain gingham dress
and a checked sunbonnet, as she knew they were best fitted for travel.
Ojo also had brought along his basket, to which Ozma had added a bottle
of "Square Meal Tablets" and some fruit.  But Jack Pumpkinhead grew a lot
of things in his garden besides pumpkins, so he cooked for them a fine
vegetable soup and gave Dorothy, Ojo and Toto, the only ones who found it
necessary to eat, a pumpkin pie and some green cheese.  For beds they
must use the sweet dried grasses which Jack had strewn along one side of
the room, but that satisfied Dorothy and Ojo very well.  Toto, of course,
slept beside his little mistress.
	The Scarecrow, Scraps and the Pumpkinhead were tireless and had no
need to sleep, so they sat up and talked together all night; but they
stayed outside the house under the bright stars, and talked in low tones
so as not to disturb the sleepers.  During the conversation the Scarecrow
explained their quest for a dark well, and asked Jack's advice where to find it.
	The Pumpkinhead considered the matter gravely.
	"That is going to be a difficult task," said he, "and if I were
you I'd take any ordinary well and enclose it so as to make it dark."
	"I fear that wouldn't do," replied the Scarecrow.  "The well must
be naturally dark, and the water must never have seen the light of day,
for otherwise the magic charm might not work at all."
	"How much of the water do you need?" asked Jack.
	"A gill."
	"How much is a gill?"
	"Why, a gill is a gill, of course," answered the Scarecrow, who
did not wish to display his ignorance.
	"I know!" cried Scraps.  "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch--"
	"No, no that's wrong," interrupted the Scarecrow.  "There are two
kinds of gills, I think; one is a girl, and the other is--"
	"A gillyflower," said Jack.
	"No, a measure."
	"How big a measure?"
	"Well, I'll ask Dorothy."
	So next morning they asked Dorothy, and she said:
	"I don't just know how much a gill is, but I've brought along a
gold flask that holds a pint.  That's more than a gill, I'm sure, and the
Crooked Magician may measure it to suit himself.  But the thing that's
bothering us most, Jack, is to find the well."
	Jack gazed around the landscape, for he was standing in the
doorway of his house.
	"This is flat country, so you won't find any dark wells here,"
said he. "You must go into the mountains, where rocks and caverns are."
	"And where is that?" asked Ojo.
	"In the Quadling Country, which lies south of here," replied the
Scarecrow.  "I've know all along that we must go to the mountains."
	"So have I," said Dorothy.
	"But--goodness me--the Quadling Country is full of dangers,"
declared Jack.  "I've never been there myself, but--"
	"I have," said the Scarecrow.  "I've faced the dreadful
Hammerheads, which have no arms and butt you like a goat.  And I've faced
the Fighting Trees, which bend down their branches to pound and whip you,
and had many other adventures there."
	"It's a wild country," remarked Dorothy, soberly, "and if we go
there we're sure to have troubles of our own.  But I guess we'll have to
go, if we want that gill of water from the dark well."
	So they said good-bye to the Pumpkinhead and resumed their
travels, heading now directly toward the South Country, where mountains
and rock and caverns and forests of great trees abounded.  This part of
the Land of Oz, while it belonged to Ozma and owed her allegiance, was so
wild and secluded that many queer peoples hid in its jungles and lived in
their own way, without even a knowledge that they had a Ruler in the
Emerald City.  If they were left alone, these creatures never troubled
the inhabitants of the rest of Oz, but those who invaded their domains
encountered many dangers from them.
	It was a two day's journey from Jack Pumpkinhead's house to the
edge of the Quadling Country, for neither Dorothy nor Ojo could walk very
fast and they often stopped by the wayside to rest.  The first night they
slept on the broad fields among the buttercups and daisies, and the
Scarecrow covered the children with a gauze blanket taken from his
knapsack so they would not be chilled by the night air.  Toward evening
of the second day they reached a sandy plain where walking was difficult;
but some distance before them they saw a group of palm trees, with many
curious black dots under them; so they trudged bravely on to reach that
place by dark and spend the night under the shelter of the trees.
	The black dots grew larger as they advanced and although the
light was dim Dorothy thought they looked like big kettles turned upside
down.  Just beyond this place a jumble of huge, jagged rocks lay
scattered, rising to the mountains behind them.
	Our travelers preferred to attempt to climb these rocks by
daylight, and they realized that for a time this would be their last
night on the plains.
	Twilight had fallen by the time they came to the trees, beneath
which were the black, circular objects they had marked from a distance.
Dozens of them were scattered around and Dorothy bent near one which was
about as tall as she was to examine it more closely.  As she did so the
top flew open and out popped a dusky creature, rising its length into the
air and then plumping down upon the ground just beside the little girl.
Another and another popped out of the circular, pot-like dwelling, while
from all the other black objects came popping more creatures--very like
jumping-jacks when their boxes are unhooked--until fully a hundred stood
gathered around our little group of travelers.
	By this time Dorothy had discovered they were people, tiny and
curiously formed, but still people.  Their skins were dusky and their
hair stood straight up, like wires, and was brilliant scarlet in color.
Their bodies were bare except for skins fastened around their waists and
they wore bracelets on their ankles and wrists, and necklaces, and great
pendant earrings.
	Toto crouched beside his mistress and wailed as if he did not
like these strange creatures a bit.  Scraps began to mutter something
about "hoppity, poppity, jumpity, dump!" but no one paid any attention to
her.  Ojo kept close to the Scarecrow and the Scarecrow kept close to
Dorothy; but the little girl turned to the queer creatures and said:
	"Who are you?"
	They answered this question all together, in a sort of chanting
chorus, the words being as follows:

	"We're the jolly Tottenhots;
	 We do not like the day,
	 But in the night 'tis our delight
	 To gambol, skip and play.

	 We hate the sun and from it run,
	 The moon is cool and clear,
	 So on this spot each Tottenhot
	 Waits for it to appear.

	 We're ev'ry one chock full of fun,
	 And full of mischief, too;
	 But if you're gay and with us play
	 We'll do no harm to you."

	"Glad to meet you, Tottenhots," said the Scarecrow solemnly.  "But
you musn't expect us to play with you all night, for we've traveled all
day and some of us are tired."
	"And we never gamble," added the Patchwork Girl.  "It's against
the Law."
	These remarks were greeted with shouts of laughter by the impish
creatures and one seized the Scarecrow's arm and was astonished to find
the straw man whirl around so easily.  So the Tottenhot raised the
Scarecrow high in the air and tossed him over the heads of the crowd.
Some one caught him and tossed him back, and so with shouts of glee they
continued throwing the Scarecrow here and there, as if he had been a
	Presently another imp seized Scraps and began to throw her about,
in the same way.  They found her a little heavier than the Scarecrow but
still light enough to be tossed like a sofa-cushion, and they were
enjoying the sport immensely when Dorothy, angry and indignant at the
treatment her friends were receiving, rushed among the Tottenhots and
began slapping and pushing them until she had rescued the Scarecrow and
the Patchwork Girl and held them close on either side of her. Perhaps she
would not have accomplished this victory so easily had not Toto helped
her, barking and snapping at the bare legs of the imps until they were
glad to flee from his attack.  As for Ojo, some of the creatures had
attempted to toss him, also, but finding his body too heavy they threw
him to the ground and a row of the imps sat on him and held him from
assisting Dorothy in her battle.
	The little brown folks were much surprised at being attacked by
the girl and the dog, and one or two who had been slapped hardest began
to cry.  Then suddenly they gave a shout, all together, and disappeared
in a flash into their various houses, the tops of which closed with a
series of pops that sounded like a bunch of firecrackers being exploded.
	The adventurers now found themselves alone, and Dorothy asked
	"Is anybody hurt?"
	"Not me," answered the Scarecrow.  "They have given my straw a
good shaking up and taken all the lumps out of it.  I am now in splendid
condition and am really obliged to the Tottenhots for their kind treatment."
	"I feel much the same way," said Scraps.  "My cotton stuffing had
sagged a good deal with the day's walking and they've loosened it up
until I feel as plump as a sausage.  But the play was a little rough and
I'd had quite enough of it when you interfered."
	"Six of them sat on me," said Ojo, "but as they are so little
they didn't hurt me much."
	Just then the roof of the house in front of them opened and a
Tottenhot stuck his head out, very cautiously, and looked at the strangers.
	"Can't you take a joke?" he asked, reproachfully; "haven't you
any fun in you at all?"
	"If I had such a quality," replied the Scarecrow, "your people
would have knocked it out of me.  But I don't bear grudges.  I forgive
	"So do I," added Scraps.  "That is, if you behave yourselves
after this."
	"It was just a little rough-house, that's all," said the
Tottenhot. "But the question is not if WE will behave, but if YOU will
behave? We can't be shut up here all night, because this is our time to
play; nor do we care to come out and be chewed up by a savage beast or
slapped by an angry girl.  That slapping hurts like sixty; some of my
folks are crying about it.  So here's the proposition: you let us alone
and we'll let you alone."
	"You began it," declared Dorothy.
	"Well, you ended it, so we won't argue the matter.  May we come
out again?  Or are you still cruel and slappy?"
	"Tell you what we'll do," said Dorothy.  "We're all tired and want
to sleep until morning.  If you'll let us get into your house, and stay
there until daylight, you can play outside all you want to."
	"That's a bargain!" cried the Tottenhot eagerly, and he gave a
queer whistle that brought his people popping out of their houses on all
sides.  When the house before them was vacant, Dorothy and Ojo leaned
over the hole and looked in, but could see nothing because it was so
dark.  But if the Tottenhots slept there all day the children thought
they could sleep there at night, so Ojo lowered himself down and found it
was not very deep.
	"There's a soft cushion all over," said he.  "Come on in."
	Dorothy handed Toto to the boy and then climbed in herself.
After her came Scraps and the Scarecrow, who did not wish to sleep but
preferred to keep out of the way of the mischievous Tottenhots.
	There seemed no furniture in the round den, but soft cushions
were strewn about the floor and these they foun  made very comfortable
beds.  They did not close the hole in the roof but left it open to admit
air.  It also admitted the shouts and ceaseless laughter of the impish
Tottenhots as they played outside, but Dorothy and Ojo, being weary from
their journey, were soon fast asleep.
	Toto kept an eye open, however, and uttered low, threatening
growls whenever the racket made by the creatures outside became too
boisterous; and the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl sat leaning against
the wall and talked in whispers all night long.  No one disturbed the
travelers until daylight, when in popped the Tottenhot who owned the
place and invited them to vacate his premises. 

