Ozma of Oz by L. Frank BaumA Record of Her Adventures with Dorothy Gale of Kansas, Billina the Yellow Hen, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, Tik-Tok, the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger; Besides Other Good People Too Numerous to Mention Faithfully Recorded Herein (page 2)

“Then we will presently discuss this matter,” said Ozma, “and try to find a way to liberate your aunt and cousins. But first you must liberate another prisoner–the little girl you have locked up in your tower.”

“Of course,” said Langwidere, readily. “I had forgotten all about her. That was yesterday, you know, and a Princess cannot be expected to remember today what she did yesterday. Come with me, and I will release the prisoner at once.”

So Ozma followed her, and they passed up the stairs that led to the room in the tower.

While they were gone Ozma’s followers remained in the drawing-room, and the Scarecrow was leaning against a form that he had mistaken for a copper statue when a harsh, metallic voice said suddenly in his ear:

“Get off my foot, please. You are scratch-ing my pol-ish.”

“Oh, excuse me!” he replied, hastily drawing back. “Are you alive?”

“No,” said Tiktok, “I am on-ly a ma-chine. But I can think and speak and act, when I am pro-per-ly wound up. Just now my ac-tion is run down, and Dor-o-thy has the key to it.”

“That’s all right,” replied the Scarecrow. “Dorothy will soon be free, and then she’ll attend to your works. But it must be a great misfortune not to be alive. I’m sorry for you.”

“Why?” asked Tiktok.

“Because you have no brains, as I have,” said the Scarecrow.

“Oh, yes, I have,” returned Tiktok. “I am fit-ted with Smith & Tin-ker’s Im-proved Com-bi-na-tion Steel Brains. They are what make me think. What sort of brains are you fit-ted with?”

“I don’t know,” admitted the Scarecrow. “They were given to me by the great Wizard of Oz, and I didn’t get a chance to examine them before he put them in. But they work splendidly and my conscience is very active. Have you a conscience?”

“No,” said Tiktok.

“And no heart, I suppose?” added the Tin Woodman, who had been listening with interest to this conversation.

“No,” said Tiktok.

“Then,” continued the Tin Woodman, “I regret to say that you are greatly inferior to my friend the Scarecrow, and to myself. For we are both alive, and he has brains which do not need to be wound up, while I have an excellent heart that is continually beating in my bosom.”

“I con-grat-u-late you,” replied Tiktok. “I can-not help be-ing your in-fer-i-or for I am a mere ma-chine. When I am wound up I do my du-ty by go-ing just as my ma-chin-er-y is made to go. You have no i-de-a how full of ma-chin-er-y I am.”

“I can guess,” said the Scarecrow, looking at the machine man curiously. “Some day I’d like to take you apart and see just how you are made.”

“Do not do that, I beg of you,” said Tiktok; “for you could not put me to-geth-er a-gain, and my use-ful-ness would be de-stroyed.”

“Oh! are you useful?” asked the Scarecrow, surprised.

“Ve-ry,” said Tiktok.

“In that case,” the Scarecrow kindly promised, “I won’t fool with your interior at all. For I am a poor mechanic, and might mix you up.”

“Thank you,” said Tiktok.

Just then Ozma re-entered the room, leading Dorothy by the hand and followed closely by the Princess Langwidere.

8. The Hungry Tiger

The first thing Dorothy did was to rush into the embrace of the Scarecrow, whose painted face beamed with delight as he pressed her form to his straw-padded bosom. Then the Tin Woodman embraced her–very gently, for he knew his tin arms might hurt her if he squeezed too roughly.

These greetings having been exchanged, Dorothy took the key to Tiktok from her pocket and wound up the machine man’s action, so that he could bow properly when introduced to the rest of the company. While doing this she told them how useful Tiktok had been to her, and both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman shook hands with the machine once more and thanked him for protecting their friend.

Then Dorothy asked: “Where is Billina?”

“I don’t know,” said the Scarecrow. “Who is Billina?”

“She’s a yellow hen who is another friend of mine,” answered the girl, anxiously. “I wonder what has become of her?”

“She is in the chicken house, in the back yard,” said the Princess. “My drawing-room is no place for hens.”

Without waiting to hear more Dorothy ran to get Billina, and just outside the door she came upon the Cowardly Lion, still hitched to the chariot beside the great Tiger. The Cowardly Lion had a big bow of blue ribbon fastened to the long hair between his ears, and the Tiger wore a bow of red ribbon on his tail, just in front of the bushy end.

In an instant Dorothy was hugging the huge Lion joyfully.

“I’m SO glad to see you again!” she cried.

“I am also glad to see you, Dorothy,” said the Lion. “We’ve had some fine adventures together, haven’t we?”

“Yes, indeed,” she replied. “How are you?”

“As cowardly as ever,” the beast answered in a meek voice. “Every little thing scares me and makes my heart beat fast. But let me introduce to you a new friend of mine, the Hungry Tiger.”

“Oh! Are you hungry?” she asked, turning to the other beast, who was just then yawning so widely that he displayed two rows of terrible teeth and a mouth big enough to startle anyone.

“Dreadfully hungry,” answered the Tiger, snapping his jaws together with a fierce click.

“Then why don’t you eat something?” she asked.

“It’s no use,” said the Tiger sadly. “I’ve tried that, but I always get hungry again.”

“Why, it is the same with me,” said Dorothy. “Yet I keep on eating.”

“But you eat harmless things, so it doesn’t matter,” replied the Tiger. “For my part, I’m a savage beast, and have an appetite for all sorts of poor little living creatures, from a chipmunk to fat babies.”

“How dreadful!” said Dorothy.

“Isn’t it, though?” returned the Hungry Tiger, licking his lips with his long red tongue. “Fat babies! Don’t they sound delicious? But I’ve never eaten any, because my conscience tells me it is wrong. If I had no conscience I would probably eat the babies and then get hungry again, which would mean that I had sacrificed the poor babies for nothing. No; hungry I was born, and hungry I shall die. But I’ll not have any cruel deeds on my conscience to be sorry for.”

“I think you are a very good tiger,” said Dorothy, patting the huge head of the beast.

“In that you are mistaken,” was the reply. “I am a good beast, perhaps, but a disgracefully bad tiger. For it is the nature of tigers to be cruel and ferocious, and in refusing to eat harmless living creatures I am acting as no good tiger has ever before acted. That is why I left the forest and joined my friend the Cowardly Lion.”

“But the Lion is not really cowardly,” said Dorothy. “I have seen him act as bravely as can be.”

“All a mistake, my dear,” protested the Lion gravely. “To others I may have seemed brave, at times, but I have never been in any danger that I was not afraid.”

“Nor I,” said Dorothy, truthfully. “But I must go and set free Billina, and then I will see you again.”

She ran around to the back yard of the palace and soon found the chicken house, being guided to it by a loud cackling and crowing and a distracting hubbub of sounds such as chickens make when they are excited.

Something seemed to be wrong in the chicken house, and when Dorothy looked through the slats in the door she saw a group of hens and roosters huddled in one corner and watching what appeared to be a whirling ball of feathers. It bounded here and there about the chicken house, and at first Dorothy could not tell what it was, while the screeching of the chickens nearly deafened her.

But suddenly the bunch of feathers stopped whirling, and then, to her amazement, the girl saw Billina crouching upon the prostrate form of a speckled rooster. For an instant they both remained motionless, and then the yellow hen shook her wings to settle the feathers and walked toward the door with a strut of proud defiance and a cluck of victory, while the speckled rooster limped away to the group of other chickens, trailing his crumpled plumage in the dust as he went.

“Why, Billina!” cried Dorothy, in a shocked voice; “have you been fighting?”

“I really think I have,” retorted Billina. “Do you think I’d let that speckled villain of a rooster lord it over ME, and claim to run this chicken house, as long as I’m able to peck and scratch? Not if my name is Bill!”

“It isn’t Bill, it’s Billina; and you’re talking slang, which is very undig’n’fied,” said Dorothy, reprovingly. “Come here, Billina, and I’ll let you out; for Ozma of Oz is here, and has set us free.”

So the yellow hen came to the door, which Dorothy unlatched for her to pass through, and the other chickens silently watched them from their corner without offering to approach nearer.

The girl lifted her friend in her arms and exclaimed:

“Oh, Billina! how dreadful you look. You’ve lost a lot of feathers, and one of your eyes is nearly pecked out, and your comb is bleeding!”

“That’s nothing,” said Billina. “Just look at the speckled rooster! Didn’t I do him up brown?”

Dorothy shook her head.

“I don’t ‘prove of this, at all,” she said, carrying Billina away toward the palace. “It isn’t a good thing for you to ‘sociate with those common chickens. They would soon spoil your good manners, and you wouldn’t be respec’able any more.”

“I didn’t ask to associate with them,” replied Billina. “It is that cross old Princess who is to blame. But I was raised in the United States, and I won’t allow any one-horse chicken of the Land of Ev to run over me and put on airs, as long as I can lift a claw in self-defense.”

“Very well, Billina,” said Dorothy. “We won’t talk about it any more.”

Soon they came to the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger to whom the girl introduced the Yellow Hen.

“Glad to meet any friend of Dorothy’s,” said the Lion, politely. “To judge by your present appearance, you are not a coward, as I am.”

