“Why don’t you shut her up in a closet until she behaves herself, and promises to be good?” enquired Tip. Jinjur’s lip curled scornfully.
“Or give her a good shaking!” added the Saw-Horse.
“No,” said the Tin Woodman, “we must treat the poor girl with gentleness. Let us give her all the Jewels she can carry, and send her away happy and contented.”
At this Queen Jinjur laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her pretty hands together thrice, as if for a signal.
“You are very absurd creatures,” said she; “but I am tired of your nonsense and have no time to bother with you longer.”
While the monarch and his friends listened in amazement to this impudent speech, a startling thing happened. The Tin Woodman’s axe was snatched from his grasp by some person behind him, and he found himself disarmed and helpless. At the same instant a shout of laughter rang in the ears of the devoted band, and turning to see whence this came they found themselves surrounded by the Army of Revolt, the girls bearing in either hand their glistening knitting-needles. The entire throne room seemed to be filled with the rebels, and the Scarecrow and his comrades realized that they were prisoners.
“You see how foolish it is to oppose a woman’s wit,” said Jinjur, gaily; “and this event only proves that I am more fit to rule the Emerald City than a Scarecrow. I bear you no ill will, I assure you; but lest you should prove troublesome to me in the future I shall order you all to be destroyed. That is, all except the boy, who belongs to old Mombi and must be restored to her keeping. The rest of
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you are not human, and therefore it will not be wicked to demolish you. The Saw-Horse and the Pumpkinhead’s body I will have chopped up for kindling- wood; and the pumpkin shall be made into tarts. The Scarecrow will do nicely to start a bonfire, and the tin man can be cut into small pieces and fed to the goats. As for this immense Woggle-Bug — ”
“Highly Magnified, if you please!” interrupted the insect.
“I think I will ask the cook to make green-turtle soup of you,” continued the Queen, reflectively.
“Or, if that won’t do, we might use you for a Hungarian goulash, stewed and highly spiced,” she added, cruelly.
This programme of extermination was so terrible that the prisoners looked upon one another in a panic of fear. The Scarecrow alone did not give way to despair. He stood quietly before the Queen and his brow was wrinkled in deep thought as he strove to find some means to escape.
While thus engaged he felt the straw within his breast move gently. At once his expression changed from sadness to joy, and raising his hand he quickly unbuttoned the front of his jacket.
This action did not pass unnoticed by the crowd
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of girls clustering about him, but none of them suspected what he was doing until a tiny grey mouse leaped from his bosom to the floor and scampered
away between the feet of the Army of Revolt. Another mouse quickly followed; then another and another, in rapid succession. And suddenly such a
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scream of terror went up from the Army that it might easily have filled the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight that ensued turned to a stampede, and the stampede to a panic.
For while the startled mice rushed wildly about the room the Scarecrow had only time to note a whirl of skirts and a twinkling of feet as the girls disappeared from the palace — pushing and crowding one another in their mad efforts to escape.
The Queen, at the first alarm, stood up on the cushions of the throne and began to dance frantically upon her tiptoes. Then a mouse ran up the cushions, and with a terrified leap poor Jinjur shot clear over the head of the Scarecrow and escaped through an archway — never pausing in her wild career until she had reached the city gates.
So, in less time than I can explain, the throne room was deserted by all save the Scarecrow and his friends, and the Woggle-Bug heaved a deep sigh of relief as he exclaimed:
“Thank goodness, we are saved!”
“For a time, yes;” answered the Tin Woodman. “But the enemy will soon return, I fear.”
“Let us bar all the entrances to the palace!” said the Scarecrow. “Then we shall have time to think what is best to be done.”
So all except Jack Pumpkinhead, who was still tied fast to the Saw-Horse, ran to the various entrances of the royal palace and closed the heavy doors, bolting and locking them securely. Then, knowing that the Army of Revolt could not batter down the barriers in several days, the adventurers gathered once more in the throne room for a council of war.
180 Full page line-art drawing.
181 The Scarecrow Takes Time to Think
“It seems to me,” began the Scarecrow, when all were again assembled in the throne room, “that the girl Jinjur is quite right in claiming to be Queen. And if she is right, then I am wrong, and we have no business to be occupying her palace.”
“But you were the King until she came,” said the Woggle-Bug, strutting up and down with his hands in his pockets; “so it appears to me that she is the interloper instead of you.”
“Especially as we have just conquered her and put her to flight,” added the Pumpkinhead, as he raised his hands to turn his face toward the Scarecrow.
“Have we really conquered her?” asked the Scarecrow, quietly. “Look out of the window, and tell me what you see.”
Tip ran to the window and looked out.
“The palace is surrounded by a double row of girl soldiers,” he announced.
“I thought so,” returned the Scarecrow. “We are as truly their prisoners as we were before the mice frightened them from the palace.”
“My friend is right,” said Nick Chopper, who had been polishing his breast with a bit of chamois-leather. “Jinjur is still the Queen, and we are her prisoners.”
“But I hope she cannot get at us,” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, with a shiver of fear. “She threatened to make tarts of me, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Tin Woodman. “It cannot matter greatly. If you stay shut up here you will spoil in time, anyway. A good tart is far more admirable than a decayed intellect.”
“Very true,” agreed the Scarecrow.
“Oh, dear!” moaned Jack; “what an unhappy lot is mine! Why, dear father, did you not make me out of tin — or even out of straw — so that I would keep indefinitely.”
“Shucks!” returned Tip, indignantly. “You ought to be glad that I made you at all.” Then he added, reflectively, “everything has to come to an end, some time.”
“But I beg to remind you,” broke in the Woggle-Bug, who had a distressed look in his bulging, round eyes, “that this terrible Queen Jinjur suggested making a goulash of me — Me! the only Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated Woggle-Bug in the wide, wide world!”
“I think it was a brilliant idea,” remarked the Scarecrow, approvingly.
“Don’t you imagine he would make a better soup?” asked the Tin Woodman, turning toward his friend.
“Well, perhaps,” acknowledged the Scarecrow.
“I can see, in my mind’s eye,” said he, mournfully, “the goats eating small pieces of my dear comrade, the Tin Woodman, while my soup is being cooked on a bonfire built of the Saw-Horse and Jack Pumpkinhead’s body, and Queen Jinjur watches me boil while she feeds the flames with my friend the Scarecrow!”
This morbid picture cast a gloom over the entire party, making them restless and anxious.
“It can’t happen for some time,” said the Tin Woodman, trying to speak cheerfully; “for we shall be able to keep Jinjur out of the palace until she manages to break down the doors.”
“And in the meantime I am liable to starve to death, and so is the Woggle- Bug,” announced Tip.
“As for me,” said the Woggle-Bug, “I think that I could live for some time on Jack Pumpkinhead. Not that I prefer pumpkins for food; but I believe they are somewhat nutritious, and Jack’s head is large and plump.”
“How heartless!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, greatly shocked. “Are we cannibals, let me ask? Or are we faithful friends?”
“I see very clearly that we cannot stay shut up in this palace,” said the Scarecrow, with decision. “So let us end this mournful talk and try to discover a means to escape.”
At this suggestion they all gathered eagerly around the throne, wherein was seated the Scarecrow, and as Tip sat down upon a stool there fell from his pocket a pepper-box, which rolled upon the floor.
“What is this?” asked Nick Chopper, picking up the box.
“Be careful!” cried the boy. “That’s my Powder of Life. Don’t spill it, for it is nearly gone.”
“And what is the Powder of Life?” enquired the Scarecrow, as Tip replaced the box carefully in his pocket.
“It’s some magical stuff old Mombi got from a
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crooked sorcerer,” explained the boy. “She brought Jack to life with it, and afterward I used it to bring the Saw-Horse to life. I guess it will make anything live that is sprinkled with it; but there’s only about one dose left.”
“Then it is very precious,” said the Tin Woodman.
“Indeed it is,” agreed the Scarecrow. “It may prove our best means of escape from our difficulties. I believe I will think for a few minutes; so I will thank you, friend Tip, to get out your knife and rip this heavy crown from my forehead.”