20. The Captive Yoop

	As they were preparing to leave, Dorothy asked: "Can you tell us
where there is a dark well?"
	"Never heard of such a thing," said the Tottenhot.  "We live our
lives in the dark, mostly, and sleep in the daytime; but we've never seen
a dark well, or anything like one."
	"Does anyone live on those mountains beyond here?" asked the
	"Lots of people.  But you'd better not visit them.  We never go
there," was the reply.
	"What are the people like?" Dorothy inquired.
	"Can't say.  We've been told to keep away from the mountain paths,
and so we obey.  This sandy desert is good enough for us, and we're not
disturbed here," declared the Tottenhot.
	So they left the man snuggling down to sleep in his dusky
dwelling, and went out into the sunshine, taking the path that led toward
the rocky places.  They soon found it hard climbing, for the rocks were
uneven and full of sharp points and edges, and now there was no path at
all. Clambering here and there among the boulders they kept steadily on,
gradually rising higher and higher until finally they came to a great
rift in a part of the mountain, where the rock seemed to have split in
two and left high walls on either side.
	"S'pose we go this way," suggested Dorothy; "it's much easier
walking than to climb over the hills."
	"How about that sign?" asked Ojo.
	"What sign?" she inquired.
	The Munchkin boy pointed to some words painted on the wall of
rock beside them, which Dorothy had not noticed.  The words read:

The girl eyed this sign a moment and then turned to the Scarecrow, asking:
	"Who is Yoop; or what is Yoop?"
	The straw man shook his head.  Then she looked at Toto and the dog
said "Woof!"
	"Only way to find out is to go on," said Scraps.
	This being quite true, they went on.  As they proceeded, the walls
of rock on either side grew higher and higher.  Presently they came upon
another sign which read:
"Why, as for that," remarked Dorothy, "if Yoop is a captive, there's no
need to beware of him.  Whatever Yoop happens to be, I'd much rather have
him a captive than running around loose."
	"So had I," said the Scarecrow, with a nod of his painted head.
	"Still," said Scraps, reflectively:

	 Who put noodles in the soup?
	 We may beware but we don't care,
	 And dare go where we scare the Yoop."

	"Dear me!  Aren't you feeling a little queer, just now?" Dorothy
asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"Not queer, but crazy," said Ojo.  "When she says those things I'm
sure her brains get mixed somehow and work the wrong way."
	"I don't see why we are told to beware the Yoop unless he is
dangerous," observed the Scarecrow in a puzzled tone.
	"Never mind; we'll find out all about him when we get to where he
is," replied the little girl.
	The narrow canyon turned and twisted this way and that, and the
rift was so small that they were able to touch both walls at the same
time by stretching out their arms.  Toto had run on ahead, frisking
playfully, when suddenly he uttered a sharp bark of fear and came running
back to them with his tail between his legs, as dogs do when they are
	"Ah," said the Scarecrow, who was leading the way, "we must be
near Yoop."
	Just then, as he rounded a sharp turn, the straw man stopped so
suddenly that all the others bumped against him.
	"What is it?" asked Dorothy, standing on tip-toes to look over his
shoulder.  But then she saw what it was and cried "Oh!" in a tone of
	In one of the rock walls--that at their left--was hollowed a great
cavern, in front of which was a row of thick iron bars, the tops and
bottoms being firmly fixed in the solid rock.  Over this cavern was a big
sign, which Dorothy read with much curiosity, speaking the words aloud
that all might know what they said:

The Largest Untamed Giant in Captivity.

Height, 21 Feet.--(And yet he has but 2 feet.)
Weight, 1640 Pounds.--(But he waits all the time.)
Age, 400 Years 'and Up'--(as they say in the Department Store advertisements).
Temper, Fierce and Ferocious.--(Except when asleep.)
Appetite, Ravenous.--(Prefers Meat People and Orange Marmalade.)



	"Very well," said Ojo, with a sigh; "let's go back."
	"It's a long way back," declared Dorothy.
	"So it is," remarked the Scarecrow, "and it means a tedious climb
over those sharp rocks if we can't use this passage.  I think it will be
best to run by the Giant's cave as fast as we can go.  Mister Yoop seems
to be asleep just now."
	But the Giant wasn't asleep.  He suddenly appeared at the front
of his cavern, seized the iron bars in his great hairy hands and shook
them until they rattled in their sockets.  Yoop was so tall that our
friends had to tip their heads way back to look into his face, and they
noticed he was dressed all in pink velvet, with silver buttons and braid.
The Giant's boots were of pink leather and had tassels on them and his
hat was decorated with an enormous pink ostrich feather, carefully curled.
	"Yo-ho!" he said in a deep bass voice; "I smell dinner."
	"I think you are mistaken," replied the Scarecrow.  "There is no
orange marmalade around here."
	"Ah, but I eat other things," asserted Mister Yoop.  "That is, I
eat them when I can get them.  But this is a lonely place, and no good
meat has passed by my cave for many years; so I'm hungry."
	"Haven't you eaten anything in many years?" asked Dorothy.
	"Nothing except six ants and a monkey.  I thought the monkey
would taste like meat people, but the flavor was different.  I hope you
will taste better, for you seem plump and tender."
	"Oh, I'm not going to be eaten," said Dorothy.
	"Why not?"
	"I shall keep out of your way," she answered.
	"How heartless!" wailed the Giant, shaking the bars again.
"Consider how many years it is since I've eaten a single plump little
girl! They tell me meat is going up, but if I can manage to catch you I'm
sure it will soon be going down.  And I'll catch you if I can."
	With this the Giant pushed his big arms, which looked like tree
trunks (except that tree trunks don't wear pink velvet) between the iron
bars, and the arms were so long that they touched the opposite wall of
the rock passage.  Then he extended them as far as he could reach toward
our travelers and found he could almost touch the Scarecrow--but not quite.
	"Come a little nearer, please," begged the Giant.
	"I'm a Scarecrow."
	"A Scarecrow?  Ugh!  I don't care a straw for a scarecrow.  Who
is that bright-colored delicacy behind you?"
	"Me?" asked Scraps.  "I'm a Patchwork Girl, and I'm stuffed with
	"Dear me," sighed the Giant in a disappointed tone; "that reduces
my dinner from four to two--and the dog.  I'll save the dog for dessert."
	Toto growled, keeping a good distance away.
	"Back up," said the Scarecrow to those behind him.  "Let us go
back a little way and talk this over."
	So they turned and went around the bend in the passage, where
they were out of sight of the cave and Mister Yoop could not hear them.
	"My idea," began the Scarecrow, when they had halted, "is to make
a dash past the cave, going on a run."
	"He'd grab us," said Dorothy.
	"Well, he can't grab but one at a time, and I'll go first.  As
soon as he grabs me the rest of you can slip past him, out of his reach,
and he will soon let me go because I am not fit to eat."
	They decided to try this plan and Dorothy took Toto in her arms,
so as to protect him.  She followed just after the Scarecrow.  Then came
Ojo, with Scraps the last of the four.  Their hearts beat a little faster
than usual as they again approached the Giant's cave, this time moving
swiftly forward.
	It turned out about the way the Scarecrow had planned.  Mister
Yoop was quite astonished to see them come flying toward him, and
thrusting his arms between the bars he seized the Scarecrow in a firm
grip.  In the next instant he realized, from the way the straw crunched
between his fingers, that he had captured the non-eatable man, but during
that instant of delay Dorothy and Ojo had slipped by the Giant and were
out of reach.  Uttering a howl of rage the monster threw the Scarecrow
after them with one hand and grabbed Scraps with the other.
	The poor Scarecrow went whirling through the air and so cleverly
was he aimed that he struck Ojo's back and sent the boy tumbling head
over heels, and he tripped Dorothy and sent her, also, sprawling upon the
ground.  Toto flew out of the little girl's arms and landed some distance
ahead, and all were so dazed that it was a moment before they could
scramble to their feet again.  When they did so, they turned to look
toward the Giant's cave, and at that moment the ferocious Mister Yoop
threw the Patchwork Girl at them.
	Down went all three again, in a heap, with Scraps on top.  The
Giant roared so terribly that for a time they were afraid he had broken
loose; but he hadn't.  So they sat in the road and looked at one another
in a rather bewildered way, and then began to feel glad.
	"We did it!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, with satisfaction.  "And
now we are free to go on our way."
	"Mr. Yoop is very impolite," declared Scraps.  "He jarred me
terribly.  It's lucky my stitches are so fine and strong, for otherwise
such harsh treatment might rip me up the back."
	"Allow me to apologize for the Giant," said the Scarecrow,
raising the Patchwork Girl to her feet and dusting her skirt with his
stuffed hands.  "Mister Yoop is a perfect stranger to me, but I fear, from
the rude manner in which he has acted, that he is no gentleman."
	Dorothy and Ojo laughed at this statement and Toto barked as if
he understood the joke, after which they all felt better and resumed the
journey in high spirits.
	"Of course," said the little girl, when they had walked a way
along the passage, "it was lucky for us the Giant was caged; for, if he
had happened to be loose, he--he--"
	"Perhaps, in that case, he wouldn't be hungry any more," said Ojo