“Your present appearance makes my mouth water,” said the Tiger, looking at Billina greedily. “My, my! how good you would taste if I could only crunch you between my jaws. But don’t worry. You would only appease my appetite for a moment; so it isn’t worth while to eat you.”

“Thank you,” said the hen, nestling closer in Dorothy’s arms.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be right,” continued the Tiger, looking steadily at Billina and clicking his jaws together.

“Of course not,” cried Dorothy, hastily. “Billina is my friend, and you mustn’t ever eat her under any circ’mstances.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” said the Tiger; “but I’m a little absent-minded, at times.”

Then Dorothy carried her pet into the drawing-room of the palace, where Tiktok, being invited to do so by Ozma, had seated himself between the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. Opposite to them sat Ozma herself and the Princess Langwidere, and beside them there was a vacant chair for Dorothy.

Around this important group was ranged the Army of Oz, and as Dorothy looked at the handsome uniforms of the Twenty-Seven she said:

“Why, they seem to be all officers.”

“They are, all except one,” answered the Tin Woodman. “I have in my Army eight Generals, six Colonels, seven Majors and five Captains, besides one private for them to command. I’d like to promote the private, for I believe no private should ever be in public life; and I’ve also noticed that officers usually fight better and are more reliable than common soldiers. Besides, the officers are more important looking, and lend dignity to our army.”

“No doubt you are right,” said Dorothy, seating herself beside Ozma.

“And now,” announced the girlish Ruler of Oz, “we will hold a solemn conference to decide the best manner of liberating the royal family of this fair Land of Ev from their long imprisonment.”

9. The Royal Family of Ev

The Tin Woodman was the first to address the meeting.

“To begin with,” said he, “word came to our noble and illustrious Ruler, Ozma of Oz, that the wife and ten children–five boys and five girls–of the former King of Ev, by name Evoldo, have been enslaved by the Nome King and are held prisoners in his underground palace. Also that there was no one in Ev powerful enough to release them. Naturally our Ozma wished to undertake the adventure of liberating the poor prisoners; but for a long time she could find no way to cross the great desert between the two countries. Finally she went to a friendly sorceress of our land named Glinda the Good, who heard the story and at once presented Ozma a magic carpet, which would continually unroll beneath our feet and so make a comfortable path for us to cross the desert. As soon as she had received the carpet our gracious Ruler ordered me to assemble our army, which I did. You behold in these bold warriors the pick of all the finest soldiers of Oz; and, if we are obliged to fight the Nome King, every officer as well as the private, will battle fiercely unto death.”

Then Tiktok spoke.

“Why should you fight the Nome King?” he asked. “He has done no wrong.”

“No wrong!” cried Dorothy. “Isn’t it wrong to imprison a queen mother and her ten children?”

“They were sold to the Nome King by King Ev-ol-do,” replied Tiktok. “It was the King of Ev who did wrong, and when he re-al-ized what he had done he jumped in-to the sea and drowned him-self.”

“This is news to me,” said Ozma, thoughtfully. “I had supposed the Nome King was all to blame in the matter. But, in any case, he must be made to liberate the prisoners.”

“My uncle Evoldo was a very wicked man,” declared the Princess Langwidere. “If he had drowned himself before he sold his family, no one would have cared. But he sold them to the powerful Nome King in exchange for a long life, and afterward destroyed the life by jumping into the sea.”

“Then,” said Ozma, “he did not get the long life, and the Nome King must give up the prisoners. Where are they confined?”

“No one knows, exactly,” replied the Princess. “For the king, whose name is Roquat of the Rocks, owns a splendid palace underneath the great mountain which is at the north end of this kingdom, and he has transformed the queen and her children into ornaments and bric-a-brac with which to decorate his rooms.”

“I’d like to know,” said Dorothy, “who this Nome King is?”

“I will tell you,” replied Ozma. “He is said to be the Ruler of the Underground World, and commands the rocks and all that the rocks contain. Under his rule are many thousands of the Nomes, who are queerly shaped but powerful sprites that labor at the furnaces and forges of their king, making gold and silver and other metals which they conceal in the crevices of the rocks, so that those living upon the earth’s surface can only find them with great difficulty. Also they make diamonds and rubies and emeralds, which they hide in the ground; so that the kingdom of the Nomes is wonderfully rich, and all we have of precious stones and silver and gold is what we take from the earth and rocks where the Nome King has hidden them.”

“I understand,” said Dorothy, nodding her little head wisely.

“For the reason that we often steal his treasures,” continued Ozma, “the Ruler of the Underground World is not fond of those who live upon the earth’s surface, and never appears among us. If we wish to see King Roquat of the Rocks, we must visit his own country, where he is all powerful, and therefore it will be a dangerous undertaking.”

“But, for the sake of the poor prisoners,” said Dorothy, “we ought to do it.”

“We shall do it,” replied the Scarecrow, “although it requires a lot of courage for me to go near to the furnaces of the Nome King. For I am only stuffed with straw, and a single spark of fire might destroy me entirely.”

“The furnaces may also melt my tin,” said the Tin Woodman; “but I am going.”

“I can’t bear heat,” remarked the Princess Langwidere, yawning lazily, “so I shall stay at home. But I wish you may have success in your undertaking, for I am heartily tired of ruling this stupid kingdom, and I need more leisure in which to admire my beautiful heads.”

“We do not need you,” said Ozma. “For, if with the aid of my brave followers I cannot accomplish my purpose, then it would be useless for you to undertake the journey.”

“Quite true,” sighed the Princess. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I will now retire to my cabinet. I’ve worn this head quite awhile, and I want to change it for another.”

When she had left them (and you may be sure no one was sorry to see her go) Ozma said to Tiktok:

“Will you join our party?”

“I am the slave of the girl Dor-oth-y, who rescued me from pris-on,” replied the machine. “Where she goes I will go.”

“Oh, I am going with my friends, of course,” said Dorothy, quickly. “I wouldn’t miss the fun for anything. Will you go, too, Billina?”

“To be sure,” said Billina in a careless tone. She was smoothing down the feathers of her back and not paying much attention.

“Heat is just in her line,” remarked the Scarecrow. “If she is nicely roasted, she will be better than ever.”

“Then” said Ozma, “we will arrange to start for the Kingdom of the Nomes at daybreak tomorrow. And, in the meantime, we will rest and prepare ourselves for the journey.”

Although Princess Langwidere did not again appear to her guests, the palace servants waited upon the strangers from Oz and did everything in their power to make the party comfortable. There were many vacant rooms at their disposal, and the brave Army of twenty-seven was easily provided for and liberally feasted.

The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger were unharnessed from the chariot and allowed to roam at will throughout the palace, where they nearly frightened the servants into fits, although they did no harm at all. At one time Dorothy found the little maid Nanda crouching in terror in a corner, with the Hungry Tiger standing before her.

“You certainly look delicious,” the beast was saying. “Will you kindly give me permission to eat you?”

“No, no, no!” cried the maid in reply.

“Then,” said the Tiger, yawning frightfully, “please to get me about thirty pounds of tenderloin steak, cooked rare, with a peck of boiled potatoes on the side, and five gallons of ice-cream for dessert.”

“I–I’ll do the best I can!” said Nanda, and she ran away as fast as she could go.

“Are you so very hungry?” asked Dorothy, in wonder.

“You can hardly imagine the size of my appetite,” replied the Tiger, sadly. “It seems to fill my whole body, from the end of my throat to the tip of my tail. I am very sure the appetite doesn’t fit me, and is too large for the size of my body. Some day, when I meet a dentist with a pair of forceps, I’m going to have it pulled.”

“What, your tooth?” asked Dorothy.

“No, my appetite,” said the Hungry Tiger.

The little girl spent most of the afternoon talking with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, who related to her all that had taken place in the Land of Oz since Dorothy had left it. She was much interested in the story of Ozma, who had been, when a baby, stolen by a wicked old witch and transformed into a boy. She did not know that she had ever been a girl until she was restored to her natural form by a kind sorceress. Then it was found that she was the only child of the former Ruler of Oz, and was entitled to rule in his place. Ozma had many adventures, however, before she regained her father’s throne, and in these she was accompanied by a pumpkin-headed man, a highly magnified and thoroughly educated Woggle-Bug, and a wonderful sawhorse that had been brought to life by means of a magic powder. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman had also assisted her; but the Cowardly Lion, who ruled the great forest as the King of Beasts, knew nothing of Ozma until after she became the reigning princess of Oz. Then he journeyed to the Emerald City to see her, and on hearing she was about to visit the Land of Ev to set free the royal family of that country, the Cowardly Lion begged to go with her, and brought along his friend, the Hungry Tiger, as well.

Having heard this story, Dorothy related to them her own adventures, and then went out with her friends to find the Sawhorse, which Ozma had caused to be shod with plates of gold, so that its legs would not wear out.

They came upon the Sawhorse standing motionless beside the garden gate, but when Dorothy was introduced to him he bowed politely and blinked his eyes, which were knots of wood, and wagged his tail, which was only the branch of a tree.

“What a remarkable thing, to be alive!” exclaimed Dorothy.

“I quiet agree with you,” replied the Sawhorse, in a rough but not unpleasant voice. “A creature like me has no business to live, as we all know. But it was the magic powder that did it, so I cannot justly be blamed.”

“Of course not,” said Dorothy. “And you seem to be of some use, ’cause I noticed the Scarecrow riding upon your back.”