Tip soon cut the stitches that had fastened the crown to the Scarecrow’s head, and the former monarch of the Emerald City removed it with a sigh of relief and hung it on a peg beside the throne.
“That is my last memento of royalty” said he; “and I’m glad to get rid of it. The former King of this City,
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who was named Pastoria, lost the crown to the Wonderful Wizard, who passed it on to me. Now the girl Jinjur claims it, and I sincerely hope it will not give her a headache.”
“A kindly thought, which I greatly admire,” said the Tin Woodman, nodding approvingly.
“And now I will indulge in a quiet think,” continued the Scarecrow, lying back in the throne.
The others remained as silent and still as possible, so as not to disturb him; for all had great confidence in the extraordinary brains of the Scarecrow.
And, after what seemed a very long time indeed to the anxious watchers, the thinker sat up, looked upon his friends with his most whimsical expression, and said:
“My brains work beautifully today. I’m quite proud of them. Now, listen! If we attempt to escape through the doors of the palace we shall surely be captured. And, as we can’t escape through the ground, there is only one other thing to be done. We must escape through the air!”
He paused to note the effect of these words; but all his hearers seemed puzzled and unconvinced.
“The Wonderful Wizard escaped in a balloon,” he continued. “We don’t know how to make a balloon, of course; but any sort of thing that can
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fly through the air can carry us easily. So I suggest that my friend the Tin Woodman, who is a skillful mechanic, shall build some sort of a machine, with good strong wings, to carry us; and our friend Tip can then bring the Thing to life with his magical powder.”
“What splendid brains!” murmured Jack.
“Really quite clever!” said the Educated Woggle-Bug.
“I believe it can be done,” declared Tip; “that is, if the Tin Woodman is equal to making the Thing.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Nick, cheerily; “and, as a matter of fact, I do not often fail in what I attempt. But the Thing will have to be built on the roof of the palace, so it can rise comfortably into the air.”
“To be sure,” said the Scarecrow.
“Then let us search through the palace,” continued the Tin Woodman, “and carry all the material we can find to the roof, where I will begin my work.”
“First, however,” said the Pumpkinhead, “I beg you will release me from this horse, and make me another leg to walk with. For in my present condition I am of no use to myself or to anyone else.”
So the Tin Woodman knocked a mahogany center-table to pieces with his axe and fitted one of the legs, which was beautifully carved, on to the body of Jack Pumpkinhead, who was very proud of the acquisition.
“It seems strange,” said he, as he watched the Tin Woodman work, “that my left leg should be the most elegant and substantial part of me.”
“That proves you are unusual,” returned the Scarecrow. “and I am convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world are the unusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves of a tree, and live and die unnoticed.”
“Spoken like a philosopher!” cried the Woggle-Bug, as he assisted the Tin Woodman to set Jack upon his feet.
“How do you feel now?” asked Tip, watching
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the Pumpkinhead stump around to try his new leg.”
As good as new” answered Jack, Joyfully, “and quite ready to assist you all to escape.”
“Then let us get to work,” said the Scarecrow, in a business-like tone.
So, glad to be doing anything that might lead to the end of their captivity, the friends separated to wander over the palace in search of fitting material to use in the construction of their aerial machine.
190 Full page line-art drawing.
191 The Astonishing Flight of the Gump
When the adventurers reassembled upon the roof it was found that a remarkably queer assortment of articles had been selected by the various members of the party. No one seemed to have a very clear idea of what was required, but all had brought something.
The Woggle-Bug had taken from its position over the mantle-piece in the great hallway the head of a Gump, which was adorned with wide-spreading antlers; and this, with great care and greater difficulty, the insect had carried up the stairs to the roof. This Gump resembled an Elk’s head, only the nose turned upward in a saucy manner and there were whiskers
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upon its chin, like those of a billy-goat. Why the Woggle-Bug selected this article he could not have explained, except that it had aroused his curiosity.
Tip, with the aid of the Saw-Horse, had brought a large, upholstered sofa to the roof. It was an oldfashioned piece of furniture, with high back and ends, and it was so heavy that even by resting the greatest weight upon the back of the Saw-Horse, the boy found himself out of breath when at last the clumsy sofa was dumped upon the roof.
The Pumpkinhead had brought a broom, which was the first thing he saw. The Scarecrow arrived with a coil of clothes-lines and ropes which he had taken from the courtyard, and in his trip up the stairs he had become so entangled in the loose ends of the ropes that both he and his burden tumbled in a heap upon the roof and might have rolled off if Tip had not rescued him.
The Tin Woodman appeared last. He also had been to the courtyard, where he had cut four great, spreading leaves from a huge palm-tree that was the pride of all the inhabitants of the Emerald City.
“My dear Nick!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, seeing what his friend had done; “you have been guilty of the greatest crime any person can commit in the Emerald City. If I remember rightly, the
193 Full page line-art drawing.
ALL BROUGHT SOMETHING TO THE ROOF.
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penalty for chopping leaves from the royal palm-tree is to be killed seven times and afterward imprisoned for life.”
“It cannot be helped now” answered the Tin Woodman, throwing down the big leaves upon the roof. “But it may be one more reason why it is necessary for us to escape. And now let us see what you have found for me to work with.”
Many were the doubtful looks cast upon the heap of miscellaneous material that now cluttered the roof, and finally the Scarecrow shook his head and remarked:
“Well, if friend Nick can manufacture, from this mess of rubbish, a Thing that will fly through the air and carry us to safety, then I will acknowledge him to be a better mechanic than I suspected.”
But the Tin Woodman seemed at first by no means sure of his powers, and only after polishing his forehead vigorously with the chamois-leather did he resolve to undertake the task.
“The first thing required for the machine,” said he, “is a body big enough to carry the entire party. This sofa is the biggest thing we have, and might be used for a body. But, should the machine ever tip sideways, we would all slide off and fall to the ground.”
“Why not use two sofas?” asked Tip. “There’s another one just like this down stairs.”
“That is a very sensible suggestion,” exclaimed the Tin Woodman. “You must fetch the other sofa at once.”
So Tip and the Saw-Horse managed, with much labor, to get the second sofa to the roof; and when the two were placed together, edge to edge, the backs and ends formed a protecting rampart all around the seats.
“Excellent!” cried the Scarecrow. “We can ride within this snug nest quite at our ease.”
The two sofas were now bound firmly together with ropes and clothes-lines, and then Nick Chopper fastened the Gump’s head to one end.
“That will show which is the front end of the Thing,” said he, greatly pleased with the idea.” And, really, if you examine it critically, the Gump looks very well as a figure-head. These great palm-leaves, for which I have endangered my life seven times, must serve us as wings.”
“Are they strong enough?” asked the boy.
“They are as strong as anything we can get,” answered the Woodman; “and although they are not in proportion to the Thing’s body, we are not in a position to be very particular.”
So he fastened the palm-leaves to the sofas, two on each side.
Said the Woggle-Bug, with considerable admiration:
“The Thing is now complete, and only needs to be brought to life.”
“Stop a moment!” exclaimed Jack.” Are you not going to use my broom?”
“What for?” asked the Scarecrow.
“Why, it can be fastened to the back end for a tail,” answered the Pumpkinhead. “Surely you would not call the Thing complete without a tail.”
“Hm!” said the Tin Woodman, “I do not see the use of a tail. We are not trying to copy a beast, or a fish, or a bird. All we ask of the Thing is to carry us through the air.
“Perhaps, after the Thing is brought to life, it can use a tail to steer with,” suggested the Scarecrow. “For if it flies through the air it will not be unlike a bird, and I’ve noticed that all birds have tails, which they use for a rudder while flying.”
“Very well,” answered Nick, “the broom shall be used for a tail,” and he fastened it firmly to the back end of the sofa body.
Tip took the pepper-box from his pocket.
“The Thing looks very big,” said he, anxiously;
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“and I am not sure there is enough powder left to bring all of it to life. But I’ll make it go as far as possible.”
“Put most on the wings,” said Nick Chopper; “for they must be made as strong as possible.”
“And don’t forget the head!” exclaimed the Woggle-Bug.