21. Hip Hopper the Champion

	They must have had good courage to climb all those rocks, for
after getting out of the canyon they encountered more rock hills to be
surmounted.  Toto could jump from one rock to another quite easily, but
the others had to creep and climb with care, so that after a whole day of
such work Dorothy and Ojo found themselves very tired.  As they gazed
upward at the great mass of tumbled rocks that covered the steep incline,
Dorothy gave a little groan and said:
	"That's going to be a ter'ble hard climb, Scarecrow.  I wish we
could find the dark well without so much trouble."
	"Suppose," said Ojo, "you wait here and let me do the climbing,
for it's on my account we're searching for the dark well.  Then, if I
don't find anything, I'll come back and join you."
	"No," replied the little girl, shaking her head positively, "we'll
all go together, for that way we can help each other.  If you went alone,
something might happen to you, Ojo."
	So they began the climb and found it indeed difficult, for a way.
But presently, in creeping over the big crags, they found a path at their
feet which wound in and out among the masses of rock and was quite smooth
and easy to walk upon.  As the path gradually ascended the mountain,
although in a roundabout way, they decided to follow it.
	"This must be the road to the Country of the Hoppers," said the
	"Who are the Hoppers?" asked Dorothy.
	"Some people Jack Pumpkinhead told me about," he replied.
	"I didn't hear him," replied the girl.
	"No; you were asleep," explained the Scarecrow.  "But he told
Scraps and me that the Hoppers and the Horners live on this mountain."
	"He said IN the mountain," declared Scraps; "but of course he
meant ON it."
	"Didn't he say what the Hoppers and Horners were like?" inquired
	"No; he only said they were two separate nations, and that the
Horners were the most important."
	"Well, if we go to their country we'll find out all about 'em,"
said the girl.  "But I've never heard Ozma mention those people, so they
can't be VERY important."
	"Is this mountain in the Land of Oz?" asked Scraps.
	"Course it is," answered Dorothy.  "It's in the South Country of
the Quadlings.  When one comes to the edge of Oz, in any direction, there
is nothing more to be seen at all.  Once you could see sandy desert all
around Oz; but now it's diff'rent, and no other people can see us, any
more than we can see them."
	"If the mountain is under Ozma's rule, why doesn't she know about
the Hoppers and the Horners?" Ojo asked.
	"Why, it's a fairyland," explained Dorothy, "and lots of queer
people live in places so tucked away that those in the Emerald City never
even hear of 'em.  In the middle of the country it's diff'rent, but when
you get around the edges you're sure to run into strange little corners
that surprise you.  I know, for I've traveled in Oz a good deal, and so
has the Scarecrow."
	"Yes," admitted the straw man, "I've been considerable of a
traveler, in my time, and I like to explore strange places.  I find I
learn much more by traveling than by staying at home."
	During this conversation they had been walking up the steep
pathway and now found themselves well up on the mountain.  They could see
nothing around them, for the rocks beside their path were higher than
their heads.  Nor could they see far in front of them, because the path
was so crooked.  But suddenly they stopped, because the path ended and
there was no place to go.  Ahead was a big rock lying against the side of
the mountain, and this blocked the way completely.
	"There wouldn't be a path, though, if it didn't go somewhere,"
said the Scarecrow, wrinkling his forehead in deep thought.
	"This is somewhere, isn't it?" asked the Patchwork Girl, laughing
at the bewildered looks of the others.

	"The path is locked, the way is blocked,
	 Yet here we've innocently flocked;
	 And now we're here it's rather queer
	 There's no front door that can be knocked."

	"Please don't, Scraps," said Ojo.  "You make me nervous."
	"Well," said Dorothy, "I'm glad of a little rest, for that's a
drea'ful steep path."
	As she spoke she leaned against the edge of the big rock that
stood in their way.  To her surprise it slowly swung backward and showed
behind it a dark hole that looked like the mouth of a tunnel.
	"Why, here's where the path goes to!" she exclaimed.
	"So it is," answered the Scarecrow.  "But the question is, do we
want to go where the path goes?"
	"It's underground; right inside the mountain," said Ojo, peering
into the dark hole.  "Perhaps there's a well there; and if there is, it's
sure to be a dark one."
	"Why, that's true enough!" cried Dorothy with eagerness.  "Let's
go in, Scarecrow; 'cause, if others have gone, we're pretty safe to go,
	Toto looked in and barked, but he did not venture to enter until
the Scarecrow had bravely gone first.  Scraps followed closely after the
straw man and then Ojo and Dorothy timidly stepped inside the tunnel. As
soon as all of them had passed the big rock, it slowly turned and filled
up the opening again; but now they were no longer in the dark, for a
soft, rosy light enabled them to see around them quite distinctly.
	It was only a passage, wide enough for two of them to walk
abreast--with Toto in between them--and it had a high, arched roof. They
could not see where the light which flooded the place so pleasantly came
from, for there were no lamps anywhere visible.  The passage ran straight
for a little way and then made a bend to the right and another sharp turn
to the left, after which it went straight again. But there were no side
passages, so they could not lose their way.
	After proceeding some distance, Toto, who had gone on ahead, began
to bark loudly.  They ran around a bend to see what was the matter and
found a man sitting on the floor of the passage and leaning his back
against the wall.  He had probably been asleep before Toto's barks
aroused him, for he was now rubbing his eyes and staring at the little
dog with all his might.
	There was something about this man that Toto objected to, and when
he slowly rose to his foot they saw what it was.  He had but one leg, set
just below the middle of his round, fat body; but it was a stout leg and
had a broad, flat foot at the bottom of it, on which the man seemed to
stand very well.  He had never had but this one leg, which looked
something like a pedestal, and when Toto ran up and made a grab at the
man's ankle he hopped first one way and then another in a very active
manner, looking so frightened that Scraps laughed aloud.
	Toto was usually a well behaved dog, but this time he was angry
and snapped at the man's leg again and again.  This filled the poor
fellow with fear, and in hopping out of Toto's reach, he suddenly lost
his balance and tumbled heel over head upon the floor.  When he sat up,
he kicked Toto on the nose and made the dog howl angrily, but Dorothy now
ran forward and caught Toto's collar, holding him back.
	"Do you surrender?" she asked the man.
	"Who?  Me?" asked the Hopper.
	"Yes; you," said the little girl.
	"Am I captured?" he inquired.
	"Of course.  My dog has captured you," she said.
	"Well," replied the man, "if I'm captured I must surrender, for
it's the proper thing to do.  I like to do everything proper, for it
saves one a lot of trouble."
	"It does, indeed," said Dorothy.  "Please tell us who you are."
	"I'm Hip Hopper--Hip Hopper, the Champion."
	"Champion what?" she asked in surprise.
	"Champion wrestler.  I'm a very strong man, and that ferocious
animal which you are so kindly holding is the first living thing that has
ever conquered me."
	"And you are a Hopper?" she continued.
	"Yes.  My people live in a great city not far from here.  Would
you like to visit it?"
	"I'm not sure," she said with hesitation.  "Have you any dark
wells in your city?"
	"I think not.  We have wells, you know, but they're all well
lighted, and a well lighted well cannot well be a dark well.  But there
may be such a thing as a very dark well in the Horner Country, which is a
black spot on the face of the earth."
	"Where is the Horner Country?" Ojo inquired.
	"The other side of the mountain.  There's a fence between the
Hopper Country and the Horner Country, and a gate in the fence; but you
can't pass through just now, because we are at war with the Horners."
	"That's too bad," said the Scarecrow.  "What seems to be the trouble?"
	"Why, one of them made a very insulting remark about my people.
He said we were lacking in understanding, because we had only one leg to
a person.  I can't see that legs have anything to do with understanding
things.  The Horners each have two legs, just as you have.  That's one
leg too many, it seems to me."
	"No," declared Dorothy, "it's just the right number."
	"You don't need them," argued the Hopper, obstinately.  "You've
only one head, and one body, and one nose and mouth.  Two legs are quite
unnecessary, and they spoil one's shape."
	"But how can you walk, with only one leg?" asked Ojo.
	"Walk!  Who wants to walk?" exclaimed the man.  "Walking is a
terribly awkward way to travel.  I hop, and so do all my people.  It's so
much more graceful and agreeable than walking."
	"I don't agree with you," said the Scarecrow.  "But tell me, is
there any way to get to the Horner Country without going through the city
of the Hoppers?"
	"Yes, there is another path from the rocky lowlands, outside the
mountain, that leads straight to the entrance of the Horner Country. But
it's a long way around, so you'd better come with me.  Perhaps they will
allow you to go through the gate; but we expect to conquer them this
afternoon, if we get time, and then you may go and come as you please."
	They thought it best to take the Hopper's advice, and asked him
to lead the way.  This he did in a series of hops, and he moved so
swiftly in this strange manner that those with two legs had to run to
keep up with him.

22. The Joking Horners

	It was not long before they left the passage and came to a great
cave, so high that it must have reached nearly to the top of the mountain
within which it lay.  It was a magnificent cave, illumined by the soft,
invisible light, so that everything in it could be plainly seen. The
walls were of polished marble, white with veins of delicate colors
running through it, and the roof was arched and carved in designs both
fantastic and beautiful.
	Built beneath this vast dome was a pretty village--not very
large, for there seemed not more than fifty houses altogether--and the
dwellings were of marble and artistically designed.  No grass nor flowers
nor trees grew in this cave, so the yards surrounding the houses were
smooth and bare and had low walls around them to mark their boundaries.
	In the streets and the yards of the houses were many people all
having one leg growing below their bodies and all hopping here and there
whenever they moved.  Even the children stood firmly upon their single
legs and never lost their balance.
	"All hail, Champion!" cried a man in the first group of Hoppers
they met; "whom have you captured?"
	"No one," replied the Champion in a gloomy voice; "these strangers
have captured me."
	"Then," said another, "we will rescue you, and capture them, for
we are greater in number."
	"No," answered the Champion, "I can't allow it.  I've surrendered,
and it isn't polite to capture those you've surrendered to."
	"Never mind that," said Dorothy.  "We will give you your liberty
and set you free."
	"Really?" asked the Champion in joyous tones.
	"Yes," said the little girl, "your people may need you to help
conquer the Horners."
	At this all the Hoppers looked downcast and sad.  Several more had
joined the group by this time and quite a crowd of curious men, women and
children surrounded the strangers.
	"This war with our neighbors is a terrible thing," remarked one of
the women.  "Some one is almost sure to get hurt."
	"Why do you say that, madam?" inquired the Scarecrow.
	"Because the horns of our enemies are sharp, and in battle they
will try to stick those horns into our warriors," she replied.
	"How many horns do the Horners have?" asked Dorothy.
	"Each one has one horn in the center of his forehead," was the answer.
	"Oh, then they're unicorns," declared the Scarecrow.
	"No; they're Horners.  We never go to war with them if we can help
it, on account of their dangerous horns; but this insult was so great and
so unprovoked that our brave men decided to fight, in order to be
revenged," said the woman.
	"What weapons do you fight with?" the Scarecrow asked.
	"We have no weapons," explained the Champion.  "Whenever we fight
the Horners, our plan is to push them back, for our arms are longer than
	"Then you are better armed," said Scraps.
	"Yes; but they have those terrible horns, and unless we are
careful they prick us with the points," returned the Champion with a
shudder. "That makes a war with them dangerous, and a dangerous war
cannot be a pleasant one."
	"I see very clearly," remarked the Scarecrow, "that you are going
to have trouble in conquering those Horners--unless we help you."
	"Oh!" cried the Hoppers in a chorus; "can you help us?  Please do!
We will be greatly obliged!  It would please us very much!" and by these
expressions the Scarecrow knew that his speech had met with favor.
	"How far is it to the Horner Country?" he asked.
	"Why, it's just the other side of the fence," they answered, and
the Champion added:
	"Come with me, please, and I'll show you the Horners."
	So they followed the Champion and several others through the
streets and just beyond the village came to a very high picket fence,
built all of marble, which seemed to divide the great cave into two equal
	But the part inhabited by the Horners was in no way as grand in
appearance as that of the Hoppers.  Instead of being marble, the walls
and roof were of dull gray rock and the square houses were plainly made
of the same material.  But in extent the city was much larger than that
of the Hoppers and the streets were thronged with numerous people who
busied themselves in various ways.
	Looking through the open pickets of the fence our friends watched
the Horners, who did not know they were being watched by strangers, and
found them very unusual in appearance.  They were little folks in size
and had bodies round as balls and short legs and arms.  Their heads were
round, too, and they had long, pointed ears and a horn set in the center
of the forehead.  The horns did not seem very terrible, for they were not
more than six inches long; but they were ivory white and sharp pointed,
and no wonder the Hoppers feared them.
	The skins of the Horners were light brown, but they wore
snow-white robes and were barefooted.  Dorothy thought the most striking
thing about them was their hair, which grew in three distinct colors on
each and every head--red, yellow and green.  The red was at the bottom
and sometimes hung over their eyes; then came a broad circle of yellow
and the green was at the top and formed a brush-shaped top-knot.
	None of the Horners was yet aware of the presence of strangers,
who watched the little brown people for a time and then went to the big
gate in the center of the dividing fence.  It was locked on both sides
and over the latch was a sign reading:


	"Can't we go through?" asked Dorothy.
	"Not now," answered the Champion.
	"I think," said the Scarecrow, "that if I could talk with those
Horners they would apologize to you, and then there would be no need to
	"Can't you talk from this side?" asked the Champion.
	"Not so well," replied the Scarecrow.  "Do you suppose you could
throw me over the fence?  It is high, but I am very light."
	"We can try it," said the Hopper.  "I am perhaps the strongest man
in my country, so I'll undertake to do the throwing.  But I won't promise
you will land on your feet."
	"No matter about that," returned the Scarecrow.  "Just toss me
over and I'll be satisfied."
	So the Champion picked up the Scarecrow and balanced him a moment
to see how much he weighed, and then with all his strength tossed him
high into the air.
	Perhaps if the Scarecrow had been a trifle heavier he would have
been easier to throw and would have gone a greater distance; but, as it
was, instead of going over the fence he landed just on top of it, and one
of the sharp pickets caught him in the middle of his back and held him
fast prisoner.  Had he been face downward the Scarecrow might have
managed to free himself, but lying on his back on the picket, his hands
waved in the air of the Horner Country while his feet kicked the air of
the Hopper Country; so there he was.
	"Are you hurt?" called the Patchwork Girl anxiously.
	"Course not," said Dorothy.  "But if he wiggles that way he may
tear his clothes.  How can we get him down, Mr. Champion?"
	The champion shook his head.
	"I don't know," he confessed.  "If he could scare Horners as well
as he does crows, it might be a good idea to leave him there."
	"This is terrible," said Ojo, almost ready to cry.  "I s'pose
it's because I am Ojo the Unlucky that everyone who tries to help me gets
into trouble."
	"You are lucky to have anyone to help you," declared Dorothy.
"But don't worry.  We'll rescue the Scarecrow, somehow."
	"I know how," announced Scraps.  "Here, Mr. Champion; just throw
me up to the Scarecrow.  I'm nearly as light as he is, and when I'm on
top the fence I'll pull our friend off the picket and toss him down to you."
	"All right," said the Champion, and he picked up the Patchwork
Girl and threw her in the same manner he had the Scarecrow.  He must have
used more strength this time, however, for Scraps sailed far over the top
of the fence and, without being able to grab the Scarecrow at all,
tumbled to the ground in the Horner Country, where her stuffed body
knocked over two men and a woman and made a crowd that collected there
run like rabbits to get away from her.
	Seeing the next moment that she was harmless, the people slowly
returned and gathered around the Patchwork Girl, regarding her with
astonishment.  One of them wore a jeweled star in his hair, just above
his horn, and this seemed a person of importance.  He spoke for the rest
of his people, who treated him with great respect.
	"Who are you, Unknown Being?" he asked.
	"Scraps," she said, rising to her feet and patting her cotton
wadding smooth where it had bunched up.
	"And where did you come from?" he continued.
	"Over the fence.  Don't be silly.  There's no other place I COULD
have come from," she replied.
	He looked at her thoughtfully.
	"You are not a Hopper," said he, "for you have two legs.  They're
not very well shaped, but they are two in number.  And that strange
creature on top of the fence--why doesn't he stop kicking?--must be your
brother, or father, or son, for he also has two legs."
	"You must have been to visit the Wise Donkey," said Scraps,
laughing so merrily that the crowd smiled with her, in sympathy.  "But
that reminds me, Captain--or King--"
	"I am Chief of the Horners, and my name is Jak."
	"Of course; Little Jack Horner; I might have known it.  But the
reason I volplaned over the fence was so I could have a talk with you
about the Hoppers."
	"What about the Hoppers?" asked the Chief, frowning.
	"You've insulted them, and you'd better beg their pardon," said
Scraps.  "If you don't, they'll probably hop over here and conquer you."
	"We're not afraid--as long as the gate is locked," declared the
Chief. "And we didn't insult them at all.  One of us made a joke that the
stupid Hoppers couldn't see."
	The Chief smiled as he said this and the smile made his face look
quite jolly.
	"What was the joke?" asked Scraps.
	"A Horner said they have less understanding than we, because
they've only one leg.  Ha, ha!  You see the point, don't you?  If you
stand on your legs, and your legs are under you, then--ha, ha, ha!--then
your legs are your under-standing.  Hee, hee, hee!  Ho, ho!  My, but
that's a fine joke.  And the stupid Hoppers couldn't see it!  They
couldn't see that with only one leg they must have less under-standing
than we who have two legs.  Ha, ha, ha!  Hee, hee!  Ho, ho!"  The Chief
wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with the bottom hem of his
white robe, and all the other Horners wiped their eyes on their robes,
for they had laughed just as heartily as their Chief at the absurd joke.
	"Then," said Scraps, "their understanding of the understanding
you meant led to the misunderstanding."
	"Exactly.  And so there's no need for us to apologize," returned
the Chief.
	"No need for an apology, perhaps, but much need for an
explanation," said Scraps decidedly.  "You don't want war, do you?"
	"Not if we can help it," admitted Jak Horner.  "The question is,
who's going to explain the joke to the Horners?  You know it spoils any
joke to be obliged to explain it, and this is the best joke I ever heard."
	"Who made the joke?" asked Scraps.
	"Diksey Horner.  He is working in the mines just now, but he'll
be home before long.  Suppose we wait and talk with him about it?  Maybe
he'll be willing to explain his joke to the Hoppers."
	"All right," said Scraps.  "I'll wait, if Diksey isn't too long."
	"No, he's short; he's shorter than I am.  Ha, ha, ha!  Say!
that's a better joke than Diksey's.  He won't be too long, because he's
short. Hee, hee, ho!"
	The other Horners who were standing by roared with laughter and
seemed to like their Chief's joke as much as he did.  Scraps thought it
was odd that they could be so easily amused, but decided there could be
little harm in people who laughed so merrily.

