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The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum

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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

"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

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

"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

Before she could say anything more an unseen
hand seized her firmly and threw her 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.

Chapter Seven

The Troublesome Phonograph

When the boy opened his eyes 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

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,
nor 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 well."

"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

"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

"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 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 is 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

"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

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-

"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

"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."

Chapter Eight

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

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

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

"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

"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

"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

"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, Muchkin 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.

Chapter Nine

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

"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 fence?"

"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

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 nor 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 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

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

"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 harder."

"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

"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

"Never mind," added the cat. "I can't see that
old Unc and Margolotte are worth all this trouble,

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

"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

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

"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,

"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

"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.

Chapter Ten

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 like.

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 go."

"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

"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

"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 knocks."

"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

"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 are 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 great 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 interest.

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

"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

"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

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 position.

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

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 dagger.

"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 Man."

"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 Scarecrow."

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 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.

Chapter Eleven

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 boy.

"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 tail.

"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 Woodman."

"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

"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," exclaimed 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,

"I hope your friends are not dignified,"
observed Scraps.

"Some are, and some are not," he answered;
"but I never criticise 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

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,

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

"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 songs."

"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 under-brush 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 bad; 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 Tik-Tok--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 Kitten."

"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, yawning.

The Glass Cat seemed annoyed.

"Do you think a pink kitten--common meat--is as
pretty as I am?" she asked.

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