“Or the tail!” added Jack Pumpkinhead.
“Do be quiet,” said Tip, nervously; “you must give me a chance to work the magic charm in the proper manner.”
Very carefully he began sprinkling the Thing with the precious powder. Each of the four wings was first lightly covered with a layer. then the sofas were sprinkled, and the broom given a slight coating.
“The head! The head! Don’t, I beg of you, forget the head!” cried the Woggle-Bug, excitedly.
“There’s only a little of the powder left,” announced Tip, looking within the box.” And it seems to me it is more important to bring the legs of the sofas to life than the head.”
“Not so,” decided the Scarecrow. “Every thing must have a head to direct it; and since this creature is to fly, and not walk, it is really unimportant whether its legs are alive or not.”
So Tip abided by this decision and sprinkled the Gump’s head with the remainder of the powder.
“Now” said he, “keep silence while I work the, charm!”
Having heard old Mombi pronounce the magic words, and having also succeeded in bringing the Saw-Horse to life, Tip did not hesitate an instant in speaking the three cabalistic words, each accompanied by the peculiar gesture of the hands.
It was a grave and impressive ceremony.
As he finished the incantation the Thing shuddered throughout its huge bulk, the Gump gave the screeching cry that is familiar to those animals, and then the four wings began flopping furiously.
Tip managed to grasp a chimney, else he would have been blown off the roof by the terrible breeze raised by the wings. The Scarecrow, being light in weight, was caught up bodily and borne through the air until Tip luckily seized him by one leg and held him fast. The Woggle-Bug lay flat upon the roof and so escaped harm,
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and the Tin Woodman, whose weight of tin anchored him firmly, threw both arms around Jack Pumpkinhead and managed to save him. The Saw-Horse toppled over upon his back and lay with his legs waving helplessly above him.
And now, while all were struggling to recover themselves, the Thing rose slowly from the roof and mounted into the air.
“Here! Come back!” cried Tip, in a frightened voice, as he clung to the chimney with one hand and the Scarecrow with the other. “Come back at once, I command you!”
It was now that the wisdom of the Scarecrow, in bringing the head of the Thing to life instead of the legs, was proved beyond a doubt. For the Gump, already high in the air, turned its head at Tip’s command and gradually circled around until it could view the roof of the palace.
“Come back!” shouted the boy, again.
And the Gump obeyed, slowly and gracefully waving its four wings in the air until the Thing had settled once more upon the roof and become still.
200 Full page line-art drawing.
“This,” said the Gump, in a squeaky voice not at all proportioned to the size of its great body, “is the most novel experience I ever heard of. The last thing I remember distinctly is walking through the forest and hearing a loud noise. Something probably killed me then, and it certainly ought to have been the end of me. Yet here I am, alive again, with four monstrous wings and a body which I venture to say would make any respectable animal or fowl weep with shame to own. What does it all mean? Am I a Gump, or am I a juggernaut?” The creature, as it spoke, wiggled its chin whiskers in a very comical manner.
“You’re just a Thing,” answered Tip, “with a Gump’s head on it. And we have made you and brought you to life so that you may carry us through the air wherever we wish to go.”
“Very good!” said the Thing. “As I am not a Gump, I cannot have a Gump’s pride or independent spirit. So I may as well become your servant as anything else. My only satisfaction is that I do not seem to have a very strong constitution, and am not likely to live long in a state of slavery.”
“Don’t say that, I beg of you!” cried the Tin Woodman, whose excellent heart was strongly affected by this sad speech.” Are you not feeling well today?”
“Oh, as for that,” returned the Gump, “it is my first day of existence; so I cannot Judge whether I am feeling well or ill.” And it waved its broom tail to and fro in a pensive manner.
“Come, come!” said the Scarecrow, kindly. “do try, to be more cheerful and take life as you find it. We shall be kind masters, and will strive to render your existence as pleasant as possible. Are you willing to carry us through the air wherever we wish to go?”
“Certainly,” answered the Gump. “I greatly prefer to navigate the air. For should I travel on the earth and meet with one of my own species, my embarrassment would be something awful!”
“I can appreciate that,” said the Tin Woodman, sympathetically.
“And yet,” continued the Thing, “when I carefully
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look you over, my masters, none of you seems to be constructed much more artistically than I am.”
“Appearances are deceitful,” said the Woggle-Bug, earnestly. “I am both Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated.”
“Indeed!” murmured the Gump, indifferently.
“And my brains are considered remarkably rare specimens,” added the Scarecrow, proudly.
“How strange!” remarked the Gump.
“Although I am of tin,” said the Woodman, “I own a heart altogether the warmest and most admirable in the whole world.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” replied the Gump, with a slight cough.
“My smile,” said Jack Pumpkinhead, “is worthy your best attention. It is always the same.”
“Semper idem,” explained the Woggle-Bug, pompously; and the Gump turned to stare at him.
“And I,” declared the Saw-Horse, filling in an awkward pause, “am only remarkable because I can’t help it.”
“I am proud, indeed, to meet with such exceptional masters,” said the Gump, in a careless tone. “If I could but secure so complete an introduction to myself, I would be more than satisfied.”
“That will come in time,” remarked the Scare-
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crow. “To ‘Know Thyself’ is considered quite an accomplishment, which it has taken us, who are your elders, months to perfect. But now,” he added, turning to the others, “let us get aboard and start upon our journey.”
“Where shall we go?” asked Tip, as he clambered to a seat on the sofas and assisted the Pumpkinhead to follow him.
“In the South Country rules a very delightful Queen called Glinda the Good, who I am sure will gladly receive us,” said the Scarecrow, getting into the Thing clumsily. “Let us go to her and ask her advice.”
“That is cleverly thought of,” declared Nick Chopper, giving the Woggle-Bug a boost and then toppling the Saw-Horse into the rear end of the cushioned seats.” I know Glinda the Good, and believe she will prove a friend indeed.”
“Are we all ready?” asked the boy.
“Yes,” announced the Tin Woodman, seating himself beside the Scarecrow.
“Then,” said Tip, addressing the Gump, “be kind enough to fly with us to the Southward; and do not go higher than to escape the houses and trees, for it makes me dizzy to be up so far.”
“All right,” answered the Gump, briefly.
It flopped its four huge wings and rose slowly into the air; and then, while our little band of adventurers clung to the backs and sides of the sofas for support, the Gump turned toward the South and soared swiftly and majestically away.
“The scenic effect, from this altitude, is marvelous,” commented the educated Woggle-Bug, as they rode along.
“Never mind the scenery,” said the Scarecrow. “Hold on tight, or you may get a tumble. The Thing seems to rock badly.’
“It will be dark soon,” said Tip, observing that the sun was low on the horizon. “Perhaps we should have waited until morning. I wonder if the Gump can fly in the night.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” returned the Gump quietly. “You see, this is a new experience to me. I used to have legs that carried me swiftly over the ground. But now my legs feel as if they were asleep.”
“They are,” said Tip. “We didn’t bring ’em to life.”
“You’re expected to fly,” explained the Scarecrow. “not to walk.”
“We can walk ourselves,” said the Woggle-Bug.”
I begin to understand what is required of me,” remarked the Gump; “so I will do my best to
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please you,” and he flew on for a time in silence.
Presently Jack Pumpkinhead became uneasy.
“I wonder if riding through the air is liable to spoil pumpkins,” he said.
“Not unless you carelessly drop your head over the side,” answered the Woggle-Bug. “In that event your head would no longer be a pumpkin, for it would become a squash.”
“Have I not asked you to restrain these unfeeling jokes?” demanded Tip, looking at the Woggle-Bug with a severe expression.
“You have; and I’ve restrained a good many of them,” replied the insect. “But there are opportunities for so many excellent puns in our language that, to an educated person like myself, the temptation to express them is almost irresistible.”
“People with more or less education discovered those puns centuries ago,” said Tip.
“Are you sure?” asked the Woggle-Bug, with a startled look.
“Of course I am,” answered the boy. “An educated Woggle-Bug may be a new thing; but a Woggle-Bug education is as old as the hills, judging from the display you make of it.”