23. Peace is Declared

	"Come with me to my dwelling and I'll introduce you to my
daughters," said the Chief.  "We're bringing them up according to a book
of rules that was written by one of our leading old bachelors, and
everyone says they're a remarkable lot of girls."
	So Scraps accompanied him along the street to a house that seemed
on the outside exceptionally grimy and dingy.  The streets of this city
were not paved, nor had any attempt been made to beautify the houses or
their surroundings, and having noticed this condition Scraps was
astonished when the Chief ushered her into his home.
	Here was nothing grimy or faded, indeed.  On the contrary, the
room was of dazzling brilliance and beauty, for it was lined throughout
with an exquisite metal that resembled translucent frosted silver. The
surface of this metal was highly ornamented in raised designs
representing men, animals, flowers and trees, and from the metal itself
was radiated the soft light which flooded the room.  All the furniture
was made of the same glorious metal, and Scraps asked what it was.
	"That's radium," answered the Chief.  "We Horners spend all our
time digging radium from the mines under this mountain, and we use it to
decorate our homes and make them pretty and cozy.  It is a medicine, too,
and no one can ever be sick who lives near radium."
	"Have you plenty of it?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
	"More than we can use.  All the houses in this city are decorated
with it, just the same as mine is."
	"Why don't you use it on your streets, then, and the outside of
your houses, to make them as pretty as they are within?" she inquired.
	"Outside?  Who cares for the outside of anything?" asked the
Chief. "We Horners don't live on the outside of our homes; we live
inside. Many people are like those stupid Hoppers, who love to make an
outside show.  I suppose you strangers thought their city more beautiful
than ours, because you judged from appearances and they have handsome
marble houses and marble streets; but if you entered one of their stiff
dwellings you would find it bare and uncomfortable, as all their show is
on the outside.  They have an idea that what is not seen by others is not
important, but with us the rooms we live in are our chief delight and
care, and we pay no attention to outside show."
	"Seems to me," said Scraps, musingly, "it would be better to make
it all pretty--inside and out."
	"Seems?  Why, you're all seams, my girl!" said the Chief; and
then he laughed heartily at his latest joke and a chorus of small voices
echoed the chorus with "tee-hee-hee! ha, ha!"
	Scraps turned around and found a row of girls seated in radium
chairs ranged along one wall of the room.  There were nineteen of them,
by actual count, and they were of all sizes from a tiny child to one
almost a grown woman.  All were neatly dressed in spotless white robes
and had brown skins, horns on their foreheads and three-colored hair.
	"These," said the Chief, "are my sweet daughters.  My dears, I
introduce to you Miss Scraps Patchwork, a lady who is traveling in
foreign parts to increase her store of wisdom."
	The nineteen Horner girls all arose and made a polite courtesy,
after which they resumed their seats and rearranged their robes properly.
	"Why do they sit so still and all in a row?" asked Scraps.
	"Because it is ladylike and proper," replied the Chief.
	"But some are just children, poor things!  Don't they ever run
around and play and laugh, and have a good time?"
	"No, indeed," said the Chief.  "That would be improper in young
ladies, as well as in those who will sometime become young ladies.  My
daughters are being brought up according to the rules and regulations
laid down by a leading bachelor who has given the subject much study and
is himself a man of taste and culture.  Politeness is his great hobby,
and he claims that if a child is allowed to do an impolite thing one
cannot expect the grown person to do anything better."
	"Is it impolite to romp and shout and be jolly?" asked Scraps.
	"Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't," replied the
Horner, after considering the question.  "By curbing such inclinations in
my daughters we keep on the safe side.  Once in a while I make a good
joke, as you have heard, and then I permit my daughters to laugh
decorously; but they are never allowed to make a joke themselves."
	"That old bachelor who made the rules ought to be skinned alive!"
declared Scraps, and would have said more on the subject had not the door
opened to admit a little Horner man whom the Chief introduced as Diksey.
	"What's up, Chief?" asked Diksey, winking nineteen times at the
nineteen girls, who demurely cast down their eyes because their father
was looking.
	The Chief told the man that his joke had not been understood by
the dull Hoppers, who had become so angry that they had declared war.  So
the only way to avoid a terrible battle was to explain the joke so they
could understand it.
	"All right," replied Diksey, who seemed a good-natured man; "I'll
go at once to the fence and explain.  I don't want any war with the
Hoppers, for wars between nations always cause hard feelings."
	So the Chief and Diksey and Scraps left the house and went back
to the marble picket fence.  The Scarecrow was still stuck on the top of
his picket but had now ceased to struggle.  On the other side of the
fence were Dorothy and Ojo, looking between the pickets; and there, also,
were the Champion and many other Hoppers.
	Diksey went close to the fence and said:
	"My good Hoppers, I wish to explain that what I said about you
was a joke.  You have but one leg each, and we have two legs each.  Our
legs are under us, whether one or two, and we stand on them.  So, when I
said you had less understanding than we, I did not mean that you had less
understanding, you understand, but that you had less standundering, so to
speak.  Do you understand that?"
	The Hoppers thought it over carefully.  Then one said:
	"That is clear enough; but where does the joke come in?"
	Dorothy laughed, for she couldn't help it, although all the others
were solemn enough.
	"I'll tell you where the joke comes in," she said, and took the
Hoppers away to a distance where the Horners could not hear them. "You
know," she then explained, "those neighbors of yours are not very bright,
poor things, and what they think is a joke isn't a joke at all--it's
true, don't you see?"
	"True that we have less understanding?" asked the Champion.
	"Yes; it's true because you don't understand such a poor joke; if
you did, you'd be no wiser than they are."
	"Ah yes; of course," they answered, looking very wise.
	"So I'll tell you what to do," continued Dorothy.  "Laugh at their
poor joke and tell 'em it's pretty good for a Horner.  Then they won't
dare say you have less understanding, because you understand as much as
they do."
	The Hoppers looked at one another questioningly and blinked their
eyes and tried to think what it all meant; but they couldn't figure it out.
	"What do you think, Champion?" asked one of them.
	"I think it is dangerous to think of this thing any more than we
can help," he replied.  "Let us do as this girl says and laugh with the
Horners so as to make them believe we see the joke.  Then there will be
peace again and no need to fight."
	They readily agreed to this and returned to the fence laughing as
loud and as hard as they could, although they didn't feel like laughing a
bit.  The Horners were much surprised.
	"That's a fine joke--for a Horner--and we are much pleased with
it," said the Champion, speaking between the pickets.  "But please don't
do it again."
	"I won't," promised Diksey.  "If I think of another such joke I'll
try to forget it."
	"Good!" cried the Chief Horner.  "The war is over and peace is
	There was much joyful shouting on both sides of the fence and the
gate was unlocked and thrown wide open, so that Scraps was able to rejoin
her friends.
	"What about the Scarecrow?" she asked Dorothy.
	"We must get him down, somehow or other," was the reply.
	"Perhaps the Horners can find a way," suggested Ojo.  So they all
went through the gate, and Dorothy asked the Chief Horner how they could
get the Scarecrow off the fence.  The Chief didn't know how, but Diksey said:
	"A ladder's the thing."
	"Have you one?" asked Dorothy.
	"To be sure.  We use ladders in our mines," said he.  Then he ran
away to get the ladder, and while he was gone the Horners gathered around
and welcomed the strangers to their country, for through them a great war
had been avoided.
	In a little while Diksey came back with a tall ladder which he
placed against the fence.  Ojo at once climbed to the top of the ladder
and Dorothy went about halfway up and Scraps stood at the foot of it.
Toto ran around it and barked.  Then Ojo pulled the Scarecrow away from
the picket and passed him down to Dorothy, who in turn lowered him to the
Patchwork Girl.
	As soon as he was on his feet and standing on solid ground the
Scarecrow said:
	"Much obliged.  I feel much better.  I'm not stuck on that picket
any more."
	The Horners began to laugh, thinking this was a joke, but the
Scarecrow shook himself and patted his straw a little and said to
Dorothy; "Is there much of a hole in my back?"
	The little girl examined him carefully.
	"There's quite a hole," she said.  "But I've got a needle and
thread in the knapsack and I'll sew you up again."
	"Do so," he begged earnestly, and again the Hoppers laughed, to
the Scarecrow's great annoyance.
	While Dorothy was sewing up the hole in the straw man's back
Scraps examined the other parts of him.
	"One of his legs is ripped, too!" she exclaimed.
 	"Oho!" cried little Diksey; "that's bad.  Give him the needle and
thread and let him mend his ways."
	"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Chief, and the other Horners at once
roared with laughter.
	"What's funny?" inquired the Scarecrow sternly.
	"Don't you see?" asked Diksey, who had laughed even harder than
the others.  "That's a joke.  It's by odds the best joke I ever made.
You walk with your legs, and so that's the way you walk, and your legs
are the ways.  See?  So when you mend your legs, you mend your ways.  Ho,
ho, ho! hee, hee!  I'd no idea I could make such a fine joke!"
	"Just wonderful!" echoed the Chief.  "How do you manage to do it,
	"I don't know," said Diksey modestly.  "Perhaps it's the radium,
but I rather think it's my splendid intellect."
	"If you don't quit it," the Scarecrow told him, "there'll be a
worse war than the one you've escaped from."
	Ojo had been in deep thought, and now he asked the Chief: "Is
there a dark well in any part of your country?"
	"A dark well?  None that ever I heard of," was the answer.
	"Oh, yes," said Diksey, who overheard the boy's question.
"There's a very dark well down in my radium mine."
	"Is there any water in it?" Ojo eagerly asked.
	"Can't say; I've never looked to see.  But we can find out."
	So as soon as the Scarecrow was mended, they decided to go with
Diksey to the mine.  When Dorothy had patted the straw man into shape
again he declared he felt as good as new and equal to further adventures.
	"Still," said he, "I prefer not to do picket duty again.  High
life doesn't seem to agree with my constitution."  And then they hurried
away to escape the laughter of the Horners, who thought this was another

24. Ojo Finds the Dark Well

	They now followed Diksey to the farther end of the great cave,
beyond the Horner city, where there were several round, dark holes
leading into the ground in a slanting direction.  Diksey went to one of
these holes and said:
	"Here is the mine in which lies the dark well you are seeking.
Follow me and step carefully and I'll lead you to the place."
	He went in first, and after him came Ojo, and then Dorothy, with
the Scarecrow behind her.  The Patchwork Girl entered last of all, for Toto kept close beside his little mistress.
	A few steps beyond the mouth of the opening it was pitch dark.
"You won't lose your way, though," said the Horner, "for there's only one
way to go.  The mine's mine and I know every step of the way.  How's that
for a joke, eh?  The mine's mine."  Then he chuckled gleefully as they
followed him silently down the steep slant.  The hole was just big enough
to permit them to walk upright, although the Scarecrow, being much the
taller of the party, often had to bend his head to keep from hitting the
	The floor of the tunnel was difficult to walk upon because it had
been worn smooth as glass, and pretty soon Scraps, who was some distance
behind the others, slipped and fell head foremost.  At once she began to
slide downward, so swiftly that when she came to the Scarecrow she
knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling against Dorothy, who
tripped up Ojo.  The boy fell against the Horner so that all went
tumbling down the slide in a regular mix-up, unable to see where they
were going because of the darkness.
	Fortunately, when they reached the bottom the Scarecrow and
Scraps were in front, and the others bumped against them, so that no one
was hurt.  They found themselves in a vast cave which was dimly lighted
by the tiny grains of radium that lay scattered among the loose rocks.
	"Now," said Diksey, when they had all regained their feet, "I
will show you where the dark well is.  This is a big place, but if we
hold fast to each other we won't get lost."  They took hold of hands and
the Horner led them into a dark corner, where he halted.
	"Be careful," said he warningly.  "The well is at your feet."
	"All right," replied Ojo, and kneeling down he felt in the well
with his hand and found that it contained a quantity of water.  "Where's
the gold flask, Dorothy?" he asked, and the little girl handed him the
flask, which she had brought with her.
	Ojo knelt again and by feeling carefully in the dark managed to
fill the flask with the unseen water that was in the well.  Then he
screwed the top of the flask firmly in place and put the precious water
in his pocket.
	"All right!" he said again, in a glad voice; "now we can go back."
	They returned to the mouth of the tunnel and began to creep
cautiously up the incline.  This time they made Scraps stay behind, for
fear she would slip again; but they all managed to get up in safety and
the Munchkin boy was very happy when he stood in the Horner city and
realized that the water from the dark well, which he and his friends had
traveled so far to secure, was safe in his jacket pocket.

25. They Bribe the Lazy Quadling

	"Now," said Dorothy, as they stood on the mountain path, having
left behind them the cave in which dwelt the Hoppers and the Horners, "I
think we must find a road into the Country of the Winkies, for there is
where Ojo wants to go next."
	"Is there such a road?" asked the Scarecrow.
	"I don't know," she replied.  "I s'pose we can go back the way we
came, to Jack Pumpkinhead's house, and then turn into the Winkie Country;
but that seems like running 'round a haystack, doesn't it?"
	"Yes," said the Scarecrow.  "What is the next thing Ojo must get?"
	"A yellow butterfly," answered the boy.
	"That means the Winkie Country, all right, for it's the yellow
country of Oz," remarked Dorothy.  "I think, Scarecrow, we ought to take
him to the Tin Woodman, for he's the Emp'ror of the Winkies and will help
us to find what Ojo wants."
	"Of course," replied the Scarecrow, brightening at the suggestion.
"The Tin Woodman will do anything we ask him, for he's one of my dearest
friends.  I believe we can take a crosscut into his country and so get to
his castle a day sooner than if we travel back the way we came."
	"I think so, too," said the girl; "and that means we must keep to
the left."
	They were obliged to go down the mountain before they found any
path that led in the direction they wanted to go, but among the tumbled
rocks at the foot of the mountain was a faint trail which they decided to
follow.  Two or three hours' walk along this trail brought them to a
clear, level country, where there were a few farms and some scattered
houses.  But they knew they were still in the Country of the Quadlings,
because everything had a bright red color.  Not that the trees and
grasses were red, but the fences and houses were painted that color and
all the wild-flowers that bloomed by the wayside had red blossoms. This
part of the Quadling Country seemed peaceful and prosperous, if rather
lonely, and the road was now more distinct and easier to follow.
	But just as they were congratulating themselves upon the progress
they had made they came upon a broad river which swept along between high
banks, and here the road ended and there was no bridge of any sort to
allow them to cross.
	"This is queer," mused Dorothy, looking at the water reflectively.
"Why should there be any road, if the river stops everyone walking along
	"Wow!" said Toto, gazing earnestly into her face.
	"That's the best answer you'll get," declared the Scarecrow, with
his comical smile, "for no one knows any more than Toto about this road."
	Said Scraps:

	"Ev'ry time I see a river,
	 I have chills that make me shiver.
	 For I never can forget
	 All the water's very wet.
	 If my patches get a soak
	 It will be a sorry joke;
	 So to swim I'll never try
	 Till I find the water dry."