“Oh, yes; I’m of use,” returned the Sawhorse; “and I never tire, never have to be fed, or cared for in any way.”

“Are you intel’gent?” asked the girl.

“Not very,” said the creature. “It would be foolish to waste intelligence on a common Sawhorse, when so many professors need it. But I know enough to obey my masters, and to gid-dup, or whoa, when I’m told to. So I’m pretty well satisfied.”

That night Dorothy slept in a pleasant little bed-chamber next to that occupied by Ozma of Oz, and Billina perched upon the foot of the bed and tucked her head under her wing and slept as soundly in that position as did Dorothy upon her soft cushions.

But before daybreak every one was awake and stirring, and soon the adventurers were eating a hasty breakfast in the great dining-room of the palace. Ozma sat at the head of a long table, on a raised platform, with Dorothy on her right hand and the Scarecrow on her left. The Scarecrow did not eat, of course; but Ozma placed him near her so that she might ask his advice about the journey while she ate.

Lower down the table were the twenty-seven warriors of Oz, and at the end of the room the Lion and the Tiger were eating out of a kettle that had been placed upon the floor, while Billina fluttered around to pick up any scraps that might be scattered.

It did not take long to finish the meal, and then the Lion and the Tiger were harnessed to the chariot and the party was ready to start for the Nome King’s Palace.

First rode Ozma, with Dorothy beside her in the golden chariot and holding Billina fast in her arms. Then came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, with the Tin Woodman and Tiktok marching side by side just behind him. After these tramped the Army, looking brave and handsome in their splendid uniforms. The generals commanded the colonels and the colonels commanded the majors and the majors commanded the captains and the captains commanded the private, who marched with an air of proud importance because it required so many officers to give him his orders.

And so the magnificent procession left the palace and started along the road just as day was breaking, and by the time the sun came out they had made good progress toward the valley that led to the Nome King’s domain.

10. The Giant with the Hammer

The road led for a time through a pretty farm country, and then past a picnic grove that was very inviting. But the procession continued to steadily advance until Billina cried in an abrupt and commanding manner:

“Wait–wait!”

Ozma stopped her chariot so suddenly that the Scarecrow’s Sawhorse nearly ran into it, and the ranks of the army tumbled over one another before they could come to a halt. Immediately the yellow hen struggled from Dorothy’s arms and flew into a clump of bushes by the roadside.

“What’s the matter?” called the Tin Woodman, anxiously.

“Why, Billina wants to lay her egg, that’s all,” said Dorothy.

“Lay her egg!” repeated the Tin Woodman, in astonishment.

“Yes; she lays one every morning, about this time; and it’s quite fresh,” said the girl.

“But does your foolish old hen suppose that this entire cavalcade, which is bound on an important adventure, is going to stand still while she lays her egg?” enquired the Tin Woodman, earnestly.

“What else can we do?” asked the girl. “It’s a habit of Billina’s and she can’t break herself of it.”

“Then she must hurry up,” said the Tin Woodman, impatiently.

“No, no!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “If she hurries she may lay scrambled eggs.”

“That’s nonsense,” said Dorothy. “But Billina won’t be long, I’m sure.”

So they stood and waited, although all were restless and anxious to proceed. And by and by the yellow hen came from the bushes saying:

“Kut-kut, kut, ka-daw-kutt! Kut, kut, kut–ka-daw-kut!”

“What is she doing–singing her lay?” asked the Scarecrow.

“For-ward–march!” shouted the Tin Woodman, waving his axe, and the procession started just as Dorothy had once more grabbed Billina in her arms.

“Isn’t anyone going to get my egg?” cried the hen, in great excitement.

“I’ll get it,” said the Scarecrow; and at his command the Sawhorse pranced into the bushes. The straw man soon found the egg, which he placed in his jacket pocket. The cavalcade, having moved rapidly on, was even then far in advance; but it did not take the Sawhorse long to catch up with it, and presently the Scarecrow was riding in his accustomed place behind Ozma’s chariot.

“What shall I do with the egg?” he asked Dorothy.

“I do not know,” the girl answered. “Perhaps the Hungry Tiger would like it.”

“It would not be enough to fill one of my back teeth,” remarked the Tiger. “A bushel of them, hard boiled, might take a little of the edge off my appetite; but one egg isn’t good for anything at all, that I know of.”

“No; it wouldn’t even make a sponge cake,” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. “The Tin Woodman might carry it with his axe and hatch it; but after all I may as well keep it myself for a souvenir.” So he left it in his pocket.

They had now reached that part of the valley that lay between the two high mountains which Dorothy had seen from her tower window. At the far end was the third great mountain, which blocked the valley and was the northern edge of the Land of Ev. It was underneath this mountain that the Nome King’s palace was said to be; but it would be some time before they reached that place.

The path was becoming rocky and difficult for the wheels of the chariot to pass over, and presently a deep gulf appeared at their feet which was too wide for them to leap. So Ozma took a small square of green cloth from her pocket and threw it upon the ground. At once it became the magic carpet, and unrolled itself far enough for all the cavalcade to walk upon. The chariot now advanced, and the green carpet unrolled before it, crossing the gulf on a level with its banks, so that all passed over in safety.

“That’s easy enough,” said the Scarecrow. “I wonder what will happen next.”

He was not long in making the discovery, for the sides of the mountain came closer together until finally there was but a narrow path between them, along which Ozma and her party were forced to pass in single file.

They now heard a low and deep “thump!–thump!–thump!” which echoed throughout the valley and seemed to grow louder as they advanced. Then, turning a corner of rock, they saw before them a huge form, which towered above the path for more than a hundred feet. The form was that of a gigantic man built out of plates of cast iron, and it stood with one foot on either side of the narrow road and swung over its right shoulder an immense iron mallet, with which it constantly pounded the earth. These resounding blows explained the thumping sounds they had heard, for the mallet was much bigger than a barrel, and where it struck the path between the rocky sides of the mountain it filled all the space through which our travelers would be obliged to pass.

Of course they at once halted, a safe distance away from the terrible iron mallet. The magic carpet would do them no good in this case, for it was only meant to protect them from any dangers upon the ground beneath their feet, and not from dangers that appeared in the air above them.

“Wow!” said the Cowardly Lion, with a shudder. “It makes me dreadfully nervous to see that big hammer pounding so near my head. One blow would crush me into a door-mat.”

“The ir-on gi-ant is a fine fel-low,” said Tiktok, “and works as stead-i-ly as a clock. He was made for the Nome King by Smith & Tin-ker, who made me, and his du-ty is to keep folks from find-ing the un-der-ground pal-ace. Is he not a great work of art?”

“Can he think, and speak, as you do?” asked Ozma, regarding the giant with wondering eyes.

“No,” replied the machine; “he is on-ly made to pound the road, and has no think-ing or speak-ing at-tach-ment. But he pounds ve-ry well, I think.”

“Too well,” observed the Scarecrow. “He is keeping us from going farther. Is there no way to stop his machinery?”

“On-ly the Nome King, who has the key, can do that,” answered Tiktok.

“Then,” said Dorothy, anxiously, “what shall we do?”

“Excuse me for a few minutes,” said the Scarecrow, “and I will think it over.”

He retired, then, to a position in the rear, where he turned his painted face to the rocks and began to think.

Meantime the giant continued to raise his iron mallet high in the air and to strike the path terrific blows that echoed through the mountains like the roar of a cannon. Each time the mallet lifted, however, there was a moment when the path beneath the monster was free, and perhaps the Scarecrow had noticed this, for when he came back to the others he said:

“The matter is a very simple one, after all. We have but to run under the hammer, one at a time, when it is lifted, and pass to the other side before it falls again.”

“It will require quick work, if we escape the blow,” said the Tin Woodman, with a shake of his head. “But it really seems the only thing to be done. Who will make the first attempt?”

They looked at one another hesitatingly for a moment. Then the Cowardly Lion, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, said to them:

“I suppose the head of the procession must go first–and that’s me. But I’m terribly afraid of the big hammer!”

“What will become of me?” asked Ozma. “You might rush under the hammer yourself, but the chariot would surely be crushed.”

“We must leave the chariot,” said the Scarecrow. “But you two girls can ride upon the backs of the Lion and the Tiger.”

So this was decided upon, and Ozma, as soon as the Lion was unfastened from the chariot, at once mounted the beast’s back and said she was ready.

“Cling fast to his mane,” advised Dorothy. “I used to ride him myself, and that’s the way I held on.”

So Ozma clung fast to the mane, and the lion crouched in the path and eyed the swinging mallet carefully until he knew just the instant it would begin to rise in the air.

Then, before anyone thought he was ready, he made a sudden leap straight between the iron giant’s legs, and before the mallet struck the ground again the Lion and Ozma were safe on the other side.

The Tiger went next. Dorothy sat upon his back and locked her arms around his striped neck, for he had no mane to cling to. He made the leap straight and true as an arrow from a bow, and ere Dorothy realized it she was out of danger and standing by Ozma’s side.

Now came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, and while they made the dash in safety they were within a hair’s breadth of being caught by the descending hammer.

Tiktok walked up to the very edge of the spot the hammer struck, and as it was raised for the next blow he calmly stepped forward and escaped its descent. That was an idea for the Tin Woodman to follow, and he also crossed in safety while the great hammer was in the air. But when it came to the twenty-six officers and the private, their knees were so weak that they could not walk a step.