The insect seemed much impressed by this remark, and for a time maintained a meek silence.
The Scarecrow, in shifting his seat, saw upon the cushions the pepper-box which Tip had cast aside, and began to examine it.
“Throw it overboard,” said the boy; “it’s quite empty now, and there’s no use keeping it.”
“Is it really empty?” asked the Scarecrow, looking curiously into the box.
“Of course it is,” answered Tip. “I shook out every grain of the powder.
“Then the box has two bottoms,” announced the Scarecrow, “for the bottom on the inside is fully an inch away from the bottom on the outside.”
“Let me see,” said the Tin Woodman, taking the box from his friend. “Yes,” he declared, after looking it over, “the thing certainly has a false bottom. Now, I wonder what that is for?”
“Can’t you get it apart, and find out?” enquired Tip, now quite interested in the mystery.
“Why, yes; the lower bottom unscrews,” said the Tin Woodman. “My fingers are rather stiff; please see if you can open it.”
He handed the pepper-box to Tip, who had no difficulty in unscrewing the bottom. And in the cavity below were three silver pills, with a carefully folded paper lying underneath them.
This paper the boy proceeded to unfold, taking
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care not to spill the pills, and found several lines clearly written in red ink.
“Read it aloud,” said the Scarecrow. so Tip read, as follows:
“DR. NIKIDIK’S CELEBRATED WISHING PILLS.
“Directions for Use: Swallow one pill; count seventeen by twos; then make a Wish.
-The Wish will immediately be granted. CAUTION: Keep in a Dry and Dark Place.”
“Why, this is a very valuable discovery!” cried the Scarecrow.
“It is, indeed,” replied Tip, gravely. “These pills may be of great use to us. I wonder if old Mombi knew they were in the bottom of the pepper-box. I remember hearing her say that she got the Powder of Life from this same Nikidik.”
“He must be a powerful Sorcerer!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman; “and since the powder proved a success we ought to have confidence in the pills.”
“But how,” asked the Scarecrow, “can anyone count seventeen by twos? Seventeen is an odd number.”
“That is true,” replied Tip, greatly disappointed. “No one can possibly count seventeen by twos.”
“Then the pills are of no use to us,” wailed the Pumpkinhead; “and this fact overwhelms me with
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grief. For I had intended wishing that my head would never spoil.”
“Nonsense!” said the Scarecrow, sharply. “If we could use the pills at all we would make far better wishes than that.”
“I do not see how anything could be better,” protested poor Jack. “If you were liable to spoil at any time you could understand my anxiety.”
“For my part,” said the Tin Woodman, “I sympathize with you in every respect. But since we cannot count seventeen by twos, sympathy is all you are liable to get.”
By this time it had become quite dark, and the voyagers found above them a cloudy sky, through which the rays of the moon could not penetrate.
The Gump flew steadily on, and for some reason the huge sofa-body rocked more and more dizzily every hour.
The Woggle-Bug declared he was sea-sick; and Tip was also pale and somewhat distressed. But the others clung to the backs of the sofas and did not seem to mind the motion as long as they were not tipped out.
Darker and darker grew the night, and on and on sped the Gump through the black heavens. The
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travelers could not even see one another, and an oppressive silence settled down upon them.
After a long time Tip, who had been thinking deeply, spoke.
“How are we to know when we come to the pallace of Glinda the Good?” he asked.
“It’s a long way to Glinda’s palace,” answered the Woodman; “I’ve traveled it.”
“But how are we to know how fast the Gump is flying?” persisted the boy. “We cannot see a single thing down on the earth, and before morning we may be far beyond the place we want to reach.”
“That is all true enough,” the Scarecrow replied, a little uneasily. “But I do not see how we can stop just now; for we might alight in a river, or on, the top of a steeple; and that would be a great disaster.”
So they permitted the Gump to fly on, with regular flops of its great wings, and waited patiently for morning.
Then Tip’s fears were proven to be well founded; for with the first streaks of gray dawn they looked over the sides of the sofas and discovered rolling plains dotted with queer villages, where the houses, instead of being dome- shaped — as they all are in the Land of Oz — had slanting roofs that rose to a peak
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in the center. Odd looking animals were also moving about upon the open plains, and the country was unfamiliar to both the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, who had formerly visited Glinda the Good’s domain and knew it well.
“We are lost!” said the Scarecrow, dolefully. “The Gump must have carried us entirely out of the Land of Oz and over the sandy deserts and into the terrible outside world that Dorothy told us about.”
“We must get back,” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, earnestly. “we must get back as soon as possible!”
“Turn around!” cried Tip to the Gump. “turn as quickly as you can!”
“If I do I shall upset,” answered the Gump. “I’m not at all used to flying, and the best plan would be for me to alight in some place, and then I can turn around and take a fresh start.”
Just then, however, there seemed to be no stopping-place that would answer their purpose. They flew over a village so big that the Woggle-Bug declared it was a city. and then they came to a range of high mountains with many deep gorges and steep cliffs showing plainly.
“Now is our chance to stop,” said the boy, finding
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they were very close to the mountain tops. Then he turned to the Gump and commanded: “Stop at the first level place you see!”
“Very well,” answered the Gump, and settled down upon a table of rock that stood between two cliffs.
But not being experienced in such matters, the Gump did not judge his speed correctly; and instead of coming to a stop upon the flat rock he missed it by half the width of his body, breaking off both his right wings against the sharp edge of the rock and then tumbling over and over down the cliff.
Our friends held on to the sofas as long as they could, but when the Gump caught on a proJecting rock the Thing stopped suddenly — bottom side up — and all were immediately dumped out.
By good fortune they fell only a few feet; for underneath them was a monster nest, built by a colony of Jackdaws in a hollow ledge of rock; so none of them — not even the Pumpkinhead — was injured by the fall. For Jack found his precious head resting on the soft breast of the Scarecrow, which made an excellent cushion; and Tip fell on a mass of leaves and papers, which saved him from injury. The Woggle-Bug had bumped his round head against
213 Full page line-art drawing.
ALL WERE IMMEDIATELY DUMPED OUT.
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the Saw-Horse, but without causing him more than a moment’s inconvenience.
The Tin Woodman was at first much alarmed; but finding he had escaped without even a scratch upon his beautiful nickle-plate he at once regained his accustomed cheerfulness and turned to address his comrades.
“Our Journey had ended rather suddenly,” said he; “and we cannot justly blame our friend the Gump for our accident, because he did the best he could under the circumstances. But how we are ever to escape from this nest I must leave to someone with better brains than I possess.”
Here he gazed at the Scarecrow; who crawled to the edge of the nest and looked over. Below them was a sheer precipice several hundred feet in depth. Above them was a smooth cliff unbroken save by the point of rock where the wrecked body of the Gump still hung suspended from the end of one of the sofas. There really seemed to be no means of escape, and as they realized their helpless plight the little band of adventurers gave way to their bewilderment.
“This is a worse prison than the palace,” sadly remarked the Woggle-Bug.
“I wish we had stayed there,” moaned Jack.
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“I’m afraid the mountain air isn’t good for pumpkins.”
“It won’t be when the Jackdaws come back,” growled the Saw-Horse, which lay waving its legs in a vain endeavor to get upon its feet again. “Jackdaws are especially fond of pumpkins.”
“Do you think the birds will come here?” asked Jack, much distressed.
“Of course they will,” said Tip; “for this is their nest. And there must be hundreds of them,” he continued, “for see what a lot of things they have brought here!”
Indeed, the nest was half filled with a most curious collection of small articles for which the birds could have no use, but which the thieving Jackdaws had stolen during many years from the homes of men. And as the nest was safely hidden where no human being could reach it, this lost property would never be recovered.
The Woggle-Bug, searching among the rubbish — for the Jackdaws stole useless things as well as valuable ones — turned up with his foot a beautiful diamond necklace. This was so greatly admired by the Tin Woodman that the Woggle-Bug presented it to him with a graceful speech, after which the Woodman hung it around his neck with much pride,
216 Full page line-art drawing.
TURNED UP A BEAUTIFUL DIAMOND NECKLACE.