	"Try to control yourself, Scraps," said Ojo; "you're getting crazy
again. No one intends to swim that river."
	"No," decided Dorothy, "we couldn't swim it if we tried.  It's too
big a river, and the water moves awful fast."
	"There ought to be a ferryman with a boat," said the Scarecrow;
"but I don't see any."
	"Couldn't we make a raft?" suggested Ojo.
	"There's nothing to make one of," answered Dorothy.
	"Wow!" said Toto again, and Dorothy saw he was looking along the
bank of the river.
	"Why, he sees a house over there!" cried the little girl.  "I
wonder we didn't notice it ourselves.  Let's go and ask the people how to
get 'cross the river."
	A quarter of a mile along the bank stood a small, round house,
painted bright red, and as it was on their side of the river they hurried
toward it.  A chubby little man dressed all in red, came out to greet
them, and with him were two children, also in red costumes.  The man's
eyes were big and staring as he examined the Scarecrow and the Patchwork
Girl, and the children shyly hid behind him and peeked timidly at Toto.
	"Do you live here, my good man?" asked the Scarecrow.
	"I think I do, Most Mighty Magician," replied the Quadling,
bowing low; "but whether I'm awake or dreaming I can't be positive, so
I'm not sure where I live.  If you'll kindly pinch me I'll find out all
about it."
	"You're awake," said Dorothy, "and this is no magician, but just
the Scarecrow."
	"But he's alive," protested the man, "and he oughtn't to be, you
know. And that other dreadful person--the girl who is all patches--seems
to be alive, too."
	"Very much so," declared Scraps, making a face at him.  "But that
isn't your affair, you know."
	"I've a right to be surprised, haven't I?" asked the man meekly.
	"I'm not sure; but anyhow you've no right to say I'm dreadful.
The Scarecrow, who is a gentleman of great wisdom, thinks I'm beautiful,"
retorted Scraps.
	"Never mind all that," said Dorothy.  "Tell us, good Quadling,
how we can get across the river."
	"I don't know," replied the Quadling.
	"Don't you ever cross it?" asked the girl.
	"Don't travelers cross it?"
	"Not to my knowledge," said he.
	They were much surprised to hear this, and the man added: "It's a
pretty big river, and the current is strong.  I know a man who lives on
the opposite bank, for I've seen him there a good many years; but we've
never spoken because neither of us has ever crossed over."
	"That's queer," said the Scarecrow.  "Don't you own a boat?"
	The man shook his head.
	"Nor a raft?"
	"Where does the river go to?" asked Dorothy.
	"That way," answered the man, pointing with one hand, "it goes
into the Country of the Winkies, which is ruled by the Tin Emperor, who
must be a mighty magician because he's all made of tin, and yet he's
alive.  And that way," pointing with the other hand, "the river runs
between two mountains where dangerous people dwell."
	The Scarecrow looked at the water before them.
	"The current flows toward the Winkie Country," said he; "and so,
if we had a boat or a raft, the river would float us there more quickly
and more easily than we could walk."
	"That is true," agreed Dorothy; and then they all looked
thoughtful and wondered what could be done.
	"Why can't the man make us a raft?" asked Ojo.
	"Will you?" inquired Dorothy, turning to the Quadling.
	The chubby man shook his head.
	"I'm too lazy," he said.  "My wife says I'm the laziest man in all
Oz, and she is a truthful woman.  I hate work of any kind, and making a
raft is hard work."
	"I'll give you my em'rald ring," promised the girl.
	"No, I don't care for emeralds.  If it were a ruby, which is the
color I like best, I might work a little while."
	"I've got some Square Meal Tablets," said the Scarecrow.  "Each
one is the same as a dish of soup, a fried fish, a mutton pot-pie,
lobster salad, charlotte russe and lemon jelly--all made into one little
tablet that you can swallow without trouble."
	"Without trouble?" exclaimed the Quadling, much interested; "then
those tablets would be fine for a lazy man.  It's such hard work to chew
when you eat."
	"I'll give you six of those tablets if you'll help us make a
raft," promised the Scarecrow.  "They're a combination of food which
people who eat are very fond of.  I never eat, you know, being straw; but
some of my friends eat regularly.  What do you say to my offer, Quadling?"
	"I'll do it," decided the man.  "I'll help, and you can do most
of the work.  But my wife has gone fishing for red eels to-day, so some
of you will have to mind the children."
	Scraps promised to do that, and the children were not so shy when
the Patchwork Girl sat down to play with them.  They grew to like Toto,
too, and the little dog allowed them to pat him on the head, which gave
the little ones much joy.
	There were a number of fallen trees near the house, and the
Quadling got his axe and chopped them into logs of equal length.  He took
his wife's clothesline to bind these logs together, so that they would
form a raft, and Ojo found some strips of wood and nailed them along the
tops of the logs, to render them more firm.  The Scarecrow and Dorothy
helped roll the logs together and carry the strips of wood, but it took
so long to make the raft that evening came just as it was finished, and
with evening the Quadling's wife returned from her fishing.
	The woman proved to be cross and bad-tempered, perhaps because
she had only caught one red eel during all the day.  When she found that
her husband had used her clothesline and the logs she had wanted for
firewood, and the boards she had intended to mend the shed with, and a
lot of gold nails, she became very angry.  Scraps wanted to shake the
woman, to make her behave, but Dorothy talked to her in a gentle tone and
told the Quadling's wife she was a Princess of Oz and a friend of Ozma
and that when she got back to the Emerald City she would send them a lot
of things to repay them for the raft, including a new clothesline.  This
promise pleased the woman and she soon became more pleasant, saying they
could stay the night at her house and begin their voyage on the river
next morning.
	This they did, spending a pleasant evening with the Quadling
family and being entertained with such hospitality as the poor people
were able to offer them.  The man groaned a good deal and said he had
overworked himself by chopping the logs, but the Scarecrow gave him two
more tablets than he had promised, which seemed to comfort the lazy