“In battle we are wonderfully courageous,” said one of the generals, “and our foes find us very terrible to face. But war is one thing and this is another. When it comes to being pounded upon the head by an iron hammer, and smashed into pancakes, we naturally object.”

“Make a run for it,” urged the Scarecrow.

“Our knees shake so that we cannot run,” answered a captain. “If we should try it we would all certainly be pounded to a jelly.”

“Well, well,” sighed the Cowardly Lion, “I see, friend Tiger, that we must place ourselves in great danger to rescue this bold army. Come with me, and we will do the best we can.”

So, Ozma and Dorothy having already dismounted from their backs, the Lion and the Tiger leaped back again under the awful hammer and returned with two generals clinging to their necks. They repeated this daring passage twelve times, when all the officers had been carried beneath the giant’s legs and landed safely on the further side. By that time the beasts were very tired, and panted so hard that their tongues hung out of their great mouths.

“But what is to become of the private?” asked Ozma.

“Oh, leave him there to guard the chariot,” said the Lion. “I’m tired out, and won’t pass under that mallet again.”

The officers at once protested that they must have the private with them, else there would be no one for them to command. But neither the Lion or the Tiger would go after him, and so the Scarecrow sent the Sawhorse.

Either the wooden horse was careless, or it failed to properly time the descent of the hammer, for the mighty weapon caught it squarely upon its head, and thumped it against the ground so powerfully that the private flew off its back high into the air, and landed upon one of the giant’s cast-iron arms. Here he clung desperately while the arm rose and fell with each one of the rapid strokes.

The Scarecrow dashed in to rescue his Sawhorse, and had his left foot smashed by the hammer before he could pull the creature out of danger. They then found that the Sawhorse had been badly dazed by the blow; for while the hard wooden knot of which his head was formed could not be crushed by the hammer, both his ears were broken off and he would be unable to hear a sound until some new ones were made for him. Also his left knee was cracked, and had to be bound up with a string.

Billina having fluttered under the hammer, it now remained only to rescue the private who was riding upon the iron giant’s arm, high in the air.

The Scarecrow lay flat upon the ground and called to the man to jump down upon his body, which was soft because it was stuffed with straw. This the private managed to do, waiting until a time when he was nearest the ground and then letting himself drop upon the Scarecrow. He accomplished the feat without breaking any bones, and the Scarecrow declared he was not injured in the least.

Therefore, the Tin Woodman having by this time fitted new ears to the Sawhorse, the entire party proceeded upon its way, leaving the giant to pound the path behind them.

11. The Nome King

By and by, when they drew near to the mountain that blocked their path and which was the furthermost edge of the Kingdom of Ev, the way grew dark and gloomy for the reason that the high peaks on either side shut out the sunshine. And it was very silent, too, as there were no birds to sing or squirrels to chatter, the trees being left far behind them and only the bare rocks remaining.

Ozma and Dorothy were a little awed by the silence, and all the others were quiet and grave except the Sawhorse, which, as it trotted along with the Scarecrow upon his back, hummed a queer song, of which this was the chorus:

“Would a wooden horse in a woodland go? Aye, aye! I sigh, he would, although
Had he not had a wooden head
He’d mount the mountain top instead.”

But no one paid any attention to this because they were now close to the Nome King’s dominions, and his splendid underground palace could not be very far away.

Suddenly they heard a shout of jeering laughter, and stopped short. They would have to stop in a minute, anyway, for the huge mountain barred their further progress and the path ran close up to a wall of rock and ended.

“Who was that laughing?” asked Ozma.

There was no reply, but in the gloom they could see strange forms flit across the face of the rock. Whatever the creations might be they seemed very like the rock itself, for they were the color of rocks and their shapes were as rough and rugged as if they had been broken away from the side of the mountain. They kept close to the steep cliff facing our friends, and glided up and down, and this way and that, with a lack of regularity that was quite confusing. And they seemed not to need places to rest their feet, but clung to the surface of the rock as a fly does to a window-pane, and were never still for a moment.

“Do not mind them,” said Tiktok, as Dorothy shrank back. “They are on-ly the Nomes.”

“And what are Nomes?” asked the girl, half frightened.

“They are rock fair-ies, and serve the Nome King,” replied the machine. “But they will do us no harm. You must call for the King, be-cause with-out him you can ne-ver find the en-trance to the pal-ace.”

“YOU call,” said Dorothy to Ozma.

Just then the Nomes laughed again, and the sound was so weird and disheartening that the twenty-six officers commanded the private to “right-about-face!” and they all started to run as fast as they could.

The Tin Woodman at once pursued his army and cried “halt!” and when they had stopped their flight he asked: “Where are you going?”

“I–I find I’ve forgotten the brush for my whiskers,” said a general, trembling with fear. “S-s-so we are g-going back after it!”

“That is impossible,” replied the Tin Woodman. “For the giant with the hammer would kill you all if you tried to pass him.”

“Oh! I’d forgotten the giant,” said the general, turning pale.

“You seem to forget a good many things,” remarked the Tin Woodman. “I hope you won’t forget that you are brave men.”

“Never!” cried the general, slapping his gold-embroidered chest.

“Never!” cried all the other officers, indignantly slapping their chests.

“For my part,” said the private, meekly, “I must obey my officers; so when I am told to run, I run; and when I am told to fight, I fight.”

“That is right,” agreed the Tin Woodman. “And now you must all come back to Ozma, and obey HER orders. And if you try to run away again I will have her reduce all the twenty-six officers to privates, and make the private your general.”

This terrible threat so frightened them that they at once returned to where Ozma was standing beside the Cowardly Lion.

Then Ozma cried out in a loud voice:

“I demand that the Nome King appear to us!”

There was no reply, except that the shifting Nomes upon the mountain laughed in derision.

“You must not command the Nome King,” said Tiktok, “for you do not rule him, as you do your own peo-ple.”

So Ozma called again, saying:

“I request the Nome King to appear to us.”

Only the mocking laughter replied to her, and the shadowy Nomes continued to flit here and there upon the rocky cliff.

“Try en-treat-y,” said Tiktok to Ozma. “If he will not come at your re-quest, then the Nome King may list-en to your plead-ing.”

Ozma looked around her proudly.

“Do you wish your ruler to plead with this wicked Nome King?” she asked. “Shall Ozma of Oz humble herself to a creature who lives in an underground kingdom?”

“No!” they all shouted, with big voices; and the Scarecrow added:

“If he will not come, we will dig him out of his hole, like a fox, and conquer his stubbornness. But our sweet little ruler must always maintain her dignity, just as I maintain mine.”

“I’m not afraid to plead with him,” said Dorothy. “I’m only a little girl from Kansas, and we’ve got more dignity at home than we know what to do with. I’LL call the Nome King.”

“Do,” said the Hungry Tiger; “and if he makes hash of you I’ll willingly eat you for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

So Dorothy stepped forward and said:

“PLEASE Mr. Nome King, come here and see us.”

The Nomes started to laugh again; but a low growl came from the mountain, and in a flash they had all vanished from sight and were silent.

Then a door in the rock opened, and a voice cried:

“Enter!”

“Isn’t it a trick?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“Never mind,” replied Ozma. “We came here to rescue the poor Queen of Ev and her ten children, and we must run some risks to do so.”

“The Nome King is hon-est and good na-tured,” said Tiktok. “You can trust him to do what is right.”

So Ozma led the way, hand in hand with Dorothy, and they passed through the arched doorway of rock and entered a long passage which was lighted by jewels set in the walls and having lamps behind them. There was no one to escort them, or to show them the way, but all the party pressed through the passage until they came to a round, domed cavern that was grandly furnished.

In the center of this room was a throne carved out of a solid boulder of rock, rude and rugged in shape but glittering with great rubies and diamonds and emeralds on every part of its surface. And upon the throne sat the Nome King.

This important monarch of the Underground World was a little fat man clothed in gray-brown garments that were the exact color of the rock throne in which he was seated. His bushy hair and flowing beard were also colored like the rocks, and so was his face. He wore no crown of any sort, and his only ornament was a broad, jewel-studded belt that encircled his fat little body. As for his features, they seemed kindly and good humored, and his eyes were turned merrily upon his visitors as Ozma and Dorothy stood before him with their followers ranged in close order behind them.

“Why, he looks just like Santa Claus–only he isn’t the same color!” whispered Dorothy to her friend; but the Nome King heard the speech, and it made him laugh aloud.

“‘He had a red face and a round little belly That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly!'”

quoth the monarch, in a pleasant voice; and they could all see that he really did shake like jelly when he laughed.

Both Ozma and Dorothy were much relieved to find the Nome King so jolly, and a minute later he waved his right hand and the girls each found a cushioned stool at her side.

“Sit down, my dears,” said the King, “and tell me why you have come all this way to see me, and what I can do to make you happy.”

While they seated themselves the Nome King picked up a pipe, and taking a glowing red coal out of his pocket he placed it in the bowl of the pipe and began puffing out clouds of smoke that curled in rings above his head. Dorothy thought this made the little monarch look more like Santa Claus than ever; but Ozma now began speaking, and every one listened intently to her words.

“Your Majesty,” said she, “I am the ruler of the Land of Oz, and I have come here to ask you to release the good Queen of Ev and her ten children, whom you have enchanted and hold as your prisoners.”