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rejoicing exceedingly when the big diamonds glittered in the sun’s rays.
But now they heard a great jabbering and flopping of wings, and as the sound grew nearer to them Tip exclaimed:
“The Jackdaws are coming! And if they find us here they will surely kill us in their anger.”
“I was afraid of this!” moaned the Pumpkinhead. “My time has come!”
“And mine, also!” said the Woggle-Bug; “for Jackdaws are the greatest enemies of my race.”
The others were not at all afraid; but the Scarecrow at once decided to save those of the party who were liable to be injured by the angry birds. So he commanded Tip to take off Jack’s head and lie down with it in the bottom of the nest, and when this was done he ordered the Woggle-Bug to lie beside Tip. Nick Chopper, who knew from past experience Just what to do, then took the Scarecrow to pieces (all except his head) and scattered the straw over Tip and the Woggle-Bug, completely covering their bodies.
Hardly had this been accomplished when the flock of Jackdaws reached them. Perceiving the intruders in their nest the birds flew down upon them with screams of rage.
218 Full page line-art drawing.
219 Dr. Nikidik’s Famous Wishing Pills
The Tin Woodman was usually a peaceful man, but when occasion required he could fight as fiercely as a Roman gladiator. So, when the Jackdaws nearly knocked him down in their rush of wings, and their sharp beaks and claws threatened to damage his brilliant plating, the Woodman picked up his axe and made it whirl swiftly around his head.
But although many were beaten off in this way, the birds were so numerous and so brave that they continued the attack as furiously as before. Some of them pecked at the eyes of the Gump, which hung over the nest in a helpless condition; but the Gump’s eyes were of glass and could not be injured. Others of the Jackdaws rushed at the Saw-Horse; but that animal, being still upon his back, kicked out so viciously with his wooden legs that he beat off as many assailants as did the Woodman’s axe.
Finding themselves thus opposed, the birds fell upon the Scarecrow’s straw, which lay at the center of the nest, covering Tip and the Woggle-Bug and Jack’s pumpkin head, and began tearing it away and flying off with it, only to let it drop, straw by straw into the great gulf beneath.
The Scarecrow’s head, noting with dismay this wanton destruction of his interior, cried to the Tin Woodman to save him; and that good friend responded with renewed energy. His axe fairly flashed among the Jackdaws, and fortunately the Gump began wildly waving the two wings remaining on the left side of its body. The flutter of these great wings filled the Jackdaws with terror, and when the Gump by its exertions freed itself from the peg of rock on which it hung, and sank flopping into the nest, the alarm of the birds knew no bounds and they fled screaming over the mountains.
When the last foe had disappeared, Tip crawled from under the sofas and assisted the Woggle-Bug to follow him.
“We are saved!” shouted the boy, delightedly.
“We are, indeed!” responded the Educated Insect, fairly hugging the stiff head of the Gump in his joy. “and we owe it all to the flopping of the Thing, and the good axe of the Woodman!”
“If I am saved, get me out of here!” called Jack; whose head was still beneath the sofas; and Tip managed to roll the pumpkin out and place it upon its neck again. He also set the Saw-Horse upright, and said to it:
“We owe you many thanks for the gallant fight you made.”
“I really think we have escaped very nicely,” remarked the Tin Woodman, in a tone of pride.
“Not so!” exclaimed a hollow voice.
At this they all turned in surprise to look at the Scarecrow’s head, which lay at the back of the nest.
“I am completely ruined!” declared the Scarecrow, as he noted their astonishment. “For where is the straw that stuffs my body?”
The awful question startled them all. They gazed around the nest with horror, for not a vestige of straw remained. The
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Jackdaws had stolen it to the last wisp and flung it all into the chasm that yawned for hundreds of feet beneath the nest.
“My poor, poor friend!” said the Tin Woodman, taking up the Scarecrow’s head and caressing it tenderly; “whoever could imagine you would come to this untimely end?”
“I did it to save my friends,” returned the head; “and I am glad that I perished in so noble and unselfish a manner.”
“But why are you all so despondent?” inquired the Woggle-Bug. “The Scarecrow’s clothing is still safe.”
“Yes,” answered the Tin Woodman; “but our friend’s clothes are useless without stuffing.”
“Why not stuff him with money?” asked Tip.
“Money!” they all cried, in an amazed chorus.
“To be sure,” said the boy. “In the bottom of the nest are thousands of dollar bills — and two-dollar bills — and five-dollar bills — and tens, and twenties, and fifties. There are enough of them to stuff a dozen Scarecrows. Why not use the money?”
The Tin Woodman began to turn over the rubbish with the handle of his axe; and, sure enough, what they had first thought only worthless papers were found to be all bills of various denominations,
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which the mischievous Jackdaws had for years been engaged in stealing from the villages and cities they visited.
There was an immense fortune lying in that inaccessible nest; and Tip’s suggestion was, with the Scarecrow’s consent, quickly acted upon.
They selected all the newest and cleanest bills and assorted them into various piles. The Scarecrow’s left leg and boot were stuffed with five- dollar bills; his right leg was stuffed with ten-dollar bills, and his body so closely filled with fifties, one-hundreds and one-thousands that he could scarcely button his jacket with comfort.
“You are now” said the Woggle-Bug, impressively, when the task had been completed, “the most valuable member of our party; and as you
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are among faithful friends there is little danger of your being spent.”
“Thank you,” returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. “I feel like a new man; and although at first glance I might be mistaken for a Safety Deposit Vault, I beg you to remember that my Brains are still composed of the same old material. And these are the possessions that have always made me a person to be depended upon in an emergency.”
“Well, the emergency is here,” observed Tip; “and unless your brains help us out of it we shall be compelled to pass the remainder of our lives in this nest.”
“How about these wishing pills?” enquired the Scarecrow, taking the box from his jacket pocket. “Can’t we use them to escape?”
“Not unless we can count seventeen by twos,” answered the Tin Woodman. “But our friend the Woggle-Bug claims to be highly educated, so he ought easily to figure out how that can be done.”
“It isn’t a question of education,” returned the Insect; “it’s merely a question of mathematics. I’ve seen the professor work lots of sums on the blackboard, and he claimed anything could be done with x’s and y’s and a’s, and such things, by mixing them up with plenty of plusses and minuses and equals, and so forth. But he never said anything, so far as
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I can remember, about counting up to the odd number of seventeen by the even numbers of twos.”
“Stop! stop!” cried the Pumpkinhead. “You’re making my head ache.”
“And mine,” added the Scarecrow. “Your mathematics seem to me very like a bottle of mixed pickles the more you fish for what you want the less chance you have of getting it. I am certain that if the thing can be accomplished at all, it is in a very simple manner.”
“Yes,” said Tip. “old Mombi couldn’t use x’s and minuses, for she never went to school.”
“Why not start counting at a half of one?” asked the Saw-Horse, abruptly. “Then anyone can count up to seventeen by twos very easily.”
They looked at each other in surprise, for the Saw-Horse was considered the most stupid of the entire party.
“You make me quite ashamed of myself,” said the Scarecrow, bowing low to the Saw-Horse.
“Nevertheless, the creature is right,” declared the Woggle-Bug; for twice one-half is one, and if you get to one it is easy to count from one up to seventeen by twos.”
“I wonder I didn’t think of that myself,” said the Pumpkinhead.
“I don’t,” returned the Scarecrow. “You’re no wiser than the rest of us, are you? But let us make a wish at once. Who will swallow the first pill?”
“Suppose you do it,” suggested Tip.
“I can’t,” said the Scarecrow.
“Why not? You’ve a mouth, haven’t you?” asked the boy.
“Yes; but my mouth is painted on, and there’s no swallow connected with it,’ answered the Scarecrow. “In fact,” he continued, looking from one to another critically, “I believe the boy and the Woggle-Bug are the only ones in our party that are able to swallow.”
Observing the truth of this remark, Tip said:
“Then I will undertake to make the first wish. Give me one of the Silver Pills.”