26. The Trick River

	Next morning they pushed the raft into the water and all got
aboard. The Quadling man had to hold the log craft fast while they took
their places, and the flow of the river was so powerful that it nearly
tore the raft from his hands.  As soon as they were all seated upon the
logs he let go and away it floated and the adventurers had begun their
voyage toward the Winkie Country.
	The little house of the Quadlings was out of sight almost before
they had cried their goodbyes, and the Scarecrow said in a pleased voice:
"It won't take us long to get to the Winkie Country, at this rate."
	They had floated several miles down the stream and were enjoying
the ride when suddenly the raft slowed up, stopped short, and then began
to float back the way it had come.
	"Why, what's wrong?" asked Dorothy, in astonishment; but they were
all just as bewildered as she was and at first no one could answer the
question.  Soon, however, they realized the truth: that the current of
the river had reversed and the water was now flowing in the opposite
direction--toward the mountains.
	They began to recognize the scenes they had passed, and by and by
they came in sight of the little house of the Quadlings again.  The man
was standing on the river bank and he called to them:
	"How do you do?  Glad to see you again.  I forgot to tell you that
the river changes its direction every little while.  Sometimes it flows
one way, and sometimes the other."
	They had no time to answer him, for the raft was swept past the
house and a long distance on the other side of it.
	"We're going just the way we don't want to go," said Dorothy, "and
I guess the best thing we can do is to get to land before we're carried
any farther."
	But they could not get to land.  They had no oars, nor even a pole
to guide the raft with.  The logs which bore them floated in the middle
of the stream and were held fast in that position by the strong current.
	So they sat still and waited and, even while they were wondering
what could be done, the raft slowed down, stopped, and began drifting the
other way--in the direction it had first followed.  After a time they
repassed the Quadling house and the man was still standing on the bank.
He cried out to them:
	"Good day!  Glad to see you again.  I expect I shall see you a
good many times, as you go by, unless you happen to swim ashore."
	By that time they had left him behind and were headed once more
straight toward the Winkie Country.
	"This is pretty hard luck," said Ojo in a discouraged voice.  "The
Trick River keeps changing, it seems, and here we must float back and
forward forever, unless we manage in some way to get ashore."
	"Can you swim?" asked Dorothy.
	"No; I'm Ojo the Unlucky."
	"Neither can I.  Toto can swim a little, but that won't help us to
get to shore."
	"I don't know whether I could swim, or not," remarked Scraps; "but
if I tried it I'd surely ruin my lovely patches."
	"My straw would get soggy in the water and I would sink," said the
	So there seemed no way out of their dilemma and being helpless
they simply sat still.  Ojo, who was on the front of the raft, looked
over into the water and thought he saw some large fishes swimming about.
He found a loose end of the clothesline which fastened the logs together,
and taking a gold nail from his pocket, he bent it nearly double, to form
a hook and tied it to the end of the line.  Having baited the hook with
some bread which he broke from his loaf, he dropped the line into the
water and almost instantly it was seized by a great fish.
	They knew it was a great fish, because it pulled so hard on the
line that it dragged the raft forward even faster than the current of the
river had carried it.  The fish was frightened, and it was a strong
swimmer.  As the other end of the clothesline was bound around the logs
he could not get it away, and as he had greedily swallowed the gold hook
at the first bite he could not get rid of that, either.
	When they reached the place where the current had before changed,
the fish was still swimming ahead in its wild attempt to escape.  The
raft slowed down, yet it did not stop, because the fish would not let it.
It continued to move in the same direction it had been going.  As the
current reversed and rushed backward on its course it failed to drag the
raft with it.  Slowly, inch by inch, they floated on, and the fish tugged
and tugged and kept them going.
	"I hope he won't give up," said Ojo anxiously.  "If the fish can
hold out until the current changes again, we'll be all right."
	The fish did not give up, but held the raft bravely on its
course, till at last the water in the river shifted again and floated
them the way they wanted to go.  But now the captive fish found its
strength failing.  Seeking a refuge, it began to drag the raft toward the
shore.  As they did not wish to land in this place the boy cut the rope
with his pocket-knife and set the fish free, just in time to prevent the
raft from grounding.
	The next time the river backed up, the Scarecrow managed to seize
the branch of a tree that overhung the water and they all assisted him to
hold fast and prevent the raft from being carried backward.  While they
waited here, Ojo spied a long, broken branch lying upon the bank, so he
leaped ashore and got it.  When he had stripped off the side shoots, he
believed he could use the branch as a pole to guide the raft in case of
	They clung to the tree until they found the water flowing the
right way, when they let go and permitted the raft to resume its voyage.
In spite of these pauses, they were really making good progress toward
the Winkie Country and having found a way to conquer the adverse current
their spirits rose considerably.  They could see little of the country
through which they were passing because of the high banks, and they met
with no boats or other craft upon the surface of the river.
	Once more the trick river reversed its current, but this time the
Scarecrow was on guard and used the pole to push the raft toward a big
rock which lay in the water.  He believed the rock would prevent their
floating backward with the current, and so it did.  They clung to this
anchorage until the water resumed its proper direction, when they allowed
the raft to drift on.
	Floating around a bend they saw ahead a high bank of water,
extending across the entire river, and toward this they were being
irresistibly carried.  There being no way to arrest the progress of the
raft they clung fast to the logs and let the river sweep them on.
Swiftly the raft climbed the bank of water and slid down on the other
side, plunging its edge deep into the water and drenching them all with
	As again the raft righted and drifted on, Dorothy and Ojo laughed
at the ducking they had received; but Scraps was much dismayed and the
Scarecrow took out his handkerchief and wiped the water off the Patchwork
Girl's patches as well as he was able to.  The sun soon dried her and the
colors of her patches proved good, for they did not run together nor did
they fade.
	After passing the wall of water the current did not change or flow
backward any more but continued to sweep them steadily forward.  The
banks of the river grew lower, too, permitting them to see more of the
country, and presently they discovered yellow buttercups and dandelions
growing amongst the grass, from which evidence they knew they had reached
the Winkie Country.
	"Don't you think we ought to land?"  Dorothy asked the Scarecrow.
	"Pretty soon," he replied.  "The Tin Woodman's castle is in the
southern part of the Winkie Country, and so it can't be a great way from
	Fearing they might drift too far, Dorothy and Ojo now stood up
and raised the Scarecrow in their arms, as high as they could, thus
allowing him a good view of the country.  For a time he saw nothing he
recognized, but finally he cried:
	"There it is!  There it is!"
	"What?" asked Dorothy.
	"The Tin Woodman's tin castle.  I can see its turrets glistening
in the sun.  It's quite a way off, but we'd better land as quickly as we
	They let him down and began to urge the raft toward the shore by
means of the pole.  It obeyed very well, for the current was more
sluggish now, and soon they had reached the bank and landed safely.
	The Winkie Country was really beautiful, and across the fields
they could see afar the silvery sheen of the tin castle.  With light
hearts they hurried toward it, being fully rested by their long ride on
the river.
	By and by they began to cross an immense field of splendid yellow
lilies, the delicate fragrance of which was very delightful.
	"How beautiful they are!" cried Dorothy, stopping to admire the
perfection of these exquisite flowers.
	"Yes," said the Scarecrow, reflectively, "but we must be careful
not to crush or injure any of these lilies."
	"Why not?" asked Ojo.
	"The Tin Woodman is very kind-hearted," was the reply, "and he
hates to see any living thing hurt in any way."
	"Are flowers alive?" asked Scraps.
	"Yes, of course.  And these flowers belong to the Tin Woodman.
So, in order not to offend him, we must not tread on a single blossom."
	"Once," said Dorothy, "the Tin Woodman stepped on a beetle and
killed the little creature.  That made him very unhappy and he cried
until his tears rusted his joints, so he couldn't move 'em."
	"What did he do then?" asked Ojo.
	"Put oil on them, until the joints worked smooth again."
	"Oh!" exclaimed the boy, as if a great discovery had flashed
across his mind.  But he did not tell anybody what the discovery was and
kept the idea to himself.
	It was a long walk, but a pleasant one, and they did not mind it
a bit. Late in the afternoon they drew near to the wonderful tin castle
of the Emperor of the Winkies, and Ojo and Scraps, who had never seen it
before, were filled with amazement.
	Tin abounded in the Winkie Country and the Winkies were said to
be the most skillful tinsmiths in all the world.  So the Tin Woodman had
employed them in building his magnificent castle, which was all of tin,
from the ground to the tallest turret, and so brightly polished that it
glittered in the sun's rays more gorgeously than silver. Around the
grounds of the castle ran a tin wall, with tin gates; but the gates stood
wide open because the Emperor had no enemies to disturb him.
	When they entered the spacious grounds our travelers found more
to admire.  Tin fountains sent sprays of clear water far into the air and
there were many beds of tin flowers, all as perfectly formed as any
natural flowers might be.  There were tin trees, too, and here and there
shady bowers of tin, with tin benches and chairs to sit upon. Also, on
the sides of the pathway leading up to the front door of the castle, were
rows of tin statuary, very cleverly executed.  Among these Ojo recognized
statues of Dorothy, Toto, the Scarecrow, the Wizard, the Shaggy Man, Jack
Pumpkinhead and Ozma, all standing upon neat pedestals of tin.
	Toto was well acquainted with the residence of the Tin Woodman
and, being assured a joyful welcome, he ran ahead and barked so loudly at
the front door that the Tin Woodman heard him and came out in person to
see if it were really his old friend Toto.  Next moment the tin man had
clasped the Scarecrow in a warm embrace and then turned to hug Dorothy.
But now his eye was arrested by the strange sight of the Patchwork Girl,
and he gazed upon her in mingled wonder and admiration.