“Oh, no; you are mistaken about that,” replied the King. “They are not my prisoners, but my slaves, whom I purchased from the King of Ev.”

“But that was wrong,” said Ozma.

“According to the laws of Ev, the king can do no wrong,” answered the monarch, eying a ring of smoke he had just blown from his mouth; “so that he had a perfect right to sell his family to me in exchange for a long life.”

“You cheated him, though,” declared Dorothy; “for the King of Ev did not have a long life. He jumped into the sea and was drowned.”

“That was not my fault,” said the Nome King, crossing his legs and smiling contentedly. “I gave him the long life, all right; but he destroyed it.”

“Then how could it be a long life?” asked Dorothy.

“Easily enough,” was the reply. “Now suppose, my dear, that I gave you a pretty doll in exchange for a lock of your hair, and that after you had received the doll you smashed it into pieces and destroyed it. Could you say that I had not given you a pretty doll?”

“No,” answered Dorothy.

“And could you, in fairness, ask me to return to you the lock of hair, just because you had smashed the doll?”

“No,” said Dorothy, again.

“Of course not,” the Nome King returned. “Nor will I give up the Queen and her children because the King of Ev destroyed his long life by jumping into the sea. They belong to me and I shall keep them.”

“But you are treating them cruelly,” said Ozma, who was much distressed by the King’s refusal.

“In what way?” he asked.

“By making them your slaves,” said she.

“Cruelty,” remarked the monarch, puffing out wreathes of smoke and watching them float into the air, “is a thing I can’t abide. So, as slaves must work hard, and the Queen of Ev and her children were delicate and tender, I transformed them all into articles of ornament and bric-a-brac and scattered them around the various rooms of my palace. Instead of being obliged to labor, they merely decorate my apartments, and I really think I have treated them with great kindness.”

“But what a dreadful fate is theirs!” exclaimed Ozma, earnestly. “And the Kingdom of Ev is in great need of its royal family to govern it. If you will liberate them, and restore them to their proper forms, I will give you ten ornaments to replace each one you lose.”

The Nome King looked grave.

“Suppose I refuse?” he asked.

“Then,” said Ozma, firmly, “I am here with my friends and my army to conquer your kingdom and oblige you to obey my wishes.”

The Nome King laughed until he choked; and he choked until he coughed; and he coughed until his face turned from grayish-brown to bright red. And then he wiped his eyes with a rock-colored handkerchief and grew grave again.

“You are as brave as you are pretty, my dear,” he said to Ozma. “But you have little idea of the extent of the task you have undertaken. Come with me for a moment.”

He arose and took Ozma’s hand, leading her to a little door at one side of the room. This he opened and they stepped out upon a balcony, from whence they obtained a wonderful view of the Underground World.

A vast cave extended for miles and miles under the mountain, and in every direction were furnaces and forges glowing brightly and Nomes hammering upon precious metals or polishing gleaming jewels. All around the walls of the cave were thousands of doors of silver and gold, built into the solid rock, and these extended in rows far away into the distance, as far as Ozma’s eyes could follow them.

While the little maid from Oz gazed wonderingly upon this scene the Nome King uttered a shrill whistle, and at once all the silver and gold doors flew open and solid ranks of Nome soldiers marched out from every one. So great were their numbers that they quickly filled the immense underground cavern and forced the busy workmen to abandon their tasks.

Although this tremendous army consisted of rock-colored Nomes, all squat and fat, they were clothed in glittering armor of polished steel, inlaid with beautiful gems. Upon his brow each wore a brilliant electric light, and they bore sharp spears and swords and battle-axes of solid bronze. It was evident they were perfectly trained, for they stood in straight rows, rank after rank, with their weapons held erect and true, as if awaiting but the word of command to level them upon their foes.

“This,” said the Nome King, “is but a small part of my army. No ruler upon Earth has ever dared to fight me, and no ruler ever will, for I am too powerful to oppose.”

He whistled again, and at once the martial array filed through the silver and gold doorways and disappeared, after which the workmen again resumed their labors at the furnaces.

Then, sad and discouraged, Ozma of Oz turned to her friends, and the Nome King calmly reseated himself on his rock throne.

“It would be foolish for us to fight,” the girl said to the Tin Woodman. “For our brave Twenty-Seven would be quickly destroyed. I’m sure I do not know how to act in this emergency.”

“Ask the King where his kitchen is,” suggested the Tiger. “I’m hungry as a bear.”

“I might pounce upon the King and tear him in pieces,” remarked the Cowardly Lion.

“Try it,” said the monarch, lighting his pipe with another hot coal which he took from his pocket.

The Lion crouched low and tried to spring upon the Nome King; but he hopped only a little way into the air and came down again in the same place, not being able to approach the throne by even an inch.

“It seems to me,” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully, “that our best plan is to wheedle his Majesty into giving up his slaves, since he is too great a magician to oppose.”

“This is the most sensible thing any of you have suggested,” declared the Nome King. “It is folly to threaten me, but I’m so kind-hearted that I cannot stand coaxing or wheedling. If you really wish to accomplish anything by your journey, my dear Ozma, you must coax me.”

“Very well,” said Ozma, more cheerfully. “Let us be friends, and talk this over in a friendly manner.”

“To be sure,” agreed the King, his eyes twinkling merrily.

“I am very anxious,” she continued, “to liberate the Queen of Ev and her children who are now ornaments and bric-a-brac in your Majesty’s palace, and to restore them to their people. Tell me, sir, how this may be accomplished.”

The king remained thoughtful for a moment, after which he asked:

“Are you willing to take a few chances and risks yourself, in order to set free the people of Ev?”

“Yes, indeed!” answered Ozma, eagerly.

“Then,” said the Nome King, “I will make you this offer: You shall go alone and unattended into my palace and examine carefully all that the rooms contain. Then you shall have permission to touch eleven different objects, pronouncing at the time the word ‘Ev,’ and if any one of them, or more than one, proves to be the transformation of the Queen of Ev or any of her ten children, then they will instantly be restored to their true forms and may leave my palace and my kingdom in your company, without any objection whatever. It is possible for you, in this way, to free the entire eleven; but if you do not guess all the objects correctly, and some of the slaves remain transformed, then each one of your friends and followers may, in turn, enter the palace and have the same privileges I grant you.”

“Oh, thank you! thank you for this kind offer!” said Ozma, eagerly.

“I make but one condition,” added the Nome King, his eyes twinkling.

“What is it?” she enquired.

“If none of the eleven objects you touch proves to be the transformation of any of the royal family of Ev, then, instead of freeing them, you will yourself become enchanted, and transformed into an article of bric-a-brac or an ornament. This is only fair and just, and is the risk you declared you were willing to take.”

12. The Eleven Guesses

Hearing this condition imposed by the Nome King, Ozma became silent and thoughtful, and all her friends looked at her uneasily.

“Don’t you do it!” exclaimed Dorothy. “If you guess wrong, you will be enslaved yourself.”

“But I shall have eleven guesses,” answered Ozma. “Surely I ought to guess one object in eleven correctly; and, if I do, I shall rescue one of the royal family and be safe myself. Then the rest of you may attempt it, and soon we shall free all those who are enslaved.”

“What if we fail?” enquired the Scarecrow. “I’d look nice as a piece of bric-a-brac, wouldn’t I?”

“We must not fail!” cried Ozma, courageously. “Having come all this distance to free these poor people, it would be weak and cowardly in us to abandon the adventure. Therefore I will accept the Nome King’s offer, and go at once into the royal palace.”

“Come along, then, my dear,” said the King, climbing down from his throne with some difficulty, because he was so fat; “I’ll show you the way.”

He approached a wall of the cave and waved his hand. Instantly an opening appeared, through which Ozma, after a smiling farewell to her friends, boldly passed.

She found herself in a splendid hall that was more beautiful and grand than anything she had ever beheld. The ceilings were composed of great arches that rose far above her head, and all the walls and floors were of polished marble exquisitely tinted in many colors. Thick velvet carpets were on the floor and heavy silken draperies covered the arches leading to the various rooms of the palace. The furniture was made of rare old woods richly carved and covered with delicate satins, and the entire palace was lighted by a mysterious rosy glow that seemed to come from no particular place but flooded each apartment with its soft and pleasing radiance.

Ozma passed from one room to another, greatly delighted by all she saw. The lovely palace had no other occupant, for the Nome King had left her at the entrance, which closed behind her, and in all the magnificent rooms there appeared to be no other person.

Upon the mantels, and on many shelves and brackets and tables, were clustered ornaments of every description, seemingly made out of all sorts of metals, glass, china, stones and marbles. There were vases, and figures of men and animals, and graven platters and bowls, and mosaics of precious gems, and many other things. Pictures, too, were on the walls, and the underground palace was quite a museum of rare and curious and costly objects.

After her first hasty examination of the rooms Ozma began to wonder which of all the numerous ornaments they contained were the transformations of the royal family of Ev. There was nothing to guide her, for everything seemed without a spark of life. So she must guess blindly; and for the first time the girl came to realize how dangerous was her task, and how likely she was to lose her own freedom in striving to free others from the bondage of the Nome King. No wonder the cunning monarch laughed good naturedly with his visitors, when he knew how easily they might be entrapped.