This the Scarecrow tried to do; but his padded gloves were too clumsy to clutch so small an object, and he held the box toward the boy while Tip selected one of the pills and swallowed it.
“One-half, one, three, five, seven, nine, eleven,!” counted Tip. thirteen, fifteen, seventeen.
“Now wish!” said the Tin Woodman anxiously:
But Just then the boy began to suffer such fearful pains that he became alarmed.
“The pill has poisoned me!” he gasped; “O — h! O-o-o-o-o! Ouch! Murder! Fire! O-o-h!” and here he rolled upon the bottom of the nest in such contortions that he frightened them all.
“What can we do for you. Speak, I beg!” entreated the Tin Woodman, tears of sympathy running down his nickel cheeks.
“I — I don’t know!” answered Tip. “O — h! I wish I’d never swallowed that pill!”
Then at once the pain stopped, and the boy rose to his feet again and found the Scarecrow looking with amazement at the end of the pepper-box.
“What’s happened?” asked the boy, a little ashamed of his recent exhibition.
“Why, the three pills are in the box again!” said the Scarecrow.
“Of course they are,” the Woggle-Bug declared. “Didn’t Tip wish that he’d never swallowed one of them? Well, the wish came true, and he didn’t swallow one of them. So of course they are all three in the box.”
“That may be; but the pill gave me a dreadful pain, just the same,” said the boy.
“Impossible!” declared the Woggle-
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Bug. “If you have never swallowed it, the pill can not have given you a pain. And as your wish, being granted, proves you did not swallow the pill, it is also plain that you suffered no pain.”
“Then it was a splendid imitation of a pain,” retorted Tip, angrily. “Suppose you try the next pill yourself. We’ve wasted one wish already.”
“Oh, no, we haven’t!” protested the Scarecrow. “Here are still three pills in the box, and each pill is good for a wish.”
“Now you’re making my head ache,” said Tip. “I can’t understand the thing at all. But I won’t take another pill, I promise you!” and with this remark he retired sulkily to the back of the nest.
“Well,” said the Woggle-Bug, “it remains for me to save us in my most Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated manner; for I seem to be the only one able and willing to make a wish. Let me have one of the pills.”
He swallowed it without hesitation, and they all stood admiring his courage while the Insect counted seventeen by twos in the same way that Tip had done. And for some reason — perhaps because Woggle-Bugs have stronger stomachs than boys — the silver pellet caused it no pain whatever.
“I wish the Gump’s broken wings mended, and
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as good as new!” said the Woggle-Bug, in a slow; impressive voice.
All turned to look at the Thing, and so quickly had the wish been granted that the Gump lay before them in perfect repair, and as well able to fly through the air as when it had first been brought to life on the roof of the palace.
230 Full page line-art drawing.
231 The Scarecrow Appeals to Glenda the Good
“Hooray!” shouted the Scarecrow, gaily. “We can now leave this miserable Jackdaws’ nest whenever we please.”
“But it is nearly dark,” said the Tin Woodman; “and unless we wait until morning to make our flight we may get into more trouble. I don’t like these night trips, for one never knows what will happen.”
So it was decided to wait until daylight, and the adventurers amused themselves in the twilight by searching the Jackdaws’ nest for treasures.
The Woggle-Bug found two handsome bracelets of wrought gold, which fitted his slender arms very well. The Scarecrow took a fancy for rings, of which there were many in the nest. Before long he
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had fitted a ring to each finger of his padded gloves, and not being content with that display he added one more to each thumb. As he carefully chose those rings set with sparkling stones, such as rubies, amethysts and sapphires, the Scarecrow’s hands now presented a most brilliant appearance.
“This nest would be a picnic for Queen Jinjur,” said he, musingly. “for as nearly as I can make out she and her girls conquered me merely to rob my city of its emeralds.”
The Tin Woodman was content with his diamond necklace and refused to accept any additional decorations; but Tip secured a fine gold watch, which was attached to a heavy fob, and placed it in his pocket with much pride. He also pinned several jeweled brooches to Jack Pumpkinhead’s red waistcoat, and attached a lorgnette, by means of a fine chain, to the neck of the Saw- Horse.
“It’s very pretty,” said the creature, regarding the lorgnette approvingly; “but what is it for?”
None of them could answer that question, however; so the Saw-Horse decided it was some rare decoration and became very fond of it.
That none of the party might be slighted, they ended by placing several large seal rings upon the points of the Gump’s antlers, although that odd
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personage seemed by no means gratified by the attention.
Darkness soon fell upon them, and Tip and the Woggle-Bug went to sleep while the others sat down to wait patiently for the day.
Next morning they had cause to congratulate themselves upon the useful condition of the Gump; for with daylight a great flock of Jackdaws approached to engage in one more battle for the possession of the nest.
But our adventurers did not wait for the assault. They tumbled into the cushioned seats of the sofas as quickly as possible, and Tip gave the word to the Gump to start.
At once it rose into the air, the great wings flopping strongly and with regular motions, and in a few moments they were so far from the nest that the chattering Jackdaws took possession without any attempt at pursuit.
The Thing flew due North, going in the same direction from whence it had come. At least, that was the Scarecrow’s opinion, and the others agreed that the Scarecrow was the best judge of direction. After passing over several cities and villages the Gump carried them high above a broad plain where houses became more and more scattered until they
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disappeared altogether. Next came the wide, sandy desert separating the rest of the world from the Land of Oz, and before noon they saw the dome-shaped houses that proved they were once more within the borders of their native land.
“But the houses and fences are blue,” said the Tin Woodman, “and that indicates we are in the land of the Munchkins, and therefore a long distance from Glinda the Good.”
“What shall we do?” asked the boy, turning to their guide.
“I don’t know” replied the Scarecrow, frankly. “If we were at the Emerald City we could then move directly southward, and so reach our destination. But we dare not go to the Emerald City, and the Gump is probably carrying us further in the wrong direction with every flop of its wings.”
“Then the Woggle-Bug must swallow another pill,” said Tip, decidedly, “and wish us headed in the right direction.”
“Very well,” returned the Highly Magnified one; “I’m willing.”
But when the Scarecrow searched in his pocket for the pepper-box containing the two silver Wishing Pills, it was not to be found. Filled with anxiety, the voyagers hunted throughout every inch of the
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Thing for the precious box; but it had disappeared entirely.
And still the Gump flew onward, carrying them they knew not where.
“I must have left the pepper-box in the Jackdaws’ nest,” said the Scarecrow, at length.
“It is a great misfortune,” the Tin Woodman declared. “But we are no worse off than before we discovered the Wishing Pills.”
“We are better off,” replied Tip. “for the one pill we used has enabled us to escape from that horrible nest.”
“Yet the loss of the other two is serious, and I deserve a good scolding for my carelessness,” the Scarecrow rejoined, penitently. “For in such an unusual party as this accidents are liable to happen any moment, and even now we may be approaching a new danger.”
No one dared contradict this, and a dismal silence ensued.
Suddenly Tip uttered an exclamation of surprise. “We must have reached the South Country,” he cried, “for below us everything is red!”
Immediately they all leaned over the backs of the sofas to look — all except Jack, who was too careful
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of his pumpkin head to risk its slipping off his neck. Sure enough; the red houses and fences and trees indicated they were within the domain of Glinda the Good; and presently, as they glided rapidly on, the Tin Woodman recognized the roads and buildings they passed, and altered slightly the flight of
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the Gump so that they might reach the palace of the celebrated Sorceress.
“Good!” cried the Scarecrow, delightedly. “We do not need the lost Wishing Pills now, for we have arrived at our destination.”
Gradually the Thing sank lower and nearer to the ground until at length it came to rest within the beautiful gardens of Glinda, settling upon a velvety green lawn close by a fountain which sent sprays of flashing gems, instead of water, high into the air, whence they fell with a soft, tinkling sound into the carved marble basin placed to receive them.
Everything was very gorgeous in Glinda’s gardens, and while our voyagers gazed about with admiring eyes a company of soldiers silently appeared and surrounded them. But these soldiers of the great Sorceress were entirely different from those of Jinjur’s Army of Revolt, although they were likewise girls. For Glinda’s soldiers wore neat uniforms and bore swords and spears; and they marched with a skill and precision that proved them well trained in the arts of war.