27. The Tin Woodman Objects

	The Tin Woodman was one of the most important personages in all
Oz. Though Emperor of the Winkies, he owed allegiance to Ozma, who ruled
all the land, and the girl and the tin man were warm personal friends. He
was something of a dandy and kept his tin body brilliantly polished and
his tin joints well oiled.  Also, he was very courteous in manner and so
kind and gentle that everyone loved him.  The Emperor greeted Ojo and
Scraps with cordial hospitality and ushered the entire party into his
handsome tin parlor, where all the furniture and pictures were made of
tin.  The walls were paneled with tin and from the tin ceiling hung tin
	The Tin Woodman wanted to know, first of all, where Dorothy had
found the Patchwork Girl, so between them the visitors told the story of
how Scraps was made, as well as the accident to Margolotte and Unc Nunkie
and how Ojo had set out upon a journey to procure the things needed for
the Crooked Magician's magic charm.  Then Dorothy told of their
adventures in the Quadling Country and how at last they succeeded in
getting the water from a dark well.
	While the little girl was relating these adventures the Tin
Woodman sat in an easy chair listening with intense interest, while the
others sat grouped around him.  Ojo, however, had kept his eyes fixed
upon the body of the tin Emperor, and now he noticed that under the joint
of his left knee a tiny drop of oil was forming.  He watched this drop of
oil with a fast-beating heart, and feeling in his pocket brought out a
tiny vial of crystal, which he held secreted in his hand.
	Presently the Tin Woodman changed his position, and at once Ojo,
to the astonishment of all, dropped to the floor and held his crystal
vial under the Emperor's knee joint.  Just then the drop of oil fell, and
the boy caught it in his bottle and immediately corked it tight. Then,
with a red face and embarrassed manner, he rose to confront the others.
	"What in the world were you doing?" asked the Tin Woodman.
	"I caught a drop of oil that fell from your knee-joint,"
confessed Ojo.
	"A drop of oil!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman.  "Dear me, how
careless my valet must have been in oiling me this morning.  I'm afraid I
shall have to scold the fellow, for I can't be dropping oil wherever I
	"Never mind," said Dorothy.  "Ojo seems glad to have the oil, for
some reason."
	"Yes," declared the Munchkin boy, "I am glad.  For one of the
things the Crooked Magician sent me to get was a drop of oil from a live
man's body.  I had no idea, at first, that there was such a thing; but
it's now safe in the little crystal vial."
	"You are very welcome to it, indeed," said the Tin Woodman. "Have
you now secured all the things you were in search of?"
	"Not quite all," answered Ojo.  "There were five things I had to
get, and I have found four of them.  I have the three hairs in the tip of
a Woozy's tail, a six-leaved clover, a gill of water from a dark well and
a drop of oil from a live man's body.  The last thing is the easiest of
all to get, and I'm sure that my dear Unc Nunkie--and good Margolotte, as
well--will soon be restored to life."
	The Munchkin boy said this with much pride and pleasure.
	"Good!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman; "I congratulate you.  But what
is the fifth and last thing you need, in order to complete the magic charm?"
	"The left wing of a yellow butterfly," said Ojo.  "In this yellow
country, and with your kind assistance, that ought to be very easy to find."
	The Tin Woodman stared at him in amazement.
	"Surely you are joking!" he said.
	"No," replied Ojo, much surprised; "I am in earnest."
	"But do you think for a moment that I would permit you, or anyone
else, to pull the left wing from a yellow butterfly?" demanded the Tin
Woodman sternly.
	"Why not, sir?"
	"Why not?  You ask me why not?  It would be cruel--one of the
most cruel and heartless deeds I ever heard of," asserted the Tin
Woodman. "The butterflies are among the prettiest of all created things,
and they are very sensitive to pain.  To tear a wing from one would cause
it exquisite torture and it would soon die in great agony.  I would not
permit such a wicked deed under any circumstances!"
	Ojo was astounded at hearing this.  Dorothy, too, looked grave
and disconcerted, but she knew in her heart that the Tin Woodman was
right.  The Scarecrow nodded his head in approval of his friend's speech,
so it was evident that he agreed with the Emperor's decision. Scraps
looked from one to another in perplexity.
	"Who cares for a butterfly?" she asked.
	"Don't you?" inquired the Tin Woodman.
	"Not the snap of a finger, for I have no heart," said the
Patchwork Girl.  "But I want to help Ojo, who is my friend, to rescue the
uncle whom he loves, and I'd kill a dozen useless butterflies to enable
him to do that."
	The Tin Woodman sighed regretfully.
	"You have kind instincts," he said, "and with a heart you would
indeed be a fine creature.  I cannot blame you for your heartless remark,
as you cannot understand the feelings of those who possess hearts. I, for
instance, have a very neat and responsive heart which the wonderful
Wizard of Oz once gave me, and so I shall never--never--NEVER permit a
poor yellow butterfly to be tortured by anyone."
	"The yellow country of the Winkies," said Ojo sadly, "is the only
place in Oz where a yellow butterfly can be found."
	"I'm glad of that," said the Tin Woodman.  "As I rule the Winkie
Country, I can protect my butterflies."
	"Unless I get the wing--just one left wing--" said Ojo miserably,
"I can't save Unc Nunkie."
	"Then he must remain a marble statue forever," declared the Tin
Emperor, firmly.
	Ojo wiped his eyes, for he could not hold back the tears.
	"I'll tell you what to do," said Scraps.  "We'll take a whole
yellow butterfly, alive and well, to the Crooked Magician, and let him
pull the left wing off."
	"No, you won't," said the Tin Woodman.  "You can't have one of my
dear little butterflies to treat in that way."
	"Then what in the world shall we do?" asked Dorothy.
	They all became silent and thoughtful.  No one spoke for a long
time. Then the Tin Woodman suddenly roused himself and said:
	"We must all go back to the Emerald City and ask Ozma's advice.
She's a wise little girl, our Ruler, and she may find a way to help Ojo
save his Unc Nunkie."
	So the following morning the party started on the journey to the
Emerald City, which they reached in due time without any important
adventure.  It was a sad journey for Ojo, for without the wing of the
yellow butterfly he saw no way to save Unc Nunkie--unless he waited six
years for the Crooked Magician to make a new lot of the Powder of Life.
The boy was utterly discouraged, and as he walked along he groaned aloud.
	"Is anything hurting you?" inquired the Tin Woodman in a kindly
tone, for the Emperor was with the party.
	"I'm Ojo the Unlucky," replied the boy.  "I might have known I
would fail in anything I tried to do."
	"Why are you Ojo the Unlucky?" asked the tin man.
	"Because I was born on a Friday."
	"Friday is not unlucky," declared the Emperor.  "It's just one of
seven days.  Do you suppose all the world becomes unlucky one-seventh of
the time?"
	"It was the thirteenth day of the month," said Ojo.
	"Thirteen!  Ah, that is indeed a lucky number," replied the Tin
Woodman.  "All my good luck seems to happen on the thirteenth.  I suppose
most people never notice the good luck that comes to them with the number
13, and yet if the least bit of bad luck falls on that day, they blame it
to the number, and not to the proper cause."
	"Thirteen's my lucky number, too," remarked the Scarecrow.
	"And mine," said Scraps.  "I've just thirteen patches on my head."
	"But," continued Ojo, "I'm left-handed."
	"Many of our greatest men are that way," asserted the Emperor.
"To be left-handed is usually to be two-handed; the right-handed people
are usually one-handed."
	"And I've a wart under my right arm," said Ojo.
	"How lucky!" cried the Tin Woodman.  "If it were on the end of
your nose it might be unlucky, but under your arm it is luckily out of
the way."
	"For all those reasons," said the Munchkin boy, "I have been
called Ojo the Unlucky."
	"Then we must turn over a new leaf and call you henceforth Ojo the
Lucky," declared the tin man.  "Every reason you have given is absurd.
But I have noticed that those who continually dread ill luck and fear it
will overtake them, have no time to take advantage of any good fortune
that comes their way.  Make up your mind to be Ojo the Lucky."
	"How can I?" asked the boy, "when all my attempts to save my dear
uncle have failed?"
	"Never give up, Ojo," advised Dorothy.  "No one ever knows what's
going to happen next."
	Ojo did not reply, but he was so dejected that even their arrival
at the Emerald City failed to interest him.
	The people joyfully cheered the appearance of the Tin Woodman,
the Scarecrow and Dorothy, who were all three general favorites, and on
entering the royal palace word came to them from Ozma that she would at
once grant them an audience.
	Dorothy told the girl Ruler how successful they had been in their
quest until they came to the item of the yellow butterfly, which the Tin
Woodman positively refused to sacrifice to the magic potion.
	"He is quite right," said Ozma, who did not seem a bit surprised.
"Had Ojo told me that one of the things he sought was the wing of a
yellow butterfly I would have informed him, before he started out, that
he could never secure it.  Then you would have been saved the troubles
and annoyances of your long journey."
	"I didn't mind the journey at all," said Dorothy; "it was fun."
	"As it has turned out," remarked Ojo, "I can never get the things
the Crooked Magician sent me for; and so, unless I wait the six years for
him to make the Powder of Life, Unc Nunkie cannot be saved."
	Ozma smiled.
	"Dr. Pipt will make no more Powder of Life, I promise you," said
she. "I have sent for him and had him brought to this palace, where he
now is, and his four kettles have been destroyed and his book of recipes
burned up.  I have also had brought here the marble statues of your uncle
and of Margolotte, which are standing in the next room."
	They were all greatly astonished at this announcement.
	"Oh, let me see Unc Nunkie!  Let me see him at once, please!"
cried Ojo eagerly.
	"Wait a moment," replied Ozma, "for I have something more to say.
Nothing that happens in the Land of Oz escapes the notice of our wise
Sorceress, Glinda the Good.  She knew all about the magic-making of Dr.
Pipt and how he had brought the Glass Cat and the Patchwork Girl to life,
and the accident to Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, and of Ojo's quest and his
journey with Dorothy.  Glinda also knew that Ojo would fail to find all
the things he sought, so she sent for our Wizard and instructed him what
to do.  Something is going to happen in this palace, presently, and that
'something' will, I am sure, please you all.  And now," continued the
girl Ruler, rising from her chair, "you may follow me into the next

28. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

	When Ojo entered the room, he ran quickly to the statue of Unc
Nunkie and kissed the marble face affectionately.  "I did my best, Unc,"
he said, with a sob, "but it was no use!"
	Then he drew back and looked around the room, and the sight of the
assembled company quite amazed him.
	Aside from the marble statues of Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, the
Glass Cat was there, curled up on a rug; and the Woozy was there, sitting
on its square hind legs and looking on the scene with solemn interest;
and there was the Shaggy Man, in a suit of shaggy pea-green satin, and at
a table sat the little Wizard, looking quite important and as if he knew
much more than he cared to tell.
	Last of all, Dr. Pipt was there, and the Crooked Magician sat
humped up in a chair, seeming very dejected but keeping his eyes fixed on
the lifeless form of his wife Margolotte, whom he fondly loved but whom
he now feared was lost to him forever.
	Ozma took a chair which Jellia Jamb wheeled forward for the
Ruler, and back of her stood the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Dorothy,
as well as the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger.  The Wizard now rose
and made a low bow to Ozma and another less deferent bow to the assembled
	"Ladies and gentlemen and beasts," he said, "I beg to announce
that our Gracious Ruler has permitted me to obey the commands of the
great Sorceress, Glinda the Good, whose humble Assistant I am proud to
be. We have discovered that the Crooked Magician has been indulging in
his magical arts contrary to Law, and therefore, by Royal Edict, I hereby
deprive him of all power to work magic in the future.  He is no longer a
crooked magician, but a simple Munchkin; he is no longer even crooked,
but a man like other men."
	As he pronounced these words the Wizard waved his hand toward Dr.
Pipt and instantly every crooked limb straightened out and became
perfect. The former magician, with a cry of joy, sprang to his feet,
looked at himself in wonder, and then fell back in his chair and watched
the Wizard with fascinated interest.
	"The Glass Cat, which Dr. Pipt lawlessly made," continued the
Wizard, "is a pretty cat, but its pink brains made it so conceited that
it was a disagreeable companion to everyone.  So the other day I took
away the pink brains and replaced them with transparent ones, and now the
Glass Cat is so modest and well behaved that Ozma has decided to keep her
in the palace as a pet."
	"I thank you," said the cat, in a soft voice.
	"The Woozy has proved himself a good Woozy and a faithful friend,"
the Wizard went on, "so we will send him to the Royal Menagerie, where he
will have good care and plenty to eat all his life."
	"Much obliged," said the Woozy.  "That beats being fenced up in a
lonely forest and starved."
	"As for the Patchwork Girl," resumed the Wizard, "she is so
remarkable in appearance, and so clever and good tempered, that our
Gracious Ruler intends to preserve her carefully, as one of the
curiosities of the curious Land of Oz.  Scraps may live in the palace, or
wherever she pleases, and be nobody's servant but her own."
	"That's all right," said Scraps.
	"We have all been interested in Ojo," the little Wizard continued,
"because his love for his unfortunate uncle has led him bravely to face
all sorts of dangers, in order that he might rescue him.  The Munchkin
boy has a loyal and generous heart and has done his best to restore Unc
Nunkie to life.  He has failed, but there are others more powerful than
the Crooked Magician, and there are more ways than Dr. Pipt knew of to
destroy the charm of the Liquid of Petrifaction. Glinda the Good has told
me of one way, and you shall now learn how great is the knowledge and
power of our peerless Sorceress."
	As he said this the Wizard advanced to the statue of Margolotte
and made a magic pass, at the same time muttering a magic word that none
could hear distinctly.  At once the woman moved, turned her head
wonderingly this way and that, to note all who stood before her, and
seeing Dr Pipt, ran forward and threw herself into her husband's
outstretched arms.
	Then the Wizard made the magic pass and spoke the magic word
before the statue of Unc Nunkie.  The old Munchkin immediately came to
life and with a low bow to the Wizard said: "Thanks."
	But now Ojo rushed up and threw his arms joyfully around his
uncle, and the old man hugged his little nephew tenderly and stroked his
hair and wiped away the boy's tears with a handkerchief, for Ojo was
crying from pure happiness.
	Ozma came forward to congratulate them.
	"I have given to you, my dear Ojo and Unc Nunkie, a nice house
just outside the walls of the Emerald City," she said, "and there you
shall make your future home and be under my protection."
	"Didn't I say you were Ojo the Lucky?" asked the Tin Woodman, as
everyone crowded around to shake Ojo's hand.
	"Yes; and it is true!" replied Ojo, gratefully.
THE END of The Patchwork Girl of Oz.