But Ozma, having undertaken the venture, would not abandon it. She looked at a silver candelabra that had ten branches, and thought: “This may be the Queen of Ev and her ten children.” So she touched it and uttered aloud the word “Ev,” as the Nome King had instructed her to do when she guessed. But the candelabra remained as it was before.

Then she wandered into another room and touched a china lamb, thinking it might be one of the children she sought. But again she was unsuccessful. Three guesses; four guesses; five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten she made, and still not one of them was right!

The girl shivered a little and grew pale even under the rosy light; for now but one guess remained, and her own fate depended upon the result.

She resolved not to be hasty, and strolled through all the rooms once more, gazing earnestly upon the various ornaments and trying to decide which she would touch. Finally, in despair, she decided to leave it entirely to chance. She faced the doorway of a room, shut her eyes tightly, and then, thrusting aside the heavy draperies, she advanced blindly with her right arm outstretched before her.

Slowly, softly she crept forward until her hand came in contact with an object upon a small round table. She did not know what it was, but in a low voice she pronounced the word “Ev.”

The rooms were quite empty of life after that. The Nome King had gained a new ornament. For upon the edge of the table rested a pretty grasshopper, that seemed to have been formed from a single emerald. It was all that remained of Ozma of Oz.

In the throne room just beyond the palace the Nome King suddenly looked up and smiled.

“Next!” he said, in his pleasant voice.

Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, who had been sitting in anxious silence, each gave a start of dismay and stared into one another’s eyes.

“Has she failed?” asked Tiktok.

“So it seems,” answered the little monarch, cheerfully. “But that is no reason one of you should not succeed. The next may have twelve guesses, instead of eleven, for there are now twelve persons transformed into ornaments. Well, well! Which of you goes next?”

“I’ll go,” said Dorothy.

“Not so,” replied the Tin Woodman. “As commander of Ozma’s army, it is my privilege to follow her and attempt her rescue.”

“Away you go, then,” said the Scarecrow. “But be careful, old friend.”

“I will,” promised the Tin Woodman; and then he followed the Nome King to the entrance to the palace and the rock closed behind him.

13. The Nome King Laughs

In a moment the King returned to his throne and relighted his pipe, and the rest of the little band of adventurers settled themselves for another long wait. They were greatly disheartened by the failure of their girl Ruler, and the knowledge that she was now an ornament in the Nome King’s palace–a dreadful, creepy place in spite of all its magnificence. Without their little leader they did not know what to do next, and each one, down to the trembling private of the army, began to fear he would soon be more ornamental than useful.

Suddenly the Nome King began laughing.

“Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! Ho, ho, ho!”

“What’s happened?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Why, your friend, the Tin Woodman, has become the funniest thing you can imagine,” replied the King, wiping the tears of merriment from his eyes. “No one would ever believe he could make such an amusing ornament. Next!”

They gazed at each other with sinking hearts. One of the generals began to weep dolefully.

“What are you crying for?” asked the Scarecrow, indignant at such a display of weakness.

“He owed me six weeks back pay,” said the general, “and I hate to lose him.”

“Then you shall go and find him,” declared the Scarecrow.

“Me!” cried the general, greatly alarmed.

“Certainly. It is your duty to follow your commander. March!”

“I won’t,” said the general. “I’d like to, of course; but I just simply WON’T.”

The Scarecrow looked enquiringly at the Nome King.

“Never mind,” said the jolly monarch. “If he doesn’t care to enter the palace and make his guesses I’ll throw him into one of my fiery furnaces.”

“I’ll go!–of course I’m going,” yelled the general, as quick as scat. “Where is the entrance–where is it? Let me go at once!”

So the Nome King escorted him into the palace, and again returned to await the result. What the general did, no one can tell; but it was not long before the King called for the next victim, and a colonel was forced to try his fortune.

Thus, one after another, all of the twenty-six officers filed into the palace and made their guesses– and became ornaments.

Meantime the King ordered refreshments to be served to those waiting, and at his command a rudely shaped Nome entered, bearing a tray. This Nome was not unlike the others that Dorothy had seen, but he wore a heavy gold chain around his neck to show that he was the Chief Steward of the Nome King, and he assumed an air of much importance, and even told his majesty not to eat too much cake late at night, or he would be ill.

Dorothy, however, was hungry, and she was not afraid of being ill; so she ate several cakes and found them good, and also she drank a cup of excellent coffee made of a richly flavored clay, browned in the furnaces and then ground fine, and found it most refreshing and not at all muddy.

Of all the party which had started upon this adventure, the little Kansas girl was now left alone with the Scarecrow, Tiktok, and the private for counsellors and companions. Of course the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger were still there, but they, having also eaten some of the cakes, had gone to sleep at one side of the cave, while upon the other side stood the Sawhorse, motionless and silent, as became a mere thing of wood. Billina had quietly walked around and picked up the crumbs of cake which had been scattered, and now, as it was long after bed-time, she tried to find some dark place in which to go to sleep.

Presently the hen espied a hollow underneath the King’s rocky throne, and crept into it unnoticed. She could still hear the chattering of those around her, but it was almost dark underneath the throne, so that soon she had fallen fast asleep.

“Next!” called the King, and the private, whose turn it was to enter the fatal palace, shook hands with Dorothy and the Scarecrow and bade them a sorrowful good-bye, and passed through the rocky portal.

They waited a long time, for the private was in no hurry to become an ornament and made his guesses very slowly. The Nome King, who seemed to know, by some magical power, all that took place in his beautiful rooms of his palace, grew impatient finally and declared he would sit up no longer.

“I love ornaments,” said he, “but I can wait until tomorrow to get more of them; so, as soon as that stupid private is transformed, we will all go to bed and leave the job to be finished in the morning.”

“Is it so very late?” asked Dorothy.

“Why, it is after midnight,” said the King, “and that strikes me as being late enough. There is neither night nor day in my kingdom, because it is under the earth’s surface, where the sun does not shine. But we have to sleep, just the same as the up-stairs people do, and for my part I’m going to bed in a few minutes.”

Indeed, it was not long after this that the private made his last guess. Of course he guessed wrongly, and of course he at once became an ornament. So the King was greatly pleased, and clapped his hands to summon his Chief Steward.

“Show these guests to some of the sleeping apartments,” he commanded, “and be quick about it, too, for I’m dreadfully sleepy myself.”

“You’ve no business to sit up so late,” replied the Steward, gruffly. “You’ll be as cross as a griffin tomorrow morning.”

His Majesty made no answer to this remark, and the Chief Steward led Dorothy through another doorway into a long hall, from which several plain but comfortable sleeping rooms opened. The little girl was given the first room, and the Scarecrow and Tiktok the next–although they never slept–and the Lion and the Tiger the third. The Sawhorse hobbled after the Steward into a fourth room, to stand stiffly in the center of it until morning. Each night was rather a bore to the Scarecrow, Tiktok and the Sawhorse; but they had learned from experience to pass the time patiently and quietly, since all their friends who were made of flesh had to sleep and did not like to be disturbed.

When the Chief Steward had left them alone the Scarecrow remarked, sadly:

“I am in great sorrow over the loss of my old comrade, the Tin Woodman. We have had many dangerous adventures together, and escaped them all, and now it grieves me to know he has become an ornament, and is lost to me forever.”

“He was al-ways an or-na-ment to so-ci-e-ty,” said Tiktok.

“True; but now the Nome King laughs at him, and calls him the funniest ornament in all the palace. It will hurt my poor friend’s pride to be laughed at,” continued the Scarecrow, sadly.

“We will make rath-er ab-surd or-na-ments, our-selves, to-mor-row,” observed the machine, in his monotonous voice.

Just then Dorothy ran into their room, in a state of great anxiety, crying:

“Where’s Billina? Have you seen Billina? Is she here?”

“No,” answered the Scarecrow.

“Then what has become of her?” asked the girl.

“Why, I thought she was with you,” said the Scarecrow. “Yet I do not remember seeing the yellow hen since she picked up the crumbs of cake.”

“We must have left her in the room where the King’s throne is,” decided Dorothy, and at once she turned and ran down the hall to the door through which they had entered. But it was fast closed and locked on the other side, and the heavy slab of rock proved to be so thick that no sound could pass through it. So Dorothy was forced to return to her chamber.

The Cowardly Lion stuck his head into her room to try to console the girl for the loss of her feathered friend.

“The yellow hen is well able to take care of herself,” said he; “so don’t worry about her, but try to get all the sleep you can. It has been a long and weary day, and you need rest.”

“I’ll prob’ly get lots of rest tomorrow, when I become an orn’ment,” said Dorothy, sleepily. But she lay down upon her couch, nevertheless, and in spite of all her worries was soon in the land of dreams.

14. Dorothy Tries to be Brave

Meantime the Chief Steward had returned to the throne room, where he said to the King:

“You are a fool to waste so much time upon these people.”

“What!” cried his Majesty, in so enraged a voice that it awoke Billina, who was asleep under his throne. “How dare you call me a fool?”

“Because I like to speak the truth,” said the Steward. “Why didn’t you enchant them all at once, instead of allowing them to go one by one into the palace and guess which ornaments are the Queen of Ev and her children?”

“Why, you stupid rascal, it is more fun this way,” returned the King, “and it serves to keep me amused for a long time.”

“But suppose some of them happen to guess aright,” persisted the Steward; “then you would lose your old ornaments and these new ones, too.”