The Captain commanding this troop — which was Glinda’s private Body Guard – – recognized the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman at once, and greeted them with respectful salutations.
“Good day!” said the Scarecrow, gallantly removing his hat, while the Woodman gave a soldierly salute; “we have come to request an audience with your fair Ruler.”
“Glinda is now within her palace, awaiting you,” returned the Captain; “for she saw you coming long before you arrived.”
“That is strange!” said Tip, wondering.
“Not at all,” answered the Scarecrow, “for Glinda the Good is a mighty Sorceress, and nothing that goes on in the Land of Oz escapes her notice. I suppose she knows why we came as well as we do ourselves.”
“Then what was the use of our coming?” asked Jack, stupidly.
“To prove you are a Pumpkinhead!” retorted the Scarecrow. “But, if the Sorceress expects us, we must not keep her waiting.”
So they all clambered out of the sofas and followed the Captain toward the palace — even the Saw-Horse taking his place in the queer procession.
Upon her throne of finely wrought gold sat Glinda, and she could scarcely repress a smile as her peculiar visitors entered and bowed before her. Both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman she knew and liked; but the awkward Pumpkinhead and Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug were creatures she had never seen before, and they seemed even more curious than the others. As for the Saw-Horse, he looked to be nothing more than an animated chunk of wood; and he bowed so stiffly that his head bumped against the floor, causing a ripple of laughter among the soldiers, in which Glinda frankly joined.
“I beg to announce to your glorious highness,” began the Scarecrow, in a solemn voice, “that my Emerald City has been overrun by a crowd of impudent girls with knitting-needles, who have enslaved all the men, robbed the streets and public buildings of all their emerald jewels, and usurped my throne.”
“They also threatened to destroy me, as well as all the good friends and allies you see before you,” continued the Scarecrow. “and had we not managed
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to escape their clutches our days would long since have ended.”
“Therefore I have come to beg your assistance,” resumed the Scarecrow, “for I believe you are always glad to succor the unfortunate and oppressed.”
“That is true,” replied the Sorceress, slowly. “But the Emerald City is now ruled by General Jinjur, who has caused herself to be proclaimed Queen. What right have I to oppose her?”
“Why, she stole the throne from me,” said the Scarecrow.
“And how came you to possess the throne?” asked Glinda.
“I got it from the Wizard of Oz, and by the choice of the people,” returned the Scarecrow, uneasy at such questioning.
“And where did the Wizard get it?” she continued gravely.
“I am told he took it from Pastoria, the former King,” said the Scarecrow, becoming confused under the intent look of the Sorceress.
“Then,” declared Glinda, “the throne of the Emerald City belongs neither to you nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizard usurped it.”
“That is true,” acknowledged the Scarecrow,
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humbly; “but Pastoria is now dead and gone, and some one must rule in his place.”
“Pastoria had a daughter, who is the rightful heir to the throne of the Emerald City. Did you know that?” questioned the Sorceress.
“No,” replied the Scarecrow. “But if the girl still lives I will not stand in her way. It will satisfy me as well to have Jinjur turned out, as an impostor, as to regain the throne myself. In fact, it isn’t much fun to be King, especially if one has good brains. I have known for some time that I am fitted to occupy a far more exalted position. But where is the girl who owns the throne, and what is her name?”
“Her name is Ozma,” answered Glinda. “But where she is I have tried in vain to discover. For the Wizard of Oz, when he stole the throne from Ozma’s father, hid the girl in some secret place; and by means of a magical trick with which I am not familiar he also managed to prevent her being discovered — even by so experienced a Sorceress as myself.”
“That is strange,” interrupted the Woggle-Bug, pompously. “I have been informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a humbug!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, much provoked by this speech. “Didn’t he give me a wonderful set of brains?”
“There’s no humbug about my heart,” announced the Tin Woodman, glaring indignantly at the Woggle-Bug.
“Perhaps I was misinformed,” stammered the Insect, shrinking back; “I never knew the Wizard personally.”
“Well, we did,” retorted the Scarecrow, “and he was a very great Wizard, I assure you. It is true he was guilty of some slight impostures, but unless he was a great Wizard how — let me ask — could he have hidden this girl Ozma so securely that no one can find her?”
“I — I give it up!” replied the Woggle-Bug, meekly.
“That is the most sensible speech you’ve made,” said the Tin Woodman.
“I must really make another effort to discover where this girl is hidden,” resumed the Sorceress, thoughtfully. “I have in my library a book in which is inscribed every action of the Wizard while he was in our land of Oz — or, at least, every action that could be observed by my spies. This book I will read carefully tonight, and try to single out the acts that may guide us in discovering the lost Ozma. In
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the meantime, pray amuse yourselves in my palace and command my servants as if they were your own. I will grant you another audience tomorrow.”
With this gracious speech Glinda dismissed the adventurers, and they wandered away through the beautiful gardens, where they passed several hours enjoying all the delightful things with which the Queen of the Southland had surrounded her royal palace.
On the following morning they again appeared before Glinda, who said to them:
“I have searched carefully through the records of the Wizard’s actions, and among them I can find but three that appear to have been suspicious. He ate beans with a knife, made three secret visits to old Mombi, and limped slightly on his left foot.”
“Ah! that last is certainly suspicious!” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead.
“Not necessarily,” said the Scarecrow. “he may, have had corns. Now, it seems to me his eating beans with a knife is more suspicious.”
“Perhaps it is a polite custom in Omaha, from which great country the Wizard originally came,” suggested the Tin Woodman.
“It may be,” admitted the Scarecrow.
“But why,” asked Glinda, “did he make three secret visits to old Mombi?”
“Ah! Why, indeed!” echoed the Woggle-Bug, impressively.
“We know that the Wizard taught the old woman many of his tricks of magic,” continued Glinda; “and this he would not have done had she not assisted him in some way. So we may suspect with good reason that Mombi aided him to hide the girl Ozma, who was the real heir to the throne of the Emerald City, and a constant danger to the usurper. For, if the people knew that she lived, they would quickly make her their Queen and restore her to her rightful position.”
“An able argument!” cried the Scarecrow. “I have no doubt that Mombi was mixed up in this wicked business. But how does that knowledge help us?”
“We must find Mombi,” replied Glinda, “and force her to tell where the girl is hidden.”
“Mombi is now with Queen Jinjur, in the Emerald, City” said Tip. “It was she who threw so many obstacles in our pathway, and made Jinjur threaten to destroy my friends and give me back into the old witch’s power.”
“Then,” decided Glinda, “I will march with my
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army to the Emerald City, and take Mombi prisoner. After that we can, perhaps, force her to tell the truth about Ozma.”
“She is a terrible old woman!” remarked Tip, with a shudder at the thought of Mombi’s black kettle; “and obstinate, too.”
“I am quite obstinate myself,” returned the Sorceress, with a sweet smile. “so I do not fear Mombi in the least. Today I will make all necessary preparations, and we will march upon the Emerald City at daybreak tomorrow.”
246 The Tin-Woodman Plucks a Rose
The Army of Glinda the Good looked very grand and imposing when it assembled at daybreak before the palace gates. The uniforms of the girl soldiers were pretty and of gay colors, and their silver-tipped spears were bright and glistening, the long shafts being inlaid with mother-of-pearl. All the officers wore sharp, gleaming swords, and shields edged with peacock- feathers; and it really seemed that no foe could by any possibility defeat such a brilliant army.
The Sorceress rode in a beautiful palanquin which was like the body of a coach, having doors and
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windows with silken curtains; but instead of wheels, which a coach has, the palanquin rested upon two long, horizontal bars, which were borne upon the shoulders of twelve servants.
The Scarecrow and his comrades decided to ride in the Gump, in order to keep up with the swift march of the army; so, as soon as Glinda had started and her soldiers had marched away to the inspiring strains of music played by the royal band, our friends climbed into the sofas and followed. The Gump flew along slowly at a point directly over the palanquin in which rode the Sorceress.