“There is no chance of their guessing aright,” replied the monarch, with a laugh. “How could they know that the Queen of Ev and her family are all ornaments of a royal purple color?”

“But there are no other purple ornaments in the palace,” said the Steward.

“There are many other colors, however, and the purple ones are scattered throughout the rooms, and are of many different shapes and sizes. Take my word for it, Steward, they will never think of choosing the purple ornaments.”

Billina, squatting under the throne, had listened carefully to all this talk, and now chuckled softly to herself as she heard the King disclose his secret.

“Still, you are acting foolishly by running the chance,” continued the Steward, roughly; “and it is still more foolish of you to transform all those people from Oz into green ornaments.”

“I did that because they came from the Emerald City,” replied the King; “and I had no green ornaments in my collection until now. I think they will look quite pretty, mixed with the others. Don’t you?”

The Steward gave an angry grunt.

“Have your own way, since you are the King,” he growled. “But if you come to grief through your carelessness, remember that I told you so. If I wore the magic belt which enables you to work all your transformations, and gives you so much other power, I am sure I would make a much wiser and better King than you are.”

“Oh, cease your tiresome chatter!” commanded the King, getting angry again. “Because you are my Chief Steward you have an idea you can scold me as much as you please. But the very next time you become impudent, I will send you to work in the furnaces, and get another Nome to fill your place. Now follow me to my chamber, for I am going to bed. And see that I am wakened early tomorrow morning. I want to enjoy the fun of transforming the rest of these people into ornaments.”

“What color will you make the Kansas girl?” asked the Steward.

“Gray, I think,” said his Majesty.

“And the Scarecrow and the machine man?”

“Oh, they shall be of solid gold, because they are so ugly in real life.”

Then the voices died away, and Billina knew that the King and his Steward had left the room. She fixed up some of her tail feathers that were not straight, and then tucked her head under her wing again and went to sleep.

In the morning Dorothy and the Lion and Tiger were given their breakfast in their rooms, and afterward joined the King in his throne room. The Tiger complained bitterly that he was half starved, and begged to go into the palace and become an ornament, so that he would no longer suffer the pangs of hunger.

“Haven’t you had your breakfast?” asked the Nome King.

“Oh, I had just a bite,” replied the beast. “But what good is a bite, to a hungry tiger?”

“He ate seventeen bowls of porridge, a platter full of fried sausages, eleven loaves of bread and twenty-one mince pies,” said the Steward.

“What more do you want?” demanded the King.

“A fat baby. I want a fat baby,” said the Hungry Tiger. “A nice, plump, juicy, tender, fat baby. But, of course, if I had one, my conscience would not allow me to eat it. So I’ll have to be an ornament and forget my hunger.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed the King. “I’ll have no clumsy beasts enter my palace, to overturn and break all my pretty nick-nacks. When the rest of your friends are transformed you can return to the upper world, and go about your business.”

“As for that, we have no business, when our friends are gone,” said the Lion. “So we do not care much what becomes of us.”

Dorothy begged to be allowed to go first into the palace, but Tiktok firmly maintained that the slave should face danger before the mistress. The Scarecrow agreed with him in that, so the Nome King opened the door for the machine man, who tramped into the palace to meet his fate. Then his Majesty returned to his throne and puffed his pipe so contentedly that a small cloud of smoke formed above his head.

Bye and bye he said:

“I’m sorry there are so few of you left. Very soon, now, my fun will be over, and then for amusement I shall have nothing to do but admire my new ornaments.”

“It seems to me,” said Dorothy, “that you are not so honest as you pretend to be.”

“How’s that?” asked the King.

“Why, you made us think it would be easy to guess what ornaments the people of Ev were changed into.”

“It IS easy,” declared the monarch, “if one is a good guesser. But it appears that the members of your party are all poor guessers.”

“What is Tiktok doing now?” asked the girl, uneasily.

“Nothing,” replied the King, with a frown. “He is standing perfectly still, in the middle of a room.”

“Oh, I expect he’s run down,” said Dorothy. “I forgot to wind him up this morning. How many guesses has he made?”

“All that he is allowed except one,” answered the King. “Suppose you go in and wind him up, and then you can stay there and make your own guesses.”

“All right,” said Dorothy.

“It is my turn next,” declared the Scarecrow.

“Why, you don’t want to go away and leave me all alone, do you?” asked the girl. “Besides, if I go now I can wind up Tiktok, so that he can make his last guess.”

“Very well, then,” said the Scarecrow, with a sigh. “Run along, little Dorothy, and may good luck go with you!”

So Dorothy, trying to be brave in spite of her fears, passed through the doorway into the gorgeous rooms of the palace. The stillness of the place awed her, at first, and the child drew short breaths, and pressed her hand to her heart, and looked all around with wondering eyes.

Yes, it was a beautiful place; but enchantments lurked in every nook and corner, and she had not yet grown accustomed to the wizardries of these fairy countries, so different from the quiet and sensible common-places of her own native land.

Slowly she passed through several rooms until she came upon Tiktok, standing motionless. It really seemed, then, that she had found a friend in this mysterious palace, so she hastened to wind up the machine man’s action and speech and thoughts.

“Thank you, Dor-oth-y,” were his first words. “I have now one more guess to make.”

“Oh, be very careful, Tiktok; won’t you?” cried the girl.

“Yes. But the Nome King has us in his power, and he has set a trap for us. I fear we are all lost.” he answered.

“I fear so, too,” said Dorothy, sadly.

“If Smith & Tin-ker had giv-en me a guess-ing clock-work at-tach-ment,” continued Tiktok, “I might have de-fied the Nome King. But my thoughts are plain and sim-ple, and are not of much use in this case.”

“Do the best you can,” said Dorothy, encouragingly, “and if you fail I will watch and see what shape you are changed into.”

So Tiktok touched a yellow glass vase that had daisies painted on one side, and he spoke at the same time the word “Ev.”

In a flash the machine man had disappeared, and although the girl looked quickly in every direction, she could not tell which of the many ornaments the room contained had a moment before been her faithful friend and servant.

So all she could do was to accept the hopeless task set her, and make her guesses and abide by the result.

“It can’t hurt very much,” she thought, “for I haven’t heard any of them scream or cry out–not even the poor officers. Dear me! I wonder if Uncle Henry or Aunt Em will ever know I have become an orn’ment in the Nome King’s palace, and must stand forever and ever in one place and look pretty–‘cept when I’m moved to be dusted. It isn’t the way I thought I’d turn out, at all; but I s’pose it can’t be helped.”

She walked through all the rooms once more, and examined with care all the objects they contained; but there were so many, they bewildered her, and she decided, after all, as Ozma had done, that it could be only guess work at the best, and that the chances were much against her guessing aright.

Timidly she touched an alabaster bowl and said: “Ev.”

“That’s one failure, anyhow,” she thought. “But how am I to know which thing is enchanted, and which is not?”

Next she touched the image of a purple kitten that stood on the corner of a mantel, and as she pronounced the word “Ev” the kitten disappeared, and a pretty, fair-haired boy stood beside her. At the same time a bell rang somewhere in the distance, and as Dorothy started back, partly in surprise and partly in joy, the little one exclaimed:

“Where am I? And who are you? And what has happened to me?”

“Well, I declare!” said Dorothy. “I’ve really done it.”

“Done what?” asked the boy.

“Saved myself from being an ornament,” replied the girl, with a laugh, “and saved you from being forever a purple kitten.”

“A purple kitten?” he repeated. “There IS no such thing.”

“I know,” she answered. “But there was, a minute ago. Don’t you remember standing on a corner of the mantel?”

“Of course not. I am a Prince of Ev, and my name is Evring,” the little one announced, proudly. “But my father, the King, sold my mother and all her children to the cruel ruler of the Nomes, and after that I remember nothing at all.”

“A purple kitten can’t be ‘spected to remember, Evring,” said Dorothy. “But now you are yourself again, and I’m going to try to save some of your brothers and sisters, and perhaps your mother, as well. So come with me.”

She seized the child’s hand and eagerly hurried here and there, trying to decide which object to choose next. The third guess was another failure, and so was the fourth and the fifth.

Little Evring could not imagine what she was doing, but he trotted along beside her very willingly, for he liked the new companion he had found.

Dorothy’s further quest proved unsuccessful; but after her first disappointment was over, the little girl was filled with joy and thankfulness to think that after all she had been able to save one member of the royal family of Ev, and could restore the little Prince to his sorrowing country. Now she might return to the terrible Nome King in safety, carrying with her the prize she had won in the person of the fair-haired boy.

So she retraced her steps until she found the entrance to the palace, and as she approached, the massive doors of rock opened of their own accord, allowing both Dorothy and Evring to pass the portals and enter the throne room.

15. Billina Frightens the Nome King

Now when Dorothy had entered the palace to make her guesses and the Scarecrow was left with the Nome King, the two sat in moody silence for several minutes. Then the monarch exclaimed, in a tone of satisfaction:

“Very good!”

“Who is very good?” asked the Scarecrow.

“The machine man. He won’t need to be wound up any more, for he has now become a very neat ornament. Very neat, indeed.”

“How about Dorothy?” the Scarecrow enquired.

“Oh, she will begin to guess, pretty soon,” said the King, cheerfully. “And then she will join my collection, and it will be your turn.”

The good Scarecrow was much distressed by the thought that his little friend was about to suffer the fate of Ozma and the rest of their party; but while he sat in gloomy reverie a shrill voice suddenly cried:

“Kut, kut, kut–ka-daw-kutt! Kut, kut, kut–ka-daw-kutt!”

The Nome King nearly jumped off his seat, he was so startled.

“Good gracious! What’s that?” he yelled.

“Why, it’s Billina,” said the Scarecrow.

“What do you mean by making a noise like that?” shouted the King, angrily, as the yellow hen came from under the throne and strutted proudly about the room.

“I’ve got a right to cackle, I guess,” replied Billina. “I’ve just laid my egg.”

“What! Laid an egg! In my throne room! How dare you do such a thing?” asked the King, in a voice of fury.

“I lay eggs wherever I happen to be,” said the hen, ruffling her feathers and then shaking them into place.

“But–thunder-ation! Don’t you know that eggs are poison?” roared the King, while his rock-colored eyes stuck out in great terror.

“Poison! well, I declare,” said Billina, indignantly. “I’ll have you know all my eggs are warranted strictly fresh and up to date. Poison, indeed!”

“You don’t understand,” retorted the little monarch, nervously. “Eggs belong only to the outside world–to the world on the earth’s surface, where you came from. Here, in my underground kingdom, they are rank poison, as I said, and we Nomes can’t bear them around.”

“Well, you’ll have to bear this one around,” declared Billina; “for I’ve laid it.”

“Where?” asked the King.

“Under your throne,” said the hen.

The King jumped three feet into the air, so anxious was he to get away from the throne.

“Take it away! Take it away at once!” he shouted.

“I can’t,” said Billina. “I haven’t any hands.”

“I’ll take the egg,” said the Scarecrow. “I’m making a collection of Billina’s eggs. There’s one in my pocket now, that she laid yesterday.”

Hearing this, the monarch hastened to put a good distance between himself and the Scarecrow, who was about to reach under the throne for the egg when the hen suddenly cried:

“Stop!”

“What’s wrong?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Don’t take the egg unless the King will allow me to enter the palace and guess as the others have done,” said Billina.

“Pshaw!” returned the King. “You’re only a hen. How could you guess my enchantments?”

“I can try, I suppose,” said Billina. “And, if I fail, you will have another ornament.”

“A pretty ornament you’d make, wouldn’t you?” growled the King. “But you shall have your way. It will properly punish you for daring to lay an egg in my presence. After the Scarecrow is enchanted you shall follow him into the palace. But how will you touch the objects?”

“With my claws,” said the hen; “and I can speak the word ‘Ev’ as plainly as anyone. Also I must have the right to guess the enchantments of my friends, and to release them if I succeed.”

“Very well,” said the King. “You have my promise.”

“Then,” said Billina to the Scarecrow, “you may get the egg.”

He knelt down and reached underneath the throne and found the egg, which he placed in another pocket of his jacket, fearing that if both eggs were in one pocket they would knock together and get broken.

Just then a bell above the throne rang briskly, and the King gave another nervous jump.

“Well, well!” said he, with a rueful face; “the girl has actually done it.”

“Done what?” asked the Scarecrow.

“She has made one guess that is right, and broken one of my neatest enchantments. By ricketty, it’s too bad! I never thought she would do it.”

“Do I understand that she will now return to us in safety?” enquired the Scarecrow, joyfully wrinkling his painted face into a broad smile.

“Of course,” said the King, fretfully pacing up and down the room. “I always keep my promises, no matter how foolish they are. But I shall make an ornament of the yellow hen to replace the one I have just lost.”

“Perhaps you will, and perhaps you won’t,” murmured Billina, calmly. “I may surprise you by guessing right.”

“Guessing right?” snapped the King. “How could you guess right, where your betters have failed, you stupid fowl?”

Billina did not care to answer this question, and a moment later the doors flew open and Dorothy entered, leading the little Prince Evring by the hand.

The Scarecrow welcomed the girl with a close embrace, and he would have embraced Evring, too, in his delight. But the little Prince was shy, and shrank away from the painted Scarecrow because he did not yet know his many excellent qualities.

But there was little time for the friends to talk, because the Scarecrow must now enter the palace. Dorothy’s success had greatly encouraged him, and they both hoped he would manage to make at least one correct guess.

However, he proved as unfortunate as the others except Dorothy, and although he took a good deal of time to select his objects, not one did the poor Scarecrow guess aright.

So he became a solid gold card-receiver, and the beautiful but terrible palace awaited its next visitor.

“It’s all over,” remarked the King, with a sigh of satisfaction; “and it has been a very amusing performance, except for the one good guess the Kansas girl made. I am richer by a great many pretty ornaments.”

“It is my turn, now,” said Billina, briskly.

“Oh, I’d forgotten you,” said the King. “But you needn’t go if you don’t wish to. I will be generous, and let you off.”

“No you won’t,” replied the hen. “I insist upon having my guesses, as you promised.”

“Then go ahead, you absurd feathered fool!” grumbled the King, and he caused the opening that led to the palace to appear once more.

“Don’t go, Billina,” said Dorothy, earnestly. “It isn’t easy to guess those orn’ments, and only luck saved me from being one myself. Stay with me and we’ll go back to the Land of Ev together. I’m sure this little Prince will give us a home.”

“Indeed I will,” said Evring, with much dignity.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” cried Billina, with a cluck that was meant for a laugh. “I may not be human, but I’m no fool, if I AM a chicken.”

“Oh, Billina!” said Dorothy, “you haven’t been a chicken in a long time. Not since you–you’ve been–grown up.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” answered Billina, thoughtfully. “But if a Kansas farmer sold me to some one, what would he call me?–a hen or a chicken!”

“You are not a Kansas farmer, Billina,” replied the girl, “and you said–“

“Never mind that, Dorothy. I’m going. I won’t say good-bye, because I’m coming back. Keep up your courage, for I’ll see you a little later.”

Then Billina gave several loud “cluck-clucks” that seemed to make the fat little King MORE nervous than ever, and marched through the entrance into the enchanted palace.

“I hope I’ve seen the last of THAT bird,” declared the monarch, seating himself again in his throne and mopping the perspiration from his forehead with his rock-colored handkerchief. “Hens are bothersome enough at their best, but when they can talk they’re simply dreadful.”

“Billina’s my friend,” said Dorothy quietly. “She may not always be ‘zactly polite; but she MEANS well, I’m sure.”

16. Purple, Green, and Gold

The yellow hen, stepping high and with an air of vast importance, walked slowly over the rich velvet carpets of the splendid palace, examining everything she met with her sharp little eyes.

Billina had a right to feel important; for she alone shared the Nome King’s secret and knew how to tell the objects that were transformations from those that had never been alive. She was very sure that her guesses would be correct, but before she began to make them she was curious to behold all the magnificence of this underground palace, which was perhaps one of the most splendid and beautiful places in any fairyland.

As she went through the rooms she counted the purple ornaments; and although some were small and hidden in queer places, Billina spied them all, and found the entire ten scattered about the various rooms. The green ornaments she did not bother to count, for she thought she could find them all when the time came.

Finally, having made a survey of the entire palace and enjoyed its splendor, the yellow hen returned to one of the rooms where she had noticed a large purple footstool. She placed a claw upon this and said “Ev,” and at once the footstool vanished and a lovely lady, tall and slender and most beautifully robed, stood before her.

The lady’s eyes were round with astonishment for a moment, for she could not remember her transformation, nor imagine what had restored her to life.

“Good morning, ma’am,” said Billina, in her sharp voice. “You’re looking quite well, considering your age.”

“Who speaks?” demanded the Queen of Ev, drawing herself up proudly.

“Why, my name’s Bill, by rights,” answered the hen, who was now perched upon the back of a chair; “although Dorothy has put scollops on it and made it Billina. But the name doesn’t matter. I’ve saved you from the Nome King, and you are a slave no longer.”

“Then I thank you for the gracious favor,” said the Queen, with a graceful courtesy. “But, my children–tell me, I beg of you–where are my children?” and she clasped her hands in anxious entreaty.

“Don’t worry,” advised Billina, pecking at a tiny bug that was crawling over the chair back. “Just at present they are out of mischief and perfectly safe, for they can’t even wiggle.”

“What mean you, O kindly stranger?” asked the Queen, striving to repress her anxiety.

“They’re enchanted,” said Billina, “just as you have been–all, that is, except the little fellow Dorothy picked out. And the chances are that they have been good boys and girls for some time, because they couldn’t help it.”

“Oh, my poor darlings!” cried the Queen, with a sob of anguish.

“Not at all,” returned the hen. “Don’t let their condition make you unhappy, ma’am, because I’ll soon have them crowding ’round to bother and worry you as naturally as ever. Come with me, if you please, and I’ll show you how pretty they look.”

She flew down from her perch and walked into the next room, the Queen following. As she passed a low table a small green grasshopper caught her eye, and instantly Billina pounced upon it and snapped it up in her sharp bill. For grasshoppers are a favorite food with hens, and they usually must be caught quickly, before they can hop away. It might easily have been the end of Ozma of Oz, had she been a real grasshopper instead of an emerald one. But Billina found the grasshopper hard and lifeless, and suspecting it was not good to eat she quickly dropped it instead of letting it slide down her throat.

“I might have known better,” she muttered to herself, “for where there is no grass there can be no live grasshoppers. This is probably one