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Tin Woodman to the Scarecrow, who was leaning far over the side to look at the army below. “You might fall.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” remarked the educated Woggle-Bug. “he can’t get broke so long as he is stuffed with money.”
“Didn’t I ask you” began Tip, in a reproachful voice.
“You did!” said the Woggle-Bug, promptly. “And I beg your pardon. I will really try to restrain myself.”
“You’d better,” declared the boy. “That is, if you wish to travel in our company.”
“Ah! I couldn’t bear to part with you now,” murmured the Insect, feelingly; so Tip let the subject drop.
The army moved steadily on, but night had fallen before they came to the walls of the Emerald City. By the dim light of the new moon, however, Glinda’s forces silently surrounded the city and pitched their tents of scarlet silk upon the greensward. The tent of the Sorceress was larger than the others, and was composed of pure white silk, with scarlet banners flying above it. A tent was also pitched for the Scarecrow’s party; and when these preparations had been made, with military precision and quickness, the army retired to rest.
Great was the amazement of Queen Jinjur next morning when her soldiers came running to inform her of the vast army surrounding them. She at once climbed to a high tower of the royal palace and saw banners waving in every direction and the great white tent of Glinda standing directly before the gates.
“We are surely lost!” cried Jinjur, in despair; “for how can our knitting- needles avail against the long spears and terrible swords of our foes?”
“The best thing we can do,” said one of the girls, “is to surrender as quickly as possible, before we get hurt.”
“Not so,” returned Jinjur, more bravely. “The enemy is still outside the walls, so we must try to gain time by engaging them in parley. Go you with a flag of truce to Glinda and ask her why she has dared to invade my dominions, and what are her demands.”
So the girl passed through the gates, bearing a white flag to show she was on a mission of peace, and came to Glinda’s tent. “Tell your Queen,” said the Sorceress to the girl, “that she must deliver up to me old Mombi, to be my prisoner. If this is done I will not molest her farther.”
Now when this message was delivered to the Queen it filled her with dismay, for Mombi was her chief counsellor, and Jinjur was terribly afraid of the old hag. But she sent for Mombi, and told her what Glinda had said.
“I see trouble ahead for all of us,” muttered the old witch, after glancing into a magic mirror she carried in her pocket. “But we may even yet escape by deceiving this sorceress, clever as she thinks herself.”
“Don’t you think it will be safer for me to deliver you into her hands?” asked Jinjur, nervously.
“If you do, it will cost you the throne of the Emerald City!” answered the witch, positively. “But if you will let me have my own way, I can save us both very easily.”
“Then do as you please,” replied Jinjur, “for it is so aristocratic to be a Queen that I do not wish to be obliged to return home again, to make beds and wash dishes for my mother.”
So Mombi called Jellia Jamb to her, and performed a certain magical rite with which she was familiar. As a result of the enchantment Jellia took on the form and features of Mombi, while the old witch grew to resemble the girl so closely that it seemed impossible anyone could guess the deception.
“Now,” said old Mombi to the Queen, “let your soldiers deliver up this girl to Glinda. She will think she has the real Mombi in her power, and so will return immediately to her own country in the South.”
Therefore Jellia, hobbling along like an aged
woman, was led from the city gates and taken before Glinda.
“Here is the person you demanded,” said one of the guards, “and our Queen now begs you will go away, as you promised, and leave us in peace.”
“That I will surely do,” replied Glinda, much pleased; “if this is really the person she seems to be.”
“It is certainly old Mombi,” said the guard, who believed she was speaking the truth; and then Jinjur’s soldiers returned within the city’s gates.
The Sorceress quickly summoned the Scarecrow and his friends to her tent, and began to question the supposed Mombi about the lost girl Ozma. But Jellia knew nothing at all of this affair, and presently she grew so nervous under the questioning that she gave way and began to weep, to Glinda’s great astonishment.
“Here is some foolish trickery!” said the Sorceress, her eyes flashing with anger. “This is not Mombi at all, but some other person who has been made to resemble her! Tell me,” she demanded, turning to the trembling girl, “what is your name?”
This Jellia dared not tell, having been threatened with death by the witch if she confessed the fraud. But Glinda, sweet and fair though she was, understood magic better than any other person in the Land of Oz. So, by uttering a few potent words and making a peculiar gesture, she quickly transformed the girl into her proper shape, while at the same time old Mombi, far away in Jinjur’s palace, suddenly resumed her own crooked form and evil features.
“Why, it’s Jellia Jamb!” cried the Scarecrow, recognizing in the girl one of his old friends.
“It’s our interpreter!” said the Pumpkinhead, smiling pleasantly.
Then Jellia was forced to tell of the trick Mombi
had played and she also begged Glinda’s protection, which the Sorceress readily granted. But Glinda was now really angry, and sent word to Jinjur that the fraud was discovered and she must deliver up the real Mombi or suffer terrible consequences. Jinjur was prepared for this message, for the witch well understood, when her natural form was thrust upon her, that Glinda had discovered her trickery. But the wicked old creature had already thought up a new deception, and had made Jinjur promise to carry it out. So the Queen said to Glinda’s messenger:
“Tell your mistress that I cannot find Mombi anywhere, but that Glinda is welcome to enter the
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city and search herself for the old woman. She may also bring her friends with her, if she likes; but if she does not find Mombi by sundown, the Sorceress must promise to go away peaceably and bother us no more.”
Glinda agreed to these terms, well knowing that Mombi was somewhere within the city walls. So Jinjur caused the gates to be thrown open, and Glinda marched in at the head of a company of soldiers, followed by the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, while Jack Pumpkinhead rode astride the Saw-Horse, and the Educated, Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug sauntered behind in a dignified manner. Tip walked by the side of the Sorceress, for Glinda had conceived a great liking for the boy.
Of course old Mombi had no intention of being found by Glinda; so, while her enemies were marching up the street, the witch transformed herself into a red rose growing upon a bush in the garden of the palace. It was a clever idea, and a trick Glinda did not suspect; so several precious hours were spent in a vain search for Mombi.
As sundown approached the Sorceress realized she had been defeated by the superior cunning of the aged witch; so she gave the command to her people to march out of the city and back to their tents.
The Scarecrow and his comrades happened to be
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searching in the garden of the palace just then, and they turned with disappointment to obey Glinda’s command. But before they left the garden the Tin Woodman, who was fond of flowers, chanced to espy a big red rose growing upon a bush; so he plucked the flower and fastened it securely in the tin buttonhole of his tin bosom.
As he did this he fancied he heard a low moan proceed from the rose; but he paid no attention to the sound, and Mombi was thus carried out of the city and into Glinda’s camp without anyone having a suspicion that they had succeeded in their quest.
256 The Transformation of Old Mombi
The Witch was at first frightened at finding herself captured by the enemy; but soon she decided that she was exactly as safe in the Tin Woodman’s button-hole as growing upon the bush. For no one knew the rose and Mombi to be one, and now that she was without the gates of the City her chances of escaping altogether from Glinda were much improved.
“But there is no hurry,” thought Mombi. “I will wait awhile and enjoy the humiliation of this Sorceress when she finds I have outwitted her.” So throughout the night the rose lay quietly on the Woodman’s bosom, and in the morning, when Glinda summoned our friends to a consultation, Nick Chopper carried his pretty flower with him to the white silk tent.
“For some reason,” said Glinda, “we have failed to find this cunning old Mombi; so I fear our expedition will prove a failure. And for that I am sorry, because without our assistance little Ozma will never be rescued and restored to her rightful position as Queen of the Emerald City”
“Do not let us give up so easily,” said the Pumpkinhead. “Let us do something else.”
“Something else must really be done,” replied Glinda, with a smile. “yet I cannot understand how I have been defeated so easily by an old Witch who knows far less of magic than I do myself.”
“While we are on the ground I believe it would be wise for us to conquer the Emerald City for Princess Ozma, and find the girl afterward,” said the Scarecrow.” And while the girl remains hidden I will gladly rule in her place, for I understand the business of ruling much better than Jinjur does.”
“But I have promised not to molest Jinjur,” objected Glinda.